Chapter Text
Tommyinnit stares at the ‘roof’ of his tent, the thick scent of copper filling the tent, a heavy layer of blood staining his sleeping bag, and back. The dry, sticky, blood crusting his back, as he breathes hard. He attempts to sit up only to hiss and fall back. The new feeling of weightlessness on his back felt awkward.
He continues pushing through the pain breathing hard, grunting as the sticky residue remains on his back, trying to keep the sleeping bag on his back. Groaning as he moves his arm, grabbing a rag, to wipe off the crusted blood. Two large gashes in his back, where two bright red wings once were. Wiping his back, attempting to remove the flakey dried blood.
He sighs as he flexes his back muscles.
The wounds lightly tear open, little cracks within the scabs burning as though it were a papercut.
He hisses, chirping for a father. That would never come to his aid.
Tommy grunts, standings, looking at the ground in front of him, where his red wings lay. Feathers lightly ruffling in the wind. Bloody stumps that had once been connected to his back bleeding lightly, the deep red from the blood blending into the red of the wings.
A ‘thud’ is heard as he falls to his knees, staring at his wings that once rested on his back. He lets out a gut wrenching scream.
Breathing hard he feels water drip onto his hands.
Looking upwards to the sky, where his dearest goddess Prime sits watching over her people.
The sun shines brightly. Not a cloud in the sky.
Reaching up he feels tear tracks on his face, as more tears spill out. Not from pain. Not from anger. From anguish.
Letting out a sharp breath. He painfully brings his hands together. Muttering quickly, eyes shut tightly, breathing steady, yet quick.
“Dearest prime. Allow me to reach the skies. This land isn’t made for a being of flight. Prime I will worship you as your holy light bible proclaims. Yet I will be considered such a fool. Prime please. I will worship you until the day I fall from the sky once again. As an angel I will soar free and wreck havoc of your asking. Dearest prime hear my plea.”
He speaks quickly repeating the prayer twice more, before standing groaning as his wounds crack more.
He makes his way, picking up his prime bible. Grinning, as he lets out a laugh.
The prime bible. Written once by prime herself. The words ancient only read by her chosen, or descendants.
Much like the Blood God, himself, and Lady Death, Prime was known for trouble. She was the goddess of the people. Pain, Havoc, Trouble, and Agony.
He knows Prime put him on this path, for such a reason. He must go through it himself, after all he was her angel. Most angels would hate their gods for such. Technoblade never understood why he himself must bleed. Philza never understood why he must also have people be taken from him.
Such poor gods. Having such angels. Angels that only want, without going through what others did. That is why Tommy is such a good angel. Prime gave him his wings. She would take them if she felt it was necessary.
Tommy may not understand yet, but he will.
He grunts as he smacks his face into a tree.
“Fuck! God damn— Stay out of my way!”
He hisses kicking the tree, before huffing knowing he won, a smirk showing his victory.
He grumbles holding tightly to the tree, as he climbs making his way up. Reaching the fifth branch he pulls himself up sitting onto the thicker branch able to hold his body weight. He reaches out feeling the smooth skin of the apple.
Turning his head lightly he sees his camp… Logstedshire, his little flabby tent barely standing, being held up by one stick, as the other tries to bend outwards, holes cover the ground around it, each about 5 feet apart, even the actual ‘Logstead’ was blown to smithereens. That had been almost a month ago. Tommy sighs.
Dream was angry. Angrier than usual. He stayed away for two weeks. Then when he had returned he beat Tommy, for days. Healing him only to kill him.
Even Prime found it disgusting. He could feel her anger and disgust radiating through their bond.
Blood coats the sand, a few feet from the tent. The area where he’d been beaten, and beside that lay his wings… The final piece of Dreams' anger…
Taking something he could never have.
He gasps lightly looking up, his brain stopping as he grabs the apple falling to the ground, rolling onto his shoulder shouting happily.
“Prime! Prime! I knew you heard me!”
He looks at the little dove landing in his outstretched hand holding the apple.
“You’re the messenger! What is my goddess’s message?”
He cheers happily, smirking as he stares at the dove, which in turn tweets, and chirps at him.
Staring at the dove for a long moment, he moves it gently placing the dove on his shoulder, as it continues to trill, and chirp a long message. He slips the apple into his cargo shorts as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette, something fondly reminding him of Deo. TimeDeo, his platonic husband.
He silently hums, putting it to his lips and lighting the other end with flint and steel, the thick smoke and gentle burn of his lungs. His mouth fills with smoke as he effortlessly inhales the gentle burn from his lungs and the nicotine taking away the pain for brief moments, he hums.
Staring up at the smoke reminding him of his home. His true home. Not with Wilbur. Philza. Or Technoblade. His home. With his BBBoys, the Business Bay Boys.
He breaths gently.
“Little dove you’ve been speaking for so long. Does my goddess truly have a message or are you just here to bully me?” He asks gently, petting the dove’s head with his thumb holding the cigarette in his other hands, flicking the ash off into a small hole that had once been blown wide with TNT.
He smiles gently. The smell of smoke fondly reminded him of Deo. He savors the harsh flavor and smell of tobacco and nicotine.
Deo always smelled of tobacco, and a dusty scent of a library. Though… That might’ve just been his Santa hat he always wore.
He fiddles gently with the ring on his finger as he lays down the dove moving to sit on his chest. The ring is made of gold, with green and red stripes carved into it, and has ‘AE’ engraved on it. The ring being the handiwork of Technoblade; the ring was cursed with binding, unbreaking, and growth. So no matter what. He cannot remove the ring.
Sighing deeply, he touches the engravings staring at the sky, he looks at the dove.
“You may be a messenger of my goddess, but that doesn’t mean I can’t shit talk with you,” he smirks as the dove chirps now more interested. “Let me tell you little guy—girl— pal? Pal! My little pal!” He hums finally having decided on what term to call the dove. He wouldn’t misgender any person, creature, or animal.
He hums petting the dove, “My father’s kind of a bitch.” He grunts out, petting the dove straightening feathers. “First this old man kicks me out of the palace to ‘grow as a human’ because ‘it’s what my father did and Techno did it too’ and some stupid fuckin’ old man monologue.” He groans out.
“Then! He killed my best friend! A man I considered a brother!” He spits out as he nibbles on strawberries, “Luckily he hasn’t found my platonic-husband TimeDeo I cannot imagine what he’d do to Deo. Sorry I’m getting side tracked.” He huffs puffing out his chest, trying to puff his wings just to remember they aren’t on his back, but moving to sit on the beach. He takes a long drag of his cigarette letting out a light cough, “Then! This royal bastard decides ‘Instead of having two children! I just want one!” He scoffs.
“He didn’t pick the better son! He had to pick stupid fucking Technoblade! Even wrote me a letter.” He sighs, “Out of everything Prime has done. I never expected her to allow my father to disown me! I’m the prince of the mother fucking Antartic empire! That place runs like shit without me!” He shouts to the sky, remembering how Phil would send him weekly letters back in the Business Bay, to check on him, to ask him when he’s coming back, he grumbles wiping tears from his eyes. “He never acted like this before… Maybe he heard about me no-longer having wings! And decided because of that! He doesn’t want me…”
His voice cracks, throat croaky, he knows it’s untrue if Phil knew he lost his wings he’d be trapped in the nest to wait until the phoenix fire relit.
Phil would do anything to make sure his chick wasn’t flightless.
But Phil pushed him out of the nest. Phil detests him.
He’d written it down. Nearly twenty-eight pages. All in his formal Antarctic empire handwriting, with his signature. He wrote to Tommy like he wasn’t even his son! Well… He isn’t now…
Tommy breathes hard wishing he could remove the ring. Rip it off. Take off his finger. Take off his hand. More tears ran down his face.
He lets out a sob. “Mom!” He shouts to no-one. Into the sky he screams. Calling for a mother who wouldn’t be able to hear such yelling at the sky. He needs to yell at night. Into the void.
He continues to sob, hitting the ground. “Fuck you! Philza Minecraft! Fuck you!” He shouts to no one.
He takes another drag of his cigarette, flicking the ash onto the beach as he reminisces.
🌺 —— ❤️—— 🌺
Technoblade stands staring down his runt, chuffing gently, as he stares down at the muddy golden hair resting on his head.
“Really runt?” He asks gently, a chuff, covering a chuckle.
Technoblade stares down at Tommy.
His white button up perfectly ironed, tucked into his black jeans, his pink fur poking out of his sleeves.
His sleeves being rolled up halfway up his arms, as he stares down at his baby brother sitting in the mud puddle.
A stubborn glare rests on the six year olds’ face as he stares down the piglin.
“I was having fun!” He shouts his voice too high-pitched and whiny. As he stares at his older brother, waiting for some kind of mercy.
Technoblade huffs, his tusks gently poking up, the sixteen-year old stands calmly. Even without his tusks fully grown it didn’t make him any less intimidating.
His ears flick down. “Runt you need a bath, and yes I’m telling Phil, you’re covered in mud.” He grunts out gently.
Technoblade his adopted brother stands proud his neather-born features something he never hid.
“No!” Tommy squeaks out. “Dad’s going to be mad!” He nearly shouts ignoring the mud coating his wings.
Techno stares.
His gold was dirty.
The voices screamed.
He seems to blank, any expression that had even crossed his face gone. His pupils were blown.
Tommy sits stubbornly, his wings were uncomfortably covered in mud, but he could ignore it. After all he could preen himself later with dad!
He huffs, as his hair is lightly dulled, he continues making his mud pie.
Gasping as he feels arms wrap his mid-section.
“Techno!” He shouts, definitely not squeals. He’s a big man! He does not squeal.
He glances back as his brother picks him up. He looks at Techno.
He is held away from his chest feeling himself being carried down the halls of the castle.
Techno snarls at guards and maids who attempt to get close.
His mind focused on one thing.
His runt.
He needed a bath. Love. Cuddles.
~~~~~~
Philza had found Tommy and Techno crammed in Techno’s room. Napping together.
Gold adorned his youngest’s head, ears and hands.
He chuckles gently lifting the camera.
Techno and Tommy would never speak of the picture resting in their father’s office.
🌺 —— ❤️—— 🌺
Philza sat silently in his office.
His youngest son babbled gently about the newest flowers in the garden.
He hums gently, as his son wanders around his office. Even though he knew it like the back of his hand Tommy continued to walk around, picking up little nicknacks he had gained from his adventures.
Tommy continues to wander gently before approaching his father.
Philza to any other man would look intimidating.
His kimono rests on his shoulders gently, large black wings sitting on his back looking incredibly intimidating. His bucket hat sits on his head gently. His piercing blue eyes gently staring at his son. Yet with most others his eyes would glare into others.
“Tommy,” He says gently.
He sees his son snap his head towards him. Going silent.
“Thesus come here,” he hums gently. As Tommy comes running to him.
“Yes dadza?” he asks calmly, looking up at the older man humming lightly as his wings flutter, the small golden, red wings shining brightly on his back. Perfectly matching his spirit of the fiery liveliness of a phoenix.
“Why’d you miss your tutoring sessions mate?” He asks gently, with a slight lowness. Clearly unhappy.
“It’s boring!” Tommy shouts, “The tutors are mean! They act like I’m not a big man!” He huffs puffing out his chest, his wings ruffling.
“Oh no mate, I’m sorry that doesn’t sound nice at all.” Philza hums gently, eyes darkening. “How are they mean?”
Philza’s wings’ ruffle; clearly unhappy. Yet Tommy wouldn’t know that.
🌺 —— ❤️—— 🌺
Tommy sighs, his mind retracing memories as he stares into the sky. Humming as he remembers happier moments. He lays under an umbrella, as he slowly falls asleep.
🌺 —— ❤️—— 🌺
Deo cheers happily as they sit in the meeting room of the Business Bay hide out.
Having a hide out on 2B2T was hard but it was where no one would guess.
Deo, and Luke figured out how to build under the bedrock.
Tommy is leaning on his shoulder silently reading a letter that had been sent by Philza.
Deo, hums calmly relaxing against the couch, playing on his comm.
The silence between them is comfortable. Tommy yawns, leaning into the softness of Deo’s sweater, silently cuddling into his side, the scent of tobacco sticking to his sweater.
Deo sighs, lighting a cigarette. The scent lingering as Tommy leans more into him the gentle atmosphere in the room.
Deo’s brunette hair gently curls around the Santa hat that sits on his head. His sweater clinging to the soft plush couch. His jeans were ratty and old, but not dirty.
Tommy leans against him, his wings wrapped around Deo’s front half, nearly covering him. His golden hair shining from the light of the room. His own blue sweater clinging to Deo’s red sweater. His cargo pants sticking to his legs comfortably.
If anyone else saw this Tommy would deny it. He would never admit that he loves cuddling against Deo, the man may adamantly deny being used as a pillow; the only person who knows is Tommy, and himself.
A gentle yawn rings out as Tommy sets down Philza’s letter, leaning against the glass coffee table keeping it separate from the ashtray.
Leaning down into Deo’s lap he gently falls onto his thighs. Resting. No one would know that “The Phoenix” and “Herobrine’s son” would be curled up on a couch napping together.
🌺 —— ❤️—— 🌺
Slowly blinking his eyes. Sand gently sticks to the moisture on his face, as he blinks away the crust. Yawning Tommy sits up rubbing his face. He groans gently cupping water into his hands, the cool salty water of the ocean burning the cuts on his hands. Gently splashing his face.
He breathes softly ignoring the aching on his back. Wheezing gently as he stands staring into the water he sees his reflection. White lines dousing his golden hair.
He picks up his wings silently shoving them into his ender chest. Ever so gently folding the wings closed like he would upon his back, breathing gently. Holding back golden tears that dare try to fall.
Tommy adjusts his clothes, stubbornly hissing as he digs through his ender chest. Putting on his suit. His classic black suit, the Business Bay logo sewn into the shoulders. Red elegantly decorating the suit, false wings embroidered on the back to match his real ones, the undershirt a bloodied red, matching Technoblade’s cape, he hums as he puts in his earrings. The long golden chain connects to two emeralds connecting to his lower earlobe, and upper cartilage, the emeralds shining brightly. On his left ear a second golden chain holds, a red ruby, a sapphire sitting on the upper cusp of his ear, another emerald falling to cusp one side, a gentle brightly orange topaz, sitting beside the ruby, looking like small hearts.
Breathing deeply, he adjusts his rings, connecting them with a chain link, to his suit cuffs. His blue eyes seem brighter, as he chuckles happily, smirking feeling lighter. His suit was him. He may act like a fool. He may act like a child. But all of this was a game to him.
Until the exile. This was no-longer a game. This game had become unruly. Boring.
Tommy was done playing; he was going to control the pieces. And all of his had been taken. He’s taken notes from Technoblade, when this happens: back up. Breathe out, don’t abandon your post. But move. Change tactics; he’s lost to that man more times to count, the one time he was winning, Techno kept quoting Sun Tzu until Tommy was nearly ripping out his hair.
——
It took days. Yet a plan had been made. A fake suicide; staring down from tower that leads above the clouds. The tower was messy. He hated it, Tommy was royalty. Even his little dirt ‘shack’ was a ploy; yet his goddess wanted him to play this game. He hates this game, his goddess has grown bored and distasteful.
The dove rests on his shoulder chirping, and trilling, reciting a message, Tommy sighs as chat begins to rile up.
“Tommy. The ‘fun’ is over. This game is no longer interesting. Prime demands you return to the realm to heal.”
He sighs. Fuckin’ hell, of course his goddess would want him when all he wants to do is go home! But, even his stubbornness was no match to his goddess.
“For how long?”
“Till she decides you can leave.”
He scoffs, his voice heavy with complaint; “That’s boring! She must know that as well! I cannot be contained! The great Tommyinnit cannot be held!” He jests, feeling a surge of happiness, and amusement from his goddess. “But if she demands it… Then I must! After all, I can never keep my lady waiting.”
“The lady is working on a way to relight the phoenix fire.”
The dove trills happily, as chat roars. The screams of joy from chat begin to flow through his mind like a raging storm. Most are kind and happy. Some are annoyed. Few are discouraging.
Smirking; Tommy hums. “I’ll put on a show for my goddess, one final huzzah for her. Make her feel a bit of joy that this game has ended.” He leans back off the tower casually, as both his feet lay still he leans forward. Till he is falling. Annoyance surges from his goddess, he laughs. As he plunges into the icy lake.
He waits a moment before swimming upwards, to the shore. Chucking as he stares up at the tower. “What an ugly piece of junk.” He hisses, as the dove dives back to him swiftly landing on his head. “Damn I just can’t lose you can I?” He scoffs.
———
Sliding the prime bible into his suit vest, a specially sewn pocket from Technoblade to hold such a bible. He hisses as he hears crinkling pulling out the letter Philza had written for him. All twenty-eight pages together neatly wound with string, pages lightly bent. Sighing he stares at it...
He shouldn’t open it. The wound is still fresh. He doesn’t wish to read it again. Over one thousand words. Enough to fill twenty-eight pages. He sees it in his nightmares. At least. Philza didn’t state this in person.
Tommy might’ve done something drastic. Such as swing at his father. Maybe even attempt to kill him. He knows he wouldn’t be able to. Lady death wouldn’t allow Philza. Technoblade. Or Tommy. The sweet, sweet release of death.
“FUCK!”
He shouts, snapping his head to the left, a sharp pain on his right ear. “Fucker! Ow— You flying rat! Asshole! Stop that!” He snarls shouting at the dove doing nothing to harm it, as he covers his ear.
“Don’t think about such things Tommyinnit. You are an angel of Prime. Even if Lady Death attempted to take you. Or you attempted to take your own life. Prime wouldn’t allow it. Now calm down and breathe. The portal will be opening soon.”