MCYT Oneshots And Other Random Stuff

Family

"Hey, whatcha up to?"

Tubbo jumped at the familiar voice, sending several sheets of papers flying off his desk.

Tommy stooped to pick up the papers. "What are you doing with these? You can't read."

"I'm dyslexic, Tommy. There's a difference between dyslexia and illiteracy. I'm... working on something." Tubbo snatched the papers back and held them against his chest.

"Secret business? Does it involve drugs?" Tommy picked up a random paper from Tubbo's desk and examined it. Tubbo tried to grab it out of his hands, but Tommy dodged. "What's this" — he read the title Tubbo had written— "family tree notes?"

Tommy was still holding the paper out of Tubbo's reach, but luckily it appeared he could not read Tubbo's scribbly handwriting. Not to mention the very frequent misspellings.

"God, Tubbo, what on earth are you trying to say? U-n-d-i-r-s-v-o-r-e? Oh, this is supposed to be your last name, isn't it? Underscore. Just saying, you misspelled it."

"Yes, Tommy, thank you for noticing."

"There's at least seven different misspellings of Underscore on this page."

"Thank you, TommyInnit."

"Also, you misspelled tree. Who does that?"

"Tommy, I'd appreciate it if you could give that paper back."

"Fine."

Tubbo grabbed the paper out of his friend's hands. "Tommy, can you go? I'm... waiting for someone."

"What, do you have a secret girlfriend I'm not allowed to know about?" Tommy challenged. Tubbo rolled his eyes. "No. I'm waiting for Phil. We're... working on something."

Tubbo wasn't sure why he didn't want to tell Tommy about his project. Tommy was his closest friend. He'd trust Tommy with his life.

But this wasn't like fighting for the discs, or defending L'Manburg. This was personal. It had nothing to do with Tommy.

And deeper inside, he knew he was scared. Scared of what he'd find. Scared to know more about the people who had abandoned him on the side of the road, fourteen years ago.

Tubbo had grown up in a very strange family. The dad had wings. The oldest brother was the immortal blood god. The middle and youngest brothers were always fighting over the stupidest things— and by fighting, he meant dueling to the death with swords.

But even with his ridiculous family, he still knew that normal families didn't abandon their kids.

Whoever had abandoned Tubbo had to be messed up.

Very messed up.

"What are you—" Tommy began. He was interrupted by the door opening. "Hi, Tubbo," Phil said cheerfully. "Snowchester looks nice."

Tubbo brightened instantly. He'd spent hours making the small village look nice. "Thanks! It took hours to add all the small touches to make—" he broke off when he saw the envelope in Phil's hand.

"Did you find anything?" Tubbo asked urgently, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer. Phil nodded, his expression turning wary. "It's... not good."

"What's not good?" Tommy asked curiously, trying to peek at the papers. Phil pulled them away, seemingly noticing Tommy for the first time. "What are you doing here?"

"What, am I not allowed to visit my best friend, who shares all his secrets with me?" Tommy elbowed Tubbo, as if this was his cue to share all the details of his project.