Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy lets out pained groans as he crawls through the forest, clothes drenched in god knows. His mind only screamed to live- to survive, yet his body seemed to caress him as if he had just woken up on a luxurious bed.

"Theo" he hears a voice, young but menacing. Who could that be? He wonders. With the little strength his body provided, he looks up. Dulled blues are met with uncaring hazel hues and all the desperation to live is sucked out of his brain as he latched onto the man's frame.

"Hen- henry- ple-" a terrible cough makes him stutter his words "fu- fuck- HEnry, please, please kill- kill me" he begs, blood had unknowingly dripped down his nose as every bit of strength is sent to his arms. Limbs are scratching and gripping leather pants as if he were climbing a mountain.

"What happened?" He kneels down, eyes still uncaring and showing little to no positive nor negative emotion.

"Kill me.. please"

Henry, the hazel-eyed boy, seemed to get a message from the 3 spoken words. He rises from his kneeling position, gently placing the blonde to the ground. A hand grips a sword and a breath leaves Tommy's lips.

He'll be free.

He'll finally be f-

"Cut!"

Tommy's once closed lids are shot open, startling the brunette, aka the hazel boy, and causing him to stutter a step back. Meanwhile, Tommy brings his knees closer to his chest and rose his feet in the air along with his lower back. Somehow, he finds himself in a standing position, arms out like he was forming a T, not long after just by throwing his legs out and bringing his upper body with them.

Did that make sense? Probably not, but whatever.

He dusts off what he could while muttering curses. Tommy was doing so great! He was pretty sure his acting was top-notch at that take and Aaron, who was the guy playing "Henry", finally looked like he couldn't give a shit! Which, sure, may seem like nothing special but the guy was the most emotional of the club so it was a good sign he could act.. nothing.? Act like nothing- whatever! Point is, Aaron was having a good acting moment.

Leaves crack against his feet as he walks up to the source of the loud scream.

"We're doing so good, man. The shit happened?" Tommy raised his hands in a "well? Explain." Gesture. Lips formed on a thin line.

Katherine, their director for this project and leader of the Theater Club, gives him a whack of a rolled copy of their script. She had one hand to her hip with one of those plastic megaphone looking things hanging on one of her fingers.

Tommy and Katherine had a love and hate relationship. They've had moments where they act like they've been friends for years, giggling about a cool movie that was showing in one of those old but nice theaters. Sometimes they act like two ex-lovers that work in some dangerous shit and are secretly plotting the other's demise.

Or perhaps it was because he embarrassed the girl in front of the whole school. To be fair, he also got embarrassed, which meant he understood why the "love"(/p) part existed. But the hate? He was still confuse as to why she held the grudge for 2 years.

Will he tell you the embarrassing moment? No, fuck you.

She rolls her eyes when Tommy barely even flinched at her small assault "It's your fault we had to cut, dumbass" she says. Which, is rude. And how? All he did was literally grovel on the ground like a dying fish.

Confusion pours onto his features,  the "so? Explain" look he had shifted into a look with creased eyebrows and an awkward smile thing. Kath lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she raises her script and points at something behind Tommy. Or she was making him look so she could slap him with the script, she's done it before.

He takes his chances and turns- ohhh.

You piece of shit, Dream.

Goddamit, Tommy cursed to himself at the distant site of the green hooded man with the black surgical mask. He's pretty sure he explicitly told him to not go to where they were shooting. Sure, he could've told the man a lie on where he is but he'd not keen on lying to a fucking mafia guy- especially when the dude was built as fuck and has been in charge of interrogating people (Thank dream for that information).

"Tell Mr.Green to fuck, why don't ya?" Kath hits the back of his shoulder at each word she spoke, making Tommy snatch the paper away and throw it to one of the club members that would be considered as "Staff" before jogging towards Dream.

Despite the grumbling Tommy made along with the short distance, this was quite the common occurrence. Dream, a mafia dude that takes his money, was basically that one person you accidentally became friends with due to seeing each other too much. That and perhaps it was due to his secrets being connected to the man.

Once again, he will not tell you any secrets much like the embarrassing secret he mentions earlier.

Each passing second, Tommy's confusion grew. Dream wore his usual "Mafia outfit" aka the outfit he's wear when asking for debt money and then quickly leaving. It consisted of a green jacket, a shade that wasn't too bright nor too dark, black pants that had a belt with a gun holster as well brown boots- hold up, did that bitch just bring a gun in an isolated area with very few people?

Taking leaping steps, on the last few steps he raised his arms and practically jumps infront of the man who barely flinched, with his head down he asks "Dream, Big D-" a 'don't call me that' is muffled by mask in between his words. "-Big- Yeah yeah,  why in the SHIT are you bothering me in a forest with little to no escape routes with a gun to your hip?"

Dream had the audacity to tilt his head to the side amd slightly down, green eyes meeting hysteric blue ones, as his shades dip down his nose. In one swift motion, Tommy is walking to to the area where their bags were with Dream's around hoisted around his shoulder.

"We gotta go, ASAP, I got a suprise for you" Dream said in a calm voice like he's one of those male leads telling the female lead to quiet as they hide in a corner (his mom watched those type of shows, ok?), only difference Dream sounded more like he was going to kill Tommy.

A small shove is sent to Dream's way, lips curled into a smile, Tommy ignores the dirty blonde to gather his things and tell the other club memebers he had to go. It goes well as expected; Kath smacked him again for leaving early while saying to stay safe, the actor memebers whined about him leaving while the staff memebers just waved and said to stay safe.

Tommy doesn't bother to tell Dream he's done grabbing his things, already making a bee line to where the man would usually park his car. A black and green 2019 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 could be seen in the distance and Tommy skips towards the vehicle.

Picking out his trusty locket pick, he opens the car and is greeted with another familiar face.

"Go-"

"Call me that and you're saying bye to my lessons" a brunette with odd glasses mutters, it's black glass preventing Tommy to tell if the pale man had his aqua eyes closes. A dark blue blazer is draped over his body; acting as a blanket. While one leg was propped on the other, revealing his luxurious looking boots.

"George!"

- was basically his strategy teacher. The man, despite looking like a lazy but pretty boy CEO for decoration, was great in strategies and giving advice on how to act to certain situations. Sometimes, they'd be in a call, discussing a hypothetical scenario Tommy came up and George would come with an answer and vice versa. Other would be George smacking his back straight- a stern "stand straight, dumbass" muttered into the air for him to hear, which would soon be followed by fashion advice.

"How's mr. Meow meow-"

"TOMMY! GEORGE AND DREAM HAD S-"

A hand is slapped onto a black haired man with a bandana, panic, flustered and angry filled George's face while the other had one of joy and mischeif.

Suddenly, George shuddered and took away his hand and grimaced at the foreign liquid on it as Sapnap grins and snickers. The latter turns to Tommy and beckons him in the driver despite the knowledge the blonde had just picked the doors lock in turn meant he did not have the keys, yet Tommt stills happily obliges to the gesture.

While George taught him how to fake a reaction and twisting someone's tongue, metaphorically, Sapnap taught him how to take a step into a scene and leaving without a trace. The brunete would teach the blonde all kinds of tricks; how to pick any lock, pickpocket, stealthily steal something from someone's pocket and how to distract them. Those type of shit.

Ruffling his hair, making Tommy duck down and playfully swat his hand away, "So, did you get it?" Sapnap said in a tone Tommy damn well knew had a Cheshire grin paired with.

The other passenger, who was well acquainted with the duo's antics, looked up after pocketing the alcohol he was using. Behind those dark shades, menacing blues were directed at them. The mere aura it emitted screaming 'do whatever I think you're doing and I'll snap your necks' would've sent shivers down Tommy's spine if not for yhe fact the blonde was well used by the look.

The sound keys jingling and Tommy raises his hand revealing the source; 2 keys in those looped metal thingy-majig with little cat trinket.

Before Tommy could even plug the metal in, the door is forced open and Dream is found in all his glory.

Now, when it comes to George and Sapnap getting mad; Tommy barely gets worried in having a bullet in between his muscles. He was close to them, one to the point he knows when they weren't that angry (not like he's pissed them off to the point of murder is a valid option) thus meant he could chill in a sofa chair even as either individuals are seething at him.

But with Dream? He's seen the man angry.

One to the point a bullet had passed his muscles, his left (usually gloved) arm there to prove it. It had passed by his the curve between his pointer finger and thumb, for a week he was scared his thumb would fall off.

That was a year ago.

Add the fact the man had a mask, Tommy was usually safe in keeping the man in a neutral or positive state.

But, right now, with sweat beading down his face, Tommy was sure another scar would decorate his other ones.

A sigh leaves his lips, with an arm stretched out he speaks; "C'mon, get out, Prime knows what would happen if we let you drive in a high way again". Tommy happily obliges, passing the tiny thing onto the older's scarred hands before going on the shot gun seat via stretching his body to the seat rather than using the door/exiting out.

The engine pur, and Tommy thrills at the sound. He always liked Dream's car; the green 2019 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 was clearly designed both in the outside and inside. While a normal one had it's original design with nothing flashy along with the inside, Dream had both added and removed things, he made some adjustments in the engine that he's not too car-natic to understand. He had the back seats disconnect from the car, making them foldable and removal so it could be lighter amd faster.

"So how was school?"

"Prime, you sound like a mom-"

"Makes sense, he did helped bury mine-"

George snorts and Sapnap lets out a wheeze. Dream only covers his already covered mouth with shaking shoulders.

The comment was true, Dream did help in "burying" his mother.

It was perhaps. . . five or six years ago?, his mother had an unknown illness, one in the sense they didn't know what it was since they never went to the doctors. Tommy could still remeber the way Dream had scooped his mother's 8 day rotting corpse, a barely living 11 year old following suit.

He remebers men he never got to formally meet dig a hole as Dream just stares at it. Unbothered as flies and such stick from his mother's corpse to Dream's body. Tommy had clutched a small hand on the end of his shirt, which barely inflicted a reaction to the adult.

When the 6 foot hole was done, Dream threw his mother's body. Tommy remebered crying and panicking. He was 11, he didn't as well did that his mother was dead, a part of him believed she was just resting and simply needed a doctor. He was determined to get her one after she started "sleeping" and his little brain thought the strange man was purposely making sure his mother would sleep forever.

He watched as liquid is poured before a match is lit and his mother's body is burning. Skin melting like ice, hair burning and clothes reducing to ashes.

He remeber Dream giving him a half hug after turning him away from an image that would burn into his brain til the end of time, much like the body.

The car ride went on like any car ride he's been with Dream; quiet with the occasional conversation on his day or an update on the debt.

Blue eyes show confusion as the familiar road they took to his house is turned to a direction that he was pretty sure was in the wrecking yard was. A car cemetery but at the same time a free car parts shop.

Straightening his back, Tommy continues to state out the window "uh, Dream, you ain't going senile yet, right? Cause this is the road to the wrecking yard." He pointed out.

Green eyes merely glanced at his as he shifts the car to neutral. At this point, they were in a clearing of the yard. A wall of wrecked cars surrounding them and for a minute Tommy was scared he just might get shanked tonight.

It was also dark, so Tommy could barely tell what the outside looked like without the light source Dream's car provided.

Ok, this is not weird or creepy at all. Tommy assured himself as all the locks of the car collectively click, with no word or signal everyone leaves. Should he stay? Oh Prime, if they were dropping a car on top of him or something-

"Toms! C'mon out, I said I got a suprise, didn't I?" Dream yells outside. He waves and turns and walks forward. Tommy wasn't even able to speak his worries, as he panics about being left behind. He scrambles to un-buckle his seat belt and opens the car door in the process, making him land on the sand floor.

Like a baby deer, he struggles to get up. And when he does, he jogs and nearly trips to Dream.

He didn't like the wrecking yard. Ever since Sapnap brought him there to test breaking in car's as a beginner, he'd gained an irrational fear of a car dropping on top of him. It never happened but it was called an irrational fear for a reason.

The short walk consisted of Sapnap mimicking creaking metal noises and George teasing him by actually hitting a near by car. Tommy would retaliate with a soft punch, the fear was still there but it slowly dispersed as he continued his talk about his shitty history teacher and her awful teaching method.

"Wait, we had a president? I thought we had a king back then"

"I don't know anymore Sapnap, blame Mr. Harold, he's shit at teaching"

Sapnap snorts "heh, I remember having to beat tbe guy for owing us"

Jaw dropped, Tommy exclaims "No fucking w-"

"Sapnap that is confidential information"

"We're the mafia not the FBI-"

Somehow it spiralled into the two rough housing. Sapnap and George, that is, Tommy was just a bystander.

Tommy began walking backwards as the two "faught" (he wasn't entirely sure if it was like a fake fight or a real one) he bumps into Dream, nearly making Tommy fall back as he tried to move to the side.

Luckily, Dream catches him by the collar of his shirt and lifts him up.

Dusting himself off he asked "So, why we here, big man?"

Dream faces Tommy and behind his mask, he could tell he was grinning. If not for the stars in the adult's eyes then for the way his body screamed "Me have good suprise" like a toddler surprising his mother. Tossing a shoulder onto the blonde he lead Tommy in a dark corner, the reflection of something shining behind the blanket of nothing.

Dream places his hand on.. top of it? Something. The more he looked the clearer it was hidden by a some sort of blanket too. The fabric or material used looked those car raincoats and Tommy's confusion grew more.

Sapnap and George grunts are ignored and he looks up "So.. what?"

And then lights are shined onto it and before Dream even removed the blanket item, Tommy knew what it was.

A car.

And not just any car.

It was mother fucking 2020 C8 Corvette.

Also known as his dream car.

"Happy early birthday!" Dream said while patting his back. A flick of something and the whole area is shined by fair lights.

His birthday may be soon, but soon in the sense, that it was near in about 4-5 months.

Walking up to the car, he felt like he was walking the staircase to heaven. Unreal yet the beauty and happiness in his heart swelled at the sight. This is real , he assures himself.

Prime above, he knew Dream had some favorability with him but not by this much. He checks the car as Dream sets something up, Sapnap and George's fight had ended as they too assist their group leader

The looked exactly how he wanted it to look; on the outside, a matte black base with dark red highlights near the wheels, front bumper, and rear bumper. There was a GPS screen and cup holders that, while obviously weren't originally from the car, perfectly matched the car's aesthetic.

"Wh- I- Huh??" He rambled inaudible words. Tommy walked away while brushing his hair away, the excitement gone now filled with joyous disbelief. It was everything he explained he wanted with a car.

It was normal for Dream to gift him things; small kitchen appliances, repairing his phone for free and such but it was never this big or extravagant. The most expensive thing he got was a laptop with more space since his old one was caught on fire after overheating.

Dream leaves from setting up a projector screen, "This is yours." He simply says while tossing a key.

He caught the key with ease, and it finally sinks in this was his.

The car.

"What for though?"

Suddenly, Sapnap throws his arm around his shoulder from nowhere causing the blonde to nearly topple down. The two laughs as the man noogies his hair.

"It's for the race!"

"Race?"

Dream pulls out a picture as Sapnap released his hold. When Tommy grabbed it he immeadiately knew what it was.

It was him with the same design as the car, a dark base with red highlights. He was stepping out of a car, the one he'd previously used for past drag races-

Oh. Dream knew.

"I'm not mad, but if you told me I could've helped you"

Tommy shrugs. It was just a side gig, really. He was picky in participating one as he didn't want to be invovled in more illegal things than drag racing already was. For example: if it's in broad daylight then it's a big no, too big a chance to be caught. If it's in a route to a busy road then no, he isn't interested in slamming his head with no safety pillow or whatever they called the thing that pops out was.

Dream pats his head and he gives Tommy another piece of paper to Tommy.

"And If I'd know I would've done this already"

And oh, oh stars and Prime's love.

It was a bloody pass to The Pit.

Chapter Text

Tommy couldn't sleep that night.

In his humble twin sized bed with a raccon plush that matched his bed covering, he stares wide awake at the glow in the dark star painted ceiling. The thing was old, having been bought back when he was, like, six years old. The paint being younger-

No! We're trying sleep here brain. No time for reminiscing mother dearest.

What should he think about. . .ah, right The Pit.

The Pit was basically it's "literal name" for an infamous meet up spot for criminals.

As the name suggest, It's in a pit, a VERY big pit. Specifically, the Pit where most hardcore-prime-believer-karens make sure no one visit.

From what Tommy got before dozing off during history class and listening to those actually interesting videos about the lesson; Lady Prime had rained judgement on The Pit due to mortals becoming arrogant, selfish and ignorant.

This was far before "Ex-Dee stopped crafting mankind" (which is basically the word for "its so far in the past that time was yet to exist then), so everything about it was either superstitious, religous or just straight up fake.

Apparently, a group of 20 or so people had waged war amongst each other despite being a metaphorical family. Prime had watched as things became worse, and worse; others killed people they called family, some killed  best friends and others even their lovers. She had grown enraged, why was mankind such cruel to each other? How did things become so distorted they saw family as an enemy?

And thus, The phrase "Until/Even as Lady Prime will come and rain Judgement.". It meant something like the end of time, most used it as some cheesy proposal vow ("And I will love you until Lady Prime will come and rain Judgement." Or "I promise to keep you safe even as Lady Prime rain judgement" etc) but the true meaning of it ,history wise, was absolute death.

"Judgement Day" was said to be on January 6, which is no coincidence to also be the day for low crime rate, and on that day Prime made stars fall upon humanity. The people that she watched become corrupted by greed and arrogance had gathered on the spot of "The Pit" and Prime took her chance.

Stars, Bombs, Celestial weapons, whatever fell on the land. (He likes the thought it was stars)

Humanity at the time watched, mesmerized, as stars shined and fall onto their lands. Some tried to run, but failed. Others tried to beg forgiveness, but were ignored.

And then the Pit was formed.

Obviously, there's some plot holes he didn't mention and such, but whatever.

He was going there, possibly with Dream, and he was going to race.

Race and win.

"Race and Win"

A breath of air fills Tommy's lungs. Right, off-ish topic about The Pit; Dream had given him conditions.

Conditions that he, apparently, didn't have a choice but to give.

As Tommy aims to grab the paper, Dream takes it back at the last minute.

"Before you race or go to the Pit, I want you to remember-"

Tommy nods, half listening half staring and screaming mentally about snatching the pass with (what Sapnap likes to call) his grubby little raccoon hands.

"You win 5 races in a row; your debt is gone."

And all reason and thoughts are melted off his brain.

He splutters incoherent words as Dream continues "So, keep these words in your head when you think about this- about racing"

At that moment, Tommy felt like he was back being 13, yet to hit his growth spurt and a younger Dream kneeling infront of him as he guides his hands to hold the pistol.

"Race and Win"

("Aim and shoot")
A sigh leaves Tommy's lips.

He should sleep.

. . .


The next morning, the sound of "You used to call me on your cell phone" plays along with the morning ambience.

Groaning, Tommy slaps his hand around the night stand, searching for the goddamn device. Purpled must've messed with his phone again and changed his alarm. Groans are muffled by his pillow after the damn thing repeats-

Oh, someone calling hi- FUCK.

His phone fell, this leads to Tommy rolling off his bed. A small pained huff would be heard as he finally answers the damn device.

"Who"

He asked, not bothering for politeness. If it's his boss, Schlatt, then it's fine. If it's the teacher that usually calls him about school things, Puffy, then it's fine.

... why did he bother ever being polite?

"Whassup loser"

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, it was Purpled.

Purpled could be a lot of things in Tommy's life. The teen never really fitted himself in a slot in Tommy's heart, rather carving himself his own. He could be seen something like Dream; an irresponsible brother. Or, like Kath or Aaron; a friend.

But no, Purpled was just Purpled.

A weird teen that introduced the boy to training, joy rides and the good old cancer stick.

At this point, Tommy was lying on his stomach. One leg raises and lower as one arm works as a holder to phone and the other as a very uncomfortable pillow. He should clean his floors. They smell like shit.

Something could be heard from behind the phone, Purpled shouts something about his brother, Punz, before talking back to him.

"Anyways- got some time to burn, wanna go early and smoke?"

Hm.

"Sure to the going early but no smoke, I wanna be sober when I tell you and the others about some news."

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Tommy hangs up as he rolls to his back finally stands up. He does his morning routine; shower, breakfast and make sure Shroud's collar wasn't loose so that he won't get another complaint about "his dog being bitchy".

Rude bitches, the lot of them.

Shroud is a lovely doberman and he would never bite anyone. Except for that guy in apartment 4B, he's a bitch.

Tommy pets shroud as the doberman ravages the dog food he had brought over for the dog's breakfast, he stares at the tarp covered car.

He kinda wants to take on an early spin, if he was honest.

Now, your probably thinking; "Oh, Tommy. The biggest of big men, why not take it for a spin already??" . First; thank you, he is indeed the biggest man out there. Second; you imbecile. He can't take the damn thing out in broad daylight where people could see him.

The damn thing doesn't have a licensed plate and he isn't interested in being beaten up by a mafia goon that doesn't work with Dream.

A sharp whistle is heard and Tommy turns to see a familar dark purple motorbike.

The rider takes of his helmet and reveals his friend. Purpled being dramatic shakes and flips his hair a bit to get rid of the sweat. The dirty blonde places a hand near his mouth as if really would help in projecting his voice "C'mon! Ranboo wants to race and I am damn well winning with or without you!"

A small kiss on Shrouds snout and Tommy runs over to the teen's bike.

Putting on the spare helmet, Purpled lets the motor purr and they were off.

The road ambience of motors and cars whizzing past them fill the silence. It was probably one of the reason Tommy liked Purpled driving him to school. The need for talk was excused with the fact they were in the open road and talking would've been muffled by their helmets and the motor sound. And the way Purpled drive was always smooth.

When racing, Tommy was bold to do drifts ro go between cars, but in the open road he drove more safely. Driving with fellow racers gave Tommy the reassurance that they'd be fine and he won't get sued or anything like that when he scratch a car by accident. In short, Tommy's driving in racing is chaotic and dangerous while his civilian (?) Style is more like a grandma driving on a Monday morning.

Purpled drove more smoothly. While the teen may do criminal deeds (dealing and doing drugs) raving was never his forte from what Tommy has learned about him. Yet the way he drove could probably have thousands changing their bets to him on his first race. Which, is understandable. As fun as watching drivers go full turbo, seeing someone drive so smoothly yet swiftly would obviously get you to change your thoughts on your original driver.

The blonde's inner monologue/thoughts are cut off once the familar building that most would call Hell comes into sight.

Getting off the bike, Tommy looks around for a certain two colored teen.

Purpled, on the other hand, took a quick glance and pumps a fist in the air.

Tommy turns to him, "fmph hyeh,  I mphom" as muffled words are spoken. The blue eyed boy shakes his head and does the courtesy to take his helmet off, to which he repeats his words "Fuck yeah, I wo-" only to cut off as a shrill scream leaves his lips-

"Actually I wo-"

- and a smack meets Ranboo's face.

The tall bloke flinched but was clearly not that harmed by the assault as a brunette comes up to the group. "Hand over the parts, Alien boy" Tubbo said with a grin as Purpled sulks and places a stack of old phones that Tommy isn't too sure where he pulled out.

Tubbo was Tommy's first best friend. He had befriended the boy not long after his mother's death via accidentally getting hit by a drone to his face. The brunette had brutally apologized to the point he was on his kneed begging for forgiveness, but when Tommy had stated it was fine he had stopped and offered friendship as an apology.

Was he scammed? Yes.

Does he regret it? No.

Ranboo was just a guy that tailed Tubbo. You know that friend that your kinda not friends with because they're a friend of a friend? Yeah, that's Ranboo. The only difference being; they did become best friends when Tommy learned the boy had given him an allium and had treated him lunch for a month.

Hey, if Tommy got scammed by Tubbo, it's only fair Ranboo gets scammed too.

He is not the scammed but the scammer, capiche?

They talk, catching up about their weekend. Purpled had been busy handling the register of his brother's bike shop. Ranboo and Tubbo's were uneventful (or very eventful with how nervous the two toned boy looked) and Tommy kept his story a secret.

"C'mon, man, tell us!"

"I heard your practice with the club was cut off what happened?"

Tommy simply grinned before sprinting off, his friends hot on his tail as they run around the school before heading to their respective classes.

____

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. With a small event, you could say.

His first period got cancelled since his teacher got into labor the other night (which, pog to the fact she got a baby and to free time) and had to take a rest by the doctors. The next few periods were the same as any other week day.

History with Mr.Harold, was about a strange even that historians were still unsure where to place that was dubbed "The Egg". Fun fact; Mr.Harold is actually a writer of a book about that topic.

Science with Ms.Rose was cool.

Lunch alone was nice (The other three had different lunch periods).

And then Home Economic.

Another thing to add to his upcoming busy week!

Prime bless that man. Mr. Duphe (who prefers to just be called Sam) was kinda aware of Tommy's odd position. It was a mistake, really, Tommy has had a busy and tired week and had lost a major race. Add the fact school exist and tests exist, when Sam had asked if the blonde had been ok he had balled his eyes out to the ears of his teacher.

("Hey, it's ok-"

"It's - I'm just so tired. The test- ms.Johnson test- is scaring me, I feel like I'm in those spiral filters with dear old daddy's debt-"

"Debt?"

"I- uhm..")

It was also the same day he got the gunshot wound between his thumb and pointer finger, the one he mentioned the other time.

Right, back to why he got an event on an uneventful day. (Probably)

Sam had asked Tommy to stay in class, it was the last period and Katherine didn't announce practiced so he really just had to tell the news with his friends.

"Tommy, what I'm about to ask may seem unprofessional as a teacher-"

"Did you get malware from watching-"

Sam sends him a pointed look, knowing full well what the blonde would say. Yet a small grin tilts his lips when he sees the boy's own toothy smile.

"No- what the fuck?" He mumbles the last part. "No, I was going to ask; do you still play piano?"

Oh.

Tommy was clearly shocked by the question. He did play the piano, his mother did teach him. But the only time he had ever mentioned about it was to his friends. He never joined any extra school activities that involved him playing the musical instrument.

At the sight of the boy's thoughtful look, "Ah, it's nothing serious. I got an event and I need a pianist to play." He reassured the boy.

Ohhhhh.

Yeah, ok. That does seem unprofessional and understandable. Tommy kinda thought the dude was finally asking out that odd fellow that he keeps seeing blushing at.

- he also may have voiced this.

Tommy had agreed and stated he'll be waiting for the email with details later as the older man stutters to explain about "Ponk is a friend!" "TOMMY COME BACK-"

And he was off in a search for his friends.

.

.

.

.

His phone was dead and they never agreed to a hang out place.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Good news and Bad news.

Good news; he was able to find a phone! After dialing one of his friends phone and having them pick up, he was able to confirm their hang out place. So, problem "I don't know where I'm suppose to go" has been solved.

Bad news; the guys who he had asked to borrow a phone. When Tommy had finally processed the appearance of the two, he quickly regretted ignoring the patriotic looking grandfather for a phone.

Why, you may ask? Cause the two blokes looked like heroes trying to be civilians. And not even Superman or Thor looking mother fuckers- no these dumbasses looked like they came from a child's imagination!

The owner of the phone was a man; maybe in his mid twenties with chocolate curls spilling out a red beanie. A rose colored pair of glasses rest on the bridge of his fair toned nose, slightly hiding his hazel hues.

Now the clothes; the mother fucker wore a trench coat with those stitched designs. They weren't big but definetly noticeable with the fact they were clumped together. From what he saw; there was a cat that had it's stomach squashed by an anvil (in a cartoon style), a pixelated/abstact seagull (?), a pug that had a birthday hat, a pig with a crown and a crow with white diamonds in it's wings.

Underneath was more simple and would've been better if the trench coat was gone. A simple yellow sweater and black jeans with brown dress shoes.

The other guy was.. just.. yeah..

Bubble gum pink hair that probably reached his thigh were tied to a loose bun. Probably just to keep the hair out of his face since there was still a noticable amount of hair that hung down his shoulders. He also wore glasses, only these were obviously reading ones with how tiny and how much it screamed "I am a book nerd and I will grow old to be one" . A simple poet shirt, black pants, and high brown boots gave the same vibe as the other dude.

Now what made this man look intimidating? Or make Tommy suddenly regret asking for a phone?

Simple; his face. The dude had a pretty boy face, one that would have girls falling like dominos. But also a scary one with the defined jaw line and large scar that stretched from his right cheek and thining to underneath his left eye.

So we got a hippie with no taste and a book nerd who looks like an elf to some fantasy fiction book.

How is that intimidation or make you regret asking a phone Tommy? You know how to defend yourself.

They have a gun. A fucking- gun! A glock to be more specific actually; 19 for Elf nerd and a 43 for Mr.Hippie.

"You done, kid?" Elf had asked upon noticing Tommy's sudden silence. Now, you must understand his response. His pride had just been-

"Not a kid, bitch"

He cursed the guy.

The guy with gun. The glock. The body of a fucking greek hero.

He's so dead.

Hippies turns to the side, a hand covers his mouth as his shoulders shook from repressed laughter. Elf simply gives him a side glance before focusing back to Tommy.

He makes a "hand it over" motion and Tommt takes the signal to give back his phone. He mutters a small thanks and before he could run to the designated hangout spot his friends had agreed upon, he feels a heavy hand stop him.

"Hold on, kid, mind we ask you something?"

Tommy gulps, and turns back to the two. Hippie pulls out a folded piece of paper and- what.

"Have you seen this wo-"

"That's my aunt!"

The blonde's jaw dropped, what the fuck? From what Tommy learned about his Mother's sister was that she was dead before he was even born. That and she also had a family but due to past events, they had to cut off connections.

Another thing about her was that they were basically twins. His mom was a spitting image of himself (but brown eyes) while his aunt looked like hipster. Brown curls rather than gold, hazel eyes stayed the same shade and down to the nose and face shape; they fucking matched!

"Aunt? No- she's Kristen W-"

"Kristen Clemington!"

Tommy cuts hippie off.

The two shared a confuse look before- in sync he might add- shaking their head. Hippie pockets the photo after folding it in a neatly matter.

The brunnete pinched the bridge of his nose, the glasses slightly rising and he could see the nose stoppers (that's what their called, no?) poking his eyes a bit as a sigh leaves his lips. "We're clearly not talking about the same person-"

Once again, Tommy cuts him off. "Yes, we are. That's Kristen Clemington. Sister of Clara Clemington aka my mother."

Elf shakes his head and tugs at Hippie's sleeve, they exchange words; something about "nowhere" and "somewhere". Which, sounds stupid? Why the fuck they talking about two words that contradict each other?

"Nevermind, we'll be on our way then, take care" Hippie says as he turns and leaves, elf quickly tailing him after a small wave.

All they get in reply was a "Thanks for lending the phone!" As they went their seprate ways.

Guess Tommy had more news to tell his friends.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

The walk to which where their paths would supposedly cross was lengthy and uneventful. The silence only being filled by his odd thoughts.

One of those thoughts being about the recent interaction with adults.

Who were  they? As far Tommy knew, his family bloodline was definetly ending with him. His mother had explained that she had no nieces nor nephews, her sister , Kristen, had never married anyone from her knowledge. She herself also didn't have any cousins, her whole family prefered having a single child only.

The only possible sibling or blood related family Tommy had would be his "Dad" and possible half siblings if that man remarried or whatever.

Tommy shakes his head, a metaphorical hope and thought that the event could just disappear from his mind, it  pained his heart to remember his was all he had.

At least he got Dream, Tubbo and the others no?

Distant shouting could be heard and Tommy looks up to find thr meeting point was nearing. The meeting point was the edge of the forest, one quite known to be the forest of mythical creatures parents tell their kids so they dont stray to far from home.

It was really just a plain old forest. With possible wolves and maybe cats and other vermins.

Tubbo waves his hand in air before doing the hand thing to make your voice louder near your mouth "HURRY UP SLOWPOKE!" The brunette could be seen grinning as he takes a few steps back, the speed barely visible to be seen growing fast and Tommy took the hint.

His walk slowly turns to a jog and on cue his friends also slowly backed away, clearly getting the hint on what's about to happen. As speed builds up and he was halfway nearing the forest edge, they all booked it.

A large grins spreads the boy's face and he runs. He ignores the heavy thumps from his bag hitting his back. He ignore the poking of a book on his spine. He ignores stepping on a wet puddle- nearly tripping on a branch- almost heading face first on the ground-

He ignores it all and runs.

Laughter mixed with the forest ambience, birds tweet away when they get too close as raccoons chitter when they get near a nest or whatever. They exchange taunts as they follow a familiar path to the original meet up spot.

Jump across the riverbank.

Duck underneath the thick branch with a bird on it.

Climb over the fallen tree- or dive under in Tommy's case.

It was a path they've taken a hundred- million times.

Soon, the trees began to part, a path slowly forming as Tommy was just neck and neck against Tubbo. The other two were close behind but if they didn't go faster they'd definitely miss the 2nd place mark.

"FIRST TO TOUCH THE SWINGS WINS!-" And that was all Tommy needed to go fast. Tubbo squawks a protests as the blonde punches his shoulder lightly while taking his bag off.

In the short distance at the end of the path, a tree house built in a lemon tree (at least they assume it's a lemon tree from their past research) with oak planks. A swing could be seen and once the blonde locks on the designated finish line he throws his bag forward and runs with the little stamina he has left.

Tubbo had apparently take the same idea and in a blink was just beside Tommy.

Left, right-

Step, step-

Huff, huff-

The swing was so close and it looked Tubbo was going to win-

Only to fail as Tommy leaps and lands right on the swing, nearly falling as it swings back causing the teen to crouch and hold on to dear life on the rope. Tubbo collapse in giggles and laughter shorty after as the last two just jogs, probably accepting the race was more against the brunette and blonde.

"I-" Tommy huffs a breath and also falls to the dirt floor "win.." his tense muscles go slack and his racing mind finally eases to a normal speed.

They stay a minute or two like that, and once Ranboo had nicely place Tubbo's bag beside the brunette while Purpled throws Tommy's right at his chest they leave and climb up the tree house.

The tree house was something they found after Purpled had post his son aka Shroud after convincing Tommy's concerned mind that he would take care of the dog. The math is easy by that context but if that wasn't obvious; Purpled had lost him just 2 hours in his custody.

(" Please, Lady Prime, Forgive my selfish acts and do not bring Judgement on this day-"

"Your an atheist mother fucker- get up so i can break your legs")

Coincidentally, it was also the same day Purpled had miracly miraculously became a Prime believer upon meeting Tommy's wrath.

The tree didn't have any signs of ownership save for the Q + K + S heart. They were either ignorant kids who didn't know what it mean or it was a legitimate poly relationship, they can only hope this wasn't some horny house or whatever. After inspecting it, they cleaned what they could (and bother to do) and fixed and put as much of their names in odd corners to show they owned the place now.

If the trio couple/friends/whatever came back to visit the house, they hope it would be when none was bothering to go for a while.

The short break of taking in the air ends as the four begin to climb up the tree. Ranboo being the "mother" of the friendship, begins taking out drinks from those cooler/freezer that uses sunlight along with some snacks. The other three began fixing their respective corners and wait for the two toned teen on the snacks.

Purpled pulls out a vape as a substitue for his cigarette, to prevent the tree house from burning/starting a fire, while kicking his bag forward. It reveals other drugs, clearly offering them another means to relax. Tubbo takes a vape as well, probably to just try once as the brunette was not one to smoke (Tubbo was more of a "cocaine type of guy" though he was thankfully not addicted to the damn thing).

Once they all settle, Tommy dramatically grabs his water bottle and pen and rings the thing like a bell.

"Ladies and gents, thank you for coming here on this fine day-"

Tubbo puffs some of the strawberry mist and blows it to the blonde. "Just get to the point!"

Tommy flips him and does a taunt of throwing his bottle at him before settling down and changes from using the beverage from a bell to a mic.

Mimicking a cough he speaks in a monotone voice;

"Guess who got a ticket to The Pit".

Purpled drops his vape, while Tubbo brush his bangs away (like he needed to see Tommy to be sure he was listening right) and Ranboo chokes on his drink.

The first slowly gets up and tackles the blonde, the later erupting in giggles as Purpled shakes him as if the answer to the universe would drop from a non-existent pocket on his back while spouting questions of How, When and What.

Ranboo hits his chest as he coughs his drink out his lungs while Tubbo decides to follow Purpled's footsteps and tackle the blonde.

This continued on and once everyone calmed down, Tommy began answering question, coke (the drink) in hand.

"When?"

"Like, last night"

"What the fuck did you do to get..?"

"Being the biggest man- ok! Ok! Nothing! It just came with the birthday present!"

"YOUR BIRTHDAY ISN'T IN A FEW MONTHS?!"

The questioning continues, Tommy tells more about The Pit, his new car, how he got it (leaving the fact he's VERY close to Dream, not like that, like a brother you weirdo) the weird encounter with hippie and elf and such. Once the topic meets it's end they shift to odd topics and such.

They spend a few more hours in the house before parting ways once the sun rests and the moon awakes. 

Tommy was ready to head to the path home when a sudden thought/realization pops into his mind.

He hasn't told them about Sam's offer. Well, it wasn't earth shattering news so it'll probably be ok if he checks his email on a later date, no?

Chapter Text

The sound of static echoes into the night, burying the nightly ambience.

Suddenly, the screen turns black.

"Oh- what the?.. why won't -"

"The cover still there-"

"Ah-"

A soft pallete of colors bloom into the screen, the center being a woman who seems to be holding the screen (or camera to be exact). Short golden locks cling to her pale face as she smile and, what appears to, place the camera on to the stand.

The scene change, a young blonde is now focused. He looked to be about 6? Maybe 8 at the eldest with a piano board on his lap- probably a portable with how it worked so well despite not having any cord attaching to some electric source as the boy fiddles with the keys.

Once the screen stops shaking the woman appears a second later sitting beside the boy as she folds her dress to prevent it getting too dirty or blown too much by the wind. She fixes her hat and her chocolate hues looked at the boy, mumbling something before facing the camera.

The woman puts her hand near the boy's mouth- was she holding a tiny microphones..?- as he begins to speak.

"This is "I will Always think of you" By the Greatest Musician Theseus C. Clemington and his wonderful singer and mama Clara Clemington!" The boy raises his arms at the end eyes shining with excitement if the hand gesture didn't tell enough.

A few notes are first played and-

"I will always.. think of you" the boy sings first, voice soft and tender. "I see your face when each day's through.. and days go past-"

The woman joins in, " Oh so fast" her heavenly voice continued as they sing the next line together.

"But memories they la-" the song is cut short, a pause icon disrupting the innocent and soft scene with a click of a button.

Tommy sighs.

Honestly, he could just go for a different song but he had already spent the past days digging around his mother's things for this specific tape along with finding a tape-player or whatever the fuck it's called. He was too commited to back down.

This silent wouldn't have happened if he just read the email once he got home but nooo, Mr. Sam just had to be gone for a week and he just had to have his email locked because his snoopy neighbor that he damn well knows break in his apartment to use his computer just had to guess his password a bajillion times.

You're probably wondering, what? What do you mean Tommy?

Well, a 2 weeks had passed since the whole hangout and meeting the two guys with guns.

In those two weeks summarized 6 major events:

1. Two of his teachers dropped (not fired just used a paid-leave or whatever) the radar leaving Tommy with a crap

2. A shit ton of homework from the cocky subs.

3. Finding out two weeks later the event was in a month (December 12 to be exact) and Tommy has yet to find/practice any songs.

4. His weird neighbor for some reason tried hacking his email via going to his computer (in his own apartment) and do the forgot password thing and change it.

5. He got a lot of missed emails from Punz and Schlatt about work.

Which brings us to here.

In the dead of night, numerous boxes all around Tommy with the same piano board as younger him had in the recording, tired, pressured and tired.

Ah, suddenly something clicks into Tommy's brain. He said 6, why did he say si-

Fuck.

His first race is tomorrow and he yet to find a proper "outfit" to wear.

Tommy let's his body fall, the stress and exhaustion getting the better of him, only to get up as a resounding thud echoes. He winced at the pain, mentally beginning a search for clothes from what he could remember in his closet.

He kicks a few boxes away, careful on the one with marked in red ink of the word "FRAGILE" or just anything in red marker and prays none of the ones he kicked had any sentimental value to his mother or him.

Finally getting to his room, he sighs when he remembered he was going to check some clothes his mom kept- she knew some were good for his lanky size, she liked buying ones that would look good for him and her- and once he opens his closet and realize he had trashed it a day or two ago from being late to work he sighs again.

Tonight (or morning) was going to be a long one.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

IT WAS TOO LONG, FUCK, WHY DID HE NOT HAVE A GOOD SENSE OF TIME?!

-Was Tommy's first thought as he jolts awake and checked his buzzing phone.

He was able to find some clothes, a sleeveless turtleneck and cargo pants with some red race boots he bought online and a leather jacket he never knew he had ,but it came with the price of waking up late. The blonde stumbles as he tips around boxes and into the shower, making sure to toast some bread as he uses a 2 in 1 shampoo/conditioner.

Quickly drying his hair and tying the towel to his waist, he cursed as his waist hits a corner. He takes a minute, kneeled down to the ground as he takes pained breath. Why did he have a sharp table. Why. Prime and Ex-Dee above why must you curse me.

Finally getting up, he sees his phone had stopped buzzing and the last notification a text from Schlatt:

"Don't worry too much about this being a strike or being fired, just come down quick cause..."

The pop of a toaster finishing... toasting disrupts the silence as Tommy fights the urge to smash his phone and possibly pop a blood vessel. Taking a deep breath, he calms his heart and tries not to crash down to the ground and grabs his toast.

He leaves to change and spends about two minutes in silence, eating what would more accurate to be called brunch. Or lunch.

If Tommy wasn't too deep in debt then he would've declined Schlatt's offer for working at the diner he owned called "The Chuckle Sandwich". Or TCS for short.

It was a popular establishment in their part of town, he says this because; despite the fact the town square had a ton of famous other restaurants people still preffered going to TCS. The sandwiches were pretty good and he likes to think customer service were great but other than those the diner was pretty average.

He's asked the alcoholic (yes, he knows the mans an alcoholic) a number of times but all he usually gets are prideful smirks with lies, shrugs or just nothing but a wave to get back to work.

Maybe it was the spring clean bathrooms, Tommy was the only one who regularly cleans them. He thinks.

Finishing his breakfast, he grabs his sling back and a Shroud's bowl of breakfast. He leaves, double checking if he had his necessities and such before locking the door and goes to his child, also known as Shroud.

He whistles, the doberman quickly looking up from his rest and began wagging his tail in excitement at the site of his owner. Tommy laughs as the canine tries to stand on his hind legs to reach the chicken filled bowl, they play for a bit. Tommy nearly falling on his hands a number of times and finally leaves the bowl.

He pats the dog as a form of goodbye and leaves for work, ready to fight the bruning urge to choke his boss for making him think he was getting fired for being late or whatever.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

The lights were off and the closed/open sign was turned to the "Closed!" Side.

That's totally not creepy.

He pulls out his phone scrolling to find Schlatt's number and calls-

"How- the- like?.. oh ok.. " Beep!

... was that suppose to be the "leave a voicemail" thing..?

Shaking his head, he decides to just fuck it. He pulls out his foldable umbrella and extends it to act as a weapon, hesitantly goes to the back door rather than the front. The door squeaks open, showing eternal darkness of the diner's kitchen.

Turning on the lights, everything stayed the somewhat the same as he last left it. He continues looking around, the foldable umbrella still in his tight hold as he continues his search around.

The break room looked clean.

The sinks drips tiny droplets before Tommy hits it to the side to make it stop.

The freezer was still locked.

Everything.. looked ok.

He pulls out his phone while exiting the kitchen yo check if Schlatt said about meeting in the diner at a later date or something or whatever. But the moment he turns the lights on, all hell broke loose.

"MERRY CH-"

"AAAAHHHH"

Tommy begins thwacking the offender.

The sound of cheering is pulled to an abrupt stop as cheery music plays in the background. The usual lights if the diner are turned on along with fairy lights of green and red.

Everything looked christmas-y.

Tommy stops his assault and- "Oh, shit, Big C!" He yells at the bruised faced brunette that laid on the floor. Charlie, sometimes referred as Slime (for an inside joke), gives the blonde a thumbs up. He heaves tired breaths as Tommy starts apologizing while giving excuses how it wasn't his fault he assaulted the man.

Schlatt's infamous loud laugh echoes in the diner as he watched the blonde cry apology after apology.

In Tommy's defense, how the hell was he gonna know Charlie was going to do some passive gesture rather than an aggresive one?? He walked in a dark room so his actions were justified-

"SHUT THE FUCK UP SCHLATT, THIS IS TOUR FAULT!"

"ME?! YOUR THE ONE WHO BEAT HIM WITH AN UMBRELLA!"

The two began to argue while at the corner of Tommy's eye, he sees other help Charlie (handing him an ice pack amd making him sit down on the couch chairs). The arguement didn't last long, and he wasn't threatened in getting fired, as Tommy finally decides to ask the golden question; "what is all this?"

An arm slings around his shoulder and his face is half buried against a familar white hoodie, "Early Christmas party, kid", Punz said as he ruffles his hair. He could feel the adult use Tommy as a stand, causing the latter to shrug him off but to no avail.

"Why?"

"I got some business to do near Christmas," Punz points himself with his thumb, then points to someone behind him. "Slime, Ted and some other dudes are going out or whatever-" The older blonde finally gets off the teen "And Schlatt's just gonna go stupid here I think".

He hears Schlatt vocal his confirmation on Punz statement before the restaurant begins blasting music once again.

Ok, so now what? Tommy thinks to himself.

Everyone was doing their own thing; Schlatt and Slime doing a drinking contest with both looking like they were going to either cry or murder someone and then cry, Ted was talking with someone who looked like one the day workers he's passed by,Punz was also talking to another employee.

And then there was Tommy.

... Guess he'll stick by, party a bit with them-

"Schlatt when's everyone else comin?!" Slime calls.

"10 MINUTES! TOMMY YOU BETTER NOT LEAVE TIL THEN!"

..yay

______

Meanwhile...

Wilbur pulls out the cigarette as he reads the text on his phone,

🐐: Hosting party at TCS. Join me lover boyyyy

The brunnete doesn't bother replying to Ram-like alcoholic. Not like he'd mind, Schlatt seemed unbothered by the fact Wilbur would ghost the man for days but still text him if he wanted to party or grab a supply of his usually pack of cigs.

A groan is heard from underneath him and with an apathetic tone in his words "Oh, my apologies"Wilbur apologizes. He steps harder on the man's chest and watched as blood starts pooling from underneath, probably from the back wound that he had inflicted earlier.

Wilbur tsk as the blood touches his other shoe, " Hah... honestly, things would've been cleaner if only you just tell me what I want"

"I don't know!"

Wilbur suddenly grabs the back of the man's head, a dark look evident on his face as they makes eye contact. "Don't Know?"

The man gulps and shakes.

"I don't give a fuck if you don't know. What I care about is, How did you get this?"

Wilbur shows a necklace, strung together with a golden string. The gems shined a gorgeus green, greatly complimenting the yellow glow of the gold surrounding it. But what made it look so eye catching was the biggest emerald, the one right at the middle/center or whatever to be exact.

It gleamed with an intricate etched design.

The heart looked pixelated with a line on the top right and left of the heart. Another thing it had was a crow hugging it.

No words are uttered for minutes, the boiling emotion in Wilbur pops and he punches the man, probably breaking a tooth or two. The accessory clicks at the force but nonetheless stayed unharmed.

"Answer me"

Wilbur grabs the man's chin.

"I- I don't-"

In a flash, A silent gunshot- a simple click.

Where there were two heart beats- two men.

One stood.

Wilbur pulls out a burner phone, he calls a phone number-

"Again?"

"Yep" Wilbur pops the "P" as he pulls out a lollipop and stomps the cigarette. He takes a moment as the strawberry flavor mixes in with the bitter nicotine, nearly making him gag before finally relaxing his sour face.

He sighs and tells his location, once the other had said he found it, he leaves. The sour look on his face back but the source not being the odd taste on his tongue. He was pissed. Rightfully so, he likes to think.

His original plan was to find out how some low lives had obtained his diseased mother's jewelry. It was impossible for them to be copied or have duplicates, they were hand craft by her own hands and had complained about never doing again so if there were copies, they'd look like shit for having a mistake or two or something.

He sighs, whatever. He'll spill enough blood to cover the earth if he has to, if it meant finally giving his mother's body or anything about where she last left earth, then so be it.

He'll gladly burn the world if he has to.

_____

Back at TCS.  . .

Tommy waves good bye as Schlatt stumbles to close the door while giving his own wave and a shout of being careful.

He's ready to start stretching to jog back home when a car suddenly stops right beside him- a familair one at that.

"Toms?! What're you doing here?" Dream says as he leans over the passenger window from the driver seat. He unlocks it and gesture the blonde to come in, to which he obliges with no hesitation, and starts driving.

Tommy could tell the man was going to start berating him for forgetting about the race that was in a few hours, so he quickly stops him with his own words. "Boss threw a really early Christmas Party and threatened to fire be after saying he won't " he says tiredly.

Dream hums, then nods as a sign of understanding Tommy's words. They converse, Tommy tells about the party and his worry for his attire, to which Dream assures him he'll help whip out something hard to trace.

Tommy smiles and his fatigue is quick to dissipate and is replaced with excitement.

He was going to his first race today.

And he was sure as hell gonna win.

Chapter Text

Tommy started racing about a year ago- between being 14 and 15.

He was fortunate enough to get a growth spurt by the time he reached his first teen years and with the fact drag racers were fine with keeping an incognito profile, driving while being underage was something only he knew about. He had some help obviously, being a curios teen and constantly seeing Sapnap or Dream's car on a basis, asking questions on how they work looked normal to between the adults.

"A gear stick.. park..."

"Blinkers... turning.."

"Wheel... grip"

He'd asked how to drift and the only time he saw stars in Sapnap eyes that didn't involve fire. "Ok, don't tell Dream or Gogs.." Sapnap had instructed him not to tell him about what he was gonna do, like a mother instructing a child not to snitch on her husband as she leaves to her affair, and proceeded to really teach Tommy how to drive.

It was also the first time he truly loved racing.

He remembered the adrenaline in his veins making him feel so high and numb as he kicks Sapnap's Chevrolet Corvette C7 Z06 gas pedal so hard, an irrational fear of having the pedal break and stab his foot screams at the back of his mind, but he still didn't care.

Not when Sapnap was holds onto the passengers handle like a life line with a large grin and a boisterous laugh. Not when he could see smoke and Sapnap is cheering him on like it was ok. Not when he could imagine himself doing this, in a race track filled with turns that it's meant to only be driven with drifts.

Not when he felt like all his problems that he always thought should be for when he's an adult and not 13 suddenly felt like they didn't matter.

And that everything just... didn't exist.

He kinda wished it was true, but alas, if it was- he wouldn't be in a stingy alley way (that he's pretty sure had a pool of blood deeper down) gear stick on park and gloved hands gripping his seatbelt. A clean, kinda bloody, card sitting neatly infront  him like a child mocking him or something.

A sigh leaves his lips, about an hour ago, Dream had informed him of how The Pit really works- the rumors he's heard apparently being complete lies- and had given him a set of instructions-

Call the number on his invite card.

Listen to their instructions as well.

Follow said instructions and win race.

He's done the first and second, the robotic voice from the phone telling him to go the alleyway he was currently in and was the told to just wait for the message. Which would've been fine if weren't for the fact he's been waiting for whate felt like eternity.

If he knew he'd be waiting long, he would've chosen more comfortable clothes rather than a dark blue sleeveless turtleneck paired with a red leather jacket and cargo pants. Not only was the leather jacket's inside fabric thing starting to get ichy but his feet was already sweating.

Which you may ask what the fuck but he'll have you know the pedals tend to get hot in races and he isn't interested in feet scars or burn ones at that. Thus, he bought some (cough, maybe stole by Dream dearest) to calm his fear.

A groan leaves his lips as he let's his head rest on the wheel, his gloved hands leaving the seat belt and on to the wheel as some form of cushion for his forehead. He stares at the phone, muttering countdown in hopes the a coincidence would happen and the phone would finally alert him the directions of The Pit and he can finally feel that euphoric feel-

Ping

The blonde flings his head up and quickly grabs the phone and- what.

"Please plug the device to your GPS for better quality"

He squints his eyes, what the fuck? That's screaming "I have a virus to hack and track your car" vibes and Tommy was ready throw when the robot voice from earlier popped into his brain.  He did say to wait for the message.. so..
Pulling out a cord, he prays to Prime nothing bad happens as he turns the car on for the GPS to work and plug the thing.

The screen stays blank for a minute or two and suddenly a video pops up.

"Welcome Everybody to the welcoming ceremony of this year's last race tournament here at The Pit! "

A woman is seen, with the whole screen looking like a night club with neon blue and pink lights. From what he could tell, she was wearing a turtleneck crop top with a thin jacket, a simple mask with a cartoon cat mouth being the only thing covering her face.

Beside her, a man, bald-ish but clearly young. Like the girl he wore simple clothes; a simple striped hoodie, from what he could see, and..3-D glasses? With those headphones with an outstreched microphone.

"Now that both new and old contestants have finally connected their vehicles with our amazing burner phones-" wait they know- Tommy slowly realizes and is ready to pull the plug off the phone when the male host quickly continues his words.

"-that can only use your camera, show this video your seeing and the directions to the finish line AKA The PIT!!!"

Tommy winced at the loud volumes, pulling out some earphones he plugs it into the phone, hoping it worked to ehich it surprisingly did. The video- er, live feed? Suddenly turns small and goes to the top right corner of the screen, the background revealing a map with what looks like Tommy as a raccoon icon with a blue line going to the icon's right then up.

The woman speaks up and begins speaking again "To our dearest racers, on the center of your screen is your icon, if that wasn't obvious. The blue line will be the path way to the Pit you must follow!" The screen shows the full map, along with three more colorful animal icons that looks like 15km away from Tommy's own raccoon.

"For those unaware, this tournament, we have a total of four contestants-"

The whole map fades, leaving the animal icons. They move to the left of the screen and glows as each icon is introduced from top to bottom.

"As our Blue bird, we have Ace! He's won a good amount of times so betters sure are confident in their winnings!"

A small screen pops up at the bottom right, and a man with pilot goggles and a gas mask shaped like a bird's beak flexes his muscles.

"And for out dear Yellow Cat is Cleopatra!-" the male host buts in "better be careful with her! I've seen her swift swerves and let me tell you, Nihachu, she's more like a cat than Cleopatra"

Cleopatra is shown, a motorbike helmet hides her face but it still shows half of it as she blows a bubble of gum with a raised peace sign.

Fuck, were they gonna show his face- Tommy quickly grabs the headband Sapnap had left when the car was given to him to pull back his bangs away from his face while the host continue their whole talk-

"And for our Orange fox, we have Fundy!-" the screen flicks to a ginger haired man, if the slight beard and the buts poking underneath the fox looking bicycle helmet said anything.

Tommy only got a fraction of his scresn time as he curses to look for the goddamn helmet cause where the FUCK is it-

"There's our furry-" Fundy does a middle finger "-baby, hey! Fuck you too!! Man!"

"Calm down Thunder"

As soon as Nihachu (that's the female host name right?) Lightly scold Thunder, Tommy nearly hits his head on his door's glass window as he pulls out the helmet with tiny metal cat ears- much like Cleopatra's, only smaller and having more distance between them.

"...and for our last and new con- oh?" Halfway of pulling the helmet down his face, the screen flicks to him. He could somehow see it clearly, maybe a tad bit blurry but readable and understandable nonetheless.

A laugh leaves Nihachu lips as Thunder snorts "pfft- looks like our new rodent isn't following our animal references, Ni' "

Flustered, Tommy throws a finger at the phone and a second later the screen follows his actions and the hosts chuckle. Uncaring about the fact he wss being watched Tommy decided to start looking for a simple face mask instead, cause he damn well knows the dumb helmet was gonna fuck him over in the race despite the fact everything still looked clear.

"Anyways," Nihachu feigns a cough "as for our last contestant, our Red Racoon, is Red. Yep, like the color!"

"Understandably, if i do so myself. According to our great informer, Red here has been racing for a while but never in here in The Pit!"

"Mhm, so he's only got some unsure folks writing his name on the slots. But just cause he's new, ain't mean he's a granny driver!"

His cam suddenly changes and he sees his old car drift side ways to the finish line. Then one where he quickly evades a crasher's attack. Then one where he's in a different car and literally using another racer's car push him to the finish line-

Who the hell knew it was him?

"Sheesh! We got a smooth rider here, don't we everyone?"

The crowd's cheers are faint in his ears but still loud nonetheless. He sinks deeper in his seat, while he may like the fact they like his driving (at least that's what he's understanding/getting from their cheers) that doesn't deduce the possibility someone could see his face in those races.

"Haha! Alright, enough introductions, now that our beloved racers are now well aware of their racers. Let's pass the mic to Minx"

Another woman is seen, only she's clearer, color wise. She's obviously standing in a track, the finish line probably, with dark and certainly. . Suggestive but formal clothing?. Purple hair are tied in pigtails and some bangs are brushed up by head bands with devil horns. No wait are they head phones?-

She raises a flag and a new voice pops in his ears.

"We're using common rules, Red you better not be a dumb ass and know these cause I ain't fuckin' explaining them-" she had a one of those gruff and deep-like voice. A European accent thick in her throat and words.

Also, rude.

"Go stupid in being showy in the road, just dont blame us if you get caught or die, since we got secret road cameras and drones to watch you damn junkies, so make your baby purr and get to the first turn!"

Tommy pulls out the helmet while listening to Minx, a hand pushes around a storage compartment. Finding the mask, he pulls it on and pulls on to the first turn as the woman had instructed. He feels the machine shake into life and all he could is wait.

Wait as an all to familiar feeling bubbles up in his head.

.

. .

. . .

The smell of citrus and orange juice fills Sam's nose as a drink, an Orange blossom cocktail, slides to him.

He looks up, and mumbles a thanks before downing the drink immeadiately. The pine-like taste meeting his tongue before the slight bitterness kicks in shortly after. He lets the glass stay on his lips for a second or two before bringing it down, not too hard as to break the glassware, and a soft thuck is buried between the muffled cheers from the other room

The barteneder, Quackity, a close friend and "business parter", stares at him. "Shoudn't you be watchin' the race?" He asks with a grin, the mexican accent in his throat becoming slightly more evident as he purposely makes his voice gruff and deeper.

Sam scoff, "Don't do that voice, it's weird and shit" and brings another glass of the cocktail Quackity had seemingly pulled out of thin air. The man, laughs at Sam's retort, which would probably make people think he was crazy.

Which, technically was true, Quackity is pretty crazy in Sam's opinion but the other reason would be Sam's social standing in the underworld.

And that would be Pandora's Warden. Or as most who didn't bother to acknowledge his engineering and architecture skills to know the building's actual name;

He was the Syndicate's 2nd Top dog.

It was something he takes pride of, while other guards of other gangs or organization don't really get any recognition, Sam having his own title was a feat only he and the Syndicate's body guard. And it wasn't because he was the Syndicate's . . Well wardee- or the guy who handled most of their security, obviously it was also because of another thing.

His methods. Sam always makes sure there were no faults in his security planning, and thus meant if a guard fucked something up (be it being a minute late to their shift or a foot off their supposed route) then to simply put, the cleaning guys would want visibly want his soul, if not for the fact Sam could probably steal their heart, the organ. Not- not the metaphorical kind.

(Though that one might've been said to be true by certain someone- coughPonkcough)

"Hello?~ Is Father dearest still there-" Sam swats the taunting knife Quackity moved around infront of his face as he spoke with a honey toned voice. "I'm fine" the former replies before taking a quick sip of his drink.

"Still didn't answer my question"

A raised eyebrow was his reply at the raven haired.

He sighs, "Aren't you suppose to be planning for the party?" and repeated his question. Sam's confused features eases  in understanding, he takes a moment wuth staring at his drink before replying along with a shrug.

"Everything's good actually."

"What? You already got a piano guy?"

"Mhm"

"Did you send him the song pl-"

The sound of glass cracking is silenced by the cheers from the other room as the once sweet alcohol smell is met with the rust-like scent of blood.

The two stay in comedic silence as blood drips off Sam's fingers and palms.

". . ."

". . . I'm gonna go.."

Quackity gives an awkward smile as the man leaves in a robotic matter. "H-hah.. yeah.. see you at the party.."

Sam's hum is muffled by the slam of a door and the cheers once again by the people watching the race.

Chapter Text

When you enter a competition that comes in a field/subject your passionate about, it's possible you'll be confident in winning.

It was something you were passionate about, thus meant something you basically knew from the inside out.

But when you get into something big, that confidence dwindles to self doubt. Like a simple highschool basketball player applying to be part of an Olympic team, or a home chef gambling to be part of some great cooking show.

The prideful smirk you'd have in doing the very thing that makes you jitter in excitement turns into that of a frown. Hands would shake as the constant fear and thought of your talent and skill being something that of a toddler's and upid just break. It's scary and the world that you once thought you dominated in, a world that made you feel so big suddenly made you feel so small.

This was a feeling Tommy knew all too well.

Between the time of getting the invite from Dream and officially starting the race, a whispering voice at the back of Tommy's mind poked and prodded in his brain; what if you lose? Would all those races you've done be useless? Would Dream tighten his clutches as his debt collector? Will he fail in fulfilling his mother's wish of travelling the world? Endless amounts of doubt plagued his subconscious and often the blonde would find himself spiralling into a ball of anxiety at random intervals.

And yet, a millisecond after Tommy stomps on his gas pedal, he thinks those thoughts were true. The competition felt more like a match between pros and noobs, which honestly isn't too far from the truth rather than a race so such thoughts were seeping into his main consciousness rather than the sub. As he mindlessly clench against the leather wheel, listening to the hosts, he thinks; maybe the thoughts are true.

For Thesues, at least, they felt true.

But racing wasn't in Theseus, nor Tommy's, domain. No, theirs were something like combat or just studies.

In racing, the facade of Theseus; the boy who's great and normal at the surface, and Tommy; the boy who knew how to fight thanks to illegal connections, falls.

And Red Rider rise.

The blonde took a shaky inhale as his body shook along with the car, his mind basically melting into the vehicle as he listens to Minx recount the rules. He grips the gear shift tighter as he adjust his shoulder so he could pull the damn thing and lock it and gets to a more comfortable position.

"Might as well explain the rules for newbies in the crowd,

First rule, no cornering! If your path to the finish line merge, don't force someone to crash goddamit"

Cool. His car can stay cool.

"Second rule, get caught by the police them your out! You lead them here and it's on sight on your baby, metal or flesh"

Prime, let there be no blues in his lane then.

"Third rule, No sabotaging. We find you knew our planned lanes, look back at rule two."

Minx pulls out another flag from behind her, both hands now occupied by red flags.

"Oh and one more thing, there's gonna be some obstacles ahead or whatever so keep your eyes peeled I guess" The irish (Tommy assumes she's Irish at least) woman says nonchalantly as she raises both flags up.

Wait, obstacles? What kind-

"On yer mark!" Thunder bursts his thought bubble.

"Get set!" Nihachu followed suit.

"Go!" 

As soon as the flags fell, Tommy went full throttle. A series of clicks are heard as he puts the machine into drive along with a thump as he stomps onto the gas pedal, the irrational fear of his foot getting impaled screeching at the force of it.

The back wheel twist and turn as the car accelerates. The world seemed to blur as Tommy howls a muffled laugh through the mask.

The worries, the insecurities and the doubt had all melted and all Tommy felt was bliss. This was what got him into racing, the adrenlaine pumping in his blood that could never compare to the spars he and Dream would do. It could never compare to the goosebumping moment as Dream shot his hand.

It could never compare to when he would run for the sake of caring his mother.

He glanced at the GPS, his lane still telling him to go straight as the two host began their commentary. The raccoon icon at center changed, more like it had a new detail, on it's left ear. 3rd was added like a clip on it's ear and at the bottom left corner, Tommy could see a leaderboard; Cleopatra on first, Ace on second, Tommy (or Red Rider the audience/crowd would think) and Fundy on last.

Tommy makes a hard right as Nihachu comments on how despite this basically being his first race in the city he's already bested Fundy. The guy apparently knew the city roads down to the alleyways and yet he still lacked behind, to which taunt quickly mocks the fox racer on"Haha! Hurry up Fundy, you're literally referenced as a fox but you sure are driving like slug!"

"Yeah, well at least I'm not bald!" Fundy counters, voice altered by the ginger's mic, Thunder's taunt, as what Tommy assumes is the audience to laugh.

Tommy snickers along at the comment.

The light poles outside flicker around, some literally not working as Tommy keeps his fast pace on the track. Cleopatra's icon had gone down, unsure when or how long, and had joined the "fight of second/third place with Fundy and him at the corner of his eye as he turns his head lights on. He scoffed, he reaches for his gear stick only to retract his hand back as he nearly crashes into a set of trash bags as the light pole beside it comes to life.

He's way off his track- "Looks like Red over here blanked out! He's off his path by a lot!" Thunder comments- while an irk mark forms at his jaw.

Pulling the car on reverse and turning his headlights on, he checks his rear mirror to make sure he doesn't hit more things as he makes his car turn in sync. His grits his teeth as the gear shift clicks into the other modes before resting at the D.

Focus Focus Focus, his brain sang like a mantra as his icon quickly gets back on track. "And Red's back on track!"

As he continues to traverse the various twists and turns of the lane he followed, he finds himself unfamiliar with the area around him. Where a few lights were on a few kilometers ago, Tommy had found himself at what was basically a ghost town.

More and more the flickering street lights becomes less and less to the point there were nothing but his own headlights to show the road. And not just that, Tommy finds himself swerving his car around, dodging trash piles after trash piles that he swore he felt deja vú in a previous race he was in.

Despite the mini obstacle he was facing, the blonde quickly finds himself in a much clearer, but still lightless, path. 

Just as he was about to speed up, a Ruf CTR Yellowbird came into view. Quickly, he eases his speed by gently stepping on his brake pedal as well as swerving his wheel, successfully preventing him crashing into the 90s looking car but losing what looked like what might've been 2nd place on the board.

Thunder whistles, "Folks, looks like we got our first one on one! For those who don't know; with Cleopatra and Red Rider following a merged path, they're basically sharing the same spot!" At his words, Tommy could see his raccoon and the cat icon go side by side. Cleo's (god her name was a mouthful) icon seemed to be "infront" of his own, likely showing that she was on the lead.

"How are we suppose to compete then?-" Tommy mumbled as he stomps on the gas at the sight of an opening beside the Yellowbird, before letting out a tsk when the mentioned vehicle blocks it.

Irritation causes creases on his forehead at Cleo's move, but they quickly disappear when he hears his words, only altered by a voice modifier.

"Dumb question Red-" Nihachu replies nonchalantly "But! To win in this extra mini challenge, is quite like the original goal to being first! The only difference would be that rather than focusing solely on speed-"

A small curse slips his lips as Tommy realize just what was happening now.

"You gotta focus literally overlapping your opponent!"

"In short, Red's fucked"

Sneering at Thunder's comment, Tommy reaches for his gear stick, searching for a certain button as the two host continue to comment.

"Oh and folks, this does not mean the two are near the finish line as the first rule Minx mentioned for "No cornering"! They're very much still far"

"Yeah, as far as the gap between 3rd and 2nd is with Fundy!"

The hosts voices come in and out the other ear as Tommy continues searching for the button while keeping his pace. He makes a left turn, Cleo not to far behind as he lets curse after curse.

Not long ago, Dream had informed Tommy a feature on the car. The dirty blonde had commented that should he find himself in a pickle during the race, he must find a clear path and press the button. While Tommy had an assumption as to what it may be, he never got to find it.

He puts back his hand on the wheel when no sign of the button was felt on his search as a long turn came up. Placing his arms in a way so he could easily turn to the right, he waits as he goes closer and clo-

Now

He eases his foot onto the brake as he quickly turns his wheel. He perks up as he feels a foreign feeling behind the wheel and a manic grin streched his lips. Not too far behind him, Cleo was slowing down as to make the turn, the reason being revealed by none other than the hist Thunder.

"Back here with Red and Yellow, our dear Cleo's weakness has been involuntarily revealed! She's shit at drifts!"

"Eat shit ya' bald fuck!" Cleo retorts.

But Tommy ignored them, instead he waits for the perfect angle, the perfect moment.

As he's still turning, and turning bit by bit and-

With a single click, his engine roars louder than before and he was basically gone.

The two hosts howls and whistles as he chooses to go off the right path. Doing so, his icon goes up without Cleo's, essentially claiming first place for himself.

"Holy shit! Nihachu! He has a turbo engine!"

"Oh fuck how?!"

A pridefilled looks morphs in Tommy's face as he clicks the button again, his engine softly easing to a calmer roar. His pace was still fast, the sudden pulse of power still showing remnants in the way speedometer had yet to go lower than earlier.

His beats as fast as his car, while sweat beaded down his face, 'holy shit, Dream installed a turbo engine in here'.

Turbo engines were not that rare, a few years ago people had stopped using this form of upgrade after finding a better speed alternative. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that going fast meant wasting more fuel, thanks to the new alternative (which was apparently some new form of gas?). The only reason people rarely made turbo engines was due it took too much time and alternating the original engine to fit the new gas was easier and more customer-preffered.

But to any car or racing fanatic, seeing a car work with a turbo engine was like a child being told their parent is making their favorite lunch for the next few days.

"Those things are basically extinct these days!" Nihachu points out the reason for their suprise. "Red's secret weapon sure shocked everyone! He's on the lead by a lot!"

"That's right Nich', but just because he's left the merged lane with Cleo, doesn't mean he's escaped and is going smooth sailing"

Tommy raises an eyebrow at this.

He glanced around, he was outside of town now. Nothing but street lights to show life outside his car could be seen. As he speeds up, he glanced at his GPS and-

What the fuck?

Behind him, or under his icon, was something pink. Two little squares if Tommy had to assume.

Turning to his rear mirror, Tommy went rigid. Not at the sight of the Mercedes-AMG GT R, no. Prime no, it's not likely to be a cop car cause Sapnap once told him (presumably) every car the police in the town owned.

No, he went cold Thunder's next words.

"Ladies and gentlemen I welcome you.."

Tommy's kind regretting he used his turbo mode now.

"Drive of our dear Mercedes-AMG GT R with the pink LEDS

It's the Blood God himself!"

Chapter Text

Comical tears fall unto Tommy's cheeks as a single thought seemingly echoes in his head.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK(fuck)

Things had just been going smoothly, both according to his own opinion and the two hosts in his screen.

A quick recap, the first while on the race everything went like any other race. Occasionally he'd miss a wrong turn and lag or accidentally find a shortcut and move up the mini leader board on his screen. Everything almost felt boring, in Tommy's opinion.

And then he got into the first "obstacle": a merged lane with Cleo, the yellow cat racer (he's pretty sure she's not that relevant to have some menacing title. . . Hopefully).

The feline racer was exactly like a cat. Somehow with her 80-90s car she drove with a fast pace that blocked him from passing her in their shared, yet narrow, lane. Sometime later of their little rodeo, a large turn was coming. Cleo was apparently not good with making fast turns and had thus slowed down.

With the road becoming bigger, Tommy not only surpassed her but had also pulled a small trick in his sleeve. A turbo engine had roared and Tommy had not only secured his spot on 1rst place but also separating from the shared line with Cleo and had found himself out of town.

A deserted area was seen within miles and the neon lights and last street lights vanished, leaving Tommy in the literal dark.

At first, he thought this was the next obstacle or whatever, driving in the dark at an aimless road. Sure it didn't make sense but his instincts and whole body had flared up from the past challenge and was begging to either relive the adrenaline or relax.

And thus he chose the latter.

Which, BIG ass wrong mistake to do.

In a matter of seconds, his calm atmosphere is interrupted by the male host on his screen. His words made him pale and looking at his rear mirror only made his soul leave his body.

Now that were back to the present-

Tommy swerved to the right, barely missing the Mercedes driving past him. His heart jumps to his throat at the sudden action, what the fuck? The blonde knew that the flag lady earlier had never stated anything about bloodshed, but surely the mercenary (guard? Murderer??) Would at least worry on having gamblers lose by an external force.

Rage fills his brain and without thinking, he screams.

"You fucking pig in a crown!"

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

Techno had many names.

Most correlating to the topics of Blood, The Nether or Hell (or just a place that's hot and has demon monsters), and Piglins. He's heard people call him Blood God the most though. Which, he really doesn't appreciate.

Like, c'mon.

You got three topics to choose from, one being about a fictous realm so it meant there was a lot of good names to come up with, yet the public chose to call him Blood God? It sounded cool at first, he'll admit it but after a while it sounds like a kid trying to be cool but was really exposed to gore content decided to make the name.

He could've been called The Brute, the strongest piglin in packs. Maybe even Ichor, the blood of gods in greek mythology. Hell- Hell King! He could've been called hell king!

... okay, no, hell king is too emo.

But whatever, TLDR: Techno didn't like his .. stage name. And he was open to any other names that sounded original and cool.

". . .Pig in a crown!"

Pig in a crown could be a good name, Techno mindlessly thinks as he stares at his rear mirror while making a sharp turn to his left.

The corvette quickly skids to a stop, the man behind tinted glass could be seen thanks to his pink leds shining through and he could see the guy huffing while hunched close to his wheel. This doesn't last long as the car goes into reverse. Techno follows the racer's action, but at a point where he thought the raccoon (he's calling him raccoon, fuck it) would go forward, he just doesn't.

His eyebrows crease in confusion, though it fades away as his face dawns a neutral expression once again behind the boar skull mask. An exhale through his nose makes him bite his lip, he was really hoping to end his little special guest moment in one sweep but raccoon over here looked like he was keen on tormenting him.

The thing is, Techno didn't even want to be here in the first place.

His sorry excuse of a brother (Prime bless that manic scientist, strategist and weirdo for giving him an equal) had begged the pinknette to help his pseudo son in winning a race, the one he(Techno) was currently in.

Fundy, or the orange fox driver of an orange mclaren 720s, was the guy Techno was suppose to help.

He really didn't know young adult, Wilbur was keen on keeping any information on the ginger to himself but while his brother is a great strategist and a man who handles most of their family's intel, Techno was a mercenary first and far before the brunette had become interested in gaining power in information.

Still, there wasn't much on the ginger boy. He was related to Sally (as a nephew?), Wilbur's girlfriend in highschool who dumped the brunette after finding out Techno existed- to which he brutally rejected her in hopes of gaining his brother's favor back and to invoke his hatred for making his brother sulk in a corner for weeks. He was at least in his early 20s, maybe 22 or 24, and wad about 5'7 with a okay-ish physique.

He was mainly interested in engineering and coding, which the whole racing made sense at first but then he heard the guy was a shit driver hence the help. Liked foxes, was LGBTQ+ (Techno decided to respect the guy and not find out what his label is) and was a pretty decent guy.

If you ignore the fact he steals crypto money, digital money, hacks and so on and so forth.

Techno blinks himself awake when he finds himself ramming into the corvette, breaking it's right tail light along with a vague dent. The impact doesn't affect him that much, his body only leaning forward a bit but was fine. Raising his body from his seat, he checks the thick guard on his front to see if it was ok and surprise it was.

Guess that's a favor gone to waste, unfortunately.

"Back to Red and the Big BG !"

"Our raccoon has two choices, when you think about it"

Adjusting the mask, Techno speeds his car up. Not to the point he shoots past but enough that he slowly lines himself right beside raccoon.

"That's right, Nihachu , Red Rider could either go full speed, pretty much blinfolded .."

Techno's red eyes bore at the tinted glass. He can't seen anything but he's sure. Sure that it was the perfect angle.

"Or go on a suicide battle against Blood God"

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

The smell and taste of something akin to iron meets his tongue as his adrenaline makes his heart beat to the point Tommy was sure veins were pulsing obviously on his head.

The guy had rear guards. Rear guards! They weren't common nor rare in his opinion, usually people get called a wuss when driving a vehicle with guards, at least; thats what he's heard from car mechanics during their lunch break.

And the guy didn't have them for the sole fucking purpose, fuck no. Instead of using them to prevent crashes, the guy was using it in his favor of destroying his car bit by bit!

Tommy looks at his rear mirror, in search of the glowing pink Mercedes only to turn pale at the site of the dusty road illuminated by his tail lights. He checks his left mirror, nothing and vile seems to bubble up his throat and he turns-

He swallows the fear as red eyes unknowingly (Prime above does he want to say unknowingly is true) bore holes at his blue ones. A second wastes and nothing happens, the crowd in their mini screens cheer at the hosts words about the other racers, yet none dared to take their eyes away.

One minute.

Two. .

Thre-

His muscles stiffen, as his nose wrinkles in frustration and fear.

Strings of curses flow in his brain as he makes a sharp turn to the left, the Mercedes seemingly reading his mind quickly follows his action. The teen leans forward at the sound of metal smashing glass.

"There goes his- "

"YOU DAMN MERC, THAT HEADLIGHT WAS BRAND NEW!"

Everything was new on his corvette, actually.

"L"

"Plb- Wha-! I-!"

What the fuck?!

Did- He just said "L"!

Like all this was a video game!

'It is nothing but to some' a thought points out. Tommy scoffs at his own realization.

Right, to him, this was chance for freedom. Freedom from his sorry excuse of a father's debt. This was a way he could live a future away from this mess he didn't know he'd dip his toes in.

But to others?

They treated it truly like kids playing race.

While Tommy was out here not wanting to lose- to lag behind- others too, only they didn't have consequences for losing. Other than maybe a tear in their pride, losing to them would be a small curse slipping off their lips in a church. Bad, yes, but what the fuck are the nuns gonna do? Lock 'em up?

Tommy pulls the gear lever back, the car quickly registers the action and suddenly go in reverse. His body thuds against the seat while he watched with sharp blues as the mercedes drives past him.

One of the hosts- the girl, fuck whatever her name is- whistles at his move.

"Looks like our rider is choosing a risky moves, typical moves for the under dogs in movies"

"Only difference is he might literally be under a dog once Blood God pulls his corpse from a wreck"

Tommy stutters to a stop at his words when he barely misses hitting the mercedes. "Very motivating!" He snides as he makes a quick doughnut to hopefully blur the man's vision. Maybe catch him a few seconds, minutes at the longest.

He glanced at his rear mirror before reversing his car once again. An idea suddenly pops into mind as the mercedes fucking drives right past him.

It might be the death of him but fuck it.

"Hey, Minx!"

" Whazzup , bitch ? Forgot the rules? Quiting ?"

"Is the phone the tracking device?"

"..? Yeah?  It's what we use to track ya' , more or less. "

Tommy takes a deep inhale.

"Good"

"Hey what are y- "

His screen goes blank as his pulls the phone out. As he does this, he turns off his light, furthermore falling into the darkness before opening a window.

The wind blows against his face, bits of sand, dirt and other shit scratch his face as his car skids to a stop. He waits, no sign of life evident other than the small illumination the speedometer and fuel gauge provided.

He was in a prime awful position but let his muscles be cramped if he could live. One hand grips the phone, raised, and ready to fire while the other grips his stiring wheel. His left leg was resting, not pushing, the gas pedal as his right knee sits under the gear stick, one knee kick upwards should send the stick into drive.

A breath of air blows out his mouth as he waits and listens.

. . .

.  .  .

.   .   .

..vrrm....

Vrrrrr.....

Vvvrrrr-

Now.

He chucks the phone out and doesn't  bother turning to the source of glass cracking, a thud, and then glass shattering. Instead he makes a hard turn to the left, his knee kicks his gear into drive with the assistance of his now free hand as he quickly steps on the gas. His right foot props up on his seat, he can't switch, not now.

He can't waste a moment after all.

After all, they want him to lose? Then fuck it. He'll turn into mother fucking Icarus, he'll reach his goddamn sun even as it becomes his source of agony and despair.

Chapter Text

The rhythmic beats of Dream's leg bouncing was seemingly the only thing grounding the mercenary.

He was anxious.

After hearing that Tommy- his friend, assigned debt guy, and so much more- had done something ever so characteristic of him, he can't help but feel like perhaps the teen was meeting his far too soon because of him.

Between their odd group of three mafia guys and a teen with debt, Dream was sure Tommy got his taste for adrenaline. Sapnap was chaotic, indeed, but George and his fiancés were usually there to reign thr chaos in him away from Tommy. George was always calm and calculated and since the leader title flawlessly falls on the brunette's shoulder when Dream's away, Sapnap and him made a balance in influencing Tommy's life.

And then there was him, Dream.

For a while, sure, he thought of the kid as nothing more than a (disturbing) fascination from his boss and had thus placed a distance between the two. Then he talked with the kid more, and they laughed and messed around and heck, kept secrets to the two. He was sure doing that one commission with the teen was what solidified their brother-like relationship- especially after letting Tommy keep two disc that he found in that ware house.

Now all of it- the memories, the thrilling feeling of being normal- was gonna seem like a spec of dust. All because Tommy was desperate to win this goddamn race.

The couch he sat on dips on one side, his sense tells him of no danger and he peeks to see his team mate. "He'll be fine" George says nonchalantly as he sips from his cocktail of whatever.

A weight, like a fat cat's worth, lifts off his shoulder. Sighing he rests his fore head on clutched hands. Yeah, he'll be fine. George had thought him well and Sapnap was the best driver and teacher he knows.

"He has that watch right?" Dream turns, eye brow raised in confusion, although hidden but the message radiates off anyway, at George. The latter puts down his drink and pulls out his phone. "Made it so it would point to you with it's hands"

Point..? Hands..?- wait.

"Oh thank fuck." That's good! They were seating in "VIP" seats. The seats and platform they were, were just on top of the finish line, maybe further but still close.

Snatching George's drink he chugs at it and asks "When did you tell him that?".

George, who was mid way about to complain for the theft, suddenly froze and pursed his lips like he had sucked a lemon.

"You...?"

"Nevermind that kid's fucked"

Fuck.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

"EAT MY DUST, PIG BITCH !"

Techno stares a head dumbfounded by the string of events. Everything had happened so fast, it felt like the world had turned into a drunk photo shoot- blurry moments of movement, bright and dark seconds and a sudden change of environment.

Techno wasn't a car-fanatic. He has the bare minimum knowledge, how to do this and that and what this and that does, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to know windshields do not break easily.

They're windshields, there to protect you from the blinding wind- and that was for normal cars! Techno being a mercenary, his had numerous augmentation, accessories with purpose and such, so his windshields were replaced by fucking bullet proof glass. B-u-l-l-e-t. Fuckers that move in almost 100mph fucking beat a dumb phone.

Speaking of, the pinknette throws out the phone Red had thrown, but not without glancing at the brand because what. As he had guessed, it was no ordinary phone and had weighed like a fucking brick. Heck, it was even the size of a brick with how Techno couldn't even bare to touch fingers in holding it. How did the  guy throw that? He's pretty sure he saw the guy's scrawny arm throw it like nothing so how??

Brushing off the bare minimum of shards off his lap, gear shift, seat and off the top of his dash board Techno pulls out some sun glasses and quickly chase after the driver- despite quite literally being blind.

Putting them on was easy, despite his signature boar mask and all being there. Even so, the glasses still left open spots of wind to poke his eyes and the ones that blocked it? Only gave him darkness  to view.

As one hand steers the wheel, every so and so turning left and right, his other searches for an alternative eye protector because he really can't see shit with the glasses. His reading glasses won't work, they're too small and for looking down. The Dora helmet Wilbur had gifted him as a joke was definitely out of the question.

....

Does he have to?

A sigh leaves his lips as he begins pulling of the glasses and boar mask.

Prime, Blood God and Ex-dee, do be there when he meets the driver or else a massacre of one death will be real.

.

.  .

. . .

. .

.

Tommy taps around his car, hoping and praying Dream's dumbass had simply forgotten something that would assist him in this situation of racing against a renounce mercenary with no clue as to where the finish line is. Adrenaline had calmed down, somewhat, and did he wish it didn't as his sober mind is repeatedly reminded of his fuck up.

Fuck, shit, fuck, why did he do that?!

What if he had missed? Sure he'll be in the same situation of being blind and still have a professional merc chasing after him. Only difference would be said merc might've seconds to spare in catching up to him.

Other probabilities screamed a quicker death and honestly? Screw that. His spiteful side would rather drink gasoline than going out without a fight.

As he mumbles curses, Tommy continues for search whatever could help him. Every once in a while, he'd mumble a tiny prayer to Prime despite not being that religious. Half of him wished it was answered while the other was already accepting that there is no god and he's probably gonna d-

Ow.

The cars slows, but not to a stop, when Tommy feels something hit his head and land on his lap after pulling down the sun visor. For a second, he thinks;

"THE GODS HAVE GRANTED HIM RESPITE!"

Only to deflate at the sight of a-

As he inspects the functional accessory, he finds an all to familiar signature that truly gives him relief.

Oh, Dream is so getting an ass whooping from both Brits.

The item that had fallen was a chronograph racing watches. It was likely a gift- maybe even a "Hope you win" kind of gift, but knowing the brunette Tommy was sure it was just so George could avoid getting a whine out of him.  With red and black straps that matched his (once pristine) car, the aesthetic was a secondary notice to him.

What truly caught his eye was the way the glowing second hand looked keen on pointing a certain direction. Specifically to his left.

Testing the waters, like he had any other useful choice, he makes a trun. Quick but not too slow, it's until the watch points ahead does he pull the car into overdrive.

Tommy can't help but curse at the load roar his car makes but doesn't bother to silence it as it send him flying through the dust-

Oh?

In the distance, Tommy could see a light. Nothing big, the size of a phon- OHHHHH.

OH SHIT, HOLY SHIT IT'S ALIVE???

He fucking chucked the thing straight to the merenary's windshield, how the fuck did it live?? As he slows down the car, a voice in his head scolds him for bothering pick the damn thing up but fuck you. This is gonna shock those bitches in the audience and he'll show 'em-

And then a fucking mercedes drives by.

His mind races his choices immediately, the fight or flight risk part of his brain going into overdrive as a million thoughts came to him. One stands out and he decides within seconds to just follow that thought out and hope for the best.

It was simple: shoot Blood God's fucking wheels. Or at least one.

He doubts the guy had an extra wheel, and even if he did, the chances of him working like a those staff repair guys in professional racing. And so, he circles around the phone, far enough he could see it but also near enough if the guy came by he could drive away.

Shoving the extra ammo from his gun in his mouth, in case he misses 17 rounds, he pulls down the window beside him and leans out. He was maskless yes, but it was dark as shit so all he has to do is hope the guy doesn't have a good memory or night vision.

The wind blows as he waits.

And waits.

An-

There's a sound to his right.

Quickly, Tommy makes a hard right to the point it was basically a U-turn and quick takes aim. Blue eyes burn with passion to live and the world suddenly turns into slow motion.

He shoots- but missed- and he sees the Blood God.

He'd make fun of the fact the guy was wearing a pink motorcycle helmet (is that a cartoo- is that dora??) But he could only have the hair on his face stand up, giving him a tingling feeling of fear topped with a shiver down his spine.

Bang! Bang! Bang!  Krrf-

Tommy snaps back and he realized he shot the guy's wheel- judging by the fact the car had dipped. He takes another aim but before he could fire a bullet hits his wrist.

A curse leaves his lips but he ignores the pain, carrying out the plan of his. He drives a bit and when he sees the phone still light on, he opens the car door and leans down and quickly snatching the device with his injured hand. The pain sends a shockwave through his whole arm but he continues to ignore it, opting to instead shove the damn thing in his GPS and pull his mask back up.

"- what's this?! Lady's and Gents, Red is back on the show!"

Thunder yells as his screen comes to life.

Somehow, he was in 2nd place ,basically battling the position for it with the fox guy who was on third place. Which may be good, but seeing as the race only had him, Cleo and Fundy it wasn't ideal that the two were fighting.

Once again, he prays for Prime for what he's about to and-

"Aannndd, Red's going into overdriveeee!!!"

Tommy tunes down the volume to a point it bearable to hear over the rumbling engine as he continues to drive, occasionally switching routes according to the GPS and the watch George had made.

It didn't take long for more lights to appear, the sandy road suddenly clearing showing the concrete road familiar to his city. Light poles bend and twist, some having makeshift "bandages" of random things while others had festive banners connected to each other.

In the distance, he could see.. a sewage opening? The ones that looked like a big tube, typically with iron poles to block people from entering type of sewage opening. He glanced down at his GPS and watch to see both were guiding him that to it.

"All right! Get ready racers-" in the middle of Nihachu's sentence the leader board disappears from his screen- and probably others by the far off sounds of protest "- because things are 'bout to get interesting"

"People of The Pit, let's give a loud holler to our new racers!"

Tommy enters, his car dips forward and like a portal to another realm-

-he enters the The Pit with it's people's holler echoing in his ears.

Chapter Text

Tommy heard many whispers of what the Pit looked like.

Some were absurd and hard to believe. One time, he was passing by an alleyway and heard some adults talking about a trade. Usually, he would leave- maybe listen for a minute or two in case he hears a useful tip for Purpled's odd business- but the way the guy described the supposed ex-meeting place made him lean in.

"No way, that's true" one goon said.

"I'm serious!" Another exclaimed. "It looked like some hobo was a hobbit or whatever it's called fan and made a shitty hobbit hole with trash-"

"And you got in, and tra la la la la, the shiny victorian noble medieval-styled house was there?"

"Yes!"

Despite the deadpanned voice of the person, the exclaimed one or the trader explained the whole thing in detail, much to Tommy's curiosity.

Apparently, the place had red carpets lined with golden threads, making intricate designs for the flooring. The bits that didn't have carpet didn't show porcelain flooring- no- instead it showed tempered glass. Aquatic fish swim about in various colors and such. Quartz poles embedded with shiny gems held the room.

To simply put; the first thought he expected was The Pit was some medieval theme-rich place.

That thought was erased when once again, he happen to go home late and passed by an alleyway. Preparing to defend himself, Tommy shuts his mouth and clams his breath when the bloodied men start a conversation as they haul the bodies they probably killed.

"Oh we should get lunch at Kia's, she makes great food" A groan comes from the other dude before asking "She got a new place right? "

"Yeah, it's the one with the neon sign that says Kia with a cat figure thing".

"Gotta be more specific, Jim"

"It's near that weird Japanese shop-"

"The one that sells-"

"Yeah-"

Disturbed by the sudden splat and curses of the two Tommy ran away and concluded that The Pit was something akin to cyber bunk.

As time come and go, he hears more whispers about The Pit's "theme" or overall appearance. Now that he was here, suffice it to say the rumors were like white lies. A lie to entice his curiosity, but once revealed crushes him. The Pit didn't look anything specific- or anything aesthetically specific if that makes sense.

Yes, bits and parts were true from the rumors he heard (except the ones regarding the inside, obviously) but The Pit didn't exactly meet his expectations or disappointment. Some parts had bronze, at least he thinks they're bronze. Pipes scratching far and wide. Others had bright neon colors of. . . People. Weapons and alcohol silhouettes were the only neon symbols he could name and recognize.

The others must've been gang signs. He assumed.

Suddenly, the outside world turns dark as Tommy was too busy looking to notice he had entered a tunnel. Snapping himself back to reality, he stops pressing the gas pedal and lets physics do its thing.

He was here, and the fact of him bringing The Pit sinks in. Everything strangely still felt like a dream, one filled with adrenaline. Like the heart stopping feeling of your body falling despite it obviously wasn't, Tommy can't help but push himself deeper into the seat while gripping the wheel tighter. Ignoring the stinging pain of when he was shot.

Biting his lip, he uses his injured hand to scutter around the storage box, he swore he saw a handkerchief, ah! The soft fabric slips once, and twice from his weak grip- the bullet was still there but holy shit did he feel it squelch around and move.

Ew. He's getting flashbacks of a certain arsonist teaching him first aid for bullet wounds. Typically, there would be first step; check and second step; call, but those were for when he was in public so to step three;

Applying basic first aid.

That's easy, everyone has a basic idea to treat a bleeding wound.

Problem; he needs to tighten a handkerchief with one hand while making sure he doesn't crash into the wall and explode into oblivion.

The blonde takes a shaky breath, his chest stutters slightly but he prevails nonetheless and starts getting into odd positions. Leaning closer to the wheel, he prays to prime he disobeys the laws of physics and starts to wrap his wrist. For the first time in a while, he was thankful he was ambidextrous, or else tying would be hard for his non-dominant hand.

Oh prime, oh ex-dee and every other god in existence, please let me win and not d-

Tommy's prayers are cut short when he tightens the knot a wee bit too much. His body flinched in reaction as he quickly gets back to properly driving the vehicle at the sight of an incoming wall. A curse scream erupts from his throat as he swerves to the right, barely dodging the make shift rails for the audience.

The audience roared at his act, which now that he thinks about it made it seem like it was on purpose. Good. Good good good. His pride is still intact. He'd rather die in glory than shame, thank you.

Finally finishing the knot, Tommy bites back a curse as he floors the gas pedal. His ears ring as he listens to the hosts cheer him on, his place currently in first place position after he made the near-death turn.

And as he rests a finger on a certain button, the boy takes a breath and grins, sure of what the outcome will be.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

Meanwhile, with a certain pinknette.

The merc makes a cigarette spark to life. With a window open, he rests his head on the window sill as the air that leaves his lungs tug the adrenaline away from his body bit by bit. A grin secretly grows underneath at what had just happened- the guy shot his wheels. People who had the balls to actually point a gun in his general direction usually never had ones to actually shoot, bark, and no bite motherfuckers. So when he got into that quick gunfight while driving, Techno had never felt more alive then and there.

A wave of screams echoes on his radio. With interest piqued, he cranks it louder and listens in-

"AND THERE HE GOES!" Thunder- or Jack (Prime his nickname sucks) hollers "Ladies and Gents, this man is keen on winning like no other!"

"For those unaware, during his skirmish with BG, Red Raccoon has been scittering around like his avatar! And this rodent is sure to let the world know he ain't a wuss!

Like some cheesy action movie, my guy SHOT infamous Blood God's tires!"

The crowd roars at the host's enthusiasm as Techno lightly scoffs. The move was smart. Dirty but smart.

Techno thrived in those types of gunfights- or generally any fights. It's what really made him crawl out of his room after his brother had come whining to him about a fight he saw.

"He just threw sand at his eyes like a wuss-"

"I mean you have to pull what you can in those types of situations"

said situations were life and death ones.

Even so, Techno believed in a fair fight too. So if he lets others play dirty, he'll play dirty too (even if the enemy doesn't know he was like that- which is a dirty trick itself. Night vision goggles to see more clearly, stealing your opponent's ammo, 

Fighting- killing- stabbing-

He'll do it.

For even as he has been crowned with the skills of a god,

He still has nothing more but a mortal soul.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

Unbeknownst to the mercenary...

"It's Fundy against Red who will win?!"

Tommy grabs his gun, with one leg to keep his steering wheel steady with what he could he grabs another barrel of ammo.

"The cunning fox-"

He loads it with a click. The road was wide, surprisingly, and he could tell there were thick cement walls between the crowds and them.

"or will it be..."

Blue eye's boreholes at the orange car- a Spyker C8- 

"the skittering daredevil-"

and with a steady hand, and a tight but painful grip. . . 

"THE RABID RACCOON?"

he shoots,

Chapter Text

A bang echoes in his ears as he goes into overdrive.

Tommy doesn't bother to stop as the crowd gasps, other cheers and few murmur. The blonde doesn't stop as he hears a screech-bang.

He doesn't even consider to stop.

The world felt so far yet so close as adrenaline pumps blood to his body fast. So fast he felt numb and the hand that was previously shot felt so alive.

He felt alive.

Maybe too much.

Because in a blink of an eye he was still a few feet away from what was likely a wrecked Spyke.

And then he was drifting a donut at the end of the finish line.

The crowd roars, "AND THERE YOU HAVE IT FOLKS!" Thunder hollers.

Tommy could distantly hear and see people running up to his window yet his mind could only wander at his beating heart and the numbness of his whole body but his injured hand. It swelled with fire as he could feel more blood seep out the wound.

His body shakes not with fear and anxiety or regret of his decision but with overwhelming joy and euphoria.

"..WINNER IS-!"

He won.

"THE NEWBIE RACER, RED RACCOON!"

The truth and reality settles in and he opens his car to leave. Immediately, people swarm him and before he knew it he was being carried to the stage where he could only assume the two hosts resided in. So many hands had held him yet none could ground him on what the fuck had happened within the last few- however long it's been.

Now that the lights weren't the harsh shade of pink and blue, Tommy could finally see what the host looked like.

Nihachu was wearing a black turtleneck with a white bomber jacket that were nearly off her shoulder if not for her hands raised to stop at her elbows. She also wore shorts and knee high belt boots and a loose braided vibrant pink bun that was tied with a leaf like ornament to end with.

Tommy can't help but admire the way she clapped with grace and innocence. If the various subtle (but clearly taunting) guns hidden in her outfit didn't exist, then perhaps Tommy would see the woman as a kind older sister that he would likely run to for advice.

Thunder was the polar opposite yet a compliment to the other host. The man was probably a show off if the sleeveless dark blue turtleneck said anything as the unsaturated color helped made the tattoos the bald(ish) man had. With a monochrome blue camo pants tucked into black boots.

The giant grin he made, made Tommy think the man was a maniac. He looked chaotic and insane, yet Tommy felt inclined to talk his stories with him.

Was this how all the people of The Pit carried themselves? That's- he might be fucked.

As the crowd gently drops him to the stage, he distantly watched as a Spyker C8 drives in, the front so dented Tommy can't help but bury himself on the damaged couch he was lead to sit in. His heart continues to beat fast as sweat beads down when he sees the orange themed driver walk up to the stage.

The man plops himself down and sighs while Tommy inches away subtly. Oh Prime, what if the guy hated him? What if he had a shit ton of connections and was eyeing him on wether or not he just be psychologically tortured????

He's not being irrational no, fuck you. Dream's rambles had simply become a prominent memory in his brain.

His heart skips a beat as a black and orange glove meets his view, formed as a finger gun, between his middle and forefinger was note.

"GG, that was cool" was written. His brain short circuits at the neat cursive like font of writing.

Tommy fixes his mask further up. He stares at the black tinted motorcycle helmet and simply nods. Too scared to speak and in fear his mask would slide down.

Damn.

The Pit was... pretty chill.

Huh.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

Dream melts to the floor, most of the people in the room he was in were either gone or simply too busy/drunk/high in their own bubbles. George whistles as he ignores Dream's praises to Prime and watches as Tommy continued to fiddle with his watch from the screen.

Despite the odds George expected, the blonde still won.

Unlike Dream or Sapnap, the brunette held the relationship between Tommy and him strictly as something akin to a Master-Student relationship. George merely taught the boy lessons to survive in the ring he was unceremoniously shoved in, all whilst ensuring the blonde would never disobey nor betray the three.

Thus, he thought nothing surprising or interesting would really make him inclined to keep the boy in a protective grasp.

But now? Perhaps he should keep the card in the meanwhile.

Who knows, perhaps the pros truly outweigh the cons in this one, as Dream had once said.

.

. .

. . .

As Dream and George get up (more like George drags Dream up really) to leave, the tension leaves his body and is replaced by relief.

Tommy won. He was safe. Putting aside the tray, he quickly, but silently goes to find the blonde, making sure the teen really would be ok.

. .

.

Wilbur has heard and seen many fights.

Ones with his brothers were his favorites.

Despite the pinknette having an aura akin to the attitude of some medieval royal knight, he knew the merc loved playing dirty. He could list the various amounts of times Techno had brought what is basically a gun to a knife fight.

Wilbur would do an "if I had a nickel for every.." quote if it weren't for the fact he'd have too many nickels that it would make him a liar.

Which he was not.

He was just a good smooth talker.

Hey, maybe playing dirty runs in the family now that he thinks about it.

The thought brings Wilbur back to the memories of his mother. Despite their odd choice of a family business (then again, the family business has been going for generations now) his mother was like a saint in his youthful eyes.

She was kind despite her job description and past.

How Wilbur knew her past was through their story sessions. Since the human brain lacked the ability to be original, the male brunette was quick to connect the dots in her stories.

The love story ones were easy (but he always liked listening to them).

The ones of fantasy were what she had dreamed their life could have been (They're always in some serene forest clearing)

But enough reminiscing, Wilbur tells himself as his own Mercedes-AMG GT rolls near a similar car exactly like his. Only Wilbur's had blue lights and the other had pink ones. Putting the car in park, he opens his door as soon as he notices his brother leaning against his car, one hand holding a cig while the other was occupied with him scrolling his phone.

Wilbur smiles, the plethora of lighthearted insults ready to shoot. But before he could Techno was quick to beat him though, "Say anything insulting about what happened and I won't bother protecting your so-called kid"

He gasps dramatically.

The brunette pouts, feigning distress and regret he pulls on his 'shit-acting' voice and replies "Oh no! whatever I may do?" Like some soft boy character in a visual novel, Wilbur covers his mouth with a closed hand. Giving him a look of innocence. Techno stares dead at him before a sigh leaves his lips.

+1 for Wilbur.

The pinknette bee lines to the back of his own car. A loud zip like sound is heard as a hook is pulled for pink themed vehicle. Wilbur watched in mild fascination as his brother worked to quickly hook his car from his. There was no need to hurry- well it is a race so maybe there is- in his humble opinion.

Yet, he watched as Techno grabs the equipment needed for changing a tire. He worked diligently and efficiently it was so boring.

Luckily, The brunette's attention is pulled as the vague sound of yelling was heard from Techno's car. Walking to the side, he sees the window was open but the door was locked. Being a modified car, Wilbur had only attempted once before giving up when the lock wasn't released when he pulled the button thing. Techno had the key and he was busy so...

Hopping on the side guard, Wilbur peaks at the GPS screen, the blearing colors makes him squint before giving up to half yell-ask to Techno "Whatcha watchin' in the middle of a race?" A jest ready to be poked and proded at the tip of his lips.

"The race, dumbass"

Wilbur pouts.

There goes his point. For what? Siblings points. Or twins. Whatever.

Continuing to keep the younger sibling title to literally no one, Wilbur was ready to continue his plethora of annoying questions when the twin intuition kicked in. There goes another point!

"Red light is the guy one on one,

Niki and Jack are hosts,

Fundy is doing fine, 2nd place I reckon

And no, I did not bet on you pseudo son"

"Well, looks like Red won first" Wilbur absent mindedly muttered. The brunette wasn't one for these things, really, racing only became relevant to him since his Fundy had gotten some odd affinity towards machinery.

He still can't forget how the ginger had stolen, completed and held ransom towards that  new discovery/invention or whatever you call it pseudo gas. Being the good dad he is though, the only reason Fundy had smooth sailing was because Wilbur suggested- (more like gaslight/manipulate in a bar, acting out a dramatic complain in a fake phone call near Fundy) some words and reasons to use.

As well as, y'know. Corrupt police cause of them (read: Wilbur and his cash).

Sigh. So he was so young an he was already following his footsteps. They grow up so f-

Wilbur's brooding is ruined as he's shoved off, nearly falling to the sandy floor if not for Techno, also the near cause of his demise, had grabbed the collar of his shirt last minute. Leading to a small stumble instead of a tumble.

"Ow! You ba-!"

"Shut up" Techno had shushed him as his skull mask was discarded to get a clear view of his GPS screen. Eyes sparkling by the light and how wide they had become in interest? Fascination??

Him??? The cold and indifferent mercenary??

The introverted potato???

His thoughts are not reflected on his face, instead a scoff was made as he asks again "it's just the announcement, dude. What's got you stirred up to push me off" a muttered sorry was relayed back. Although he looked like uncaring, Wilbur was genuinely confuse by this.

He's seen him act with opponents. From destroying that random kid in a potato growing contest to accepting dumb medieval "throwing a glove to fight" duel, Techno would usually end things in a heart beat after his curios thirst was quenched. Which, was pretty damn quick.

The rare few times though? They'd usually end up having a new, useful, connection.

From Quackity of Las Nevadas.

To the favor scamming Rocket duo, Niki and Jack.

Sometimes coming a price- be it they're real names (Rocket duo) or a eye for a life.

Techno pulls out the phone and bee line's back to Wilbur's car- grabbing the latter in the process making a yelp. Before Wilbur could process it, he's shoved at the back seat of the car before it's being roared to life and they're zooming to the hell hole that is unceremoniously named "The Pit".

This seemed like an interesting outing.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

Tommy blinks and suddenly he's in a typical purple and blue LED light club. People are dancing in ways Tommy wished he just died on the way here, doing drugs in colors and shapes he's never seen before, and drinking alcohol.

Speaking of the latter, a shot glass slides to his barren table (more like unconscious as the masked people earlier had passed out after doing pill or whatever when he refused to join) and hits his trophy. He eyes it, not bother to touch it for now since one had was in hellish pain and the other had no gloves on. He looks up, ready to point a gun at whoever when he sees a face he's only been described to by Dream.

"Hey there, Red, care for a drink?"

The infamous slither tongued jester, Quackity of Las Nevadas, said.

Chapter Text

The toothy grin on the man's face doesn't leave as silence stays on Tommy side of the table.

He blinks, "Uhh, you good..?" ..ask? Was he asking??

Oh Prime this is what he gets for choosing a club over Spanish lessons, huh? Prime, fucking dammit!

WHAT DOES HE SAY?

The grin doesn't falter- if anything it grows as Quackity pretty much shoved the random person off the couch to meet the cold floor. If Tommy peaks over, he'd see them wince before cradling the stray bottle to their chest like a pillow. But he doesn't instead he awkwardly tries to scramble his head for the only Spanish words he knew to hopefully say he speaks no Spanish at all.

"Uh- I uh- ... como estas- " no wait that means how are you.

"Oh I'm good! Good good especially that race! Damn kid you know how to stir a crowd up huh?" He yells.

Again, Tommy has zero fucking idea what he was saying. Crowd? The hell did that even mean??

The blonde weighs his options with communication fucking out the window as he doubts the last of his vocabulary in Spanish really meant "i dont speak Spanish".

1)He could drink. The man had offered the supposed alcohol to him right? Perhaps he was here to stir conversation with the winner. Ask what tricks he used, how he did them.

Why he did them (the grazed wound in his hand pulsed).

2) Book it. Fucking run like the wind and don't look back. Blend with the crowd, steal one of the passed out waiters masks and tie his jacket to his waist. All he has to hope is Quackity wasn't some mad jester who hates runners or whatever. Maybe hope he was really really drunk too.

3) Die.

Maybe this is how he goes- and he doesn't mean that depressingly! Oh no, Theseus C. Clemington is in no other pit but the crime circle one.

He simply means that if the golden tooth (he has a golden tooth what???) Looking snake boy had very bad ulterior motives he may as well accept death.

Tommy knew how different crime bosses can get information, after all.

The silence rang far louder as his grin suddenly started turning sour. Sweat beads down Tommy's neck, the idea that it could be another substance scared the living shit out of him.

He speaks more spanish "goddamn, this is fucking hilarious" before setting down his drink with a loud thack making the blonde flinch far too much. Fuck- he showed he was cared oh shit he's going option 3 huh-

His train of thought is shattered as a new guest suddenly came rolling in- literally.

In like- roller blade skates some literal burnt european hipster came in. Dawning a brown patch coat with burns on the rims, his either saviour or maybe mr. Toothy grin's assistant, comes sliding in. One hand on his hip unafraid to reveal his glock 43, while the other hold a cup with a silly straw.

"QUACKITYYYYY!!!" He says enthusiastically as he throws his hands in the air, further revealing a black turtleneck with a locket and a plethora of ammunition. Goggle like glasses hide his eyes nearly half his face, only revealing the manic grin on his pale face.

"WILBAAAAA!!!" Quackity yells back and the sudden change of demeanor has Tommy sinking deeper in his seat. Did.. they know each other? Maybe brothers? Sworn brothers, perhaps, with how thick the hipster's british accent was, it made him doubt a blood tie was there between them.

The two talked in English. The damned fucker knew English! As much as Tommy hated to be a Karen, if you were in a place that spoke a certain speak the goddamn language. Actually. That sounded- yeah Tommy takes those words back.

The two continued speaking, giving Tommy a solid minute to asses the crime boss's appearance.

Dark curls are tucked yet peaked underneath a dark blue beanie, it was so tucked it looked like the man tried to wear a hair net but failed.
A simple loose blouse that seemed to be design specifically for the man and sleek black pants that were supported by suspenders. And finished with gold buckle shoes.

Oh and, of course. A belt with a gun holster. Just. One in the open.

His mind comes back crashing as gay or european hipster swivels his head to Tommy's direction (part of him wonders if he was part dead. Only dead people should be able to turn their head like that). ".. and if it isn't mr. Red! The winner of this party!" He yells... somewhat insultingly? Like the brunnete wanted to just be mean or taunt him. It partly works as he makes Tommy move to the center of the chair and locks him in place with his arm around the blonde's shoulder.

Nervous but also not as he's reminded of his achievement, Tommy was quipped back at the man.

"And if it isn't the clown of this party. What fresh hell hole did you crawl out?"

Silence.

And Tommy swears he's getting dumber by the second.

This guy knew Quackity.

Quackity is a crime boss.

And if someone knew a crime boss they must be equal standing in status of each other.

Which means.

This guy is probably a crime boss too.

Mentally, he thanks Prime for giving him his hell of a life. He's going option three through and through as he thanks for having a kind mother and ask to meet her soon, whilst also asking Her to curse Purpled. Still salty for losing Shroud that one time.

Laughter breaks and Tommy stills.

"HAHAHAHA! TOLD YOU, YOU LOOK LIKE A CLOWN!" Quackity bends over as cackles racks his lungs.

Despite Tommy being the one to insult him, Hipster dude grabs the offered drink to Tommy and decides to assualt the cackling man, who quickly dodges the beverage.

"At least I don't look generic as you!" He yells back a petty insult back, before turning to Tommy.

He smiles at Tommy, making the latter confuse, as he sits more comfortably. "So, Red, what brings you to The Pit?"

And..

That makes the gap between Tommy and Hipster wider.

The manic smile, despite staying the same, suddenly felt creepy. Tommy felt like a rat on a surgery table and Hipster was the doctor. His lungs felt strained and he wonders where Quackity went.

No, Quackity was still there. Just watching.

Tommy wondered what would have happened if he rejected the invite or simply placed himself on the neutral position of  second place. Maybe he should've listened to Dream's warnings. 

He could've been more prepared to talk back. Make a more solid back story, reason and motive and such. Anything.

Anything that didn't lead him to having possibly two crime boss want him at the palm of their hand for simple entertainment.

Just as Tommy was going to speak, to lie like- it did- his life depends on it, another figure (He's giving up on betting it's a savior) comes in.

"Siren,  stop messing with the new guy" a dead tonned voice pops in.

And he takes this chance to move, to turn to his savior and thank Prime for all that is blessed (and curse Purpled) and run-

And it was the Blood God.

Fuck that is all cursed by Prime.

.

.

.

.

.

Purpled rubs the back of his neck as a chill traces down his spine. He looks around before pulling his hand back to rub his ears.

The fuck?  Was someone talking shit about him and cursing him?

...

Probably Tubbo. He did steal his shit to spy on people.

Fixing his tool belt of tiny weapons and actual tools, the teen walks with confidence. The Pit was no alien terrain for him, as much as Tommy had boasted on being the first to be in the infamous crime circle, Purpled had been here before.

Where else does he get his supplies?

It's not that Purpled wasn't aware there was more easy access suppliers. The problem was those fuckers wanted large prices for such quality. Not to mention some had enough of a sober mind and morals to not sell drugs to a kid.

The boy cringed that time one had gone on a ramble about why you shouldn't do drugs. Like dude. Bit stupid?

After cursing those bastards and finding a supplier, he found out The Pit existed.

It was in a time he could only call a hellscape. The place was what people truly expected a world surrounded by crime looked like. Bodies either passed out or dead littered alleys, none caring for anyone to see. It was a dog eat dog type of place.

Then Las Nevadas and The Antartic Gang had become an established faction. Rules- or morals, really were laid. And the once hell hole became one filled with entertainment and danger.

He was just lucky to be here far before the whole invite thing was official, really.

Ah, but what is Purpled doing, narrating his actions to no one in particular? As well as explaining it's history? He'll be the only one to hear them anyways. Plus he's been through The Pit multiple times, surely anything happening happens everyday and shouldn't really be special, right?

He was just lucky to be here far before the whole invite thing was official, really.

Ah, but what is Purpled doing, narrating his actions to no one in particular? He's been through The Pit multiple times, surely anything happening happens everyday and shouldn't really be special, right?

Damn his brain lagged there for a sec.

Anyways, what made Purpled be so focus today?

Simple; fucking Theseus T. Clemington was a racer.

And sure, He's established and accepted the blonde was going shoulders deep into a crime circle for XD's sake, but the fact the boy decided to be a variable for betting and gambling?

Plain stupid.

It took everything in Purpled to not bolt at the blonde, carry him fireman style, and out to the next state over.

A simple dealer would be fine! Or- or an unmasked spy! It's agreed those roles are the most desperate roles for people who were brought to that path by horrible circumstances- and Purpled was damn well aware how shit the blonde's life has been.

And now he's talking to three notorious men in The Pit.

First Quackity, also the boss of his supplier, a crime boss known for flaunting his gang and still lived. Las Nevadas was by far the most controlling for ant gambling affairs and talks in The Pit. And with power comes jealousy, but for Nevadas it was rich and fame came with rage.

No one likes losing after gambling.

Next, was Siren. The Antarctic Gang's strategist and maniac. A man who wasn't afraid to tell people he was the one to teach and point the notorious gang how to do things a portion of the time.

He was also a man rumoured to be getting information via torture. Extreme torture.

And, of course, the enemy he made along the journey. Cause it's not the destination that matters, but the journey ahead. (Fuck to whoever made that dumb quote)

The Blood God.

No intro was needed.

Purpled sits by a bar stool, one sided mirrored type of glasses are worn and the boy quickly acts he's had too much to drink. He lays on the counter, much to his disgust, and dawns the role of a dead sleep drunk man.

He stays still. And watches.

Cause like hell he's letting them kill his best friend  (who's also likely going to curse Purpled for losing their kid/dog).

Chapter Text

As Purpled continues his stake out, Tommy cries his wishes to the Gods as his soul leaves his body at the sigh of the Blood God.

New accessories adorned the man, from what could see in their stand off earlier, The Blood God still had the white top (a sweater) on and the pig-skull mask was switched for a more artistic styled version. The other additions he could see was the black veil that hid the bottom half of his face, any chance of facial emotion completely gone (not like Tommy would be able to read the man if the rumors are true).

A red cape with white puffs exaggerated on the collar dawns his shoulder, further showing how disturbingly muscular the man is. Like, bro? Who has that broad of shoulders?? Black pants that puffed at the edge of his boots and- is that a real fucking sword?

Tommy must've been too busy at awed by how glamorous the man had dressed himself in as Quackity cackles at him in English. "Ohh, is the Blade getting another admirer???" He nudges the Blood g- actually lets go for Blade- jokingly.

The aforementioned mercenary grunts. Prompty ignoring the first two guests, he plops himself at a good enough distance from Tommy. Not too close that made things feel like a threat but close enough Blade could grab him at the first signs of escape.

And then he slides him something.

He squints and-

Is that money??

An entire 2 inch in height stack of bills were sliding his way and Tommy was sure even if it was just single it would still be considered a fortune. Jaw a gape, he looks at it. Then at Blade. Money. Blade. Stack of cash. Drip to the toes man-

Hipster- Siren! It's Siren????- is the first to phase out of the shock.

"?? Blade, what-"

"Car damages." He answers quickly.

Siren makes some confused noises. The man looked like he was gonna go off on a speech to elaborate why the money was.. why, if that made sense, but the merc beat him to it.

"Kid, fought with every thing he got."

He was a good opponent.

Tommy wasn't stupid. He knew how to read between each letter of each word for their pure meanings. The reason was shocking to Tommy.

Wouldn't anyone fight like hell against The Blade?

The man was infamous for being cruel, if the tales Dream has told are true. He held a set of morals and rules that were made for him and himself only.

"He's... complicated"

Dream elaborated once.

"He acts like a man who respects some warrior honor. Fight your enemy to the death and never show mercy."

"But?" Tommy asked. The tone of voice Dream held was wary and confuse. Yet also fascinated and interested.

And a tad bit sadistic.

"He treats people who plays like him with respect."

Tommy gulps. Dreams smiles.

"But also sees them as a far bigger threat than others".

So what was Tommy?

He just got in The Pit! Any threats about him would be simple superstition. At the very least Tommy was expecting to have the tazer gun George gave him have some use- by defending! Defending. - but he's yet to even harm a speck of hair on anyone?!

Places that's connected to The Antartic Gang was far too out of his reach. Dream constantly told him about how he can only walk near his house freely. His school, work place and such were actually connected to T.A.G. so rarely did the boy consider doing any vandals.

Plus, He's far too much of a wuss to kill someone-

But he did shoot THE Blood God.

Shit, was miscommunication made? Tommy prayed that wasn't the case. The idea of defending himself be seen as a "see me as your nemesis!" Message scared the living shit out of him. He truly prayed it wasn't seen as a genuine threat or anything. The blonde just wanted to win for Prime's sake!

"Oy! You still good there kid?"

"Great, you broke him--"

"With what?!"

"Talking to him in spanish for the fun of it!"

Tommy snaps back to the three dangerous people in front of him. Who seemed to be fighting in some comical matter.

Siren and Quackity continued to argue. Occasionally they would do seem to engage that weird slapping fight but would die down before it went serious

The blade on the other hand seemed to have taken this chance to have a private chat with Tommy as he's suddenly grabbed by the arm and dragged to fuck knows where-

Probably his death bed.

"Relax, kid. Ain't killin ya. Waste of time anyway"

Tommy gasps "Fuck you! People would want to kill me, you pig stained fuck!" He yells-

Mentally. Like hell he's getting a leap closer to hell.

The dragging was quickly changed to a brisk walk as Tommy realized they were nearing the area where Tommy was told he could park his ride. Part of him panicked at the thought of it getting destroyed. What if Dream forbid him to going here?

His chance of freedom by the shackles made my good for nothing father's debt would be gone !

And what if he waste his life away from paying that damn debt?

(He'll have the Dream team!-

But they can still be replaced-)

Suddenly they stopped. Tommy looks around and he finds that his car was parked right behind The Blade's car. Actually scratched that. His car was hooked to be connected with the merc's and Tommy did not like that.

Was he going to destroy his car? He hopes not. Dream was rarely ever nice enough to give him a simple gift- hell the last time he was given one it was a gun and Dream had reason Tommy needed one for protection.

Which was dumb considering how much Sapnap had given him an un godly amount of arsenals.

The letting of his arm, Tommy doesn't bother thinking about running away. Instead he rubs it, easing the blood that pooled on the spot. He winced at how it stings a bit but prompts to ignore it and looks at the bulking man.

He opens the door and nonchalantly nods to the passenger seat, hinting Tommy to sit there. Adjusting his face mask before getting in, he stays on guard.

He didn't exactly have a choice anyways on getting away. His car was literally chained to the merc's vehicle. The man was horrifyingly tall and was an adult. As much as he desired to be called a "big man" he knew how to split reality and jokes. The man could probably hunt him like a how humans used to catch their prey back then.

Watching and waiting until their pray stops to rest and then striking.

Tommy shudders at the thought.

Blade gets in, and Tommy can't help but admire the entire car. A simple white LED light shines between the two, giving Tommy the assurance that he was looking at the right colors. The blonde takes notes that the man was a coffeeholic. That or whoever his usual partner (IF he had living partner right now) was one.

The car seats felt fairly old. Scratches and dents showing the passage of time on them, and Tommy can't help but scrunch his nose at whoever the seat he was on was. The headrest support was extended to its limits and Tommy tries to hide but also hint in lowering the thing.

The Blade gives him a nonchalant glance- at least he thinks it was. The man really only gave him a small head turn and part of him doubts the pinknette could seriously see him with it on in that angle.

Taking it as an ok to adjust the headrest, he glanced at the back seat. There's vague.. stains. Dark ones on the seats as well as tears and stitches and holes. Food and minor snacks packs littered around and he could see about 5 or so packs of ..military packed food? As well as water.

Was- has the guy ever been stranded on the car? Or maybe he does stake out he cant help but wonder at the packed food as he quickly sits back down when the car makes a sudden turn. He nearly falls as well as almost catch the vague mutter of an apology.

Silence for a minute and Tommy decides to continue adjusting the headrest, still a bit uncomfortable and worried for his head.

Nothing else were to be taken note and Tommy decides to stare at the outside world that is The Pit

Neon and fluorescent lights dance in a horrible symphony. Everything had it's own aesthetic, from- futuristic purple and blue that shined with lights. Tinted glass that either showed some artistic hint on what remained inside to simply saturated colors to what lied behind closed doors. -to abandoned warehouse style buildings.

Those were the ones that made Tommy's skin crawl. Everything about the cemented buildings looked some apocalyptic. The lack of color made all the blood splatters on them ever more apparent and adding the flickering of the flourescent lights made it all more disturbing.

His worries and thoughts are brushed away though as Blade speaks.

".. don't- .. go near those buildings." He says quietly. Almost nervous. Not in the sense Tommy was a threat but his mere presence disturbed the man in an uncomfortable way.

Tommy tilts his head out of habit in conversations where someone says something he doesn't quite get.

The Blade is quick to catch on the unintended clue. "They're message building. Usually stink with blood and gangs use them to send-" he pauses. Treading lightly to the subject. "-messages to one another."

So death threats? He mentally comments.

Note to self then: don't agree or go to those barren buildings.

Ignoring the tip for now, Tommy can't help but note how the Blade had approached the topic. Did- did he know? Was it obvious he was a teen? He prayed it was not, he'll bet on his life people would severely underestimate him and fucking kill him or something.

The man was HUGE. Maybe he seemed far too fragile to the brute- which he takes great offense and relief. The idea that the man would face him would likely decrease with how scrawny the teen was, he could probably die on his own.

Which he will not! Tommy would like to add. But those thoughts are preferred to be on the Blade's head.

Silence continue. At one point Tommy hears the turn the radio on and with calm and quiet everyting was Tommy couldn't help but let his eyes close.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

Unbeknownst to the two, two other vehicles follows suit descreetly. One with a local of The Pit, shining with a wee bit of green on his car.

And a Purple colored motorbike.

Chapter Text

Heyyyyyyyy it's been... 7 months...

ngl, I lost interest in mcyt for a bit with dream drama...

BUTTTT after getting some tiktok on clingy duo I think I'll write this as I planned it!!

Maybe a few tweaks, i lost my outline and I honestly forgot how to my writing went

also I'm into cod (still family trope hc cuz I cannot escape it) might write lil Dad!Price fics (or not don't wanna get assumef I make nsfw)

also ignore my twitter.... I don't wanna go to twitter anymore cause brain go down and I start crying about my follow count (totally not because I forgot my password /hj)

I'm still busy with life, but I promise I'll try to start writing again

if not, feel free to yoink inspo from this and make yer own, just credit me 🕺💃🕺

that's it ig 🕴️

tiny quick lil update

uh

1. I have a speech thing to plan.
2. my kitten died and one of my cats got stolen
3. our mini transformer box thing went up in flames near our fucking GAS
4. Daddy issues are going brrr again cuz my dad decided to flaunt his ticket to a musical he gets to go while I watch and fight the urge to punch him cause he promised he'd /try/ to get tickets for US to watch

so yeah... the author's curse has started but I do have a good 1.5k word warm up for call me whatever fic and 1k words on the next chapter!

so yippee! getting a hang of my writing again woo!!! (still crying abt 4 :[ )

Chapter Text

Hi... Uhm.. so...

I lost interest in mcyt :/

IM SORRY SORRY. Also sorry to people who forgot they subscribed to this, which I doubt but hi sorry to remind you

Can't believe I wrote this two years ago, still vividly remember the story ending and the whole plot...

But for those interested: here it is!

It was suppose to be like,... Phil hosts a Christmas party right and Sam asked Tommy to be a piano kid there..

Then sbi sees and go oi >:( that's Kristen earing!!

Yada yada, they hunt him down. Manipulate, manipulate turns into ay this kid aint that bad

Tubbo actually works for sbi 🤯

Dream was suppose to be a twist villain, at some point there was gonna be a scene where it looked like he died trying to help Tommy get away from sbi in a car race scene ahh

Then tommy sbi vonding i think...

Oh then Punz kidnaps Tommy and cuz Dream was actually using Tommy!! Plot twist Dream's gang was the one that kidnapped kristen and killed her in the first place actually!! Woah!!!

Anyways, falling resolution, sbi lives happily ever after

Yay

I'm into Spiderman, Batman stuff, mostly crossiver of the two. Cod kinda died in my head and I'm getting back to anime yayy

Will i ever pick this up again and write it for myself? Maybe. Maybe in the sense I'll rewrite it to a different story.. I love the plot but Wilbur and Tommy's dynamic was a big thing I love and considering he's a nibbler... Yeah...

That's it really. Check my new fic maybe idk it's self indulgent. More for me, less pressure to write constantly yada yada

Also ignore the social end notes im too lazy to edit it out. Maybe i will idk

Have a great day, feel free to get inspired (if this fandom is still alive) or not. If it's wilbur or dream centric then no i forbid you but i cant stop you just don't link ur fic with mine at least