Tommyinnit Oneshots

I hate men. Women are better.

"What are you doing?" Philza's voice echoed in the room, the air growing still as his presence was made clear. He stared across the room at his son, who faced a button carved right into the stone wall.

"Okay, I will admit..." Tommy began, turning around slowly. His classic shirt was faded, the bright red now a dull maroon, the white tanning with dirt and grime. Tears littered the cloth, bloodstains created small droplets against his skin. He looked tired, Phil saw. Bruises graced his cheeks while bags weighed heavily on his face, eyes dull and barely hanging onto their blue coloring. "Do you know what this button is?"

"Uh-huh," Phil confirmed with a nod. He heard rumors about this place, and he saw Wilbur's letters about how much TnT was primed to explode once that button was pressed.

"Have you heard this song on the walls? Before, have you heard this song?" Tommy said, ash covered hand reaching out to touch one of the wooden planks nailed to the wall, blank paint peeling off but managing to reveal the words once placed on its surface. "I was just saying that Wilbur made this big point, and it was poignant, and it was the- it's some- that there was a special place where men could go but there's no there anymore, you know? It's not."

"It is there. You've just won it back, Tom," Phil said, gesturing to the doorway. He had seen the battlefield as he came to find Tommy. Wilbur was leading the army to victory, celebrating their re-earned independence.

"Phil... Wilbur was always so close to pressing this button. I've seen him here like seven or eight times... he's been here seven or eight times," Tommy had tears in his eyes as his hand crossed the wood, leaving a gray trail of soot, to the button. "Oh, he's gonna come and join us."

Tommy turned around, stepping towards the doorway, leaning against it before shutting it with a sigh. He seemed so much older than 16, Phil thought. "Phil, he's been here so many times. They're fighting... they're fighting!"

"And you want to just blow it up?" Phil asked in disbelief. If Wil was the one coming here, why was Tommy the one here now? Phil wondered desperately what was going on, trying to understand what he couldn't possibly know.

"Dare, I do. I think... I-" Tommy cut himself off, passing Phil to step towards the button again.

"You fought so hard to get this- this land back. So hard," Phil said, reaching for his son with concerned eyes. He knew all about the war. He had several friends, and Wil and Techno sent plenty of letters, the former's more descriptive and the latter's straightforward. Phil hadn't seen the war but he knew so much about it.

"I don't even know if it works anymore. I don't even know if that works. I could- I could press it and it might..." Tommy seemed to look past the walls around them to a different time or place. Phil wished he knew what thoughts were running through Tommy's mind. What could he say to make this all stop?

"Do you really want to take that risk? There is a lot of TnT potentially connected to that button," Phil reasoned, hand grasping at Tommy's shoulder. Why was his skin so cold? Why was it so pale? Why did he look and feel like a corpse, barely eating or drinking? Phil knew resources were sparse for Pogtopia, but he didn't imagine he was this bad.

"Phil... there was a saying by a traitor... once part of L'Manberg... a traitor, I don't know if you've heard of Eret. He had a saying," Tommy pulled away from Phil. He turned to face his father, hand held at his forehead, stance straight and tense, ready for battle, just like a soldier. He raised his other hand to the button, fingers resting against the surface. "It was never meant to be." Tommy pressed the button.

Phil shot forwards, his wings wrapping around both himself and Tommy, who was in his arms. Explosions of smoke and ash and fire and sound burst from the wall and everything around them. Plants and animals were sent sky high while people cowered and panicked. Phil closed his eyes tightly as pain swirled in his wings, fire eating at his feathers.