#we basically get like... big chunks of dead skin that come off. like y'know when a lizard sheds its skin

[thethingything]

we managed to get an appointment at a time that's kind of reasonable for our sleep schedule, if we hadn't had to stay up late to book it and we'll need to get ready for bed before we can actually sleep so we're not gonna get much sleep I guess.

it is also an in-person appointment because apparently they need to check our ears and that means we're gonna end up using more energy than we can really afford to use at the moment.

on the plus side we can finally get round to explaining the weird symptoms we usually get with our ears that we think might be linked to the mystery skin condition on our scalp that may or may not be psoriasis, so maybe we can get treatment or answers of some kind and hopefully it won't be a thing that requires a load of extra tests and appointments

[justalittlelemony]

The Dead Man’s Switch Chapter 2

Read both chapters on Ao3 here.

Word count: 2,303

After Jack Manifold told him of the dead man’s switch, Tommy sends a message to Tubbo to have a long overdue conversation.

TW for mentions of suicide. There’s nothing that actually happens, but the idea of it is discussed.

Full fic under the cut

Despite his promise to Jack Manifold, it took Tommy another hour and a half to get in contact with Tubbo.

Now sure, he had opened his communicator and found Tubbo's name almost immediately after the conversation, but why try and actually communicate with your best friend when you can ignore and agonize over it for another hour?

Which was exactly what he did.

But after trying (and failing) to get his mind on literally anything else, he bit the bullet and sent his best friend a message.

<TommyInnit> Hey Tubbo

<TommyInnit> Tubbooo

<Tubbo_> what

<TommyInnit> I need to talk to you

<TommyInnit> Meet me at the bench

<Tubbo_> ok?

It wasn't exactly the most tactful way to start the conversation, but Tommy wasn't exactly known for his way with words. Speaking of words, Tommy, sitting on the bench and waiting, really wished that he had spent that hour and a half at least trying to figure out what he was going to say.

Hey, Tubbo! How are you doing? How's your husband, Ranboo? By the way, did you want to kill yourself?

Again, not very tactful.

"Shit," he muttered, running his hands over his face. What was he doing? This was a job for Ranboo, or Puffy, or literally anyone else on the server. Tommy was the absolute last person who should be voicing concerns about someone else's mental health because he knew he wasn't alright. He knew full well this conversation was going to be hypocritical because he had his own dead man's switch. His wasn't planned and certainly wasn't as involved, but it served the same purpose.

A suicide bomb and a pillar of mismatched blocks to the sky.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps on oak planks. "Tommy?" He turned to find his best friend standing next to the bench.

"Hey, big man." Tubbo was in his Snowchester clothing, undoubtedly having walked over from there. His hair was longer, starting to clip at his eyes. Despite how little Tubbo seemed to look like the kid Tommy knew on the surface, he saw his own red bandana around Tubbo's neck, just as he had a green one around his. And frankly, Tommy knew he was in no position to think Tubbo looked unfamiliar when he looked as he did. Apparently, being resurrected fucked with more than just his head. There was now a white streak in his hair, which was admittedly kind of badass. But worst of all, his skin was completely brand new. There were no scars, no blemishes, no imperfections of any kind. It felt so alien, so wrong. He hated it.

Tubbo sat down next to him on the bench. "Hi. I got your message. What did you want to talk about?"

Tommy, completely unsure of how to start this very uncomfortable conversation, did what did best: started talking. "Do you remember that last time we were here? Just you and me, on the bench?"

Tubbo furrowed his brow in thought. "It was right after we fought Dream, right? When we got the discs back?"

"Yeah." Tubbo sounded so casual about it, as if it hadn't almost been the single worst day of Tommy's life.

"Tommy, is everything alright?"

"Do you remember much about that day?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, do you ever think about what all happened? Not just Dream going to prison, but everything that led up to it." He stood up. "'Cause I do. I think about it a lot. I don't want to, but I do. You almost died. I almost lost you."

Tubbo stood up to face him. "But you didn't. I'm fine."

"But you didn't think you were gonna be. Tubbo, you told me to take the discs and run." Tommy realized partway through his sentence that his voice was raising, but he couldn't stop it. "And, and later, in his fuckin' bunker or whatever, you said, 'It's about time!' You didn't even care! It's like you wanted to die!"

There it was. The root of his distress. The reason they were talking.

Tubbo just stared at him for a few seconds. "I didn't want to die," he said finally, "But I wouldn't have minded. Not if it meant you lived."

A pained noise escaped Tommy's throat. "That's not- Tubbo, that's, that's not okay!"

"You heard Dream; he was gonna kill me either way. If I was already going to die, at least you would be safe!"

"But that doesn't fucking matter, Tubbo!" And Prime, Tommy really felt like he was back in Dream's blackstone bunker, pleading with Tubbo, trying to find a way, any way to keep him away from the man they had been fighting for what seemed like forever. "It doesn't matter 'cause then you'd be dead! You don't get to just give up like that!"

"Why not?" Tubbo was yelling now too. "It's my life!"

"You find something else, anything else! You don't just-"

"I don't know how to do anything else!"

They both stopped, one in anger, one in shock. Tubbo breathed heavily, his glare fixed on Tommy. He wiped at his eyes a bit, and Tommy realized with a start, he was crying. He sat down on the ground, his head resting on the edge of the seat of the bench. His arms curled around his torso as he quietly spoke. "I'm not Wilbur, or you. It's like Dream said. I'm a pawn. That's all I can do."

Tommy wanted to say so much to Tubbo. He wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that he was one of the smartest, strongest, bravest people he knew. That of course he wasn't a pawn. That of course he was worth more than that. But he couldn't work the words out of his throat. Instead, he sat down next to Tubbo. When he finally did speak, it was slow, hesitant. "I meant what I said that day, y'know. I don't know what I'd do without you." I don't even know who I am without you.

(Dream might have called Tubbo his origin story, but Tommy knew he was dead wrong. They were Tommy and Tubbo, Tubbo and Tommy. Two halves of a whole. Tommy couldn't live without his other half.)

Tubbo gave him a sad smile. "You'd be fine."

"No, I wouldn't have. Not without you." He sighed. "Look, Tubbo, you've got a life. You've got people who care for you. You've got a fucking kid, for Prime's sake! You can't," Leave me. Kill yourself. "You can't give up. If not for me, then for Ranboo, for Michael. Please, Tubbo."

Tubbo paused for a second, then turned to Tommy. "What made you think I was giving up?"

"What?"

"The Final Disc War was months ago. It's been pretty quiet on the server since then." He looked down. "Well, mostly. Why'd you think I was giving up?"

Tommy sucked in a breath. "Jack Manifold came to see me earlier today. He said you put a dead man's switch on the nukes." Tubbo's eyes widened at the mention of the nukes. Tommy hesitated but continued on. "Tubbo, you made a suicide bomb. You know that, right?"

Tubbo was silent, his gaze fixed ahead of him as if he were working something out in his head. When he spoke it was quiet, barely loud enough for Tommy to hear. "I know."

"You knew?" It wasn't new information. (Of course Tubbo knew what he was doing. Of course Tubbo knew what it meant.) But it still rocked Tommy to his core.

Tubbo still wasn't looking at him but was instead playing with his hands. "I didn't have a plan to use it. Or, at least, not a specific plan. It was more of a contingency if anything. Just in case."

Tommy couldn't help but let out an incredulous laugh. "Just in case what? You had to blow yourself up and take a chunk of the server with you?"

"Yeah," he said, quieter than before. He sighed, "Look, I know you're worried for me-"

"Yeah, no shit."

"-But I'm fine, I promise." He finally looked at Tommy. "It's not like I'm trying to hurt myself or anything like that. It's just, I'm alright, with dying, I mean, if it's better for other people."

And there was just so much behind that single statement. The fact that Tubbo seemed to have such apathy towards dying made Tommy sick to his stomach, although he couldn't quite pinpoint why. But once he did, he knew what he was going to say.

"Did I ever tell you what happened during exile?"

Tubbo's eyes widened. "No. But you don't have to if you don't want to," he said reassuringly, "I know you don't like to talk about it."

Tommy shook his head. "No, it's alright. I think I'm ready." It's about time anyway. "Obviously, I was there, alone, with Dream. He'd make me take off my armor and all my other stuff and blow it up. That's what the hole bit was about. He'd spend a lot of time trying to convince me that he was my only friend, that nobody else cared." He looked down. "And I, I actually fucking fell for it, for a bit."

"Tommy, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't," he said, a stern tone in his voice. "It's not your fault, it's Dream's." They had never really discussed it, but Tommy didn't, wouldn't blame Tubbo for exile. He shook his head. "But, anyway, between Dream being my only company and just basically everything going to shit, I, I guess I gave up." His voice started to tremble and he did everything in his power to stop it. "I didn't care if I lived or, or not. And so when Dream blew up all my shit and told me he was never coming back, that was it for me. I built a tower." He looked back to Tubbo. "I know you've seen it. And, and I want to say that I was joking, that I wasn't going to jump. But I wasn't joking."

No, he hadn't been joking. It scared Tommy knowing just how close he had come to jumping off of that pillar that day.

"And I'm telling you this because what happened to me and what happened to you was fucked. It was completely fucked." He had managed to steady his voice. He sounded confident, sure. "But jumping into the water that day was the best decision I've made in a long fucking time."

Tubbo didn't react, didn't even move after Tommy finished talking. For a moment, he wondered if he said something wrong. But then, Tubbo rested his head on his shoulder, and Tommy pulled him into a hug. Tubbo buried his face into Tommy's shirt, just like he had done since they were kids, whispering apologies. "I'm sorry. Prime, Tommy, I'm so sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry, Tubbo," he said, and he meant it. He rested his own head on top of Tubbo's. They sat there for who knows how long and for once, Tommy thought, everything felt alright.

Not good.

But alright.

At some point, Tubbo peeked his face out from Tommy's shirt. "What do you suggest we do?" the voice from underneath Tommy asked.

"I dunno." He shrugged (Well, as much as he could without moving Tubbo). "Puffy's got a therapy office. I've already signed up."

"...You want me to go to therapy with you?"

Tommy laughed. "No! Not with me, you clingy fucking... Sign yourself up!"

Tubbo giggled at that. "Is Puffy even qualified to give therapy?"

"Is anyone on this server?"

"True."

"I mean, unqualified help has got to be better than no help at all, right?"

Tubbo looked as though he were going to disagree, but instead said, "I suppose."

"So, will you go and see Puffy?" Please say yes.

Tubbo paused. "I'll think about it." Tommy let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. "Will you stop avoiding me?"

Tommy stopped. "I'm not avoiding you," he lied.

"Really?" Tubbo pulled himself out from underneath Tommy so he could look at him directly. "'Cause it really feels like it, ever since you got back. Tommy, you're my best friend, you know that, right? I haven't replaced you."

Tommy wanted to let him know just how much that statement meant to him. That he knew he wasn't being replaced, but that it felt like so much had changed in the month he was in the prison. Instead, he said, "Of course, you haven't replaced me! I'm TommyInnit, haver of wives! I can't be replaced! I'm just," How to put it? "Not a big fan of that Ranboo fellow."

"Tommy-"

He raised hands in faux surrender. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I'll try and visit you more often, I promise." He put his hands back down in his lap and started playing with them. "It's just been weird since I got out."

Tubbo had sill been looking at him, but looked down as he spoke (In guilt? In understanding?), "I know." He rested his head again on Tommy's shoulder, which made him feel a little better, at the very least. "Do you-" Tubbo started to speak, but stopped, before starting up again. "Do you think things will ever be okay?"

And that really was the question, wasn't it? "I dunno," Tommy answered honestly, "But it's still worth trying."

Things weren't going to get better overnight, Tommy knew. Especially not on this server. They still had a myriad of problems to deal with: Dream, the prison, and someone should probably do something about that Egg thing. But the point was it wasn't going to be an easy journey. But as long as they were together, they'd be alright.

Tommy, Tubbo, (And maybe Ranboo, I guess.) against the world.