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Anonymous
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Published:
2020-09-13
Updated:
2020-09-20
Words:
2,988
Chapters:
2/?
Comments:
17
Kudos:
252
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The New Anthropocene (Or How TommyInnit Became Better Than Everyone, Ever, Actually)

Anonymous

Summary:

"Maybe you should come visit me instead," Tubbo joked at one point, rolling his shoulders with stiff lassitude. It had been an offhand comment, but Tom's hands fell still on his shovel nonetheless. Maybe he should.

Tubbo was almost always working whilst they were on call. Scribbling down notes, fiddling with wires, sorting indescribable substances - adult work. Strange work.

"Tubbo, man, I mean this in the absolute least creepy way possible - where do you even live?" At that Toby paused and wafted his hands back and forth, glancing at someone off-camera.

"Oh. Y'know, around."

---

Some dickheads end up in space. TommyInnit is not one of them. Well, like, he is one of the people in space, but not a dickhead. He's actually very nice, and very smart indeed. Trust me. He just happens to be in space! As pretty much, uh, an interstellar postman. For like six months. Actually, no, that doesn't make him sound super smart, does it? Aw, no, no. No. Basically, all of Tommy's idiot friends are getting their asses handed to them in deep space and he saves them. That's definitely what happens. Wilbur, for fuck's sake, man, I'm trying to do something in herrdjidfjkigfjklhrsaascvbnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Prologue, or "Oh Fuck, How Did We Get Here?"

Chapter Text

It was never meant to be like this.

See, if there's one thing he knows about space it is this: you don't fuck around. Which is a rotten shame, because fucking around is his favourite thing to do by far, but the cosmos is the one thing that does not forgive and does not forget. That's the kind of thing they drill into your head until you can taste it, some intrinsic wariness no amount of vaccines or training could give. Every school in spacefaring civilisation teaches these tenets like religion, a unifying warning across the galaxy. Humans weren't exactly made for space.

So when you're in it, you don't take risks. You take precautions, prepare safeguards, or you make a mistake and die. You don't get out of your depth, or you die. You don't get lazy, or you die. You don't push yourself too far, or you die. It's a bleak pattern to remind a child of, constantly, as soon as they can speak. He never did understand its function.

Hurtling through the largely uncharted expanse of Sector SB-152023, pressed up against the window of a ship small enough to master in an hour, Tommy is beginning to comprehend.

It's been a long six months.