blondbo

[blondbo]

hi! hi! hi! so here is the first few parts of a qsmp fic i’m writing!! it’s honestly pretty shit but i just want to get it out there!!

general premise: q!tubbo is one of many deities of what in the future will be quesadilla island. specifically tubbo is in control of the weather but is not totally vibing with his powers. he finds that he really doesn’t have any powers at all but rather just reactions. the federation has just come in large floating ships to come investigate the island for future potential islanders. tubbo, feeling he could be more useful than just his powers, he helps the federation. So here it is! will prob be on ao3 but i didn’t know i had to wait to be invited SADGE. anywhere here it is:

Section 1:

They came from the west as giant floating barges of their proclaimed glory. White arches covered rows and rows of halls and offices to match with glass revealing to revelers some vision into their perfectly curated bubble. But one arch proclaimed some dominance over the others on each ship as they were much taller and not covering any hall but had the air to show off each facet. Though I found the flying mechanics to be much more of an interesting aspect of these pompous barges and maybe their only facet worth the celebration the others proclaimed. No fire, rather six hollow circles on the bottom of each. The only part that wasn't drawing attention to itself because there was nothing to truly see there. Maybe that was the brilliance for me.

That was the world I created around me; nothing showy or caustically exclaiming to you how everyone should look at it. Every cloud I create are for themselves, and maybe if you like that sort of thing, then you can appreciate them. But they don’t call to you. Unless you’re a bull and a rain is all that calls to your thirst.

No matter the wants of the bull, I knew from the moment I could see them that they were assholes. The Federation they would later tell me. What they didn’t tell, what I would have to learn, is that they are assholes, the whole lot of them.

Section 2:

I had learned a few things in my life even if I didn't understand where it came from. I learned to worship the sun for her ever present dances in my glade. That even if the weather that flowed from emotions, it was not mine but someone elses creation I was fortunate enough to even be able to wield. That the bulls or the flowers and even the moss were not mine but a duty to take care of even if I don't know who bestowed it on me. I learned to tolerate the rain and snow even if it exploits me. I had learned trust in the world around me for it trusts me. Until that face.

I had been perched in a high willow on the outskirts of the swamp to enjoy an evening of her last flickering dances. I hadn't taken much notice the growing buzz of their ships, maybe I let it doze me off to sleep. A sleep until they were parked right on the beaches and a loud thunk. I had no time to blink off the sleep as I watched their barge unfurl like a laxed tongue to release figures of white. The first few were dressed in drab pallets of grey and more grey that reminded me of the rain again. I hated the first fools out of instinct. They were only there for the next few in jackets of assorted blues and oranges that balked at nature in their artificial hues. And maybe the few in jackets were only there for the one I was truly disgusted by. He was a bigger, more amicable seeming figure from the way that he took his body down the incline. The taller figure was the only

“ person” I made me think that maybe I was wrong about the rest of them. There was a certain natural kindness to him, atleast that’s what I surmised. Then he turned his head towards me so I shifted my body higher up the tree. I saw its face. The rest of its body knew it was alive or as much of life as it could since it took on a certain fluidity. But the face. I remember my legs pushed me up out of fear. The face was stuck in time, a sinisterly happy memory that can't tell if it hurts the thing or not. To remember.

Either way, he was seemingly taking in parts of the island but I couldn't tell if there was a sort of happiness to it. I don’t think it could appreciate as he was stuck in that eternal happiness through his face.

All of them were following his lead even if they couldn’t emote at all, just looking around and trading notes or scraps. I don't think they knew how to talk, though if they created transportation like that then maybe they just couldn’t at all. No use in even learning. And I guess I felt bad for them. Found it all pitiful.

As they encroached more into the glade, I watched as they planted more unnaturally-colored things into the ground: flags, poles, stapled paper into those poles. More notes at a rapid pace until they found a more active life in a pig. I leaned over on what seemed to be my hiding spot to get a closer look their poking and prodding with pencils and random metal sticks. And looking back the pig responded with a sort of affection as he was only ever used to those kind of touches. Then one of the orange fellows passed a note to the main smiler, it nodded. A note was passed to one of the grey ones, then they pulled a grey machine-looking thing. A spark, a splatter, a squeal. I lurched forward and with a quick breath of my own surprise (or horror) took me out of the tree and onto a few branches before I landed on the ground.

“My own stupidity” I said, and funny enough my words seemed to take more of their attention than any display I made.

A colosseum of blank faces with that fucking smile centered as though he was their jewel.

Section 3:

I found something I never learned was to keep my mouth shut. I had once beat a demon in a game and may have said a few arrogant remarks after winning. Maybe I hit a nerve because she made me hallucinate an ever present shadow for the next month.

So I was blunt in my introduction, an introduction I would argue was the beginning on the end.

“Who are you?” I asked rather openly.

But my head started to buzz and a voice from I assume the smiling creature said, “Hello, what are you doing?”

A laugh wormed its way out, “What am I doing? Who are you to ask this?”

“What are you doing?” the buzzing repeated.

“I just want to know what you’ve done with my friend, the pig?”

I was handed a notebook seemingly originating from the creature.

Written was:

Hello

We were sent from Federation to examine this island for a potential developing project. The action towards the pig was out of scientific inquiry and nothing to be alarmed by. To further our understanding of the island, you are to immediately identify yourself.

So I was kind and obliged.

“I am Tubbo, one of many deities sent to protect and foster the isles. And one of my duties is to protect said creatures, even from scientific study. Though I do not wish to fight you. One thing for your study, I am fair.”

Another book:

Hello, Mr. Tubbo! It is very wonderful to meet you! We at the Federation would like to extend a hand and ask for assistance as we traverse the island.

“I would like to, I guess, but was is all this for?”

“Classified” said the buzzing.

“Oh good!” I breathed a little in as some kind of reflective moment passed over me. I was not here for myself. I was here for the island, to make her home for others. Maybe this is my opportunity to be more than just their rain and clouds. Maybe I was more, I thought.