Chapter Text
Tommy spat, kicked, and growled as he was dragged before the three people who’d ruined his and many others’ lives.
--
It was hard to believe that humanity had fallen in just under two weeks. The demons had arisen from the ground, attacking with a vicious bloodlust, sparing no one. They acted upon the orders of the Demon King himself: The Angel of Death.
It was modern day. It was hardly believed that such creatures existed at all, let alone that they could topple humanity so swiftly.
Governments had fallen left and right, the world itself the true image of the apocalypse. The revelation. It was called by many names, but the consensus ended up being the Fall. the fall of humanity, of everything once known to be true turned on its fucking head.
The demons quickly took control of all governing power; the remaining humans cowering in fear. Wealth no longer mattered. They were all on equal grounds, now. All one mistake from their demise.
Of course, humanity wasn’t known for giving up. It was only a matter of days before resistance groups began forming. There were some very small victories, but it was enough. Enough to give people hope.
The most notorious resistance group was known as Essempii (shortened by its most beloved members to SMP; an inside joke to how Dream used to be an avid minecraft player). Led by Dream, one of the only people who had known about the demons’ existence before the Fall. Tommy was a part of said resistance group. In fact, he was the leader of a small squadron among the group. They were sent on supply runs and scouting missions. The headquarters of SMP was constantly changing, and they were never all in the same place at once.
Dream had two sub leaders who were to take his place in case of the worst. George and Sapnap. Supposedly the three were friends before the Fall.
Tommy himself had only met Dream, who he had to give all his reports and sightings to. Dream… wasn’t always nice. But that’s okay! He’s always stressed. Who wouldn’t be stressed in his position, after all? He gave Tommy a home and a worth. Tommy had never been worth something before.
So it was okay when Dream slapped him for messing up. When he had to give up his rations to the more deserving members of their group. It was okay.
Tommy hated to admit it, but he was ashamed to say that he was kind of grateful for the Fall. Before, he was just another meaningless person. One among billions. A loud, angry, brash kid that no one had the effort to care for. Since he was five, he’d just been floating around from one foster home to another.
He had no memory of his birth family, only gross blurry feelings of fear and some other emotion he couldn’t name. He was just Tommy. Useless, miserable, insufferable Tommy.
Okay. Well, Tommy was still debatably some of those things; but the point is that now he is something. He’s contributing to something meaningful. He’s trying to save humanity!
Things were looking up. Well, at least they were. Because one too many acts of defiance got them directly on the king’s radar.
Their resistance was crushed like they were fucking insignificant flies. The Angel of Death and his two sons split up, each going to destroy the three factions of Essempii. The Blood God went after Sapnap. The Siren went after George.
And, of course, the Angel of Death was after Dream. Tommy still remembers those huge dark wings spreading out as they descended upon them to reap destruction. The all-consuming fear Tommy felt. The way his brain chanted to run.
Run, survive, survive, escape, you are prey.
It was base level, impossible to ignore survival instinct.
Somehow, Tommy managed to get out. With one last look, he saw Dream impaled upon the Angel’s blade. His skin cracked like glass, before shrivelling up into dust. The icy blue eyes of the king met his, and Tommy shivered at the absolute bloodlust and dark joy in those eyes.
Tommy ran. But he knew it was only because the Angel let him.
--
He’d hunkered down in the forest. He’d squirelled himself into some old deer den. It reminded him of the movie Bambi, where Bambi and his mother lived before she’d--well, let's not continue that thought.
It was a decent cover. Not perfect, but better than sleeping out in the open. He liked it because it was next to some wild berry bushes. He thinks they’re called blackberries? Whatever it was, they were fucking delicious.
On his very quick and scurried scavenges, he’d also found some ratty blankets from a very decrepit abandoned house. Tommy had also embarrassingly found and kept a cute cow stuffed animal. It was definitely worn and well loved, and Tommy decided he wanted to continue giving it love. He affectionately dubbed it Henry. No, he didn’t sleep with it every night, what are you talking about?
Tommy was dirty. Mud and leaves and twigs were all throughout his hair, and he had many stains on his ripped clothing. Bruised knees and scratches everywhere, he felt quite like one of those children raised by animals.
He did everything possible to keep his mind off of what happened. He ignored it fully. He had to if he wanted to survive. He couldn’t let himself breakdown, couldn’t focus on the nightmares that leave him panting and terrified.
So, he talked to Henry. He tried to make blackberry jam by mashing it with his hands upon a slightly concave stone and stuffing it into a broken beer bottle he’d found. Yeah, that ended with him cutting his palms open.He made friends with a small family of raccoons and joyfully named the mother Clementine and her three kits Momo, Shroom, and Baba. They sometimes brought him little shiny trinkets which he considered his dearest treasures along with Henry.
Eventually, they even started to cuddle with him! It helped ease the loneliness within him. Sometimes Tommy smeared blackberry juice under his eyes to stain them so he’d look like a raccoon.
He liked to play pretend that they were family.
The boy was too fearful to leave the immediate area of the forest. He was scared, but he was also getting desperate. He hadn’t seen any people since--
Well, the point was that he really really wanted to talk to someone again. Tommy started going on brief one hour trips; daring to go a bit farther each day. As his confidence began to build, the more he let his guard down. He finally felt like himself again.
Eventually, he stumbled upon a funky little shack about a two hour walk from his den. In the front yard was a short brunette haired boy bent down working on a flower garden. Excitedly, Tommy ran forward to greet him.
“Hi! Hello, mate!” He shouted, stopping a few feet behind the other. Said other shrieked and turned around.
“What the fuck man! Don’t scare me like that!”
“Sorry, bitch, but I’ve decided we’re best friends now.” Tommy stated firmly. He would not take no for an answer. He needed conversation and interactions.
“What- That’s not how it works-!” The brunette began to protest, but he inhaled deeply, pinching his nose. “Okay, you know what, I can work with this! I’m Tubbo! What’s your name?”
“I’m Tommy, nice to meet ya Big T!”
They spent the next few minutes talking and getting to know each other. There was hardly any awkwardness at all, which Tommy took as a good sign. However, it did not take Tommy long to figure out that Tubbo was maybe perhaps slightly insane. He talked about grandiose plans of bombs (not to even fight demons--just for fun) to happy rambles about his garden and bees.
Weeks began to pass by, and the two did in fact become best friends. They got into nonsense situations for entertainment and fun, play-fighting and arguing over whose turn it was to be the ‘Leader.’ Tommy, after the first week, moved all of his things into Tubbo’s one room shack. He made a kind of pallet in one corner of the room, near the fireplace. He placed his precious things farthest into the corner, and wrapped a towel around them. Call it left over foster-kid tendencies, but it made him feel better.
The raccoon family even moved to a spot near the shack! It made Tommy a lot less guilty for leaving them behind, and he made sure to give them a lot of attention.
One time the blonde had asked Tubbo how he’d found this place. Tubbo looked at him with a completely straight face and whispered, “It was the bees…” Tommy chose to move on.
--
“Tubbo.”
“Yes?”
“What is that?”
“A smoothie.”
“Tubbo, that is a whole ass person!”
“Minor details,” The other sighed. The tall bitch behind him just stood there. Very awkwardly. Tommy took this as a bad sign.
And thus, a third joined their ranks.
--
He quickly came to know more about the tall bitch, whose name was apparently Ranboo. He always had a half white and half black mask on, along with a pair of sunglasses. Tommy constantly made fun of him for it. He still couldn’t figure out how the bitch managed to eat without taking off his mask.
Against Tommy’s wishes, the duo soon became a trio. And begrudgingly, Ranboo and Tommy were best friends too. Everything finally didn’t feel as horrible. Tommy didn’t have to confront his past, and he could have fun. He was happy. He fully let his guard down.
That was his first mistake.
--
It was a bright day, with the chill of autumn slowly creeping in. Tommy was out and about, admiring the green leaves beginning to tint with reds, oranges, and yellows. And that’s when Tommy saw it: a shimmering blood red butterfly. Before he knew it, he was following after the beautiful creature. He didn't notice how far he was wandering off, only the sparkles and shimmers seeming to follow the butterfly. It was pretty. He really wanted it.
He turned around a large tree, and watched as the butterfly gracefully landed on some kind of lump on the ground. Tommy had no care to find out what it was. He just walked closer. And then he smelled it.
Rot.
He blinked out of his weird daze, disgusted. He backed up a few steps, covering his nose. He made a choking noise as he finally looked upon what the gorgeous butterfly had led him to.
A genocide.
There were human corpses everywhere. They looked...terrible. Even though he knew they were all dead, it felt like their eyes were somehow watching him. His eyes widened, and he shuddered; the butterfly was-was fucking feeding from the corpse! And as he looked around once more, He noticed hundreds of other blood red butterflies doing the same thing. Were they attracted to death? It was beautiful in a way, this entire field full of corpses laying underneath one of the prettiest shades of red Tommy has ever seen.
Tommy heard the sound of someone sheathing a sword. He whipped around to face it, and felt sick when he saw the Blood God. How the fuck was Tommy this unlucky?
He was tall and imposing. The opposite of scrawny. He was burly and yet wore regal clothing. A boar skull adorned his head, and it looked as though guts and entrails were actively flowing through every opening in the mask. A true demon.
The demon tilted his head at Tommy, inquisitive. “Ah, you’re the kid Phil claimed.” Its voice was low and gravelly. Just the sound of it made Tommy’s anxiety spike. “I’ll have to let him know his little imp was found.” He lifted a hand, one of the red creatures perching atop one of his fingers.
In a flash, he was in front of Tommy, pressing two fingers in the middle of his forehead. Before Tommy could even scream, he was gone.
His walk back to the house was surrounded in a blurry haze. He remembered coming home, ignoring both Tubbo and Ranboo’s concerned looks, and crashing on his makeshift bed.
The next day he began planning. He doesn't know who Phil is or what the Blood God did to him, but he knows it wasn’t good. And the last thing he wanted to do was ruin this tiny bit of happiness his friends had managed to find.
He cherished every single moment of that day, and he was definitely more clingy than usual; hugging, cuddling, the likes. He didn’t want to leave them. He so desperately wanted to stay. But he couldn’t bring himself to witness any more deaths than he already had.
“Tubs, it’s my fuckin’ turn to cook!” Tommy yelled. He wanted to make them this one last dinner, was that too much to ask!?
“But you’re shit at cooking!”
“Fuck off, bitch!”
“Language,” Ranboo interjected.
“Shut up boo-boy.” They both directed toward Ranboo simultaneously.
They ended up letting Tommy make dinner. Probably because he whined non stop about it.
He wished them each goodnight, and layed in bed, waiting.
He finally hears the telltale signs of their sleep. Ranboo curled up in a small ball, and Tubbo’s even breathing.
Quietly, he gathers Henry, his favorite blanket, and his trinkets his raccoon family gave him (he was originally only going to take one, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave any of them behind). Tommy also made sure to scrawl a quick note on one of the only notebooks they had, leaving it on the table. Don’t look for me. I’ll miss you guys. Stay safe - Tommy. Short and to the point. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, that Tubbo would be pissed and confused and Ranboo would be upset.
But he was doing this for them. He had to hold onto that.
--
He found his way back to his original den. He only let himself stay there for a night, because he didn’t doubt that his friends were looking for him. He quickly moved north of the den, hoping to stumble upon some kind of barn or something. He’d even take a cave. The worst thing about this was that he had to stay away from people. He couldn’t afford to cause someone’s death.
On the third day of his trip, he is found. Creatures made of cracking bones and fleshy muscle, shaped like some fucked up form of a bat; they swoop down with a vicious accuracy. These demons are known as the Lesser, as they are basically non-sentient and answer only to the higher ups of the demon world. Essentially, they are lackeys.
Tommy makes a dive for the nearest bush, uncaring of how it cuts the skin of his arms. He isn’t getting caught today, motherfucker.
A screech sounds just above him. Okay, maybe he spoke too soon.
There’s a thud. A clearly higher ranking demon drags Tommy out of the bush, and soon all Tommy sees is darkness.
--
When he wakes up, he is being dragged somewhere. He immediately starts fighting. Hissing, clawing, biting. It does nothing.
And there he is, in front of the strongest three beings in the world, being forced to kneel in front of them against his will.
“Oh, wow. Well he certainly is feral.” Siren tuts, and Tommy can’t help but notice how smooth and charming his voice sounds. The Blood God grunts, not saying anything. Tommy swallows his fear.
“I’m not feral, bitch! I’m a fucking big man! The most civilized big man!” His head is immediately smashed to the ground by the guards, He yelps in pain, but is surprised when the hands fall away.
His face is gently cradled, and he looks into the chilling eyes of the Angel.
“Oh, darling, you’re just perfect.” He practically purrs. “Oh, and those eyes...I want them.”
Tommy promptly glares and spits on the guy’s face. He is unbothered, lifting a hand to wipe it off.
“I suppose we’ll have to teach you respect.” He sighs, as though he is a disappointed father scolding his child. Tommy growls.
“Come with me, dear,” Phil murmurs into his ear, and Tommy follows obediently, like some kind of pet. His legs refuse to listen to him, and he lets out a confused and fearful whine.
“Aw, mate, c’mere, good boy.” He’s lifted into the king’s lap. He hates it. Why haven’t they killed him? Why are they treating him so weird? A face is pressed into his curly blonde locks, and he is forcefully held still.
“Yes, you’ll be the perfect little imp for me. I can sense it. Oh, little one, I’m so happy to have you here.”