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Tommy technically wasn’t “god” per-se but he held the balance of life and death in his irresponsible hands. See Tommy was what most people called the “grim reaper” except a lot less cool than the actual grim reaper. He was stuck with the lame job of being a dead person chauffeur. He didn’t even take them to the afterlife, just to some fucking beach or river or the nearest water and from there Kristen would take them to- well, Tommy didn’t exactly know where. But back to the “beginning” of how Tommy ended up in this sudo god situation.
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The worst part is that it was natural causes. He had always thought that he would go out in a very badass, very Tommy way. Like being killed in battle, or protecting a friend, or in a final stance against dream. But no. Tommy was out for too long in the tundra and just fucking died. Rather a pussy way to die if you asked him.
His leaving his last life felt just like his past two deaths, not exactly unpleasant but utterly exhausting. The different part was that instead of waking up at his last respawn set (in this case the bed down in phil's training room) but instead in an unfamiliar rather large bed in a surprisingly homey room. Tommy always thought that the afterlife would be something along the lines of an infinite black void, or maybe even the whole “heaven” idea he still clung to even years after the peak of his church prime days. Worst case he ended up in that cursed train station that Wilbur went on and on about.
Instead it was a medium sized room about the size of Tommy’s old base. He had woken up in a rather comfortable bed, tucked in somehow. Shuffling out of the bead and taking in the lovingly cluttered atmosphere he inexplicably felt at home. The room was dimly lit by an array of mismatching lamps and droopy fairy lights. There were little knick knacks from all time, such as a knight's helmet on display, as well as one of the more recent communicators made for the more up to date SMPs. There was a set of figures lining the front of the mirror.
As Tommy neared he wasn’t sure what was more surprising, him or the figures. The small action hero sized statues were of Tommy, Wilbur, Techno, and Phil. Taking his own figure he glanced up to the mirror. The figure was scarily accurate and detailed, including the rips in Tommy's clothing and the poor patch jobs resulting. It had his scars from L’manburg days and the disk battles. He went to compare himself to the figure again and was scared by his own reflection. He looked perfect. Not like Tommy at all, but “perfect.” He had no blemishes, his scars were gone. His clothing was like new, and He seemed to have no physical issues. The constant ringing in his ears since the first L’manburg explosion was gone, and the ache in his side from the constant fighting was simply nonexistent. What had happened?
Looking around again trying to gauge what the fuck had ahppened to him he saw a door, slightly opened with a warm light coming from beyond. Tommy would have sworn to Dream XD himself that the door had been an empty wall mere seconds ago. Creeping forward he tentatively placed a hand on the doorknob, preparing to open it when
“Tommy!”- said a warm voice opening the door, timing inconceivable.
“WHAT THE FUCK”- Tommy exclaimed, obviously scared by the sudden noise as well as the surprise of the door opening.
“I’ve been wondering when you would wake up,” the mysterious woman said. Tommy took her in fully, seeing her full figure, long elegant black dress and rather large black sun hat.
“Mom?”
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Tubbo dealt with grief in his own way, which happened to be not dealing with it at all. First at the loss of his husband Ranboo he busied himself with the task of saving their child Michael, from sam. Tubbo had not cried once since ranboos death. He wondered if he still could. There was a sense of ease in this numbness, particularly easier than actually having to process the emotions, but deep down Tubbo knew it was not “healthy”.
For a few days after rescuing michel and bringing him back home to Snowchester he busied himself with fatherly responsibilities. He played with Michel, cleaned his room, made them all food for the first time in a while. On a day which, much like the past few, Tubbo had jammed packed his schedule to allow no time for “feelings” he heard a sudden knock at the door.
Old Tubbo wouldn’t have hesitated. Old Tubbo would have opened the door enthusiastically welcoming people into his home. Old Tubbo was happy, Hell old Tubbo was even able to feel happiness. But he was not Old Tubbo.
Startled by the sudden noise he put the cookies back in the oven after checking their baking status and went to draw a weapon. Ironically his current defense of choice was a crossbow, and Techno was right, they are powerful. Tentatively looking out the window towards his spruce door he saw Techno.
Techno knocked once again and Tubbo, feeling more comfortable in the piglins presence went to lower his weapon and open the door. They had bonded while saving Michel and even had a team name, “The Revengers” which sounded pretty badass.
“Hi Bigman” Tubbo said, opening the door and gesturing for Techno to come in. Looking back at his messy kitchen he began rambling excuses. “I was just making cookies for Michel! You can stay and have some if-” Cut off by Technos serious expression. While yes technoblade was a man of few words, and rarely looked “pleasant” this expression had been worn by him twice before in Tubbo’s presence. At the festival, and when Techno came to tell him about Ranboo.
“Tubbo-” The piglin began “I know we aren't on the best of terms still but you need to know. I was out doing chores and I came across, well there's no way to put this, Tommy’s body.”
Silence.
“Look I know this is a shock, he didn't have any wounds or anything, seems as if he was out there too long. There was nothing we could do. He was gone before I even got there”
Silence.
“Look I’m sorry Tubbo this must be allot to handle”
Silence.
“I’ll leave you alone to process for a bit” Techno said walking out.
Old Tubbo would have cried. Old Tubbo Would have shouted. Old Tubbo would have gotten so angry he broke everything in the kitchen. But he wasn’t old Tubbo. He simply sat down at the kitchen counter, put his head into his hands, and closed his eyes.
The cookies burned.