Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Blood splattered on the obsidian walls, mingling with the tears already leaking from them, and Tommy, in his crazed train of thoughts, wondered if they were crying for him, or if it was his eyes that were leaking from knowing this would be the last time he'd see them.

This was his end, then? Dying in a rat hole dirtied with his own guts, from the hands of the man he believed he'd finally be free from?

He had been optimistic, too, truly convinced he'd finally be released from the webs that were suffocating him more and more each day.

You were never released from them, a traitorous voice whispered, You were always too deeply tangled to ever be free, he had you right under his thumb this whole time, just a little bug under his shoe.

"And now he finally squiched it…" Tommy mumbled, but if he had to guess, it only came out as a gurgled whine.

The last thing he saw as he closed his eyes was Dream's smug mask looking down on him, like he always had.

-

Philza was getting coffee, like one would, when he felt a tingling sensation at the end of his fingertips. He blinked, and he was suddenly making his way to the basement, coffee cup abandoned on the kitchen counter.

-

When Tommy woke up, he was laying down in an unknown room. What had happened again?

Oh

Oh.

Dream. Dream had killed him, hadn't he? Well, apparently he'd failed, since Tommy's body was hurting like a bitch right now, and he was pretty sure pain was an alive people thing.

Okay, okay.

He could deal with this.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

First, try and find out where the fuck he was. His eyes scanned the room. It was strange, full of unknown devices, and incredibly messy.

Oh god.

What if the weird instruments were torture devices?!

Was Tommy going to get tortured? Was this what this was? He couldn't get tortured, he just escaped certain death! This was shit customer service. Well, at least he didn't have to see Dream's ugly face anymore.

Wait.

What if it was Dream who brought him here? What if this was his secret house ? What if the homeless teletubby wasn't actually homeless?!

...

Yeah, no. Dream kidnapping him into some place to torture him and shit? Plausible. Dream having an actual home? Impossible. Simply untrue. The world might explode. The universe's equilibrium just wouldn't survive it.

This was probably Dream's secret base, and he had brought Tommy here after almost killing him, it all made sense. And now he was going to torture him, for some twisted reason only he knew. Maybe to get revenge. Maybe for his own crazy pleasure.

Suddenly, the sound of a key rustling through a lock sounded out in the basement, and Tommy sat up suddenly, ignoring the pain that rose through his body in favor of looking at the door in fear.

Was it Dream? Was he gonna use the weird torture instruments to do even worse than what he did in prison? Would he make sure it was slow?

The door slowly opened, revealing-

Phil?

"Phil! Oh my god, Phil!" Tommy stood up suddenly, too happy to see a familiar face that wasn't Dream's ugly one. The only person he had been able to see in prison was Dream, Dream, Dream, and he had been frankly tired of it. It was always Dream, obsidian walls, bed, and on and on.

Phil looked back at him, eyes widening. He was wearing some weird costume and a mask, for some reason, a yellow daffodil sewed on a flowing blue cape.

He stepped aside, still in shock, and there stood Technoblade.

Tommy's reaction was instantaneous.

He scrambled backwards, desperate to put some distance in between himself and the man he had betrayed, knowing it would be for nothing, as a flash of pink suddenly appeared in front of him, holding a sword against his throat.

"Now, now, Technoblade, why don't we talk about this?" Tommy froze, smiling nervously, but his poor attempt at calming the man down only made him tenser, and Tommy could feel the burning gaze behind the skull mask he wore.

"I am going to ask you questions, and you are going to answer clearly and without lying, if you want to stay alive," He hissed in between his teeth, Phil still tensely hovering behind him, black wings fluttering in alarm.

Tommy would have nodded if he wasn't literally being held at sword point. Instead, he echoed a small "Yes sir".

"Who are you?"

Tommy's eyes widened. Was this a joke? Who was this, Ranboo? How long was Tommy unconscious? Had everyone already forgotten about him?

He gulped, breathing slowly quickening, the sword still at his throat not helping. "What do you mean, Techno? Don't you recognize me? It's me, big man Tommy."

Upon seeing no sign of recognition to the man, Tommy turned his gaze towards Phil, who was looking at him strangely.

"Tommy who?" Techno asked, pulling his attention back to the man.

"TommyInnit. Come on, did you already forget about me? I was in prison and shit."

A blank stare.

Tommy sighed. Maybe he was hallucinating, maybe he was truly dead, finally. "Okay, sure, big man. Next question."

Well, at least this Techno didn't hate him yet.

"How did you find this place?" 

Tommy felt a strange sentiment of déjà vu, maybe in another basement, in a freezing place.

"I actually don't know. I just woke up here." He paused. "Have you seen Dream?"

Did Dream just throw him in here to get killed, because he knew that it would hurt, god would it hurt, to be killed by someone he had once considered his brother?

"Number one Hero Dream? Are you with him?" Techno frowned, and his grip on the sword tightened.

"Wha-"

"What's going on here?"

Tommy froze. That voice. He would recognize that voice anywhere. He hated the excitement it still brought him. But this couldn't be, it wasn't possible-

"Wilbur?!"

Chapter Text

After Pogtopia, Tommy hadn't gotten the chance to grieve Wilbur. 

That was a lie. He just… didn't grieve him. There had been so much to do, with Tubbo becoming president, and Technoblade's betrayal, and Dream, Tommy was always busy. Rebuild here, make sure Dream didn't hover near New L'Manburg, rebuild more, meet the newest members, make sure Dream didn't fucking approach L'Manburg-

Then there was Ghostbur. Tommy would've been lying if he said he hadn't held the hope Ghostbur was like his Wilbur, at the start. But he wasn't, and Tommy was left with the backlash of his brother's actions.

Tommy, let's be the bad guys.

"Wilbur?!"

Wilbur froze, staring at him with wide brown eyes for a few seconds, in which Tommy almost believed he had recognized him, the seed of hope already making its home in his chest.

"How the fuck do you know my name?"

And just like that, all hope the young teen had gathered was crushed.

Wilbur (he was alive, holy shit, he was fucking alive-) turned towards Techno, a single eyebrow raised. The movement was something so undeniably Wilbur that it made Tommy's heart swell.

"Why are you holding a child at sword point in our basement?" He asked, like this happened everyday.

For the first time since Techno (he still wasn't sure it was the real Techno, since the real Techno would have usually cut Tommy to pieces the second he saw him) had started interrogating him, Phil stepped up.

"Now, why don't we sit down and talk about this in a civilized way?" He suggested, looking rather lost, but firm.

"But Augur-" 

Who the fuck was Augur.

"No buts. Look at him, he's completely harmless," Phil answered, sounding exasperated out of his mind. "He doesn't even have a weapon."

NotTechno looked back at him, and scanned him with suspicious eyes. After a few seconds of uncomfortable staring, he seemed to register Tommy as a NotThreat, as he slowly lowered his sword, giving Tommy the opportunity to finally take a proper breath without fearing losing his head.

When he raised his head back up, Wilbur was in front of him.

"You're- you're alive." Tommy breathed, disbelief leaking through every word. It couldn't be possible, Tommy had watched as Phil put a sword through his brother's chest, he had seen his body slowly going limp.

The ex-president tilted his head to the side in confusion, brown hair falling over his eye. "Do we know each other?"

That was the last straw.

"Do we- Wilbur, we led a nation together!" Tommy screamed, hysteria in his voice.

Flashbacks of Ghostbur ringed in his mind, memories of his dead brother's ghost, who didn't remember him either. This Wilbur didn't look like Ghostbur, but it wasn't Tommy's Wilbur, either.

This was a stranger. A stranger with his brother's face.

"Don't you remember- don't you remember L'Manburg? Our L'Manburg?"

Your L'Manburg.

He was heaving now, back arching with each labored breath he took, hands pulled into fists. 

"L'Manburg… we're in L'Manburg," Wilbur answered, looking slightly uncomfortable with Tommy's breakdown, like he didn't quite know what to make of it. "I think I'd remember if I was mayor."

Silence.

Tommy sighed. He really had gotten himself into a bit of a pickle, hadn't he? The teen pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, groaning in annoyance.

"This is gonna be so shitty."

He could already feel the adrenaline abandoning him, leaving behind only the pain coursing through his body. Tommy winced. He had almost forgotten about the whole 'beaten up to death with a potato' thing. 

He had a feeling he wouldn't be eating potatoes for a while.

"Are you okay?" Someone asked, concern in their voice. Tommy couldn't tell who it was, too distracted by the ringing in his ears.

Wait, ringing?

"Never been better," He said, before his vision went black.

-

The next time he woke up, he wasn't in the basement anymore. 

The first thing he noticed was the soft ( too soft, Tommy didn't have anything like that at home) blue blankets weighing him down, and the fact he couldn't move his wrists.

Where was he?

…

Oh yeah, he had gotten kidnapped, hadn't he? This wasn't the basement, though. If Tommy was to guess, he'd say it was a room.

He had fucking fainted and they had put him to fucking sleep.

This sucked. This sucked so much. He'd rather be anywhere (except prison, of course) but here, he missed Tubbo, Jack, Niki, Sam Nook, hell, he'd even appreciate Ranboo's company right now, and that enough showed how desperate he was for any sense of familiarity.

But Tommy was way too cool to just give up, that would be a pussy move, and he just didn't do those.

First, he'd have to work with what he had to get out of here.

What did Techno use to say, again? Examine your surroundings?

In front of him stood a desk with a familiar map hung over it.

L'Manburg!

Tommy untangled himself from the soft blankets in a hast, struggling with the restraint they had put on his wrists, but finally stumbling forwards.

After almost falling multiple times, he was standing in front of the map, tracing the familiar curves with his eyes, the hills, the different sectors. It had been some time since he had seen a map like this one, since he visited Eret's museum, maybe. 

It had felt strange, seeing the traces of what they had done, what they had accomplished , in a museum.  

He felt the sudden urge to take it, to take L'Manburg with him, this dream that felt way too real. His eyes fell down on his hands, which were bound with strange tissue. He frowned, tugging at it a bit. It didn't move a lot, but he could work with that.

And so he did.

-

A few minutes later, his wrists were slightly red, but free, and his teeth hurt, the tissue thrown somewhere in the room.

They don't call him raccooninnit without a reason.

He grabs the map gently, running a finger over the lines of his nation. It looked recent, and there were places he didn't recognize, but it was still home.

What had Wilbur said, again? That they were in L'Manburg?

He furrowed his eyebrows. That couldn't be true, L'Manburg had gotten destroyed a few months back, by Techno and Dream.

That left him with a single question:

"Where the fuck am I?" He mumbled, looking around the room a bit more.

Glass glinted in his direction, and he headed towards the source.

A mirror.

But this wasn't what shocked him the most. It was his reflection inside of the mirror.

Everything looked normal: the bandana Tubbo had given to him was tied around his neck, not completely the same shade of green from all the times he had patched it with tissue of a slightly different colour, he was wearing the same blue sweater he died (?) in, though you could barely tell it used to be blue because of all the blood smudged on it, his eyebags still sat unchanged under his eyes, his hair was still as messy as before, and his Tubbo compass was still around his neck, safely tucked under his sweater, the familiar weight comforting.

It was right, and that was wrong. He felt pain, but he was completely uninjured, no fatal wound, nothing. Just blood. Like his body had completely healed overnight.

He shivered as he remembered what it had felt like, seeing his consciousness slipping away from him, feeling his bones crushing.

Definitely not recommendable. Zero out of ten.

Tommy sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today. 

Time to explore.

He poke his head out the door, looking left and right to make sure no one was there. The hallway was empty. Good.

Tommy adventured out carefully, bare feet carefully stepping on the warm wood. It reminded Tommy of a ten times hotter netherrack, and that thought slightly calmed him down.

Making sure to note in his head which directions he took (right, right, and then left), he started his exploration. Soon enough, he stumbled into a strange room. It looked like a kitchen, judging by the various foods scattered around (he may have snatched an apple, but he missed his gapples, and apples had the closest taste, okay?), except, like in the basement, there were also strange instruments Tommy had never seen in his life before.

It had a strange thing that looked like a button attached to it (given the bad experience he had had with buttons previously, Tommy kept his hands far away from it) and two weird slots, like the one on his jukebox. It was made out of some shiny grey material, and Tommy fought the urge to just put it under his sweater and leave with it.

He stared at it for a few minutes like that would help him understand how the thing worked. Maybe with redstone? It did have some cables that seemed to relay it to the wall.

Redstone usually made a slight noise when working, maybe Tommy could-

A scream interrupted Tommy's train of thoughts and he jumped, turning around to face a wide eyed Wilbur Soot.

"What the fuck are you doing in our kitchen?" He asked, and Tommy, finding no profit in answering the man, turned his attention back to the Shiny.

He hummed. "I don't hear any redstone…"

"Why is your sweater maculated with blood?" came Wilbur's horror filled voice from behind him. "And how did you get rid of the bandages?"

"Shhhhh…" Tommy said, annoyed. "I'm tryna learn how that thing works."

"What, the toaster?" 

That brought Tommy's attention back to the man.

"To-ster?" He asked, bewildered.

"Yes, toaster."

He nodded his head gravely, a serious expression on his face. "Toaster."

"God, I did not have nearly enough caffeine to deal with this," Wilbur sighed, looking positively exhausted. Tommy didn't know what caffine was, but he did know that Wilbur didn't have the strange costume on anymore, which was good, since he had looked a bit silly with it yesterday.

"Do you reckon I can keep it?"

"You want to keep the toaster?" 

Tommy didn't get why Wilbur sounded so bewildered, the toaster was cool, unknown and shiny, of course he wanted it. 

"Can I have it? Please, Wilbur, can I have it, can I have it?" He pleaded. The toaster was really, really nice, and it would look so good inside of Tommy's little home.

Wilbur looked at him with blatant disbelief, but still seemed to consider the offer. "Okay, but you have to give me something in exchange-"

"I'm not putting my stuff in a hole for you to blow up," Tommy deadpanned, looking him straight in the eyes. 

He did not want a repeat of exile, thank you very much.

"What? No, I was gonna suggest that you answer some of my questions, and you can have the toaster."

Oh, well, that was a surprisingly good deal. He just had to answer some questions and he'd get the Shiny, how cool was that?

Tommy nodded eagerly. "Go on, big man."

"What's your opinion on Dream?" 

He didn't miss a beat.

"Bitch."

At that, Wilbur seemed to choke on air, before dissolving into hysterical laughter. 

Tommy just waited for it to end, feeling weirdly defensive. Was Wilbur making fun of him?

"Sorry, sorry, I just didn't expect that," Wilbur explained once he had calmed down a bit. "That's not the answer I usually get when I ask that question."

"It's the only good answer," Tommy declared, already putting the shiny in his sweater to take away with him.

"You are a strange one," Wilbur responded, looking slightly perplexed.

" I'm the strange one? You are literally supposed to be dead," Tommy defended avidly.

"What's up with that whole 'I know you but you don't know me' thing?" Wilbur asked, frowning at him.

A pause.

He chooses his words very carefully.

"I think- I think you're not my Wilbur," Tommy started hesitantly, looking at the man in front of him very carefully. "You're a Wilbur, but not my Wilbur."

The memory of the blue staining his sweater remained vivid in Tommy's mind.

"I- I'm not Alivebur- I'm not Wilbur!"

Chapter Text

"So, you think you're not from here?" 

Tommy stared at the mug in front of him, filled with a brown liquid that smelled absolutely heavenly.

"Yup," He answered distractedly.

Could he drink it? Was he allowed to drink it? What if it was poisoned? No way, if they wanted to kill him they would've done it earlier, surely.

"Can we ask you a few questions?"

They were in the kitchen again, Tommy sitting on one side of the shiny table with his newly acquired toaster while the others (he still didn't know what to refer to them as) sat on the opposite, like he was a fucking outcast. Well, the whole 'came from a whole ass different universe' kinda made him one, he guessed.

"Sure." He wasn't going to argue with the guy with the fucking sword.

The table looked very stealable right now, maybe he could take it. Tommy wasn't sure it would fit in his inventory, but he could still try. 

It wouldn't be his fault anyway, why was everything so shiny? So tempting?

"How old are you?" 

How old was he? Wait, what day was it? He finally looked up with wide eyes from where he was staring at the cup.

"What day is it?" He asked frantically.

Techno, who had been the one asking the questions along with Phil, looked slightly startled at that.

"We're the ones asking the que-"

Phil, who had been the most civil since this whole shit show had started, was quick to interrupt him.

"March fourth."

Shit. What day was it when he…again? He couldn't remember, he hadn't kept count, too distracted by Dream.

"Fuck." 

And then,

"Can I drink the brown thingy?"

Wilbur, who had gotten himself another 'caffine', blinked at him a few times, before answering-

"What, the hot chocolate?" 

His eyes were fixed on Tommy's (he decided he was going to drink it anyway, no matter the answer) cup, so he thought it was safe to assume they were talking about the same thing.

"So that's what it's called? Interesting," Tommy said thoughtfully, staring at his face reflected back in the mug. "Can I drink it, then?" 

A pause. 

"You know what? Whatever. It's mine now."

Tommy grabbed it with both of his hands, the cup warm against his palms, before raising it up to his lips and taking a large sip. The warm liquid made its way down his throat to his stomach, where it created a warm weight. It was nice.

"Sweet," He remarked, licking his lips appreciatively.

He downed the rest before they could even think of taking it away from him. His stomach felt really warm now. 

Technoblade looked slightly disgusted. Wilbur looked terrified. Phil looked done.

"Oh, and I'm sixteen. It's my birthday soon. I expect gifts from each of you and an apology letter for threatening me."

Okay, maybe he was pushing it a little. Just a little. But can't a man chill after almost dying and getting sent to a whole ass other dimension with his death brother, the man he betrayed, and fucking Philza Minecraft of all people in it?

He deserved to act a little bitchy.

"You know what? I don't even wanna know man, just answer the questions," Techno sighed. He seemed over the whole 'this traumatized teenager is a danger to society' thing, which was good.

"Go ahead, big man." Tommy casually took the mug and put it in his inventory, taking the occasion to look at what he had kept from before. A single potato. He had forgotten Sam had made him drop all of his stuff before visiting Dream.

There was a second of silence.

"Okay, question number one, what the fuck?" 

He looked back at Wilbur. "What do you mean?"

"Where did the cup go?" He said, rather hysterically if you asked Tommy. That man needed to chill.

"You mean the mug?" He was a tiny bit confused. He would've understood if the man had asked to take it back but not this . "In my inventory?"

"Wait, wait, this is weirdly entertaining. Do it again," Techno said, and it was the first time he didn't sound straight up hostile since this whole interaction started. He just seemed curious.

All eyes were turned to him now. Awkward.

He reached a careful hand towards the toaster, never letting his gaze leave Techno just in case it was a trap, before quickly putting it in his inventory, next to the spot where he had put the mug.

"What the fuck-" Wilbur started again.

"I've never seen a power like that," Phil cut him off, looking impressed. 

"What are your parents' powers?" Techno asked thoughtfully.

"I don't have parents," Tommy answered easily.

"Oh, sorry." There was a pause in which Techno did not look the slightest bit sorry. "What were your parents' powers?"

" Techno," Phil scolded, baffled. "I know you have that whole thing with orphans but that's just straight up rude."

Tommy had never learnt what was up with Technoblade and orphans and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I already told you I don't have parents, are you even listening?" He was starting to get annoyed. That was way more interacting-with-people than he was used to, the only people he had consistently talked to before the prison being Awesamdude and Sam Nook.

It was funny, that one of the last people he had held a proper conversation with before his (if Tommy's theory was correct) death was the guardian of the prison he was kept and killed in.

"What? You can't just not have parents," Wilbur protested, incredulous. "How would you come to life?"

Were those dudes stupid? Was the great Philza Minecraft a Life newbie?

"I spawned, duh," Tommy said evidently. 

Silence.

"Well, I think I spawned. I don't really remember." A small chuckle. "Tubbo's convinced I was born from a tube test."

It was true, while most of the members of the dream smp were born from their parents, he had just woken up at spawn.

 Tommy remembered his first thought being "this place is fucking ugly". Then he had met Dream, and Tubbo, and all the others, and had made himself a home with the people he loved.

"I need a drink," Wilbur said dazedly, making his way to the caffine tree.

"Isn't that, like, your fifth cup?" Phil asked, worried.

"I need it."

"It's only eleven in the morning."

"Yeah, too early for that shit," Wilbur retorted, as the tree started making its ominous 'VRRRRRRRRR' sound for the fifth time that day.

"...get me a cup too," Techno muttered.

"Techno!" Phil scolded, scandalized.

"Can I have one too?" Tommy asked, feeling a bit left out.

"NO!" They screamed at him in sync.

Aw.

Chapter Text

Soft yellow light showered the 'taco' inside of the box, the food turning slowly along with the plate it was on. Tommy approached his head a bit more, almost touching the box's glass, staring as the food turned and turned and turned. It was strangely mesmerizing.

They had explained that it would work like a furnace, heating up the food. He had protested against them 'holding his food hostage you fucking bastards' before remembering who, exactly, they were, and complying to their demand quietly.

A sigh resonated behind him. He paid it no mind.

"Dad!" Wilbur's voice called. "The child's still watching the microwave! It is very unnerving."

Tommy blinked, muttering the word "microwave" under his breath.

"This is so creepy," Wilbur groaned. "PHIILLL!"

The sound of steps going down the stairs made its way to Tommy's ears.

"What's up?" Phil's familiar voice asked.

"Can you get the kid away from our microwave?" He pleaded, almost whining. "I don't want him near our microwave."

Tommy poked the glass carefully, his mouth forming an 'o' shape when he felt it slightly warm under his skin. How did it work? Redstone, maybe, but once again, he hadn't spotted anything that could hint to a possible redstone arrangement. This…world…was really fascinating.

Tubbo would have loved it.

He forced himself to push that thought away. He could tell Tubbo everything about this once he found a way back to the smp. No need to reminisce on it now.

Tommy had other things to focus on.

"Can I have the microwave?" For the first time since he had set his eyes on the strange furnace, Tommy turned around, making eye contact with one Wilbur Soot.

"What? Of course no-"

He was quickly interrupted by Phil, who sent Tommy a placating smile.

"Only if you answer some questions," He answered, taking a few steps towards him, ignoring Wilbur's protests.

The teenager suppressed a groan. An interrogation again? He hated this. He didn't want to talk about anything. He just wanted to sit there and stare at the microwave. In addition, just because they hadn't tried to kill him again since the basement didn't mean they didn't want to. He was a traitor, after all. Maybe not in this universe, but a traitor nonetheless. He had betrayed Techno.

And he knew very well who Phil and Wilbur would stand with.

All this to say, saying yes would be fucking stupid.

But.

This was a good occasion to gain information to help him go back home. If they could interrogate him, then he could too. Two could play at that game.

Also, he really wanted to keep the microwave. That shit was lit. It would look perfect right next to the toaster in his house back home, he'd even make a room specially for them.

"Okay," Tommy started, and turned around for the first time since he had started watching the display in front of him. "But you answer my questions, too. Let's play that one question game."

"Twenty one questions?" Wilbur asked incredulously. "You're telling me your world has fucking twenty one questions but not-"

"Wilbur." 

Phil's stern tone immediately shut him up. Hah. Seemed like that world wasn't completely different from his.

The avian turned back towards him, a business-like smile on his face. "Deal. You can start."

Tommy thought thoroughly for a second. There was so much he could ask, so many questions in his head that were making his mind buzz with confusion. Most of them, however, they couldn't answer, things like "how the fuck did I get here?" or, "who would win in a fight, a gorilla or a shark?". He thought about it for a few more seconds, before settling on a simple one.

"Who the fuck is Augur?" 

He had heard that name earlier, when they were still in the basement, and had been curious about it since then. Until now, he had only heard names of people he knew, like Dream, much to his displeasure, by the way. It sucked that even in another universe, he still wasn't rid of the bitch. 

Now he could get an answer to that.

Phil seemed surprised for a second, blinking owlishly. Hah. Birdza.

"How does he not- oh yeah. He's from another universe isn't he," Wilbur said, something like exhaustion in his voice, like it had only now settled in. "I need a drink."

Phil seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, his head snapping towards his son. "No coffee."

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Right." There was a second of silence. "I'm gonna switch up to energy drinks."

Shooting him a disappointed look, Phil suppressed a sigh.

The other made his way to a massive (okay, maybe that was an exaggeration) metal box before seemingly…opening it in half? What the fuck? Oh, wait, it worked like a door, Tommy realised, which made sense, since Wilbur wouldn't be strong enough to open it in half by his own. His strength had always laid in his words, not his muscles.

He pulled a metal sort of tube with 'monster' written over it.

Wait.

Hadn't Wilbur said he was getting himself a drink?

"You drink monster blood?!" Tommy exclaimed in a disgusted voice. 

Wilbur froze. "What?"

There was a few seconds of silence, before a laugh echoed. They both simultaneously turned towards the source: one Philza Minecraft.

Tommy frowned. This was a serious matter: eating mobs could be deadly. So why was he laughing?

"I'm- I'm sorry mate- just- your face-" And he broke into another laughing fit.

Wilbur huffed in discontent, crossing his arms like a pouting five years old. "You're being unfair."

The teenager took advantage of the collective distraction to swiftly make his way towards the brown-haired man, stealing the drink in one quick move. 

"Hey! I needed that!" Wilbur whined, looking at Tommy accusedly. "Are you stealing that, too?"

Phil only laughed harder. Tommy stared at Wilbur sternly.

Seriously, how stupid was this guy?

"Don't drink monster blood. You will die." 

Phil was now bent over, clutching his sides in a vain attempt to stop the wheezes escaping his body.

"Oh my god- that's not actual monster blood," Wilbur explained, exasperation making his voice slightly higher than usual. "It's just the name of the brand!"

His eyes fell on the object. It was cold under his fingers. Regular mob blood was warm.

He frowned harder.

"Are you sure?" He asked, still hesitant.

" Yes." 

Blue eyes blinked a few times. 

"Okay then," he finally relented, and put the 'monster' in his inventory.

Wilbur sighed, a heavy, tired sigh. "There goes all hope of mental stability." 

"Anyways," Tommy said, like nothing had happened at all. "You still haven't answered my question: who is Augur?"

Phil, who had managed to calm down during the interaction, straightened up, his face hardening with a newly found seriousness.

"Augur is my…nickname, let's say. It's the name the public knows me as," He answered, and all the lightheartedness was gone from his voice, leaving only a heavy, darker undertone.

Tommy was not unsettled by the sudden mood swing. He had witnessed plenty of those during exile.

"The public? What do you-" 

Wilbur smirked at him, satisfaction distorting his facial traits. "Ah, ah, only one question. Our turn now." 

Tommy huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms defensively. "Fine. Go ahead."

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, full of raised eyebrows and mouthed words, silently deciding what their next move would be. Finally, Wilbur turned back to Tommy, scanning him carefully. He opened his mouth, and-

"What's your name?"

That was…unexpected. With all the fuss, you would have thought they'd ask a more interesting question, like how he had gotten there, or even information that could help them exploit him. But no, they were just asking for his name, that he had literally already given.

"Tommy," he answered anyway, voice less harsh than with anything he had said before, almost soft, even. "Tommy Innit."

Phil seemed to soften slightly, tense traits smoothing out. "Nice to meet you, Tommy. "

"Where are your par-" 

This time, it was Tommy's turn to smirk, satisfaction radiating from him. "Nu-huh. Only one question at a time, Wilbur."

The man scowled at him, shooting him a fierce glare. If it was coming from anyone else, maybe Tommy would have been scared. Perhaps he would have been reminded of a darker time, one where he constantly felt blood in his mouth and salt in his throat, where he had to watch every little action of his, even his own breathing. Perhaps he would have been shivering, then, memories he would have preferred forgotten showing in the tremble of his hands, in the curve of his lips.

But this was Wilbur. And even in another universe, even far away from everything he knew, even left alone with nothing to his name, in a dark place where nightmares become reality, he knew Wilbur would never voluntarily hurt him. Never.

Said man sighed, pulling Tommy out of his thoughts. "Fine. Your turn."

He stopped to think for a second. He really wanted to ask what 'the public' meant, but it didn't feel that important anymore.

"Since there's a Wilbur and a Phil in this universe too, is there also a Tommy here?" He asked slowly. It seemed like such a weird concept, that there were multiple versions of him.

That, maybe, he wasn't the original.

Phil hummed under his breath, seemingly deep in thought. "I…think not? I don't think I've ever met anyone like you."

A breath of relief couldn't help but escape him. No identity crisis today, then.

"Alright then. Your turn."

Wilbur hesitated. They seemed to be taking turns asking him questions. Tommy straightened up, determined to not falter at anything he would say.

"You said…" he paused, frowning slightly. "You said there were copies of us in your world. How are they?"

He froze. That was a question he had dreaded since he had arrived here. 

How would they feel, if they knew how terrible Tommy was to them? How selfish he acted? How would they feel, if they knew how stupid he was? How easily he had gotten manipulated? Would they take advantage of him, like another person in another time had? Or would they kick him out, disgust twisting their expressions into a repulsing fresco?

No. He couldn't risk it. He couldn't let them know how unworthy and weak he was. This was his chance, even if temporarily, to fix what had been broken.

He turns towards Wilbur. "You were…you were my friend. Brother, even." He closed his eyes for a second, focusing on Wilbur from before L'Manburg. "You always knew what to say, all the citizens loved you. You didn't shed blood unnecessarily, opting to use your words instead. Everyone looked up to you."

Wilbur blinked quickly, once, twice. "...were?"

"You died." You died a villain. "You died to save what mattered the most to your eyes."

To your eyes, only. You died for yourself, never for us, despite what you liked to proclaim.

Never for me.

"That's…" Wilbur stopped mid-way. He seemed a little out of it, as if in a daze. "Interesting."

Tommy hummed, still lost in memories of a darker time.

"You also fucked a fish."

Philza erupted into another laughing fit, while Wilbur groaned loudly. "What the fuck."

He shrugged. "It was hard to procreate in a land with no women."

Wilbur glared at him half-heartedly. "And you couldn't have kept that to yourself?"

Tommy grinned, showing teeth. "Nope."

His laughter calming down a little bit, Phil wiped at his eyes, before turning towards Tommy, making direct eye contact. "What about me?"

You killed him.

"You stayed with Techno most of the time." More than with your own son. "I didn't get to see you much." You helped blow up my home.

Phil hummed, and his eyes darkened. For a second, Tommy had the certitude that Philza knew he was keeping information from them, as he stared into ocean blue eyes, but it was gone in an instant, leaving him even more paranoiac than before. He felt a bit out of breath.

Okay. Phil? Not as harmless in this world as he thought. 

He coughed a little bit. "Yeah..um. My turn now?"

Wilbur nodded, and Phil held up eye contact. Awkward. Tommy looked away and convinced himself it wasn't a defeat.

"So..I've seen a lot of tech here, but no redstone. How does it work then?" He asked curiously. 

And no, he didn't do it for Tubbo. Tommyinnit was a big man who was interested in big things. Like the big metal one. Yup.

Wilbur grimaced. "I don't think we can answer that. I don't know how it works in detail." 

He tilted his head to the side, confused. "But weren't you the one who built it?"

"No, no, we bought it. Someone else built it."

"Slavery?"

"What? No. What the hell?" He seemed close to tearing his hair out. "We gave them money in exchange for it. It wasn't slavery."

Tommy nodded very seriously. "Business."

"Yes. Business."

There was a small silence.

"Your turn." Tommy thoughtfully reminded them. He was so thoughtful. Such a good person.

"Right." Phil made eye contact. He wasn't laughing anymore. There was no trace of humor on his face. "How did you get-"

They were interrupted by a loud BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP .

"What the-"

Tommy turned towards where the sound was coming from: the microwave.

"Wilbur?" Phil asked, incredulous. "How long did you put for the timer?"

Wilbur winced. "What? I only put, like, thirty seconds."

Phil approached, looking at the microwave. 

"Wilbur."

"Yes?" He asked fearfully.

"You put it in for thirty minutes, not thirty seconds."

"Oh."

"Clean that up right now."

Wilbur spent the afternoon cleaning up the melted taco in the microwave, and then the kitchen as a punishment for being a big dumbass, while Tommy mourned his lost food.

Finally, it hadn't gone as bad as Tommy thought it would. They even offered to let him sleep here until they found a solution to get him back to his world.

Still, there was one person Tommy hadn't yet…met correctly.

And he didn't know if he'd get out of this one in one piece.

Chapter Text

"Why are we here again?"

Tommy ran in the aisle, towards a bright thing he had seen. It was so bright. And pink. And it also looked like a woman. Mini woman. A bit strange. Steps followed behind him

"Mate, have you even seen his clothes? They're so bloodied and torn, he can't wear that. He needs new ones if he's gonna be living with us," Phil explained reasonably. 

Wilbur only groaned. 

"I mean, I think it's a win, actually, one thing worse than having a child in your house is having a bloody child in your house," Techno drawled behind him, and Tommy didn't even jump! See, he had gotten better at ignoring this Techno, and not getting scared each time the man moved, which was a convenient skill to have considering he was going to be living (temporarily) with him.

Again.

He could feel Wilbur turning around to glare at Techno. "I thought we were on the same side!"

"You assumed that yourself, it's on you," Techno retorted, a smile in his voice.

He fixed his attention back on the small bright woman. "Can I have it?" He asked, before turning around with it in hand.

Wilbur and Techno's jaws dropped. Phil only smiled soothingly.

"Sure, mate. Choose what you want."

Tommy grinned. He was starting to like this world's Phil better than the 'original' one.

In his back, he heard frantic whispers, of "is that a Barbie doll," and "why does he get the Barbie doll. Phil wouldn't have bought me the Barbie doll." 

He decided to name it Maryelle, or big woman, for short.

-

"GIVE BIG WOMAN BACK!"

"NO! IT'S MINE NOW! YOU NEED TO LEARN TO SHARE! YOU'RE LIVING IN OUR HOUSE!"

"What do you think about that sweater?" Techno asked casually.

"PHIL BOUGHT IT FOR ME NOT YOU!"

"Nope. Too colourful. Maybe that shirt?" Phil suggested, looking at a white shirt with small yellow patterns on it.

"YOU'RE BEING A LITTLE BABY JUST GIVE-"

A crashing noise. Alarms blared.

Phil sighed.

-

"We got kicked out of the supermarket because of you two!" Phil reprimanded, looking at the two severely.

Tommy wrinkled his nose. "Mustn't be very 'super' if it can't handle how awesome I am."

"It was Tommy's fault." 

Tommy's head snapped towards Wilbur, shooting him a look of pure offense. He hadn't even done anything wrong! 

"You literally tried to 'free' the mascot. That guy's gonna have so much emotional damage later on because of you," Wilbur deadpanned, looking him straight in the eyes.

Okay, maybe he did one thing wro-

"You bit into almost every single fruit in the fruit aisle," Techno added.

"To be fair-"

"You stuck one of big woman's shoes into a child's nose. He had to go to the hospital," Phil recalled.

Tommy faltered. "This is bullying."

Phil smiled. 

"I don't think we're the bullying ones here, mate."

-

This was a terrible situation. Now you must wonder, what happened to Tommy again? Couldn't he ever stay out of trouble for more than five minutes?

Well, for his defense, he couldn't have possibly stopped what happened next. It wasn't his fault Wilbur and Phil left to get him more clothes while Techno stayed to babysit him. It wasn't his fault they were now sitting awkwardly in front of each other eating dinner silently.

…right? 

He guessed he could maybe have prevented it if he hadn't gotten them banned from the supermarket, or had insisted more to go with Wilbur and Phil, but it was too late now, he was destined to be feeling incredibly awkward for the next twenty minutes or so.

Tommy forcefully took another bite of his 'pasta'. You probably don't know what that is, so Tommy's going to explain it to you in the simplest way possible. Pasta is like long white worms except so much thinner and long and knotted. A bit like long thin intestines with blood sauce, which tastes surprisingly good together. 

He wondered if intestines would taste good. Probably not. Maybe with sauce? Surely sauce can fix any meal?

"What are you thinking about?" A ruff voice interrupted his line of thoughts.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck he's gonna die it's Techno he's here for vengeance he's gonna kill him or send him back to Dream fuck-

"Cannibalism," Tommy answered without thinking.

There was an awkward silence. Tommy stabbed his pasta with his mini-trident to distract himself from his rising embarrassment. It wasn't his fault okay? He is just usually an incredibly honest person, which isn't always very convenient. 

"Same," Techno answered nonchalantly, and Tommy risked looking up at him with wide eyes.

If that wasn't a plot twist, then Tommy didn't know what was.

"Really?" 

"No, that was a lie. I just wanted to feel included."

"Oh."

Short silence. They stared at each other for a few seconds. Techno's eyes reminded Tommy of the pasta sauce. 

They finished eating in silence.

That marked the end of Tommy's first interaction alone with that world's Techno.

-

Their second interaction was, from Tommy's humble opinion, way worse, which was not good progress. Tommy was sitting with one of the books he had been given on the living room's couch, watching the door intensely as if it was gonna open and dump a wave of gangsters at any given moment. Phil had given him the book earlier before leaving, something about a guy and a bull? He hadn't been paying attention, too busy begging Wilbur to take them with him by using very distressed and pitiful looks.

After another thirty minutes of hoping Wilbur would suddenly come in and save him from his uncomfortable situation, Tommy resigned himself and gave up on it entirely. Instead he opted to interest himself in his book, spending a good ten seconds staring at the cover (it had pretty colours!).

Strangely, it felt like he shouldn't open it. Like a strange presentiment that something bad would happen. He hummed a little bit.

Who cared? It couldn't get worse anyways.

He opened it, and started reading.

-

"You want to be a hero, Tommy? Then DIE LIKE ONE!"

"Welcome home, Theseus!"

"So long, Theseus!"

-

His heart was slamming into his chest. He couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe? Air, air, he needed air, there was air, he knew there was air, but it just wouldn't register , and, oh, he was choking, just like back in exile, he was choking and he couldn't do anything about it, he was going to die alone here, that was it, he was going to suffocate to death, choke on the water, he could feel salt in his mouth, his senses slowly abandoning him, this was his end.

And then,

A hand, on his back.

A breath. He followed. Another one.

One, two. One, two. One, two.

He could do this, they said. Could he? If the voice said it, it was surely true. He felt like they were right, irrationally.

He took another deep breath.

Tommy wasn't alone anymore.

-

This was very awkward.

They were back in the kitchen again, Techno sat in front of Tommy with crossed arms, while the latter sipped on a glass of water.

Very, very awkward.

How was he supposed to act normally after…that? Especially since Tommy's little crisis was mostly about the person who had helped him get out of it, and also over a fucking book.

He hadn't known what the book talked about. It was fun, at first, there were a lot of short interesting stories, called 'myths', judging on the book cover, and Tommy had been enjoying it. And then. And then a particular myth had came in, and he couldn't quite remember what happened after he realized what it was talking about. He thinks he had continues reading, curious of the end, because, surely, surely it wasn't-

Tommy took another sip of the water.

He knew Techno itched to say something, to ask question, it was clear in his eyes and the way his finger tapped against his arm. It's crazy, how similar he was to the Techno he had once known.

After a few seconds, Techno opened his mouth, and Tommy prepared himself for the impact. Instead, however, came a soft wave :

"Do you know how to play chess?"

Huh?

-

Technoblade spent a good thirty minutes teaching Tommy the rules of the game and what each piece did. Tommy listened attentively, almost forgetting who he was talking to.

They played a few games, Tommy winning one ( no, Techno did not let him win, he is just that good) with great joy and a twinkle of pride from Technoblade (he was almost sure he had imagined, but that didn't stop him from hoping).

He almost didn't feel scared anymore, now, and saw the advantages of this world.

They didn't know what he had done, and as long as Tommy was concerned, they would never.

It wasn't something he was particularly happy doing, but he knew he had to. He couldn't lose that too.

They always said he was selfish, after all, didn't they? 

Then no one would be surprised if he actually acted selfish this time around, right?

Just this time.

Just let him have this, just this.

He wouldn't ask for anything else anymore.

Chapter Text

"Bye Tommy, try not to blow up the house."

Ironic, coming from fucking Wilbur, but sure.

"No promises. Bye!"

The door closed with a click.

Tommy waited for a few seconds, before carefully making his way to the living room.

Leaving him alone in the house was the worst mistake they could have made.

He didn't know where they were going, it was almost ten pm when Philza announced they had some business to take care of and left, bags full with clothes in hands (Tommy didn't ask), with Wilbur and Techno. When Tommy had asked if he could come with them, he had gotten an immediate, stern no. He wasn't that surprised considering what happened last time they brought him with them outside, so he didn't protest that much.

Also, it was the perfect occasion to be nosy and explore the house. Maybe he could even have a short nightly outing afterwards. He deserved a small reward for not questioning what shady business they were up to.

He decided to act methodically, and to explore a room, put everything back in place, before going to another room. It was the perfect plan. He just needed to make sure he didn't do too much damage in case they came back early to Tommy looking through their stuff. 

The first room he decided to look through was, understandably, the kitchen. Even in another universe, Tommy knew this was a rich person's kitchen. No poor person had that much shit in a kitchen. 

He looked at the coffee machine first, and immediately knew what he needed to do. He hadn't gotten the chance to drink some of the beverage yet, and that needed to change. He did just like he saw Phil do for the last few days: first open the thingy on top, put the brown thing, close it, mess with the buttons hoping that what he was doing was right, and wait. Only a few seconds passed before the machine started making its ominous noises, so different from redstone, who emitted a quiet hum, and coffee started flowing. Yes, flowing. Because, in his eagerness Tommy had forgotten to put a fucking cup underneath. He panicked and tried to cover up the hole it was coming from with his bandaged hands, but let out a hiss of pain at the burning hot liquid, immediately pulling back. Finally, he just gave up as coffee slowly flowed more and more and soaked the floor beneath him. 

Welp.

Totally didn't fuck that up. He was going to need to clean that up later, but first, he needed to take care of his soaked bandages and the redness he could see spreading at his fingertips. Fucking hell. Phil was going to kill him for this later on. Maybe this would be where he drew the line. The coffee machine.

Tommy slowly inched away from the machine that just wouldn't stop pissing coffee, towards the sink. He felt a twinkle of pride at having remembered the correct term for it. Philza had spent the afternoon of the day before trying to introduce Tommy to the most important things he needed to know, like what the shower was and how to use it. Some stuff from this world truly was useful. Not the coffee machine, though.

He carefully unwrapped his bandages and turned the strange lever thing, putting it on cold water. As soon as it started, Tommy put his hands underneath it, letting the coolness appease if only a little bit the burning of his palms. He let out a sigh of relief. Tommy's pain tolerance was way better than other people's, since he was usually always in some kind of pain because the universe despised how cool and untouchable he was, but burning hot coffee was no joke. 

Ranboo suddenly came to his mind at that thought. He wouldn't ever admit it out loud but he kind of missed him. Not that he liked him, of course not, he was a total bitch and a dick and he didn't know why Tubbo even remotely liked him, but any kind of familiarity was nice right now. He was convinced the only thing stopping him from having a panic attack at the mere thought of the past days' events was Wilbur, Philza and Techno's familiar faces. 

Sometimes, if he closed his eyes and tried hard enough, he could imagine they were just hanging out in Pogtopia. Don't get him wrong, that era of his life sucked and he hated it with all of his soul, but it was still nice in some way, before The Pit and Wilbur went completely crazy. He could pretend they were just decorating the walls again, and Techno was adding rails to the stairs because of all the times both Wilbur and Tommy almost toppled over and lost their last canon life by breaking their neck on the stone floor. He could pretend, just for a second, that Wilbur was still alive and that Techno didn't hate his guts.

And then, he would open his eyes, and be hit with the harsh reality.

Daydreaming is probably a habit he should get rid of. Ever since exile, he had taken to it whenever he was unhappy with his current situation. Whenever Dream would take all his resources and blow it all up, he would imagine he was back in L'Manburg with Tubbo and the others, eating to his heart's envy. Whenever it got too cold, he was transported back to the early L'Manburg age, where the sun seemed to be always shining and he had all his friends by his side. Whenever the loneliness became too unbearable, he would take a glance at his compass and imagine Tubbo following his own to Tommy, and saving him from his situation, apologizing for choosing his country over his best friend. When no one came to his beach party and he was left alone with Dream, he imagined all the others, even Technoblade were sitting together and eating joyously. 

Even after exile, he still couldn't get rid of it. When the nights got too cold he would curl up in his little dirt house and imagine he was back in Techno's cabin, the fireplace's warmth stopping him from shivering.

It was definitely not a good habit, especially with how he had to stop himself from sobbing out loud each time he came back to reality. Sweet, repulsing, harmful reality, with enemies everywhere and two people he believed were his friends straight up trying to murder him.

He should work on that during his stay, too. This was like a holiday, and he needed to enjoy it to its fullest.

After he deemed the burning bearable, he turned off the water and made his way to the next room. Enough of the kitchen for now. Passing in the corridor that led to everybody's rooms, Tommy froze. Right to his right, there was a door. It was barely visible, blending in with the wall's creamy colour. He didn't remember Philza ever mentioning it when he had showed him around the house. Tommy frowned. Now he was curious.

He put his hand on the handle, turning it. The door didn't open. It was locked. 

That only made him want to know what was behind it more.

Only, he already had other rooms to explore. Tommy could look at this one another day, where everyone was doing something else and wasn't paying attention to him.

He took his hand away, opting to go walk around the house more to try and find more interesting stuff.

There wasn't much. He went back to the basement and was able to recognize some of the things he had thought were torture instruments upon his arrival. He put a few of them in his inventory, some that he thought could be useful to him and wouldn't be missed, and went back upstairs.

His eyes fell back on the locked door.

The temptation was so strong.

He walked towards it, trying to turn the handle once more like it would magically open this time around. It didn't. He sighed. Tommy took a look at his inventory to see if anything could help, and pulled out a big, metal instrument that he had found downstairs. He raised it over his head, ready to make himself an entry and-

The sound of keys and a door unlocking echoed in the house as a few tentative footsteps made their way in. 

Tommy froze.

"Tommy, are you here? Tommy!" 

Wilbur.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

They kept on their way through the living room before entering the kitchen-

"What the fuck." 

God.

"TOMMY!" 

He sighed.

The universe really was against him.