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Tommy was out for a walk, looking to stretch his legs and clear his mind.
“And then I’ll- Oh shit how’s the sun already that low?” they said, interrupting their own thinking out loud.
“Wait, what the fuck is that?” he squinted, now noticing something in the sky. “Is that a floating island? The weird shit people get up to on this server, I tell ya. Kinda weird that I haven’t seen or heard of this before though, huh? I must be out pretty far. I should probably start heading home.” They looked around at their surroundings, then stopped in their tracks as they realized they really had no clue where they were. He coughed awkwardly, trying not to let it get to him.
“Well. Maybe I should go up onto that island. Could probably see over the whole fuckin’ server from that thing.”
Tommy picked up their pace a little bit and jogged the rest of the way over to the island, quickly making their way up the ladder when they reached it. As he reached the top of the ladder, he was able to admire the building atop the island in more detail. A quaint wooden building, slightly overgrown with leaves in moss, and with a stream of water running out of it and all the way back down to the earth.
“Wow. Real cottagecore.” They chuckled to themself. “Seriously, how have I never seen this place before?”
He looked over the edge of the island (trying not to think too much about how high up he was in the process) but found it quite unhelpful. Some houses and a farm they didn’t recognize, with a stream cutting through the middle of it all.
“Who made this? Who lives here? Did they invite more fuckin’ people here without telling me?”
As if on queue, he heard the sound of wingbeats. Their head snapped towards the source of the noise and they saw a man with large, black wings and green robes. “Ayy, Phil! This is your place?”
“Oh, hey mate...” Phil said casually at first, but began to trail off at the end. Crow squinted at Tommy, analyzing them.
“The fuck? Why you looking at me like that?”
Phil’s expression stilled again, and ae placed a hand on his shoulder. “Tommy, where’re you headed? You look lost.”
“Home. Trying to, at least. I zoned out while I was walking and now I’ve got no fuckin’ clue where I am.”
“...And, where might this home be?”
“Seriously, Phil? You know where I live. My dirt house on the Prime Path?”
Phil made a face. “What server is this on?”
“Damn, Phil, I know you’re getting old but you’re not going senile on me, are you? The Dream SMP.”
Phil clicked crow’s tongue. “There it is. You’re on the wrong server, mate. This is the Origins SMP.”
It was then that it clicked in Tommy’s mind. They had felt like something was off about Phil but they couldn’t quite place it until then. Ae was wearing more white than usual, and aer’s wings were a bit larger and fully intact. Ae seemed to be a bit more feathery and birdlike overall, in fact.
“Let’s head inside for a minute. We’ll get you home soon, though.”
Tommy nodded and followed crow into The Pub, mind still racing. “Wait, so you’re a different Philza from the one I know? Does that mean there’s different versions of everyone else I know here?” Tommy gasped, his eyes lighting up. “Wait, is there another me?”
“Oh gods.” Phil grimaced as the realization dawned on aer. “Two Tommys…”
Just then, the door to The Pub opened and closed seemingly all by itself. Tommy looked over in confusion. Someone appeared suddenly in front of the door. Xe looked like Wilbur, but grayscale and semitransparent. Tommy’s eyes went wide.
“Ghostbur?” The word escaped their mouth, barely a whisper.
Wilbur seemingly didn't hear him. Instead, hy took a few steps towards them before disappearing again. A few moments later, Tommy saw em out of the corner of his eye.
“Hi Tommy.” Hy whispered in their ear, but by the time they turned around hy was gone again.
“What the fuck?! Stop it!” Tommy flailed his arms around, hoping to make contact with the invisible Wilbur.
“Will.” Phil said, pulling out the disappointed parent voice.
Wilbur reappeared, hands raised in the air. “Alright, alright, I’m done.”
“C’mon, Will, be nice. This isn’t our Tommy.”
“I know.”
“You do?!” Tommy and Phil asked, both surprised.
“Well, duh. I mean look at him. First of all, the kid doesn’t have wings.”
“The other me has wings?” Tommy asked excitedly.
“But also,” Wilbur carried on, ignoring them, “Look at their face. Look in his eyes. Do they really look like our Tommy?”
Wilbur leaned in towards Tommy’s face. Tommy felt himself instinctively back away, and did his best to still himself. They stared up at em distrustingly. Xe stepped away from him, and he instantly felt himself grow less tense.
“See? If I did that to our Tommy he’d be straight up pissed, but that's just because he hates me. But this Tommy's different. They seem hesitant. Defensive. Scared. Something happened to him.”
Tommy squinted, the gears beginning to turn in his head. This Wilbur felt familiar, but didn’t remind them of Ghostbur nearly as much in personality as hy did in appearance. Maybe, Tommy realized with a sense of dread, ey reminded him more of Revivebur.
The door of The Pub once again creaked open, breaking the tenseness of the moment.
“Hi guys! Wait, what the fuck?” The person said as he walked in. It was the other Tommy, Tommy quickly realized. They looked just like him, but with big red and white wings and with aviator goggles on wing’s head.
“Hi Tommy.” Phil said awkwardly.
Other Tommy glared at Tommy. “Who are you and why are you me?”
“I’m a different version of you from another server. But I reckon I’ve overstayed my welcome, so I’ll be heading off now-”
“Aw, no, mate, c’mon,” Phil interjected, ”you should at least stay for dinner. It’s getting late.”
Tommy shrugged. “Alright, why not.”
---
They all sat around a large table that had been pulled out into the center of The Pub, eating a delicious soup dinner. Phil had made both chicken noodle and vegetable soup, the former of which Tommy opted for and quickly devoured.
Other Tommy, meanwhile, was enjoying the vegetable soup. It was then that Tommy questioned his own dinner choice.
“Shit, is it offensive for me to be eating this?”
“Huh?” Other Tommy looked up. “No, just because I can’t have meat doesn’t mean I mind if you do.”
“That’s not really what I- You can’t have meat?”
“Nah, my stupid fuckin’ bird stomach can’t handle it. I’ve tried a few times and believe me, it’s not pretty.”
“What were you going to say?” Wilbur asked, not letting Tommy’s original thought slip under the radar.
“Well, uh, I was thinking that he kind of reminded me of a chicken? And that it might be rude-“
Wilbur burst out laughing. “See? Even he sees it. It’s not just us. You’re a chicken.”
Other Tommy pouted angrily. “Oi, you fuckin’ dickhead, xe paid you to say that, didn’t xe? You’re fuckin’ lying.”
“Oh, no, sorry, I didn’t realize it was a sore subject, I-“
“No, no, you said what you said. You can’t take it back now. Wing’s a chicken.”
“Am not! And at least I can go out in the sun without burning to a crisp.”
“Why would I need to go in the sun when I have plenty of other actually useful powers? Meanwhile you, what, walk a little bit faster?”
“Excuse you, I am above average in every category, including getting bitches. I have so many wives and meanwhile you’re utterly bitchless because you’re a bastard and a wrongun. You’re like a nasty little opossum with rabies digging through the trash in the middle of the night and I'm one of those fancy regal chickens with the real pretty feathers.”
“So you admit that you’re a chicken.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Wilbur made chicken noises at Other Tommy, who flipped hym the bird in response.
“Boys.” Phil said sternly. “Please keep the fighting to a minimum. We have a guest.”
The two grumbled and pouted, but obliged.
Something about their whole dynamic and banter felt awfully familiar to Tommy, in an almost bittersweet homesick sort of way. Odd as it may seem, the silly little chicken argument felt a bit comforting to them.
Then it hit him. They had been right that this Wilbur didn’t remind them of Ghostbur in anything other than appearance, but they didn’t think they were quite right in their comparison to Revivebur either. This Wilbur was just Wilbur, Tommy realized. Not Ghostbur, not Revivebur, not Alivebur, but Wilbur before those portmanteau’d nicknames were even necessary. Wilbur from back before he was tainted by war and pain and death. The Wilbur he’d grown up alongside, who founded L‘manburg for the good of the people, who bantered and fought with him but still cared about him deep down.
Tommy bit his lip, doing his best to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes at the thought that he had another chance with the real, true Wilbur.
“Hey, Tommy.” Phil said, causing both Tommys to look up. “Oh, uh, New Tommy. Shit, this is gonna get a bit confusing, isn’t it?” Phil chuckled.
“You guys could change your names.” Wilbur suggested. “You could be different variations on the name Tommy, or you could be Original Tommy and New Tommy, or you could name yourselves after where you’re from? You could be Dream and Origins.”
Tommy was quick to reply. “Okay, hard no on that last one. Not even on the table. And I’m the original Tommy from my own perspective, so that wouldn’t really work out either. Don’t hate that first idea, though.”
“We could also be Big T and Little T.” Other Tommy suggested.
“Ooh, I like that.” Tommy said.
Wilbur interjected, “Yeah, that would never work.”
“And why not?”
“Well, who would be which one?”
“Obviously I would be Big T-“ Both Tommys began.
“Oh.” Other Tommy said. “Yeah, maybe you have a point.”
“We could be Big T and Huge T.” Tommy tried.
“You do realize you’d still have the exact same issue, right?”
“Shit.” Tommy hissed under his breath, realizing Wilbur was right. Damn, this was tough. They rested their head on their crossed arms and hummed in annoyance. “Tom, Thomas, Tomas, Tomathy…” He really wasn’t feeling any of them.
Other Tommy chuckled, having an idea. “What if we just didn’t change our names. Make it everyone else’s problem. We’ll know what we mean.”
Tommy’s face broke out into a grin. “Ha, that’s genius. Y’know, you’re a pretty great guy, I’m gonna love hanging out with you.”
“You’re… literally the same person.” Wilbur said, exasperated.
“And?”
Wilbur rolled eir eyes, but laughed.
“Well, New Tommy, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your server like?”
Tommy suddenly became a lot more interested in their soup as they tried to decide what to say. “Oh, yeah, it’s great.” he said halfheartedly.
“You sure? You don’t sound too convinced.”
“Well, it’s not perfect, but it’s home.”
Wilbur still didn’t seem to buy it. Tommy sighed. “Okay, fine, it’s not that great.”
“In what way?”
Tommy sucked in a breath. “Well, I dunno. It’s just kinda a disorganized mess and most everyone doesn’t get along, and everyone breaks the rules but only some people get punished for it sometimes. And, I mean, a lot of bad shit’s happened there. Like, there was the war, exile, watching Tubbo die, watching Wilbur die, dying myself, being in limbo, being brought back, having to be in that prison cell with Dream, just Dream as a whole really… Damn, I guess it really does kinda suck, huh?”
Everyone stared at him, expressions deeply etched with concern.
“What?”
After a brief pause, Other Tommy spoke. “…Are you okay?”
“Wh- uh, yes? It’s not a big deal, I’m used to that sort of shit really.” Their nonchalance was genuine, but they did definitely exaggerate it a bit to prove their point and avoid further questioning. “Nothing ol’ Big Man Tommy can’t handle.”
Based on everyone’s expressions, that was not the correct answer.
“…And this ‘Dream’ you mentioned?” Phil asked.
“He’s a bitch and a bastard and a nasty fuckin’ wrongun and I hate him but he’s locked away in the prison now and I’m never going near that place again so it doesn’t matter.” After an uncomfortable pause, he added, “What’s your Dream like?” When the group seemed confused, they continued,
“Y’know, Dream? Dude with the green hoodie and the creepy ass smiley face mask? There’s a different version of like everyone else I know here. Is there not a version of him here that has cat ears or some weird shit?”
“Can’t say I know him. Doesn't ring any bells.” Phil said.
Tommy blinked. No Dream. Not even a trace of him. He wasn’t just hidden away somewhere with the looming threat that he’d come back at any moment. He was never here to begin with. He wasn’t even a thought in these people’s minds.
“Can-“ Tommy hesitated. “Can I stay here a little longer, actually? Just an extra day or two. Like a vacation! It’s a nice place you’ve got here.”
He could tell from Wilbur and Phil’s expressions that they saw right through him, but he did his best to ignore it. Or to not let themself care about it, at the very least. It was fine. They could be at least a little aware of what Tommy was going through. But he’d only be there a few days, and leave before he became too much of a burden.
“Hey Tommy,” Phil said (to the other Tommy, Tommy quickly realized,) “Do you think you could go get some things for our guest? Food, clothes, basic tools, stuff like that. Oh, maybe your old communicator, too.”
Other Tommy nodded and left The Pub, jumping off of the floating island and gliding back down to earth. So cool, Tommy thought.
“You don’t have to do that.” Tommy said. “I‘ll only be here a few days, and I can get what I need myself. It’s not like I’m moving in here.”
Phil laughed, looking for a moment as if crow had already forgotten Tommy wasn’t planning on staying. “Oh, it’s really no trouble. You’re our guest, let us treat you. Plus, there’s not much I can do anyway, Tommy’s already gone.”
Tommy sighed. “Fair enough.” He’d have to find a way to repay them.
Other Tommy returned, carrying a brown backpack. As Phil began picking up the dishes from dinner, Other Tommy started laying out the contents of the bag on the table.
“Okay, we got a standard set of stone tools, some apples and bread, a couple old shirts and pairs of pants, toothbrush and deodorant and shit, and an old pair of feather falling boots I don't need anymore.” Finally, Other Tommy pulled out the last thing, an old communicator. “Oh, and here’s this. Sorry it’s a bit shit, but it should work well enough for as long as you’re here.”
They handed it to Tommy, who inspected it in awe. It was a small device, similar in appearance to a smartphone. The screen was notably cracked and the bright red case had some scratches and dents, but overall it seemed to be in perfect working condition. And to Tommy, it seemed like a miracle.
“‘A bit shit?’ You think this thing is a bit shit? Bitch, this is fuckin’ deluxe! It’s got a touch screen and music and games? And it’s not a fucking brick?”
For reference, Tommy pulled out their own communicator from the Dream SMP, which was a thick, clunky rectangle of metal with a keypad and a screen more reminiscent of the average calculator.
“Holy shit. Do you all use those things back on your server?” Other Tommy asked.
“Yep.” He put it back in his pocket. “They work for what we need ‘em for and there’s never really been any demand to do anything more with ‘em so…” They shrugged.
“Oh, thanks for the boots, by the way.” they added. “That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah, I don’t need them anymore because… y’know… wings. And I figure if you’re gonna be hanging out with me they might help you keep up.”
“That’s smart. Thanks.” He picked up the boots and inspected them a bit. “So did you not always have wings? If you used to need these?”
“Nah, I grew ‘em pretty early on like most Avians. Took me a while to even learn how to glide, though. That’s how my old communicator got as beat to shit as it is. Say, I wonder if you’ll turn out to be an Avian. Does your Phil have any Avian or Elytrian traits?”
“Well, we don’t really have those words back in my server, but our Phil has wings pretty similar to yours. But if it’s a genetics thing, I’m, uh, not related to him. Not by blood anyway. And I don’t know who I’d be getting those genes from.”
“Ah.” Other Tommy replied, sounding a bit disappointed. “Well, I guess we’ll never really know what your origin would be, then, since you won’t be here long enough for it to awaken.”
“Okay, so how exactly does all this stuff work?”
“So, just about everyone has this ‘origin’ gene, which brings about some sort of mutation like wings or enderman features. Usually it’s passed down from your parents and grandparents and stuff but sometimes it’s straight up a mutation. Sometimes it develops at least a little on its own but for most people it’s totally unnoticeable. Something about being in this server for a little while, though, seems to awaken it to its fullest potential. And if you’re born here like me, you’re fully your origin from birth.”
“Huh. Interesting.” They had to admit, they were curious what their origin would end up being. “How long does it take for that to start happening?”
“Well, it depends on a lot of stuff, but you’ll usually start developing signs of it within the first month or so.”
A month. But he could have cool wings like Other Tommy or Phil. That freedom to be able to fly and go anywhere they wanted all the time sounded amazing. He’d gotten a taste of it once with a riptide trident, and he’d felt so powerful. To be able to do it all the time? That would be a dream come true. But it wouldn’t be worth burdening these nice people, they reminded themself. And he had no way of knowing for sure what his origin would be. Maybe it would be something lame and disappointing.
“Cool, thanks for the info.”
They looked once more at all the gear Other Tommy had brought him. They would only stay for a few days, they told themself. Just a few days.