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Basic Everyday Bullshit
Tommy is incredibly done with this whole waking up bit. It’s way too fucking early, and he is positively famished.
This would be a rather opportune moment to get up and go to the cafeteria, all abhorrence of this early hour aside.
There are women there , he reasons, before scrunching his nose. Wilbur is also there.
He opens his eyes. A worthy sacrifice.
Tommy sits upright in his cot, throws aside his blanket, and bounds to his feet. He walks over to the old mirror in his little, stone-walled room, and deems his appearance worthy to woo any women he might happen upon, (ignoring, of course, the streaks of dirt across his face from his spar with Sapnap yesterday). He wastes no time in sprinting out his door, forgetting to lock it as usual, and makes his way to the cafeteria, otherwise known as heaven down in this notably gloomy yet comfortable place he’d lived in all his life.
Something above Tommy shifts, and a stream of dust spills out of a crack in the ceiling. They must be rearranging the game arenas for the next Championship.
Although others may not describe the living situation as luxurious , Tommy is content. The bright flashing lights of the arcade slow the teen down, but only for a second. Tommy has priorities, like not getting yelled at by Wilbur, or maintaining his reputation in the cafeteria as the fastest eater. (That had been put to the test only a few days ago; Jack Manifold ended up in the infirmary, sick.)
Finally arriving, he takes a whiff of the air and practically melts when the smell of his favorite steak omelet wafts by. He jogs over to the short line of people waiting for breakfast and skids to a halt behind a hyper Tubbo, which would most likely be attributed to a long night up tinkering again.
“Hiya, bossman!” says the shorter one energetically, whipping around the moment Tommy gets into step behind him. “Ever since last week, I’ve been developing so many new gadgets, you should really come by and see them after breakfast!”
“Sure,” Tommy says, tentatively. The last time he opted to do that a few months ago he’d ended up with his eyebrows singed while the two hastily tried to explain to Philza and some of the guards exactly why Dream’s favorite poncho was visibly on fire through the hole they’d made in the wall.
Tubbo quickly becomes distracted and looks past Tommy, his eyes widening as he waves frantically at someone out of Tommy’s eyesight.
“OVER HERE, BIG MAN!” he yells, and Tommy startles as Sapnap fucking appears ( Jesus Christ, how is the man so fast? ), and snatches up the young boy, the two laughing and acting all buddy-buddy .
“You two sure have gotten close,” mumbles Tommy, his eyes narrowing at the raven-haired man.
“Oh come on Tommy, arson and nukes just go together like two peas in a pod,” Sapnap says as he lets go of Tubbo, chuckling. “Not to mention, Tubbo’s pretty good with a bow and arrow. Can’t just let talent like that go to waste.”
“Isn’t he on our team, though?” comes a voice from behind Tommy, a hand landing on his shoulder, almost protectively. “It’s a bit strange that you’d be training him in combat when we’re going to be on different sides this next championship, don’t you think?”
Tommy turns around to see Wilbur glaring at the other man and cheers. Internally, of course. He can’t have that bitchboy know he occasionally enjoys his presence. Emphasis on occasionally . On the outside, he makes sure his tough guy face is on display. Men fear him, women love him.
“ God, Tommy, you look like you’re trying to decide between taking a shit right here and now and decking someone, go get some more rest,” says the tall man, while pulling the shorter behind him.
“I’m just trying to make sure Tubbo can stand his ground in the next Championship, ” says Sapnap, glaring right back. “What’s so wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I suppose,” says Wilbur, his voice grating. “But considering you’re with that green dick, I think I have the right to be a bit suspicious.”
Tubbo giggles, and the group looks at him.
“ Sus, ” he says loopily.
Tommy blinks, then shakes his head and brushes Wilbur’s hand off his shoulder.
“Listen here, you pricks, we can take care of ourselves. Just because we’re younger than you doesn’t mean you make better decisions just because your brains are more developed or some bullshit.”
“That’s exactly what it means,” say the older two men in unison, who then glare at each other.
“At any rate, I’m just going to take ol’ Tubbs here and get breakfast, I’m starving and neither of you fucks are going to stop me from getting my meat. I can’t have people thinking I’m a damn vegetarian.” Tommy takes Tubbo by the hand and marches towards the end of the line, which has grown shorter ever since Wilbur showed up to pick a fight.
“Honestly, who the hell do they think they are? We can hold our own well enough, eh Tubbo?” Tommy says, folding his arms and waiting for a response, but it never comes.
Tommy glances to his left, then this right, and realizes promptly that Tubbo is nowhere to be seen. Around the corner, something pops loudly, followed by a shriek.
Probably George, the teen thinks to himself. George is the only one pussy enough to still be startled by Tubbo’s shitty firecrackers.
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“What the fuck was that?!” Tommy exclaims, stumbling backwards, massaging the side of his face that his teammate had just brutally slapped with the flat side of his sword.
“Oh come on , we’ve been practicing for hours now, why aren’t you getting it?” says Wilbur, exasperated.
“I’m not getting it because you’re a fucking dick and just beating me up with a sword, not a single swing you’ve tried’s from that shitty handbook you gave me yesterday!”
“You need to be prepared for anything, Tommy. Championships are all about adapting, doing whatever you need to squeeze through to the top. Now get back in position.”
Tommy opens his mouth to complain, but ultimately decides against it, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere. Wilbur was determined, and until Tommy had one good round, he wouldn’t be allowed to leave the practice arena.
At that moment something green appears in the stands, but Tommy disregards it. He knows if he takes his focus away from his opponent for even a split second it’ll be over.
Wilbur’s foot shifts, the dirt crunching beneath it, and then Tommy is dashing forwards to meet him, their blades clashing in a whirlwind of dull steel and sweat.
Block, slash, step back, push forwards, and that’s it - Tommy’s finally getting the hang of it-
“ Keep fighting like that and you’ll be back in the respawn chamber faster than you can blink! ”
In a flash, the teen is flat on his back as Wilbur positions himself above, putting the dulled point of his sword to Tommy’s throat.
“ What the hell? ” Tommy groans. “I had it, I was in the zone .”
Wilbur frowns down at him before looking up at someone, who then kicks dust into the prone teenager’s eyes.
“Dream, you prick,” the British man says as Tommy frantically rubs his eyes to free them of obstruction. “That was completely uncalled for.”
“What’s uncalled for,” starts Dream, “is the time you waste ‘training’ this brat.” He steps forwards, toe to toe with Wilbur. “You and I both know for a fact that he’ll be gone within seconds. Now leave , because I need to remind everyone else that there’s no point in trying as long as I’m in the competition.”
Tommy, now less blind, looks to Wilbur, expecting him to come up with some brutal retort, but the man is just standing there, thinking . A few seconds pass, and the man still hasn’t moved, and now the teen is a bit worried. Dream narrows his eyes, and right when it seems he’s about to smack Wilbur, the man moves, his attitude seemingly doing a one-eighty.
“Right! Tommy, let’s go, yeah? This gentleman needs his space, we’ve brushed up on your skills long enough. We can continue tomorrow.” Wilbur’s suddenly cheerful voice betrays the strong grip he has on the blond boy’s arm as he begins dragging him away.
“But Wilbur,” Tommy says, “we’ve got to get back at him! We can’t just walk away. Dream isn’t as big of a man as he thinks, he’s just a big fucking bully.”
“Just shut up for once in your life, will you?” says the other under his breath. “ Honestly , you’re such a child. While you were busy trying to regain your vision, I was paying attention to the rest of his crew prowling around the edge of the arena. We would’ve been toast.”
“We could have taken them all. We’re unbeatable!”
“Yeah, not with your footing. I’m not helping with shit there though, you can go over that with Phil, I’ve had my fill of you for today. Oh, and take a bloody shower, you’re fucking filthy.”
Tommy stomps on Wilbur’s foot, gaining freedom, only to be smacked in the back of the head in retaliation.
“I’m perfectly clean as is,” says the teen, sticking his tongue out. “ Honestly, fuck off, you worry too much. You’re not my fucking brother .”
“Brother or not you asshole, you could part a crowd of naked mole rats looking like that.”
“ FUCK YOU! ”
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Tommy drags himself back to his room after breakfast the next day to change for training and flips the light on.
Instead of the expected minimally decorated room, a glossy dome attached to a floating hunk of metal appears directly in front of the boy, causing him to screech and fall on his ass.
“What the hELL S4-“ he says grumpily, gritting his teeth and picking himself up off the ground.
The little robot dings happily and does a little spin midair, quivering with excitement. Tommy pushes it out of his way to enter his room, dragging a box of armor out from under his bed.
S4D-15T twitters again, and the teen looks up to glare at it. A blue glow illuminates Tommy’s face as it plays a little recording of Wilbur.
“Toms, meet me at the pool. We have got to work on your trident skills, they’re fucking atrocious, you look like a wet dog who’s been tied to a rocket every time, I swear…”
“Go to hell, Wilbur,” Tommy groans as he shoves the box back under the bed.
The robot spins upon hearing Wilbur’s name, and a new image pops up, a miniature hologram of the man with his fucking shirt off .
Tommy gapes in confusion, and slight horror, but a second later S4D-15T projects a second picture onto the wall. To the teen’s surprise, he sees an animated figure calmly walking along.
The boy’s gaze snaps from picture to picture as the robot hums expectantly, and finally he gets it.
“Oh, you’re using him to get anatomy figured out, right S4?” he asks, and the bot does a happy little ding. “I thought you were turning into that creepy fucking hologram that Wilbur’s practically in love with. I can’t stand being in a room with the two of them, it makes me want to shit tears.”
Tommy walks into the hallway again, and parts ways with the robot, making his way down to the pool area. He scrunches his nose, trying to remember the directions as he goes along.
Now, you’d think that since he’d lived all his life down below the arena he’d know where it was by now, but because of an incident when he was a child he’d never been allowed in until Grian’s leg had healed from the trident, and Pete had taught him how to swim properly.
He makes a right, then a left, and then goes through a doorway which leads to the massive vaulted ceilings and pool that indicate the room he’s looking for. Squinting across to the other side, he can see Wilbur smiling and chatting with Ace Race, the personified hologram and admin of the official game.
Ace really is quite lovely, Tommy has to admit, but ever since he’d caught the AI sneaking peeks at Wilbur in the water a couple years ago, he’d had his fill.
He walks up to the couple, pulling faces and making obscene gagging sounds until the tall man turns and smacks him upside the head.
“You dick,” Wilbur says. “Be polite, you fucking gremlin.”
“Well I’m sorry you can’t stop making puppy eyes at your fucking girlfriend ,” Tommy replies, grimacing.
[I’M SORRY, TOMMY. I HOPE I HAVEN’T OFFENDED YOU.] says Ace, blinking at him. [I WAS JUST TALKING TO WILBUR AS HE WAITED FOR YOU TO ARRIVE. HE AND I GET SO LITTLE TIME TOGETHER.]
Wilbur winks at the AI as Ace begins to drift away, ready to tend to the tasks of the day.
“You’re such a prick, Tommy. You’re lucky I’m even associating with you, let alone giving you trident lessons.”
“We’re on a team, dick, besides, Phil says you have to.”
“I don’t have to, idiot,”
“Yes we do or else we won’t w-” Tommy’s throat clogs and he coughs, clearing it to finish his sentence. “Win. We won’t win, and I need to impress all the women. They’re all my bitches, each and every last one of them, they just don’t know it yet.”
Wilbur shoves him out of the way, rolling his eyes as he makes his way to the lockers with the gear they’d need to practice.
“Here, take this,” he says to the boy, pushing a blue mechanical trident at him, along with a special helmet specifically engineered for the event. Tommy puts it on, and blinks as it seals off around his neck, which would keep the water out once they got in the pool.
Not waiting for Wilbur, he runs, nearly slips, and crashes into the pool’s surface. The contact with water activates the helmet’s computerized display on the glass Tommy is looking through, showing the mapped pathway throughout the practice course.
Wilbur jumps in more gracefully, landing next to Tommy and treading water. He inspects his trident, looking it up and down before pressing a button right where the three prongs met in the middle.
A mechanical whir fills the air, and several lights on the contraption begin blinking. Before long they’re joined by the sound of the trident Tommy was holding doing the same.
“Right, okay, remember to not hold too far down, okay? You always get thrown off when you do,” echos Wilbur’s voice through Tommy’s helmet.
“I know, I know,” the teen grumbles back. He aims the trident upright, where it keeps itself in position as two specially designed contraptions come out of the crossguard near the bottom.
Tommy can vaguely remember HBomb explaining to him that they were created to pull in and push out water, therefore propelling and launching itself in the water, but it was too long ago for him to recall the specifics.
He grabs it, making sure his hands are in the right place, about mid way, and glances up at the course. The display blinks between blue, pink, and orange, and he selects the blue option by tapping a pattern on the side of his helmet.
“Ready for me to beat your ass?” Tommy says, turning to Wilbur only to get a faceful of water as the man launched away. “YOU PRICK!”
Tommy scrambles to input the combination, and suddenly he’s pulled out of the water, soaring above the pool towards the first bounce pad. He hits the platform running and readjusts his grip, gritting his teeth.
He was not going to let Wilbur, king of hating this game, beat him.
He leaps and hits the bounce pad solidly with two feet, then two more times, ascending to the next pool area. Through the wall of water ahead he can see his competition, and so without hesitation the teen keeps going.
Faster. Higher. Better .
He skids along a speed run, nearly tripping at the end, but he barely saves himself by diving into the water ahead. He hits another combination, and the trident pulls him along, closer and closer to Wilbur.
Tommy lands at the end of the pool, instead of just climbing out like his opponent, he puts his feet on the crossguard, streaking out of the water with his trident in hand, hitting the ground running.
He sprints for the wall, shoving the trident through his belt loop and jamming an elytra on, barely ahead of Wilbur.
He laughs with joy as he jumps off the edge, free falling as the wind whips around his face, then throws out his arms, the elytra attached to them catching the current.
Gliding was always one of his favorite feelings. That was to be expected, as Phil had started teaching him at a young age how. The man would bring out empty boxes from storage and organize them in the training arena so Tommy could practice jumping off them and landing safely with the contraption.
Tommy closes his eyes and smiles, feeling the air run its fingers through his hair.
Those were good times, and sometimes he wishes Phil was still the same way. That he would still smile every now and then, the full one that the teen remembers from his childhood. Now it was just… hollow.
He can hear his display beeping at him in the background of his mind, and Tommy slams into a bounce pad, his eyes snapping open as the wind is knocked out of him before he falls out of the course and into the water.
He lays there, groaning as Wilbur finishes just above.
“That fucking huuurt ,” he whines as the man splashes down next to him.
“What the hell happened?” Wilbur questions. “You were winning. You were pulling ahead, and then you just… fell apart. I’ve never seen you just lose control of an elytra like that.”
“I closed my eyes, that’s all,” Tommy replies, adjusting himself in the water so he’s upright. “I knew I was going to beat you, so I wasn’t worried.”
“You’re gonna be a lot more worried when you’re going against Dream,” chides the man. “I will never be able to understand how Techno kept you so determined. You never messed up like you do now. I just don’t know how to help.”
“You can start by go fucking yourself,” says the teen, sticking his toungue out. “The Blade may be sick but he’s here iN sPiRit .”
Wilbur grunts and heaves himself out of the water, walking towards the drying unit.
“Wilbur? Wilbur? Oh come on, what did I say? God , why are you so fucking moody?”
“Shut up , Tommy!”