Archive of Our Own

tommy fidgets around his seat as he writes notes in his indecipherable scrawl. the bell rings and indicates the end of his last weekend class, making him bolt up and shove all his stuff in his bag.

tubbo looks questioningly at him. "eager to go home, bossman?"

tommy looks at him with a big smile. "tubso, it's a full moon tonight. my–" he pauses and falters as he remembers. right, ah.

one thing about big man tommyinnit is that he's a witch. and no one knows. add his big mouth to the mix. (his winter break, similarly to all his past ones, is gonna be awful, he just knows it.)

"my– um, my– p-plants! yes, my plants. they– they thrive during the full moon for some reason." the blonde laughs awkwardly. "that doesn't even make sense, big man, but to be fair; when has anything made sense about you?" tubbo says jokingly as he fixes his bag, missing the fallen look on tommy's face.

tommy forces out a laugh and grips his bag tightly.

they meet up with ranboo at the hallways, near their lockers. whenever one of the trio doesn't have the same class as the other two, or they all don't have the same class, they would meet up at their usual places; it was just muscle memory at this point.

"ranboob!"

"boob boy!"

the pair says in unison when they see the tall teen. "oh god. please stop calling me that." ranboo says tiredly.

tommy grins, and yeah, sure. they may not know of his witch origins, but he wouldn't trade them for anything. even if it meant he would have to keep a heavy secret.

-

"tommyinnit is home!" he opens the door to his abode. well, phil's abode technically. still his, as one of the sons of philza minecraft.

technoblade grunts as a greeting from the couch, where he's reading another one of his nerd books. phil's car was parked outside, and the garage was shut, meaning wilbur was probably having band practice, like the fucking bitch boy he is.

"where is phil?" tommy whined, collapsing into techno's side. techno sighs and wraps an arm around him. "upstairs. cleanin'." tommy hums.

wait.

wait.

he jolts up, earning a curious stare from techno.

"phil! please don't go into my room! i swear, i'll clean it myself." he jogs up the stairs (as best as he can, with a bag on his back and his lanky-ness), and hears the muffled laughter of phil. "i didn't go into your room, mate. i was in wil's room." the man explains.

he squints his eyes at the man. one can never trust philza minecraft too much. "okay then."

he slips inside his room, and observes it, noticing nothing was out of the ordinary. (as if his room was anything but ordinary, seeing as it was brimmed with weird knacks and bobbles you wouldn't see in a normal-human-boy-teen-thing's room.)

so fine, maybe you can always trust philza minecraft, unlike other adults.

he snaps his finger and the colourful, varied disguises of his spell books were reverted back to their original covers.

tommy runs a finger through the spines of his many books and lights up when he finds the title he was looking for. "centum vias mana." the book title reads.

poking his head down the hallway, he sees the coast clear of phil. after deeming that good enough, he throws his bag down his door. tommy smoothens out his sheets and plops himself down his bed, book in hand.

he takes a deep breath and balances the magic on his fingertips, feeling the warmth and closing his eyes, focusing on the leftover magic from his spells.

he'll probably need to re-cast everything, seeing as many a time he was too careless and accidentally used his spells to heal his clumsy, teenage bruises. he'd also have to make tubbo and ranboo new charms and think of a way to discreetly hide it in their items again. maybe he should give that one purple-clad kid he got partnered up with a charm too, because he seemed lonely, and no, he isn't nice what–

"tommy! do you want pasta?" phil shouts from downstairs, surprising the mediating boy and causing the floating objects in the room to fall on the floor, causing a cacophony of thumps.

(he really has to work on that. because as much as a great witch the great tommy is, he as a teen can't really control his magic the same way he can't control his feelings.)

(a voice in the back of his head whispers that he'd learn more if he wasn't the only witch who was probably alive in the whole century. he ignores it.)

tommy shoves the book back to his bookshelf, snaps his fingers yet again, and flicks his hand to organize his room, the objects flying around in orderly chaos until they sit tidily in their places.

he runs down the stairs and is greeted with the sight of wilbur soot from lovejoy shoving mac & cheese into his mouth. "hello, wilbur lovejoy."

"what fell in your room?" wilbur asked, mouth half full.

"my blanket." he accepts the plate from phil, who was looking half concerned for him but also busy with the stove.

"it was loud." techno drawls.

"i was in it."

laughter. (oh, what a powerful spell.)

(he's deceiving them. he's a monster, the villagers had said. a freak, a woman screamed at him. he didn't deserve this. he didn't deserve happiness. and up above, she smiled sadly at the boy.)

-

tommy scribbles his homework down, anxiously looking at the clock, and sighs. he watches as his windows billow in the open, cold air of the night.

the moon glows and illuminates his unfinished books, and he sighs again. maybe taking a nap wouldn't hurt–

tommy shakes his head aggressively, causing his hair to curtain over his eyes. he mustn't sleep.

he stands back and stretches his body, flicking his school items away at his desk. the boy grabs a book from his small library. to the normal eye, the title looked to be gibberish, but to the small teen, without even fluently understanding the language, he can decipher the phrases.

he waves his hand and casts a spell to blanket the forthcoming raucous sounds from his room. tommy cracks his knuckles. time to practice some spells.

-

and if slipping up to tubbo wasn't bad enough, he hears a knock on his door. "tommy? are you awake?" fuck. fuck.

don't tell him it fucking wore off, please.

in a state of panic, tommy summons back his floating homework to its rightful place too quickly with a successful teleportation spell and causes two big noises, one from the homework and one from an excited whoop by himself. and it caused a big pen mark on the page, too. the said pen falls on the floor– and oh, another good pen wasted. broken. fuck. he mutters about cheap pens and stupid runes under his breath and replies, "i-i'm awake!"

the man opens the door.

"you alright, tom? not that i was sleeping yet, but it sounded as if you were building an ikea table." phil laughed lightly. tommy forces out a laugh, his eyes landing on his spellbook, sprawled on his bed. oh shit.

phil hasn't noticed yet, so if i– tommy tries to discreetly hide the book under his covers. read: tries to. as someone who often has not the brightest ideas ever, of course tommy snatches the book up to hide. and then phil notices.

"mate? what's that?" the older blonde asks carefully, eyebrows raising. "h-homework! a book. something about literature. we have to read this greek thingy. y'know, like techno the nerd?" he rambles, and phil seems convinced. (he wasn't, but the man decides to not push. it wasn't too.. concerning.. yet.)

phil laughs, the dad laugh. and tommy's heart warms. "okay then. sleep soon, then, child. you had school today." tommy whines.

"but i'm waiting for the full moon."

phil smiles fondly. "okay, mate. wake me if you need anything. wil's awake and techno might be going to bed soon. with the way you always wait for the full moon, one might think you're a werewolf or something." with a laugh, phil closes the door softly, and tommy can hear the patter of his footsteps down the hall.

close call. (idiot, his mind whispers. numbskull, his books murmur.) fuck off he supplies.

-

it just turned four am. half an hour left.

gone was the sleepy boy he was, and now was an overexcited child. one (read: wilbur) might think he ingested coffee with the way he was behaving. (he did, in fact, drink half a cup of coffee. three packs of cream, and two sugar. he didn't drink coffee black like the fucking weirdo phil was, thank you very much.)

tommy was positively buzzing. he could feel his body bursting into puddles of exhilaration. holy shit.

he screams into his pillow and cracks his dollar-priced paperweight. he mutters the incantation sheepishly and drops it over his trash bin.

his eyes catch the silhouette of his growing moonflower at the windowsill by his desk. he sits beside it as he remembers fondly when he bought it.

he was ten back then, just newly placed in phil's house. bruises, glares, and harsh remarks were what made up tommy at that time. then phil brought them to the mall.

he gave them all money to spend and ten-year-old tommy gravitated to the flower shop. full of green, life, and quite frankly, happiness. by that point of his life, he was still ashamed of his origins, yet his heart knew he had some sort of otherworldly connections to moons. a pink-haired girl around his brothers' ages (very similar to his big brother technoblade, the teen muses to himself) quietly approached him to talk to him about the flower he was staring at.

moonflower.

(oh yeah, of course. let a moon-named flower resonate with him the same way his stupid magic does to the moon. let a moon-named flower, along with three idiots, make him practice spells and witchcraft after a decade of growing to hate himself. very original, very quirky, and wow, isn't he such a big man.)

the girl he would soon to know as niki, one of wilbur's friends and tubbo's older sister. (and truthfully, to tommy as well.)

phil has never seen a big smile on the blonde's face then (except for in the near future when he hands tommy his adoption papers, a gentle smile on his own face), so despite thinking the flower would die in a few days and could possibly cause tommy more distress and anger against them, he taught the kid how to take care of the flower.

up till now, it was the same old flower. even after six years. (tommy's magic did play a big part in keeping it alive, but the trio doesn't know that. the unawareness evidently doesn’t do anything to dispel their confusion on how he managed that, but okay. L moment for them, tommy shrugs.)

four twenty-nine am. few more seconds before the full moon manifests fully. tommy gushes to himself.

he touches the flower with the tip of his finger and places the positive energy within him to make the moonflower glow. calm down, child, his mind whispers to himself.

the wind picks up its current and the air grows colder around him, signifying that no, he still isn't calm. vines bloom at the edges of his window, adorned with small, pretty flowers, and he counts down quietly.

tommy flips open to the 'charms' page of his beloved spellbook, and his eyes glance longingly to his unused, yet old and chipping potion-brewing books. whatever. (yet another downside to being the biggest, but only, yet also the best witch ever out there.)

the full moon's luminescent rays reflect back onto his face, his small dotted freckles glowing like stars in a pale sky. he mutters and mumbles spells, charms, and incantations alike, and oh, as the dawn progresses, so does his volume.

a big idiot mr. innit is, for forgetting to re-cast spells of silencing.

(in the hallway, a blonde man worriedly consults his eldest son about the weird, possibly cult things he hears from their youngest's room on this day of a full moon. the brunette would suggest taking him to therapy, but the middle child with fading pink-dyed hair would wake up and suggest they talk to their beloved baby brother first thing in the morning.)

(and if he thought he'd at least last any longer than six years of hiding his true identity, and a few more months for winter break, tommy's even more of an idiot. but hey, his books are proud to have foreseen it.)

-

tommyinnit had a grand total of one hour and forty-nine minutes of sleep before being woken up rudely by wilbur soot. "wh't d'you w'nt b'tch?" tommy hisses sleepily with bedridden hair and bleary eyes. the older teen had the audacity to coo.

"good morning, prick! phil told me you stayed up late. and specifically told me not to wake you up early! but it's already nine am, sleepyhead, and it's probably enough sleep for you!" the bitch says cheerfully, noticing a book by tommy's floor which has some type of weird-rune-ancient-text written on the cover. (the boy in question, does not notice.)

the blonde pouts and whines. "i fucking hate you," he says and trudges to the bathroom. once the room was cleared of tommy, wilbur picks up the book.

"what is this..." he mutters worriedly. the worried brother examines the pages but makes nothing out of the old texts and paragraphs. the light footsteps of tommy draw nearer so, he places back the book to its place.

"get out of my room, bitch boy." tommy glares, obviously still pissy about being woken up. "don't get mad at the messenger, get mad at the sender." wilbur shrugs, and pushes the book to the back of his mind to remember and mention to the other two later.

the two bounds down the stairs and sits down at the table. "morning, tommy. how was your sleep?" phil asks, and it should just be a normal, casual question, but the man almost sounds.. worried.

"it was okay?" tommy says in confusion, shoving a pancake in his mouth. phil slumps back in his chair. "i see, i see."

the four resume eating in silence, but their minds run loudly.

tommy was staring at his plate anxiously, thinking if he messed up one of his charms when techno clears his throat and nudges phil.

"y'know boys, if you're ever going through something, we can tell each other." phil says. "i don't want any of you to resort to anything that can harm yourself, yeah?" he continues, voice weak.

tommy glances at phil, and notices his brothers staring at him. "what? why're you two looking at me.."

techno sighs. "what phil means is he wants you to talk to us about those.. things in your room. the books that don't make sense."

"we're just worried... that you're– in some sort of cult, tommy." wilbur breathes out.

tommy frowns. weird. cult. unusual...

"it's nothing. they're just books. i'm not in a cult nor am i hiding anything from you guys." he looks away and pokes a berry with his fork.

techno raises his eyebrow, and wilbur grabs his elbow, but tommy doesn't notice, too stuck in his own mind.

they think you're a monster. you're not human and they hate you. his mind echoes.

"tommy, are you absolutely positive? groups like those can be dangerous and we don't want you to be involved in something that can hurt you." phil says worriedly, carefully.

"phil. please, it's nothing. even if it was something, it's not about me in a cult and it's something i can never tell you guys. not now, or maybe even never." tommy says as firmly as he can, with tears building up in his eyes, and looks down at his plate.

"so you don't trust us." tommy snaps his head up, almost getting whiplash.

"what the fuck, techno? stop putting words in my mouth." tommy says, angry that his own brother would say that. techno narrows his eyes. "i'm not putting any words in your mouth. it's literally what you're implyin'."

"no, it's not?! i'm not implying anything!" tommy screams, standing up and exits the room. he listens to phil murmuring to techno as he furiously shoves his sneakers on and leaves their house. once he's outside, he hears slippers on asphalt.

"not now, wil. i swear i’m o–” tommy pauses, voice small. “i’ll be at tubbo’s. sorry, wil.” the older teen breathes.

“idiot, don’t apologize. techno was wrong to push you for answers.” wilbur says in that annoying big-brother-will-fix-it-all voice and he opens his arms for a hug. tommy looks up at the brunette and collapses in his chest, letting out a few tears.

wilbur grabs tommy’s cheeks and kisses his younger brother’s forehead. “i know you don’t want to talk about this right now, but techno loves you. he’s just scared you don’t love him as much as he does.”

he would stop loving me if he finds out what i truly am. tommy thinks, letting his brother coddle him.

wilbur notices tommy’s silence so he sighs. “if you’re going to tubbo, have my jumper. it’s pretty cold outside and i don’t want my baby brother to freeze before my brothers make up.” he chides tommy as he sheds his big, yellow sweater and wiggles the article on tommy.

“yeah, okay, wil. see you.” tommy mumbles, and thinks. he thinks of a world where he’s normal. he thinks of a world where being someone of his kind is normal.

(in the cold, morning streets, a blonde boy watches the moon, hoping and wishing.)

-

before tommy knows it, he’s in front of tubbo’s obnoxiously yellow house door. he knocks dazedly and hears the sleepy curses and mumbling from the other side.

“who the fuck–” and tubbo blinks his eyes wide, staring at his best friend with tear-rimmed eyes.

“th-that’s not very wholesome of you, big man.” tommy says, tears welling up his eyes as he sees one of his most favorite people in the whole world.

the tubbo in question looks worried now rather than groggy. “who made you cry? oh god, are you okay? oh wait, i should let you in first. sorry, i don’t know how to deal with my crying best friend.” tubbo rambles, ushering him inside. at the best friend word, tommy bursts into tears.

“i-i’m your best friend?”

"yes, you idiot! of course you are– wait, tommy, stop crying please- actually, don't stop, um, let it all out– fuck, sh-should i call ranboo? or uh, wilbur? um–" tubbo waves his hands wildly, looking very concerned that if tommy wasn't crying, he would be laughing his ass off right now.

"not wilbur, please... call ranboo?" tommy asks softly, in a sad tone which tubbo never wants to hear from his absolute loud-and-confident and sunshine-incarnate-best-friend. the older teen just about fishes his phone out of his pocket when the blonde grabs his wrist.

"...nevermind. please don't. he might hate me– do you hate me? oh, don't answer that. sorry for bothering you.." the younger curls himself up, looking tiny. tommyinnit never likes being tiny. it makes him feel weak and vulnerable and– defenseless. the last time the brunette saw him like that was his first day at school five years ago. back when the lanky, pale blonde had scraped knees and bruised arms. back when– he was quiet. so– alone. so fragile.

"tommy, why would we ever hate you? tommy, you're one of the nicest, most inspiring, and smartest people i know. you have a big heart and you– who made you cry? protecting you with my fists isn't enough, i need a glock– i'll beat them up, i promise." and deep down, tommy knows while the teen might sound lighthearted, tubbo might or will actually commit crimes for him and ranboo. (the thought makes his heart go warm at the prospect of being loved. him! being loved as much as he loves them! his inner dialogue would giggle, giddy at the prospect if he wasn’t busy worrying about being a stupid witch.)

“you would hate me because i’m hiding something from you. from everyone. techno got a bit angry at me because of that but it’s not his fault. i’m just being sensitive.” tommy whispers, feeling pathetic. and he is, he thinks. he’s crying to his best friend at god-knows what time in the morning, just because of some stupid squabble that he caused.

tubbo inhales heavily, seeming annoyed from tommy’s perspective. “i don’t care if he’s older than me. i’m beating him up ‘cause he made you cry! i’m dragging ranboo with me because we love you. ranboo loves you. i love you. and you know i’m not lying because i never lie to you, big man. you’re our– no, you’re my best friend. i don’t care if you’re hiding something from me. be comfortable at your own pace. don’t forget that– um, bestie.”

tommy giggles wetly. “please don’t beat up techno. he’s my big brother and i love him– so, so much. i love you guys, too, but– but you guys really would hate me if you find out. you, phil, wilbur, ranboo– tubbo, i’m so scared.” the blonde gasps out between tears.

“i’m calling ranboo.” tubbo announces with an air of finality, and tommy knows he won’t be able to convince tubbo otherwise. because that’s how he and tubbo are so similar. one would expect him to be bolder but tubbo never gives up about what he’s doing and wouldn’t let anyone stop him. the phone rings for about three times before ranboo picks up.

“good morning, tubbo. do you need anything?” the static-y voice of ranboo increases in volume when tubbo put him on speaker mode halfway. “come over. we need you here.” tubbo says, the youngest shaking in defiance his head mutely.

“ranboo, it’s okay! i’m so sorry for bothering you. i– it doesn’t matter. sorry…” tommy’s voice cracks and he cringes at his ruined voice. “tommy?” ranboo says in confusion. maybe the tallest is just some kind of mind reader or anything of sort, or it’s just his best friend senses tingling. he always seems to understand the situation and knows how to act accordingly. (it’s just how ranboo is, and always will be, tommy thinks fondly.)

“oh, tommy. i’m just gonna let my brother know, then i’ll be on the way. you never bother me, tommy.” ranboo says so softly, tommy wants to believe him. but he can’t. he shouldn’t. tubbo lets a knowing smile spread across his lips. “see, big man? we care about you.” tommy opens his mouth to reply, but a loud sob rips across his throat.

tommy cries. he wails until his eyes are puffy. he weeps until his face is blotchy and his throat is dry. all through that, tubbo stays beside him and ranboo stays on call.

“go get some rest, tommy. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

and that he did, hand holding tubbo’s.

(tommy feels tired. of course he does. he vaguely hears someone’s entrance, and two voices speaking worriedly. his hand still feels warm, and his sides are now both engulfed. safe. complete. home.)

(“you’re betraying your coven. your family.” a voice berates him.

he ignores it, for once.)

-

his brothers watch him curiously from where the three of them are sitting cross-legged in a their grassy garden, void of any flowers. their father is in the kitchen, cooking their favourites whilst keeping an eye on the trio by the open window.

tommy closes his eyes and lets the magic flow through him. he feels flowers tickling his bare heels and vines curling around their ankles. wilbur giggles gleefully and techno traces the nature in curiosity.

he thinks he hears their father holler at them, calling them for lunch, but everything seems so duller now. more muted. he feels like he’s underwater.

suddenly, wilbur isn’t laughing, techno isn’t smiling, and phil doesn’t look happy.

“g-guys?” he feels himself say, but the words pass unheard by his own ears.

“freak.”

“monster.”

“go away. go away. go away–!”

“–go away!” tommy wakes up, sobbing, screaming. it alerts his bedmates, who are both quick to worry over him. (he doesn’t remember falling asleep on a bed, but it’s a nice soft, physical comfort to his rough, emotional distress.)

“tommy? tommy. it’s okay. you’re okay. we’re okay. take deep breaths. you’re with tubbo and ranboo. you’re safe with us.” ranboo whispers soothingly as tubbo lets tommy squeeze his hands. “i-i’m.. okay. yeah. th-thank you..” tommy replies in an equally quiet tone after he calmed down, letting go of tubbo’s hand as if it singed him.

“sorry, guys.” the youngest winces. “i-i don’t deserve you two. i’m sorry for deceiving you– i should leave, oh my god.” tommy wipes his eyes furiously, embarrassed at his actions. he’s a freak of nature, why is he acting so pathetic and weak and– they’ll hurt him if they see him– he can’t be weak, his mother will have to get hurt again– gentle hands wrestle his fingers as he scratches his arms as his thoughts grow louder.

“tommy! please, stop that.” tubbo says, eyes afraid. scared. tommy jerks away from tubbo. “i d-didn’t mean to. s–” ranboo looks at him with sad eyes. he’s a monster. he’s driving away his friends, and now they’re gonna hate him.

“don’t apologize, please. we– we’d never hurt you, no matter what.” tubbo chokes up. “don’t hurt yourself. it makes me– upset. upset that i can’t protect you from everything; you and ranboo. it makes me angry. angry at the world for– for harming you. for letting those bastards hurt you–” the brunette holds tommy in his arms and tommy– he feels safe. no one will hurt him anymore, not those people calling him and his mother awful names that stuck themselves in tommy’s mind–

“we can pretend we didn’t hear anything you didn’t want us to know, if you’d like. just let–” ranboo starts, but tommy interrupts. “no… it’s okay. i– i don’t wanna burden you guys with the knowledge of my fucked up past but it feel less heavy because you guys…” are here. protecting me. keeping me safe. the last part is silent, but the duo would understand.

tommy lets his sobs die down, and relaxes against tubbo, whilst they’re both engulfed by ranboo.

a knock resounds in the room, and niki pokes her head inside. “hello, boys. little birdie mentioned tommy didn’t finish his breakfast, and tubbo hasn’t eaten yet. ranboo should come along to eat, too.”

“okay, niki.” tubbo says, voice muffled in tommy’s fluffy golden hair. niki coos and they hear the door shut. “let’s go, shall we?” ranboo says, patting their heads, and tommy nods, tired.

the three leaves the room, supporting tommy and his weak, frail, old shaky legs. they situate themselves in the dining room. tommy watches as niki places newly toasted bread in front of them, pushing the jar of jam in front of them.

ranboo the degenerate politely ignores the jam, taking out chocolate spread from tubbo’s pantry, and the off brand cereal he bought last week and left at tubbo’s house. he spreads an unhealthy amount of chocolate and a generous amount of cereal, tubbo watching him fascinatedly.

tubbo himself decides to take something from their cupboard– and it promptly gets slapped away by niki. “no candies during breakfast, tubbo.” niki raises the pack of gummies away from tubbo, and tucks it away. “but ranboo–” tubbo whines.

“he’s still eating breakfast food. although he’s teetering the line between candy and breakfast.” the girl hesitates, sighing when ranboo takes a bite out of his toast and has the audacity to look satisfied about it.

tubbo sulks with his jam-covered toast, and tommy nibbles on his jam-less toast. tubbo nudges the blonde and holds his hand out, tommy giving his hand in confusion and smiling when tubbo intertwines them, “care for some fruit, tommy?” niki asks, pointing to some bananas. the youngest shakes his head, and niki nods, acquiescing.

ranboo sits down next to tommy and offers his own non-chocolate-cereal-toast-abomination covered hand, and tommy feels his fingertips tingling, wanting pretty flowers to crawl onto the duo, marking them as his. his bestfriends. his family. he fights away the thought, mood going down as he remembers his secret.

tubbo’s familiar ringtone dings, and the boy checks his phone, letting go of tommy’s hand. he mutters a quick apology as he narrows his eyes at the message he got, typing furiously. tommy watches him curiously and the other teen looks up to meet his gaze, sending him a soft smile.

“sorry, i– techno messaged me. asking about you.” tommy feels his heart drop, and tubbo sees his fallen expression. “don’t worry.i didn’t tell him anything you told us, and told him you fell asleep. i got a bit… angry at him, though.” tubbo admits bashfully, letting tommy relax.

“thank you, tubbo. and ranboo.”

“happy to be here for you, tommy.” ranboo says, brushing his thumb over tommy’s hands comfortingly. “we’re glad you’re going to us instead of bottling it up, big man.” tubbo grins.

the blonde scoffs, angry at himself. he has such supportive friends, and here he is, thinking they’d be cruel to him if they found out his witch identity. if anything, he’s being what the people called him–

the duo looks at each other in worry as tommy starts to look panicky again. they whisper hushed reassurances and look helplessly at niki who’s drinking her morning coffee. everything we seem to do agitates him, tubbo blinks, lost.

niki approaches the teens and gently grabs tommy’s face. “you’re with us, tommy.” the teen shakes in her hold, and niki feels her heart hurt for the boy. “tubbo, ranboo. can you guys do me a favour and go to the store? we ran out of eggs and milk. get money from my wallet and feel free to grab yourselves some treats.”

“but–” ranboo grabs tubbo’s wrist, looking the boy into his eyes as if to convey that tommy seems calmer at niki’s presence. tubbo glances at tommy, and back to ranboo. he sighs and lets himself get dragged away by ranboo.

niki sits herself down next to tommy as she and the boy giggles at tubbo’s indiscreet, defeated expression. the two sits in silence for a while before niki speaks. “how are you feeling, tommy?”

“i– i’m doing… fine. well, better than earlier, at least. sorry for crashing here with no notice.” tommy says, taking a gulp out of his water. the dry toast scratches his raw throat, he notes in his mind.

“s’alright, tommy. i’m happy you went here instead of being alone, or somewhere unsafe.” the older teen nods in understanding. tommy nods back, dazedly. he’s able to finish his toast when niki speaks again.

“tommy, i never got to tell you this but i'm proud that you look happier and healthier. i remember when i first saw you and… i never want to see you look so afraid and lost again. you know we all love you. wilbur? techno? phil? tubbo? ranboo? me? i could name you an entire list if you’d like. dream, quackity, jack–” tommy turns red.

“i get it, niki. thank you.” despite his face feeling too warm, tommy feels happy.

“no problem. we will always love you no matter what. and if anyone says otherwise, be it wilbur or tubbo, i will disown them. you deserve the world, tommy. and i'm sure all of your friends agree.” niki smiles kindly, feeling nothing else but fondness for the kid.

niki opens her arms for a short hug, and tommy lets himself be in the arms of his big sister. she tightens her grip, slightly suffocating him with her strong love, and lets him go with a big smile. tommy shakes as he clutches her hand tightly.

“thank you, niki. can… can you call wilbur to pick me up? if that’s alright.” the blonde mumbles. “of course that’s alright, tommy. call me or anyone here if you need back up, alright? tubbo would rather bite his foot off than let you get hurt, honest to god.”

the front door opens and the sound of two gremlin teens sound out, tubbo complaining about tired legs loudly. “why don’t you wait with them as i call wil, hm?” niki pats his blonde curls and ushers him out of the living room, piling up their used plates and resting her ringing phone on her ear as she watches the boys fondly from the kitchen.

“you alright, tommy?” ranboo greets as tubbo jumps at him. the brunette narrowly misses as tommy moves away in time, instead meeting the couch. “what the fuck, tom!” the said teen giggles.

“doing better now. i– i wanted to go home. y’know. stop being a pussy an’ all that shit. not that i’m ungrateful you guys let me stay here– i mean, thank you for that, guys.” tommy collapses next to tubbo, watching as ranboo disappears into the kitchen to give niki their groceries.

“alright, then. but don't force yourself alright? you're free to stay here or at ranboo’s none of us would mind.” tubbo pokes his forehead harshly, making the youngest wince. “prick. of course, i wouldn’t force myself.”

“we can walk you home, if you’d like.” ranboo says, drying his hands and sitting next to the duo. “it’s alright. niki– um, i asked her to call wil. to pick me up.” tommy admits, wringing his wrists nervously. the older duo nods in understanding, ranboo grabbing tommy’s hands to let him play with his fingers instead, and tubbo playing with tommy’s hair.

it’s quiet. not awkward because it never is awkward for them. it’s comfortable like the weight of a heavy blanket during a cold night. it’s comfortable because tommy’s with his family. his soulmates. he doesn’t believe in the universe’s blessing, for the universe had fucked him over multiple times just by making him a witch– but this, this feels perfect. it feels like they've known each other for a whole lifetime. it’s like the three of them are made for each other. no fate-binding would ever change that. nothing can change his love for his bestfriends, and dare he say, his brothers.

tommy sighs contentedly. “i made you guys something for christmas, but i left it with it at home… when can i, um, give it?” the blonde murmurs, and he feels the fingers in his hair freeze. “let’s give our presents to each other by the twentieth! my family and i are going overseas on christmas so i may not be able to see you guys any other day after that.” the tallest suggests.

“tubbo?” tommy nudges the other boy for confirmation.

he hears him take a deep breath. “you– you made us something. so it automatically means your gift is better than what we’ll give you. why did god give me such a good best friend! what the fuck. i’m jealous that i can't make anything for you two!” tubbo whines, annoyed at his lack of arts and crafts.

“i-it’s nothing big, actually! i was taking up a new hobby recently, so it’s actually not that good.” tommy mumbles shyly. “oh, to be talented and creative, and oh! so endearing as tommyinnit.” ranboo teases. “fuck off, dude.”

the witch smiles bashfully. this is nice, he thinks. won’t be as nice if– tommy shakes his bitter thoughts out of his head. he’ll deal with his sadness later, he decides.

-

“ready to go?” tubbo whispers, holding tommy’s hand. wilbur had just arrived, and he was now talking to niki at the front door while tommy ran off to the bathroom, presumably to panic. tubbo followed the boy, reading his actions well like an open book.

tommy blinks, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. “g-give me a moment, yeah?” he huffs out, gripping the marble sink as if it was his lifeline. his mind grows fuzzy as his breathing speeds up and he shuts his eyes. when tommy comes back to consciousness, he notices tubbo’s hand massaging his scalp and the dark spots in his vision.

“hey, tommy. back with me?” he asks softly, and cradles tommy’s hand so gently, that the boy cannot hold in his fondness for his bestfriend, and rushes to hug him. “thank you, tubbo. i’m alright. i’m– i’m with you.”

“sorry for being such a mess today. i can’t really explain right now, but i–” tubbo winces internally as the boy apologizes yet again and when the boy stopped immediately as he raises a hand. “don’t apologize, tommy. i don’t know what’s going on right now, but i’ll always be here for you. you don’t have to tell me anything.”

tommy blinks tears away as he hears niki call them. he’s truly eternally grateful for tubbo, as the said brunette leads him to the living room, and he would tell tubbo that him being highly upset today is caused by his emotion-fueled magic, but then again he hasn’t told tubbo the truth yet. his eyes meet wilbur’s and he feels his breath being knocked out of his lungs.

“hi, tommy.” wilbur offers him a small smile and a hand. “l-let’s go home, yeah?” tommy nods slowly, accepting the hand.

“right. home.” he echoes.

-

time with wilbur is always precious, and always so comforting. his familiar warmth and soft jumper is always a sign of safety to tommy. his voice soothes tommy’s nerves after a long day, and his teasing words turn into honey. so kind. so fond. so loving.

as much as tommy would like to say their trek home was lovely as always, he and wilbur both know it wasn’t. wilbur was fidgeting more than usual, and tommy was sinking deeper in his thoughts.

the boy was wondering as he glances at the moon. he ponders and muses to himself. about how he and the moon were alike, revolving around the earth; his family and his friends. clingy? perhaps he is. but then again, the moon is beautiful and true, whereas he is an anomaly. too pretentious, an oddity wherever you place him, yet his deviation is well too hidden and he is not yet outcasted.

“we’re here.” wilbur says, words hanging in the air as tommy walks slowly, and catches the hem of the brunette’s sweater. “give me a moment, will you?” tommy smiles weakly, hyping himself up to confront his dear ol’ brother technoblade.

and wilbur– oh wilbur– is patient. so painstakingly patient that tommy has to will himself not to cry again. one might think tommy is being too dramatic and sensitive over actions of human decency– and fuck it, so what if he is? try being in the system five fuckin’ years, and that’ll tell you a lot.

tommy’s grip gradually slips after a couple minutes, so the older acknowledges the silent message. “wanna go in?”

and tommy nods.

-

contrary to outsiders’ beliefs of techno (technoblade, of all people,) being a right tory and an unsympathetic prick, he’s actually the hidden softie in the triad of brothers. (and not y’know, the in-denial clingy youngest son of philza.)

so yes, tommy was expecting that techno would be guilty for shouting at him, but seeing technoblade looking like a kicked puppy (pig in a crown?) on the living room’s sofa is definitely not what he anticipated.

with the way phil immediately stood upright, tommy thinks he might’ve gotten whiplash. “hi, mate. i- do you want tea? milk? anything?” and by god, do they look like a mess, and tommy feels guilt settle in his heart. he has seen his family at their highest and most certainly their lowest, but he has never seen them look as worse as now.

tommy hesitates, then nods. “tea, please. thank you.”

“y-yeah! be– be right back.”

the blonde situates himself on their couch, opposite end of the moping middle child, and the oldest sits on the left seat of them.

“tommy i–” techno starts, but tommy rolls his eyes lightheartedly and puts a finger to his lips.

“later. let's wait for phil.” tommy says. and–what the fuck–techno looks crestfallen, but tommy inches toward his brother. because why would he be angry at techno. techno, who helps him with his math homework. techno, who taught him how to sew his clothes. techno, who has school the next day yet still stays up late with him when he has a nightmare.

he’s an idiot, and they both are but tommy wants to treasure this moment before they inevitably hate him when he– he pauses his thinking. deep breaths. he curls up next to techno and the older immediately relaxes, and techno feels his heart hurt.

his youngest brother–who encourages him when he feels down, who lights up the whole room with his bright personality, who distracts him when his anxiety is too loud–looks so tired. scared. his eyes and cheeks are puffy, as if–as if he cried for a long time. he feels awful. god, he fucked up big time.

phil comes back into the room holding tommy’s favourite ugly red mug and hands it to the boy, who sips the sugary caffeine. said man sits across wilbur, and the four are in silence again.

“i have something to tell you guys.” tommy begins, tapping his fingers nervously on his mug.

techno shifts uncomfortably, biting his lip. “tommy, if it's about what i told- forced- said earlier, you don't need to um, say it. that was wrong of me, i was an ass–”

“woah, woah. not everything is about you, big man.” tommy forces a smile to match the joke, but it doesn’t hit quite as hard. the sentiment seems to be appreciated though, as the three other males chuckle. (as forced as his own smile, yet tommy ignores that fact.) “listen, i– techno, i'm not gonna lie and say what.. what you said earlier didn't affect me but… i–on my own terms–decided that– i'm gonna stop being a pussy and… tell you guys.”

tommy swallows down his fears. “do– do you guys love me?”

wilbur blinks, and phil chokes promptly. “tommy– of course we do.”

“why would we not– how can i not love you when–” techno said, distressed at the prospect of tommy not knowing he was loved. the aforementioned teen turns red and mutters curses, placing his mug down the coffee table and holding a hand up to speak.

“then i've decided if you guys, um, hate me because of what i’m gonna tell you,” wilbur gasps in disagreement. “i’m–then.. i will leave this household, and you guys will let me. because niki says i deserve to be happy and loved, and– i will sic tubbo and ranboo on you WITH a glock if–if u guys ever try to bother me.” tommy says, feigning confidence in his words, when in reality, he feels as though he loves them too much to ever leave them; even if they don’t would hate him -if- when they know.

“that’s perfectly valid, mate. although, i can never, ever hate you, i’m proud of you for speaking out.” the older blonde gives him a supportive smile.

“it pains me that you think my love for you will ever disappear, but i think i understand where you're coming from, i guess.” wilbur nods, almost painfully. (tommy would laugh any other day at the similar look of a constipated face to what wilbur looked like right now, but due to current circumstances, his heart felt pain as well.)

“whatever makes you happy, theseus.” techno mumbled, picking on a loose thread of his sweatshirt.

“okay so, do u guys believe in, um, otherworldly stuff?” the youngest takes a deep breath.
“like what mate? angels and devils and that sorta thing?” phil asks in a gentle, understanding voice. tommy shakes his head.

“like gods and deities?” techno offers. “not that, as well.” tommy shakes his head no, again.

“oh!” wilbur perks up. “like mages, warlocks, witches, and wizards?”

tommy coughs awkwardly. “yeah! kinda like magic…”

he holds a bated breath as he waits for the three to answer.

“well, i honestly don’t know. for what i know it could be real. and that wouldn’t be a bad thing.” phil responds carefully. “i agree.” wilbur nods.

“that would be cool. and, um, interesting.” techno supplies timidly. tommy lets out his breath, and his shoulders sag. (in relief? in acceptance?)

they stay in silence. and tommy– the boy blinks furiously as he wills himself to not cry because he knows that they can tell what he’s gonna say. knowing delaying further would only detain the inevitable, so he blurts out:

“so, i'm a witch! d-do u guys want to see proof? or– or want me to leave… oh, fuck, sorry i probably should–” tommy laughs awkwardly, moving to stand up. he can hear the rush of blood in his ears as his his head spins in an overwhelming mix of emotions.

“tommy, you’re working yourself up. please calm down.” wilbur rushes to stabilise the boy. “dad, can you get him some water? i-i'll handle him.” techno says, grabbing tommy’s hand. suddenly, the blonde teen feels his hand being engulfed with warmth, and he can hear techno’s voice.

“you’re okay, theseus. you’re doing great and i’ve got you. breathe with me, yeah?” techno speaks clearly, so that tommy can feel grounded. phil arrives back with water when did he leave? and tommy gulps it down gratefully.

“you don't have to prove anything to us, mate. not if you aren’t comfortable to. it honestly makes sense from the books in your room and everything else. sorry for–”

“it’s okay, really. you guys didn't know.” tommy says slowly, giving them all a genuine smile.” i– i want to show you guys my magic. because you guys made me… not hate magic.” and myself. the last part is silent, but they know. they always do.

he pauses and he can see them wait for what he’ll say next, and he feels warmth bloom in his chest. “i-i don't really know the limits of my magic…?” tommy waves his hands around nervously, the other smiling fondly. “i know my stupid witch instincts like the moon! and, um, i just, i’m able to make things float or- or- or make plants bloom or something like that. and i can't really make things appear out of thin air but- but i can like, summon them via teleporting, you know? l-like this!” tommy rambles then mutters something under his breath, and feels the featherlike sensation of magic through his fingertips then summons his cow plushie from his room into his hands.

wilbur gasps in surprise and phil widens his eyes in awe. “woah…” techno mumbles quietly.

“and the more complex shit i can do are like, um, spells. like protection spells! or- or, um, like warding spells…like soundproofing! and yeah. i can also make charms! or talismans, like periapts an' shit? yeah those, like, i can put–” tommy cuts himself off excitedly with weird hand gestures. ”–conjurations on a thing like- like! on a pen maybe. or on henry for example. so he doesn’t rip apart or something.”

“i mostly put spells on bookmarks ‘n shit because they’re less likely to get lost than pens.” tommy mumbles. his oldest brother nods in animated understanding. “ah! is that why i always see bookmarks on my stuff? i’ve always assumed it's phil’s way of telling me to stop folding my book pages.” wilbur says, satisfied smile on his face.

“degenerate.” techno shakes his head in disbelief, the plethora of curses spewing out of tommy’s mouth getting covered up by a giggling wilbur, who in turn is getting weakly punched by said gremlin child.

“believe me, boys, i tried to stop him.” phil sighs, disappointed and techno chuckles.

“so these charms. you’ve given us them before? like seeing as wilbur has some bookmarks you mentioned.” techno asks curiously once the laughter died down.

“uh, yeah. a lot. like y'know how i buy these cool stones and kinda… bug phil to display them in the living room with the rest of my rock collection? well. yeah. it’s the best way i can do to stay hidden yet also being useful.” tommy mumbles.

“aren't you so nice…” wilbur slightly teases, squishing the boy’s cheeks. tommy mumbles a few curse words, but they die down as soon as he feels wilbur plant a big kiss on his forehead.

“tommy, don’t think that you’re useless. you’re so important to me and you give me life and so much more, that i dont think i’m giving you enough for what you’re worth.” techno tells tommy. wilbur lets go of the boy's cheeks and watches his younger siblings fondly.

tommy’s bottom lip wobbles. “techno… thank you.” and he collapses into techno’s arms because he knows techno doesn’t lie. and he sobs, and sobs. it feels good to be loved.

“you are a gift to us. you’re so loving, kind, and you have a big heart that i'm always so afraid to leave you. but you’re also a strong boy and you’re brave. you always solve your worries alone, and– i'm glad your finally letting yourself not shoulder everything on your own.” phil cards his hand through tommy’s hair, and the boy grasps the man’s other hand tightly over techno’s shoulder.

“moonflower, i'm so proud of you for telling us. i don’t think it's weird. its very– cool? it's amazing. i can't describe it. it’s– it’s a beautiful thing. you’re my favourite in the whole wide world and i am your number one defender, so never think i’d ever leave you for being– you.” his oldest brother pokes his cheek annoyingly, laughing when tommy pushes it away, whining in light-hearted exasperation.

“thank you…” tommy mumbles. they’re quiet for a while as they all relax in a more comfortable position.

“i used to think the universe cursed me to have magic because it didn’t want me to be happy. but now i think it’s ‘cause it wanted me to find people like you guys who would help me love myself again.” the boy whispers, emotionally drained.

“tommyinnit, you are an absolute sweetheart. techno, hold me i cannot handle this child.” wilbur leans heavily onto techno, ever the dramatist. phil laughs at the duo as techno whines for help, and wilbur continuously bothers him.

and tommy watches. he's so glad. he's so glad that he has a loving family, and wonderful friends. he cannot ask for anyone better than his big family.

tommyinnit, loudmouth extraordinaire, thick-skinned, sensitive teen, and someone who generally hates showing vulnerability out of fear, hated his witch origins years ago. it mellowed out once he learned to control it a bit, and when he got adopted by the minecrafters, but the feeling of hate, hate, hate still crawled under his skin once in a while.

now? maybe… being a witch isn’t quite that bad if it means he can complain about a failed conjuration to tubbo and dump mud on ranboo out of nowhere. maybe it isn’t that bad if he can talk to phil when the magic is all too much on some days, get wilbur cuddles, and a special-home-cooked meal from techno.

yeah, he thinks, as techno kicks wilbur off him and wilbur cries exaggeratedly. this isn't that bad.