Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Why? Why is it always him? He always takes the fall, always pays, always left behind? Is it because they can, just because he accepts it? Just because he’ll do anything for the people he is loyal to? If Tommy Innit isn’t loud, who is he? If he isn’t bright, who is he? If he isn’t loyal to the people he has always loved, who is he? If he is without Tubbo, WHO is he?

He doesn’t know. 

Isn’t that just sad? Tommy Innit doesn’t know who he is without others. Always loyal, always taking hits for others, always fighting and giving everything he has for everyone else, but never for himself. Always loud and brash to cover the weakness others always try to exploit without fail. And everyone hates him for it. Wilbur was right.

As he grasps his surroundings he notices that he’s gray, a hollow shell of what he once was, maybe even a ghost. Ha! That would be just like him. To become so fucking hollow in the living that he is only seen by others as a ghost.

As he starts to recognize the land around him he blanches. It's THE beach, THE tower, THE grass, THE ocean, THE ruins. Upon further inspection they all have color, still lifeless and dull but holds more life than his grayed out self. Why doesn’t he have color? 

He is beside the tower, in its shadow, a perfect reminder to what could have been if he didn’t question himself and his stand in this world. A reminder to what could have happened if he had been any less naive, or scared, or anything really. Sometimes he wishes he could have been able fall, and float, in an endless unfeeling void that feels like more mercy than moving forward.

There is smoke around the surrounding plains, high in the sky, and billowing a black ashy pillar of smoke with flickers of orange out of Logsetshire and Trent. Attempting to step forward to douse roaring fires around him, Tommy is frozen in the spot where he stands. As flames devour his last efforts to thrive, to be defiant, to live, he can only watch as everything burns, his efforts, his life, and the world as he has always known.

Frozen he watches it burn. 

Panic makes his way into his dulled senses in this warped dreamworld. Because this has to be a dream, otherwise he doesn't know what he would do. 

He would fall onto his knees, they’re already wobbly, but he is forced to stand tall. Eyes burning and breathing stuttering with the not unfamiliar sensation of water in his lungs, he swivels his head to spot anything that can get him out of here. His breath hitches.

He notices something he always wanted and something that has for the most part haunted him throughout his entire life.

He sees L’Manberg, across the ocean, in a land he can never hope to touch, where everyone has smiles on their faces, laughing, while he watches numbly as if all the panic he felt moments before was sucked into an abyss. The flames of Exile reach the beach, crossing the sea that surrounds the desolate land. As wildfire enters, L'Manberg's laughter and innocent smiles turn into screams begging for death, tainted by war and betrayals.

All at once everything is too much, the cacophonous of jumbled screams hitting him head on. He wasn’t prepared for the noise, the brightness, the smell, the feeling of everything.

The noise was like a landslide crushing him, muffled in unintelligible words and wails but at the same time all consuming and suffocating. The surrounding area suddenly seems to be much more saturated and bright, causing Tommy’s stomach to roll and the feeling of bile coming up. Gunpowder, blood, and sea salt invades his nostrils, as he is unable to take a single reliving breath of air. The texture of the grass cutting into his bare feet, the weight of his scratchy shirt on his scar infested skin, and the feeling of himself becoming sick is too intense for him to even begin to stop the newfound wave of panic that has overtaken his senses.

Shutting his eyes close, Tommy brings his shaky hands up to his ears, cupping them tightly as he desperately tries to silence the screams, the laughter and all the noise. He feels as if he was dunked in ice cold water, struggling to breathe. 

It's all too much. Too overwhelming.

Two desperate pleas force themselves through the mindless disharmonic and deafening panic. Snapping his eyes wide open, he frantically whips his head towards the familiar voices. Any attempts to step into the flames where the voices were originating from were quickly halted as Tommy was still standing in place. He’s still frozen, the flames so close to him, almost licking his hands seem to encompass the feeling of his panic riddle mind, leaving him cold and numb. 

His mistake was looking into the flames.

He witnesses as his family burns in the icy flames. Tubbo and Ranboo holding each other on top of their beloved son Micheal, surrounded by inescapable walls of smog and fire, are reaching out to him begging for him to run in and save them, for him to risk everything again and again, and for him to be the hero everyone wants him to be.

He can't so much as move from where he stands. Tears of numb defeat and guilt well in his eyes, scarred hands twitching to move. He looks towards both of his best friends and hopes they can see his desperation and horror. 

A defeated soldier stands, tears streaming down a soot stained face, shoulders fighting to hold his figure upright. He is someone who is tired of fighting but doesn’t have a choice other than to fight back with no alternative with rest.

Guilty, Tommy watches on. He attempts to console his friends, his family, even when he can’t even open his mouth to spill apologies that are so overpoweringly present on his tongue. Hoping his stance is giving some sort of reprieve in the looming presence of death, begging that they know he wishes to jump in and rescue them from his fire, his mistakes, his life, he stays and watches for as long as he is allowed to.

That's all he can do, watch as his world burns around him and plead silently that he wishes his family know he’s sorry for the encompassing wildfire his life has turned into.

Tommy blinks his tired, bagged eyes awake as he stares blankly up at the gray ceiling of a cave. Too tired to move he stays still, listening as his soft breath echoes throughout the small cave. He stays still, thinking about nothing, just staring at the pale shadows of the stone walls that surround him. He stays still for a long time. Not really attempting to break the fuzzy fog that has surrounded his muddle mind.

Distantly, he knows he should be more panicked about his dream. Or was it a nightmare? But he is currently too numb to put any effort into that thought. He’s just floating, not really focusing on a singular pointed thought but just simply sitting still.

A grumble to Tommy's left cracks through the fog, it's just enough for him to start picking up his head. Peeking over his shoulder, a tiny black mass staring at him with eight sleepy vibrant red eyes. As the edges of the fog start to slip away Tommy smiles softly as he watches the little spider start to wake up. Stretching his two arms and four spider legs and with one large yawn showcasing the two small fangs on the sides of their mouth the little spider beams as he notices Tommy is awake, and makes grabby hands towards Tommy.

“G’Morning Mimi!” The little spider, now sitting up, is bouncing in his seat, excited.

Finally the fog dissipates and lifts completely, leaving Tommy much more aware of his surroundings than just a few minutes prior.

“M-M-Morning Shroud.” Tommy stutters out the greeting in a painfully hushed voice, any louder and he wouldn’t be capable of talking for the rest of the day. Unused for a long while, his voice is raw, hoarse, scratchy, and almost inaudible, but only for Shroud he’ll speak. Pulling himself up he squats down to eye level of the child.

“Ready to s-st-start the day, Bi-B-Big Man?” The spider in question nods rapidly and lets out a squeal of joy as he is picked up by Tommy and thrown on his shoulders, holding onto the long red horns hidden behind dirty matted blonde hair streaked with white. Tommy makes his way towards an opening in the barely lit cave, gray light seeping in. As soon as Tommy is at the entrance of the cave, Shroud immediately hops off and on to the dull gray grass dashing towards a nearby creek giggling to himself as he jumps from rock to rock, falling into the crystal blue water and giggling even harder.

Chuckling to himself Tommy stretches at the mouth of the cave and hears as his back resounds multiple satisfying pops. Looking to the slightly fogged sky he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of fresh air, it never smells as nice as he wishes, the air is always stale with ash, heavy with blood and death.

Tommy heads towards a nearby spruce tree picking up fallen twigs and pine to start a morning fire. Letting his thoughts wander and plan for the day ahead of both of them, going over plans to gather materials.

Crackling pulls Tommy out of his thoughts. Sitting in front of him is an open orange flame, with heat radiating off the soft flowing fire. He releases a sigh as he slowly lowers himself down towards the fire, relishing in the delicate peace of the gray forest with the fire snapping at the slightly damp wood. 

Closing his eyes he pictures everything that could have been, long thin tail swaying gently from side to side. He pictures his brother leading them to glory. He pictures Niki’s bakery, imagining the smells of freshly baked goods, Jack goofing off with Tubbo. Ranboo having a peaceful one-sided conversation with all his pets. Technoblade and Philza on a daring adventure in the tundra. Big Q with his bright and loud city everything that people hated about Tommy. That could all have happened if Tommy stayed, surrounded by isolation and fire and loneliness even when he was surrounded by people, it was never enough and he always needed-

The spirling daydream was interrupted by rustling of bushes, coming directly behind Tommy. Knowing who it is exactly he keeps his breathing even and eyes closed as he slowly leans forwards with a smile on his face, preparing to tackle the would-be attacker into a hug.

Suddenly jumping up and twirling around to face the spiderling, he quickly rushes in to pick up the spider, who is squealing and giggling as he is picked up and thrown high into the air.

“Mimi! Look what I found!?” Shroud still high in that air holds out his small hands. Squinting Tommy spots a little pearl white oval. Catching and placing Shroud slowly to the ground he stares at the small egg in the still outstretched hands of the spider.

Grinning Tommy takes the egg from Shroud, ignoring the protesting ‘Hey!’ from the shorter. Careful holding it up directly in the path of the sun, Tommy inspects the egg, and when no light is able to shine through he hands the egg back to his companion, who accepts the gift eagerly.

Bending down Tommy whispers in a hushed voice, “Th--th-the-re's a lit-tle b-b-baby chi-ck-en inside.”

Gasping excitedly, Shroud stares up from his own investigation of the egg to stare at his elder with stars in his eyes and asks in a reverently and equally hushed voice, ”Really?”

Pulling himself up the teen nods, opening a hand out for the egg once again. As soon as the egg touched the calloussed and bandaged fingers of Tommy’s hand, he brought the egg up to his face. Shroud opens his mouth to ask what Tommy was doing but was cut short when a broken and crackling whistle filled the air before a blanketed silence encompassed the two. 

A beat.

An energetic and more natural whistle filled the silence, but it was more of a small chirp than an actual whistle.

Shroud’s ruby red eyes go wider as he stares at the egg in complete awe, as if wondering how a small creature could possibly reside in the protected shell that walls them off from the rest of the world. Tommy tucks the egg into the breast pocket of his red woolen coat to keep the egg warm and safe from the biting chill of fall.

“The chi-ck-en sho-uld hat-ch s-oon Big Man, we sh-sh-should also get re-ady for bre-ak-fa-st,” Tommy mutters the second part as an afterthought but it seems to snap the spider out of his awe filled daze. The little spider bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Yessir!” Giving a two fingered salute with one hand, Shroud turns on his heel and stars making their way towards a nearby creek.

Sighing with a fond smile tugging at his lips, Tommy reckons it's going to be a good day.

Chapter Text

Tommy quickly follows Shroud to the creek after shedding his wool coat and creating a small makeshift nest with the egg as the centerpiece by the fire. The trickle of clear blue water allows Tommy and Shroud to wash themselves, kneeling down and appreciating the color the clear brook gives off.. 

While Tommy was cleaning his grime off, Shroud bends down at the bank and cups as much of the clear water as he can in his hands. Sneaking quietly around the distracted teen, the spider uses his spider legs to open the back of the collar of Tommy’s iconic red and white shirt, and dumps the previously cupped water into his shirt. As soon as the water hits skin Tommy gasps and whirls around to face Shroud.

“O-Oh yo-you litt-le bug-bugger! You ar-are go-ing t-t-t-to pay.'' Tommy lunges for the spider. Shroud shrieks as he is dunked into the cold cloudless water. Squirming to get away from the elder he kicks out his feet hitting Tommy’s legs. The tall teen balances precariously attempting to regain his footing on the slippery rocks, but ends up falling face first into the water with a resounding splash. 

After a few seconds underwater and motionless, Tommy abruptly breaks the water’s surface with a bright smile on his face. One untouched from burdens of the days and a past that catches up to them. The spiderling tackles Tommy into a hug, splashing water as they’re both sent backwards into the brook again. Giggling and smiling to each other as they start a splash war.

Tommy was quickly losing as Shroud was constantly popping up from behind and somehow had time to make a small spider silked basket that held freezing mountain water, coupled with the fact Tommy was much taller and his center of gravity was much higher than Shroud he was easily defeated. Eventually they tired out and Tommy nodded his head towards his dying fire as a sign for Shroud to follow. Both were completely soaked and shivering as the cool wind hit their drenched frames.

Having gotten out of the water, and wet clothing hung on a nearby gray branch, they both sat together by the fire, munching on some carrots and some rabbit stew that Tommy had thrown together quickly. 

They bask in each other’s presence in comfortable silence and peaceful bliss. Listening to the morning birds chirp, the croaking frogs, the babbling creek, and the distant ringing they enjoy each other's company. The smell of mud and pine invade the senses, but there is always the undertone of ash and death that follows. The first to break the tranquil silence is Shroud.

“Hey, Mimi? Can you tell me a story about that scar?” Pointing to a large scar on Tommy’s pointed left ear. Shroud often questions the scars that litter Tommy’s figure, and has become a daily routine for Tommy to tell a simplified version of the story of a scar, as to avoid floating in endless memories and to keep the story safe for Shroud. The scar itself consists of three diagonal lines that connect from a small portion of Tommy’s cheek and deep into his left ear. Nodding, Tommy takes out a leather-bound book and a quill and starts to scribble, easily expressing the story of the scar.

“Well that scar came from an Enderman.” As Shroud scans the page he instantly becomes intrigued. Turning the book towards himself Tommy begins to scratch at the page with an unreadable emotion on his face.

“You see he was very angry at me for coming into his cave. And I couldn’t leave because it was pissing outside and no one wanted to deal with that. So I tried reasoning with him, but it made him more angry. He took a slash at my head and took a chunk of my ear with it. The Enderman basically left me for dead and dumped me outside in a field in the rain. Fucking Asshole.” Showing off the rest of the text Tommy starts picking at his claws, betrayal and a morbid sense of resignation washes over him as he relives a similar memory, not unlike the story told. Eventually he turns to the spider, trying to gauge a reaction, he’s met with angry ruby eyes.

“Yeah you're right, that guy was an-an … What did you write?”

Quirking an eyebrow Tommy faces the pages back to Shroud and points to the last word he wrote, “Asshole?”

“Yeah he’s an Asshole.” Shroud declares, puffing his chest out and opening his spider legs in pride, when Tommy chokes, mortified.

“YOU CAN’T TELL ANYONE I TOLD YOU THOSE WORDS.” Tommy pens urgently, forcing the book into Shroud’s smug face.

“Tell em what words? Fucker? Bitch? Prick? Pus-” The cackling spider is silenced by Tommy’s scarred and bandaged hands covering his mouth. Tommy shakes his head like a wet dog, trying to express his utter distraught at the words the child has spoken. After a few moments Shroud taps Tommy’s hands, eventually the hands loosen their grip.

A small smirk works its way on Shrouds face. “Can I say them when I'm alone with you?”

Exhaling a long suffering sigh Tommy resigns his fate and nods.

“FUCKING YES!” Tommy shoves his hands into his face in utter mortification and embarrassment as Shroud has a big toothy grin on his face.

“How about we start packing up? We gotta get a headstart on our little mission, right?” Shroud positively beams, all eight eyes had sparkles in them and his smile got even wider. It was so blindingly bright Tommy had to cover his eyes. 

Shroud immediately shoots up from the ground dashes to the cave. Tommy, left in the dust, has just as big of a smile on his face as Shroud does. Just as fast Shroud disappears he reappears with his backpack, Tommy’s leather satchel, and Tommy’s coat, egg still safe in the soft pockets.

The spiderling hands over the satchel and coat, Tommy taking it gratefully, and tosses his own bag over his shoulder.

Having to make sure they aren’t leaving any tracks, they both cover up the now dead fire and disturbed fawna with fallen gray leaves. Turning presumably west they start making their way through the thicket of gray spruce trees and bushes. 

By the time the sun is high in the sky, Tommy hears the tells of a prospering village. Reaching a clearing in the forest Tommy is the first to see the thriving village. The village, which was more like a mini city, was filled with large crowds and gray buildings. It’s location was bordering on the edge of a glacial passageway entering into the tundra’s mountains, and the spruce forest. Fog envelopes the city, most heavy at the passageway. 

Upon hearing a gasp, Tommy turns to Shroud, who was taking in the village with awe and a hand firmly twisted into Tommy’s shirt. Smiling slightly, Tommy nudges Shroud, bringing the attention to himself. Wrapping his tail delicately around the spider’s wrist, he starts to move towards the town, tugging the little spider along.

The town was surrounded by hefty logged walls, with four guards posted at the seemingly only entrance. With a sharp nod, Tommy and Shroud pass the guards without incident. With only a few steps into the town, they are overwhelmed with the amount of people crowding and shoving.

Keeping a close watch on his satchel and a tail firmly wrapped around Shroud’s arm, Tommy dives into the mass of gray people, weaving expertly through the crowds and avoiding any mishaps. 

Trudging through the slush of mud and snow the pair make their way towards the town’s marketplace. There’s an assortment of people, bidder’s on stages yelling out pricing, buyers looking at whatever catches their attention, miners coming back from the mines with their goods. Tommy was searching for a specific stall, the one that sells maps that have information on the local landscape.

Spending a good twenty minutes in the search of the cartographer they finally spot the stall at the edge of the marketplace, nearing the glacier pathway, on the opposite side of town. Taking the book out of the satchel, Tommy begins to draft what products he needs from the trader.
Tommy smoothly slides the book over the scraggy wooden stall and over to the cartographer. “Do you have any maps that document the land beyond that of the glacier trail?”

“I don’t, but I do have records of the many routes that are in the glacier. It is very incomplete, so keep that in mind. Not many have traveled through the pass as it's a dangerous endeavor considering the bandits and wolves that are housed there.” The tradesman’s speech was heavily accented and harder to understand. Tommy notices, fur lining the inside of a jacket the cartographer was wearing, only now noticing the biting cold and Shroud’s shivering.

Quirking an eyebrow, Tommy gestures to continue. The villager, clearly not understanding, mirrors Tommy and quirks his own eyebrow, both standing in awkward silence before Shroud butts in. 

“Oh for the love of Prime, he’s asking the price of the map, fucking dumbass.” The last part muttered to himself, barely audible, but due to Tommy’s sensitive ears he heard it loud and clear, elbowing the spider in the chest.

The trader, oblivious to Shroud’s comment, continues, “That’ll be about forty gold coins.”

At the scrutinizing glare from Tommy he also added, “Well it's the only map that has a record of that glacier, and I also recommend getting a compass since not much sunlight can break through the fog. So that’ll be an extra two gold.”

Huffing, Tommy nods and rummages through his satchel for the money. Upon realizing he is short on the required pay Tommy starts to write in his journal in a more professional manner.

“I don’t have enough but if it’s alright with you I can strike you a good deal. You see I am something of an adventurer so when I explore I naturally document the surrounding environment. So if you lend the map to me you’ll have all the rights to it when I update it and return to the village. I can also pay for the compass as a separate asset.”

As the eyes of the villager flicker over the pages, Tommy can pinpoint the exact moment the cartographer realizes the trade he is offering.

“Give me a fee of thirty gold so I know you won’t just run off with it.”

“Twenty gold.”

“Twenty eight.”

“Twenty three.”

“Twenty five. Last offer.”

Grinning Tommy reaches a hand forward as if to say deal, the villager seeming to understand meets Tommy half-way with a strong shake of his hand.

As soon as the map and compass are in his hands, Tommy stuffs them into the satchel and moves onto another stall, looking for proper wear for the weather.