TommyInnit Oneshots January 2024

Tommy Moves To Utah

Tommy packed his final shulker box into his ender chest, peeking half-heartedly over his shoulder, carefully scanning his surroundings. He didn't want to get kicked from the server without all his stuff, though he was keeping his diamond backups in his inventory, just in case.

Though, he knew well that he wouldn't be needing all that stuff, considering how safe Earth was considered, what with it's limited weapons and enchantments and the lack of inventory by the public. It made Tommy feel bittersweet, that he wouldn't be around those of his own kind, inventory users, warriors. But to be greeted with the loving arms of humanity again? To see two eyes, hair and a mouth like his? There was something magical about that.

It was almost sickening to think about his plans. He was TommyInnit, his best friend was Tubbo, and he lived in a dirt shack. Three simple rules he'd be breaking all in one day and for the rest of his life, and without telling anyone, no less.

He pulled on a backpack, something Earth-ers used quite a lot, according to Wilbur. Tommy couldn't remember Earth, he'd been too young when Wilbur had taken him to his first server. Cars were a distant memory as much as TV's and phones, which he'd probably have to relearn how to use.

With that, Tommy set off towards the beaches of Las Nevadas, raft in hand. It had been shoddily constructed, even more so that Wilbur's haphazardly build boat which was a floating safety concern more than anything. At least Tommy was going for a rustic theme.

As he walked on the Prime Path for what would likely be the last time in his life, he breathed deep breaths and allowed himself to drift in and out of the thousands of memories he'd formed over the years he'd made the Dream SMP his home.

Purpled's UFO was a smoking pile of debris, Tubbo's old house was a fortress, ruined by war, L'manberg's crater (though he didn't look at it) was in an even more dire state of disarray, even Las Nevadas looked a little less shiny. As Tommy debated what could have been and what still could be, he already knew what the consensus would be.

Tubbo had left almost a month prior, the threat of Dream harming his son after Ranboo's death had shaken him was too much. Wilbur, of course, had fucked off to Utah like the selfish bastard he was.

Tommy spat spitefully on the pavement, his acidic bile leaving a faint ashy smell in the air. He spat again, cursing Dream that time.

The icy wind spat at Tommy as he'd done to the ground, reducing him mercilessly to a sub-human state Tommy had become used to during Exile. His fanged teeth were no more of a deterrent than the sword that lay sheathed in his inventory, blood-splattered yet now useless. Rain joined the army against him, a lesser opponent as it could not dig into his bones as deep as it's cousin, but the malicious thoughts were still there. At least, Tommy thought, they weren't as hateful as Dream.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Tommy launched the raft into the water, throwing himself on top of it before it had even touched the ground. The raft supported Tommy's meagre weight yet granted no reprieve from his attackers.

With great determination, tired and scarred hands grabbed a shovel from his inventory and thrust the shimmering diamond tool into the sea, stabbing deeply the creature. The restrictions of Logstedshire and the prison no longer existed: he could cross the body of water, no longer imprisoned with the walls of the prison and the mental and political barriers of his exile.

Tommy stared into the distance, waves affectionately lapping at him like thousands of tiny puppies licking him all over. There was a peace he hadn't felt since those quiet afternoons spent down by the lake early on in the revolution, letting the mild autumn breeze grant them light reprieve from the warm air of the Dream SMP.

Tommy missed peace, and he knew he'd have a lifetime of it once he reached his destination, once he arrived in Utah, whether he found Wilbur or not.

As snot rolled from it's safe place in Tommy's mouth, tears greeted it, running down from his shut eyelids, excited. His mouth quirked up on either side in an authentic way Tommy had been missing. It was odd, how as he awaited the future he said his goodbyes to his past, despite all the pain the years of war had brought him. He was leaving it behind, yet it still somehow had purpose.

The tingling of his hand disturbed Tommy's thoughts, and it only swallowed more of him. His arm soon became a twitching, fizzing abomination, then his hand, his legs and finally his torso, all in a few short moments.

Tommy's heart pumped with newlyfound speed as the dusty feeling found a place in his lungs. He knew what was happening, and he embraced it. He embraced it so much it was silly.

With a sneeze, Tommy closed his eyes instinctively, and then he was stood up in the deserts of Utah, the low sun casting a beacon down to him.

His body thundered about: he had no choice but to laugh, even if he didn't know what he was laughing about. He wanted to, though - as Tommy hugged himself, he realised how much he needed to leave, and he'd done it! And it was easy - easy! Something he should have figured out in Exile, but no.

No.

He'd been a fool, trying to win a doomed game against a man years older than him, and it was pathetically funny.

Tumbleweed rolled past in a blatantly stereotypical manner, and another realisation hit Tommy. Sure, he couldn't be a hero, but that just meant he'd need to find another book - another fairytale - to make his own.

Sure, he wasn't a cis woman at christmas, but that didn't mean he couldn't have his own finding-himself story. He'd get a job, and a few years later reach the top of the corporate ladder. Maybe have a few wives (or was that too weird? Tommy was never quite sure how having several wives came across, different people had wildly different opinions) and a few hundred children to not pay child support on.

And he'd have a house, he'd be rich!

He'd be safe.

_____

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