Chapter Text
♡ --Tubbo--♡
Life as a forest deity was simple. You woke up, went about your routine of making sure all the flowers were in bloom and that the animals were awake, enriched the leaves and underbrush, told the birds to stop shitting on the deer while they were trying to sleep, and then went back to bed when the sun went down. It was a life that Tubbo had always known since he earned his name, and before he earned his name names weren't even really a thing, so needless to say he was pretty accustomed to his life as it was at the moment.
He had everything he needed. Fresh fruit, clean water, plenty of sunlight and an unfair amount of good sleeping spots to choose from. It wasn't like he even needed half of that stuff, either, he just liked to do it because it was better than standing around looking all divine and majestic all day like an idiot.
Life was simple in his forest. Life was good. And Tubbo wouldn't have his life any other way.
Until one misty morning, before the forest awoke fully and the dew was still speckled on the leaves and grass. That was the morning where he felt something , something warm and bright and mortal step into the forest.
That was the morning when everything changed.
◇--Tommy--◇
Life in the village of Oakburrow was simple. Every morning when the air was filled with fog and the grass was covered in dew you woke up, got dressed, had some breakfast, spent the hours toiling away until you got dizzy and passed out in a mud puddle filled with rats and worms, then you went to bed and got ready to start all over again the next day. It was a life that Tommy had known since he was born fifteen winters ago to the village blacksmith, and it was a life that could only be described as mind-numbingly dull .
Don't get it twisted, Tommy liked his life. He had food on the table, a warm bed, an older brother that bullied him lovingly and a father that was pretty swell(when he was around, at least). He spent most of his days tending to the little patch of herbs out back, because he wasn't big enough to help with the forge or to run deliveries with his brother, but by the gods he sure could water the oregano.
It was a good life. Safe. Simple. Boring . So very boring.
And when Tommy Minecraft, son of Philza Minecraft, the best blacksmith this side of the Dragonspine Mountains got bored, he went exploring. And what better to do on a misty morning than to go poking around in the old woods near the edge of town?
After all, what's the worst that could happen?
~~~
"SHIT!"
Tommy cried out as the ground beneath his feet gave way and sent him rolling through the mud and grime. Once he stopped he groaned, got up, and looked around to get his bearings. There were trees a plenty around him, ones with dark gray trunks and gnarled roots and fat leaves covered in dew. Trees that he didn't recognize as the emerald studded plants near the forest entrance from when he'd stepped inside earlier.
"Oh no…"
Lost. He was lost in the middle of the forest and he was going to die. He was going to starve to death and be eaten up by a pack of wolves, or get eaten by a pack of wolves and then starve to death. Father would write a fancy letter to the guardsmen asking them to find his youngest son, and then they'd find his shriveled up, half eaten corpse sticking out of the mud, and then Father would get that disappointed look on his face and would shake his head while muttering all disappointed and the like. Then Wilbur would make a joke about having one less mouth to feed and Father would laugh, and then they'd both go home and have some tasty mutton for dinner.
Tommy really wanted mutton right now. Or beef. Or pork. Or even some of that really nasty stew Wilbur made when Father was away for a long time.
He wanted his father. He wanted to go home.
He sniffled and sank down into the mud while hugging his shoulders. He kept his gaze up towards the leaves as he scooted back against a rotten tree stump, praying to every god he could think of that his father would find him soon before the wolves did. Or the bears. Or the mongrels or vampire bats or witches or changlings. Knowing his luck he'd be found by a hungry troll with big sharp tusks and a scary club that it would clobber him with then peel his squashed little body off and gobble him up.
"Please…" he whispered, sniffling once more as tears began welling in his fearful eyes. "Please, gods, if you're listening. Please don't let me die out here. I know I haven't been prayin' enough and that I forgot to leave an offering on the altar last week, and I'm really really sorry, but I promise to do better, just please...don't kill mEEEEEE!"
His voice went shrill and his face pale as a large, heavy thud shook the ground and rustled the leaves. Up above came the deafening cacophony of an untold number of birds spilling into the ash colored sky, their panicked shrieks and cries filling Tommy's ears and almost covering up the sound of his own hammering heart. Another thud , this one much much closer sent the boy spiraling further into his fright, and the only thing he could think to do was curl up and make himself as small as possible so maybe whatever the hell was coming decided that he was too small a morsel to bother eating.
I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, gonna die and get eaten and Father will be so disappointed and Wilbur will laugh and I'll be dead forever . His thoughts broke off into a screaming storm of "DEAD DEAD, DIE DIE, DEAD DIE, DEAD DEAD" as yet another thud boomed and thundered through the woods. The ground shook and trembled beneath where he lay, the muck and grime clinging to his tattered rags and hair like a pig rolling in a sty. Maybe if he was filthy enough the monster-witch-wolf-demon wouldn't want to eat him! Oh, please let the goblin-cyclops-werewolf be averse to eating stick-thin, mud covered young boys!
There was one final, deafening crash, and then Tommy felt his blood run cold as he could feel the thing's eyes staring down at him.
And then, in a voice that shook the trees and roots, it spoke . It wasn't a snarling, gnashing sort of voice that was filled with teeth and spittle. It wasn't raspy and dry, nor wet and slobbery. It was a nice voice, the kind of voice that made Tommy think of what a friend would sound like. He'd never had a friend(well, there was that Ranboo fella, but he was a weirdo so he didn't count), though, so maybe that was just the fear messing with his head.
"Ooooh, you're really pretty, aren't you?" The voice said softly from what could only be a few inches away. "C'mere."
And the next thing Tommy knew, he was being lifted up by something(someone?) whose hands were as warm as the bright summer sun, and who seemed awfully confused when he started to scream.
♡--Tubbo--♡
Tubbo had never given mortals much thought. Sure, most gods demanded that they worship them and give them offerings or stuff of that nature, and that certainly did come with benefits, but to Tubbo mortals just sort of... were . They weren't gods. They weren't divine in any sense and were incredibly fragile and died after a laughably short life filled with sorrow and sickness, and they had an awful habit of damaging his beloved forest. He didn't hate mortals, but he didn't care for them either.
So when he sensed a mortal entering his forest, Tubbo fully expected for it to be just another woodland traveler, or maybe a lumberjack or wandering druid on a pilgrimage. He wasn't expecting to find a scared, trembling boy curled up beneath an old stump, and he certainly wasn't expecting for said boy to be the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on.
Tubbo was no stranger to beauty. The sight of a freshly bloomed flower, the shimmering of the golden sunlight on a forest stream, the shadows cast by the leaves onto the underbrush below were all breathtaking sights that were plentiful in his woodland domain. So what exactly was it about this muddy, rag wearing boy that entranced him so?
His eyes. They weren't like any eyes Tubbo had seen before on a mortal. They were big and round and blue, bright bright blue, the glittering blue of polished diamonds sitting in the sunlight so it's rays filled them with flecks of silver. They were also filled with fear and tears as the mortal squirmed helplessly in the god's hand, though to be fair Tubbo did just grab the poor thing and start manhandling him so that was to be expected.
"Sssh, little mortal." He whispered, brushing the boy's hair out of his face as he spoke. Such lovely hair, even when it was covered in grime. It was soft and bright, like a messy tuft of golden fleece that framed the child's head in a halo of gold.
His face was the color of fresh cream kissed by the sun, his features sharp yet welcoming, and the only marking tainting his youthful visage was a tiny scar scraping up his left cheek. Who gave him that scar? Who dared harm such a precious little creature? Tubbo would have to have a word with them.
The boy batted a hand against Tubbo's thumb, a waterfall of half sobbed apologies falling from his mouth as the god carefully pinned him against his palm with his other index finger. He hiccuped and blinked away a few fat teardrops that ran down his rose tinted cheeks as his chest heaved.
Tubbo made a little sound and tilted his head.
"It's okay." He whispered, slowly tracing his finger up and down the boy's chest and stomach. He could feel the mortal's heart hammering against his ribcage beneath the pad of his finger, and something inside his own chest ached. Poor thing, so small and so frightened. "Can you breathe for me? Deep breath in, then let it out. Like this."
He took a deep breath in, inhaling a nonexistent lung full of humid air and holding it. The mortal boy did the same and held in his slightly swollen chest before exhaling slowly when Tubbo did the same. They repeated the process for a few minutes until Tubbo was satisfied by the gradual slowing of the child's heart, at which point he removed his finger and allowed him to sit up in his palm with his hands in his lap.
Tubbo smiled and lowered his hand slightly so he could look down at his newfound treasure, who in return blinked up at him with an adorable look of confusion painting his features.
"U-um…" The boy started, pausing briefly to clear his throat. "H...hello, there, Mister Goat Monster. A-are you...are you gonna... eat me?"
Oh, his voice! It was absolutely precious! Tubbo couldn't help but laugh and gush at the silliness of that question? Eat him, really now? So silly. So adorable. How the hell did he ever go all those countless centuries without meeting this wonderful little mortal with diamond eyes and golden hair?
" Eat you?" Tubbo echoed, and the boy's face flushed as he sank down.
"W-well I mean, you are a big scary monster living out in the woods!" He snapped back, face still read and voice still cracking with nervousness that was quickly being replaced by rage. "Figured that the whole 'eating little lost peasant children' thing would be right up your alley."
Tubbo's smile dropped away and he lifted a hand up to his head. "Monster?"
Did he look like a monster? He knew he had black hooves at the end of his brown, fur covered legs along with a pair of sharp, darkly colored horns sprouting out of his head, but he had never really described himself as a monster before. He was a god, not a "big scary monster".
Was the mortal boy scared of him? He had been before but he seemed okay now, but what if Tubbo already scared him and now he was too afraid to be around him?
"Am...am I not...alright?" He asked softly. His voice cracked slightly, and he found himself saddened by the thought of not being able to spend more time with his newfound favorite mortal.
His favorite. He liked the sound of that.
◇--Tommy--◇
Well, he wasn't dead, so that was a start.
To be honest Tommy was just really confused right now. Confused and hungry and still dealing with the lingering fear of being eaten whole by the giant goat monster thing that was currently holding him up in one hand. But other than that he just wanted to get a snack and take a nap.
Now that he wasn't crying, he did have to admit he wasn't being held by a particularly scary giant goat monster.
This giant goat monster had chestnut colored hair and a round face with big eyes that were surprisingly friendly and which held matching, amethyst colored irises that seemed to glow in the growing daylight. He wore a green cloak with golden trimming that resembled leaves and vines, and beneath that he had on a plain white tunic and a pair of puffy black trousers with a shiny belt buckle. His ears were like a goat and matched the hair on his head and legs, which resembled that of a goat and ended in two hooves instead of regular feet.
And most notably of all were the two sharp, ebony horns sprouting from the top of his head, each of which were adorned in bejeweled bands of silver and gold, as well as matching emerald vines that wrapped around the base and seemed to grow from his scalp.
So yeah. Not exactly very monstrous, but as the multitude of frightening bedtime stories Wilbur had read to him over the years made very clear, looks could be deceiving. And deceit often led to death.
"Are you not...what?" He asked carefully, taking great caution as to not upset the creature further.
"Am I not alright?" The creature repeated. There was something in his voice, something desperate and undeniably sad that left Tommy blinking in confusion. "Am I not alright for you? Am I too scary?"
Oh. He's worried, not upset. Let's keep it that way.
"Oh!" Tommy stammered, holding his hands up and shaking his head with a forced smile on his face. "N-no, 'course not! You, scary? Pfft, no, definitely not."
"But you said you thought I was going to eat you." The creature said, or whined, rather. "I don't want you to be afraid of me! I wanna be good for you! You're my favorite!"
Tommy blinked. "Favorite?"
The creature nodded and suddenly rose up to his full height. Tommy yelped and grabbed as the palm beneath him as the ground sped away as he was lifted up and up into the air, until the monster holding him was standing so tall that his horns poked out from the leaves and branches.
"Yes." He said firmly, eyes glowing a noticeably brightly shade of violet. "I've decided that you are my most favorite mortal in the world and that I never ever ever wanna let anything happen to you."
Mortal...
…
…
…
.
.
.
OH SHIT.
If Tommy had known he'd end up in the grasp of a whiny, oddly clingy goat related forest deity, he would've prayed for the wolves. Wolves would've been easier to deal with. At least wolves didn't have freaky glowing purple eyes that were probably reading his mind and listening to how freaked out he was because he was being held by a god and that was not good and he was going to die.
He smiled and nodded slightly before flopping down onto his back so he could get comfortable for his encroaching smiting. Because that's what gods did when they were pissed. And this one was probably pissed right now in his own freaky glowy eyes, horned god way.
"Y...you're uh...a uh...a god?"
"Yes!" Replied the god with a blinding smile and chipper tone. He leaned closer until all Tommy could see were those big, brilliant, all consuming purple voids filled with flecks of white. "My name's Tubbo. What's yours?"
Tommy was too content with the whole "probably definitely going to die" thing to bother trying to remember if the priest at the local temple ever said anything about Tubbo, God of the Forest in all those boring sermons. "Name's Tommy. Tommy Soot Minecraft. But just Tommy's fine."
A ring of shimmer rose gold bloomed around each of Tubbo's pupils. " Tommy …" he whispered, as though tasting the name on his tongue. "Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. I like it. Hello, Tommy! Will you be my favorite? Pretty please?"
It wasn't everyday a god asked a person to be their favorite, and if all those old myths and legends were anything to go off of, things didn't turn out well for those that had earned the favor of the divine.
But then again it also wasn't everyday that little peasant boys got lost in the scary, misty part of the forest, nor was it everyday they ended up in a clingy goat boy deity's hands instead of the maw of a hungry wolf, so Tommy wasn't going to look a gift god in the mouth(there were an awful lot of teeth in there) and refuse.
So he shrugged, figuring that dealing with whatever hell this would raise wasn't worth upsetting the being that quite literally held his life in his hands.
"Yeah, sure. I'll be your favorite."
As soon as he said that Tommy found himself falling full speed towards the earth below, only to be caught in a shockingly muscular pair of arms before he hit the ground. He reached up to grab at whoever had caught him and gasped, only to frown when he met an already familiar pair of purple eyes.
"Hi!" Said Tubbo, who now stood at a still staggering nine feet while smiling down at the boy he now cradled in his arms. His cloak had changed from its former deep green to a brilliant snow white, and the golden trimming was now a shining azure that caught in the beams of sunlight peeking down from the canopy above.
Tommy twinged. What the hell did he get himself into? "H-hey. So uh...what...now?"
Tubbo's smile widened. He spun around on his hooves and began trotting through the muck and underbrush, forcing Tommy to cling to him for dear life as he sped hastily through the woods.
"Lunch!" He said happily as he leaped over a fallen log covered in red toadstool and green moss. "I wanna make my sunflower some tea!"
The ground beneath Tubbo's hooves exploded into a mixture of lush grass shoots and brightly colored flowers. Buttercups, daisies, pink tulips and yellow roses sprung up wherever the god stepped, the vibrant blooms mixing with pale freesias and fragrant purple lilacs that filled the damp smelling air with a soothing aroma.
There were even a few sunflowers scattered here and there in the garden that was Tubbo's trail, and Tommy found he didn't have the need, will, or energy to question the oddly fitting nickname.
He knew Father would notice he wasn't home for mealtime. He'd probably write a fancy letter to the guardsmen asking them to find where he'd gone off to, and then they'd search the forest and come back to tell Father that his son was probably dead or worse. Then Father would sigh and shake his head, and Wilbur would make a joke about having one less mouth to feed, and then they'd both go about their lives like they always did.
That was okay. They didn't deserve to have the person that killed their wife and mother when he was born around to bother them anymore. Maybe Tubbo could help him sneak out to grab his herbs so they didn't go uncared for.
Maybe he would go home. Maybe not. Home was boring and dull. At home his only friend was a weirdo who hung out with Father's creepy pig loving buddy and also that one spider that liked to hang out in his bedroom and who seemed to listen when he talked to the moon on the nights that were long and lonely.
Maybe he would stay here, instead, in the forest with the oddly clingy goat god that had decided to make him his favorite. That seemed like a nice idea. The more he thought of it, the better it sounded.
Maybe he would stay in the forest with Tubbo.
After all, what could possibly go wrong?