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He truly didn’t expect for his performance to blow up.
Realistically, he had done everything possible to ensure it got swept under the rug - he began his stream in the middle of the night, he ‘accidentally’ didn’t announce it on any social media, and he cut the stream right at the three-minute mark.
Even if he hadn’t taken all possible repercussions, he still thought people would forget by the next day. He was, after all, only an acrobat - an annoying kid who could bend in half while screaming at a videogame was ultimately still just an annoying kid. His skills would only be appreciated in the right groups. The Twitch and Minecraft communities were not those groups.
He expected next to nothing. A little hate, even.
After he turned off all his electronics to get some late-night training in - both on his upper arms and ability to curb his thoughts - the internet exploded.
***
Apparently, he forgot to take into account the time zone difference. He also forgot that many fans simply didn’t sleep. He also didn’t realize a million different other things - the most glaring being how Twitch works and how the internet works. A thousand mistakes. If he had been in a competition, he would have ushered himself offstage.
The next morning had been eventful, to say the least.
By the time he managed to navigate through the swarms of incessant screeching that now took up the majority of his phone’s storage, he could barely remember what his chat conversations used to look like. Could barely remember what Twitter used to look like.
He brushed it all off - with a quick tweet raving about how he was such a big man, he promptly closed his phone. It was, after all, all in a day’s work. Another stunt for the subs. Another way to keep his engagement.
If he wrote down his friends’ compliments on a locked note in his notes app, no one would know.
He had more important shit to do. Dogs to walk, homework to be done, meals to cook. A stream to prepare for in the evening.
Fuck.
***
“Welcome welcome chat! It’s your boy, TommyInnit, back at it again with another stream!”
He continued to prattle on with his intro, excitedly cutting in about a pigeon he just couldn’t get his mind off of - blessedly, his natural energy came easily as soon as he settled back into his usual set up. When he noticed the chat spamming various flexibility related words, he doubled down on his efforts.
It was a good pigeon, damnit. Very puffy, slightly dumb. Not an acrobat in any way.
“Anyways, enough about that beautiful, beautiful pigeon-” With a sharp grin, he switched the windows on display- “We’re going to be playing some good old Minecraft! I don’t super have a plan, to be honest, but I was thinking of doing a bit of grinding on the Dream SMP before actually practicing for the next Championship. I think my team would appreciate that, even though I’m obviously already the best player ever-”
He logged onto the SMP. There were a few other players logged on, but it remained only a small percentage of the number of people properly whitelisted.
His name shone yellow in the chat. Immediately, a long stream of ‘vc 2’ trailed behind the text.
What the fuck.
“What the fuck,” he voiced, remembering just what his job entailed. He quickly froze his gameplay before switching to Discord in time to see a flood of mentions.
“It looks like everybody wants a piece of the old Big Man,” He joked nervously. Numbly, he realized that more than one person was calling for his presence. “Did I forget something? Oh God, this better not have been some kind of big lore day or some shit. I’m not into roleplay mode yet, I haven’t gotten enough primes!”
With his motormouth falling back on familiar - if not somewhat overused - topics for conversation, he weighed his options. If he ignored it all he would have to play his cards right - turning it into a bit could definitely be entertaining, but too much deflection would raise suspicion. If he joined the call, he would have to confront the nervous pressure building in his chest.
Even with the entire ordeal complete, he just felt so awkward.
His own skills weren’t something he enjoyed bragging about. They were precious, close to his heart - and a bit shameful. The way they felt in his hands - were he to give them physical mass - reminded him of an unwieldy lump of half-molded clay; too unfinished to be presented, too gargantuan and embarrassing to go unnoticed. If anyone responded to his performance with a polite smile and trying-to-be-supportive-but-failing eyes, he knew he would immediately sink into the depths of hell. If anyone gave him a round of applause so enthusiastic it left their hands raw, he knew he would wander the following weeks with a bubbling feeling in his chest. That was just the relationship they had.
He checked his chat - in it, Wilbur had been spamming vaguely threatening messages to cut through the noise.
With an unintentional whistle and a slight wave at the camera, he joined voice call three.
“You see chat, I joined a different voice call than what they’re asking for. They’re never going to figure it out, funniest shit I’ve ever seen-”
The familiar ding of someone joining the call repeated several times over. They overlapped too much for him to determine just who he was working with - instead, he clicked back onto Minecraft and began roaming.
“Tommy!”
“Tommy, oh my god-”
“It’s Tommy, the man, the myth, the legend-”
“Jesus Christ guys!” He shrieked, pulling his headphone away from his ear. “If I wanted to go deaf I would have listened to Wilbur’s singing, not join a fucking voice call-”
“Oh fuck you, you child,” Wilbur piped up, the response to his words a chorus of laughter. Tommy grumbled under his breath and consciously stopped his shoulders from curling in.
On his screen, he half-heartedly maneuvered his character around. “Are you guys all streaming?”
A round of ‘yeps’, followed with a very clear, somewhat scared ‘no’. He laughed loudly, bouncing forward until his hair took up half of his camera.
“God, I don’t know who’s even in the call,” He wheezed, bringing up a hand to shuffle through his hair. “One sec lads, let me check the call before I start taking names and eating brains.”
“What-”
“Eating brains, the kid is a cannibal-”
He froze his gameplay and stared at the blinking icons. Wilbur, Tubbo, Philza, Techno, Fundy, Dream, and Sapnap all stared back.
With a blink, he forced his face to stay neutral. No matter how much panic began crawling through his nerves, he had to stay calm on camera - it was a performer’s duty, after all. The way he still went jittery when bantering with other streamers remained with him and him only.
His instincts and energy rushed forward where his mind stalled.
“Hello!” He finally called out, his voice intent on repeating his tried-and-true formula.
“Hello,” The voices replied. He promptly turned down Discord’s volume.
“Why are you all fucking spamming me? Did I miss something or have you all just finally realized what- what a fucking awesome Big Man I am?”
“No, you didn’t miss anything,” Fundy responded, already sounding too amused for his own good. “The SMP didn’t die, we didn’t have any lore-shattering events.”
“Cool-” Tommy paused- “Then why the fuck are you all calling me?”
Various discontented noises rang in his ears, his own exaggerated frown rising in response. “What, are you too cool for us? Have you grown too big for us, mister two mils?”
“Yes,” He responded bluntly. More laughter and chatter. In all honesty, it had become a bit headache-inducing.
“We just want to talk to you Big Man! You said you didn’t really have a plan, right?” Tubbo asked. With the familiar voice, his mind began to think critically again.
“Well, I don’t but-”
“Teach us how to do silks,” Wilbur interrupted, his voice uncomfortably close to his mic - so close that his quick breaths got easily caught and transferred. “Teach us how to do silks Tommy, it looked fucking sick-”
“Wilbur, that was supposed to come later-”
“Yeah, it looked pretty damn cool. If Wilbur is getting lessons, I’m joining.” Techno’s icon lit up with the dry words.
“You don’t even live anywhere close to him - I do, so I’m getting taught. Suck it furry-”
“You’re going to regret ever being born Wilbur, just you wait-”
More shouting. He felt himself grin as they squabbled, familiar comfort easing into his bones as their conversation stretched on.
“What,” He interrupted, staring into the camera with comically wide eyes. “Did you all just harass me so I could teach you how to do silks?”
“Yes.”
“Well-” Dream paused, letting Tommy finish his laughing fit- “We wanted - well, planned at the last minute, thanks Wilbur - to come in and give you props for your routine. It was super cool, and we want to tell you it’s cool! Like you were really skilled, Tommy, and we thought you should know. And maybe also get you to teach us how to do it.”
“Yup.”
“Agreed.”
Various other affirmations met his ears before Wilbur cleared his throat. “Where’d you even learn how to do that?”
Tommy hummed and just barely saved himself with a water bucket clutch. “Well, I’ve been doing a bunch of different acrobatics for nearly seven years, so. Kind of needed to learn or else I’d get thrown out onto the street, you know-”
“What?” Sapnap shouted, the sudden volume making him flinch. “And you just now decided to show it off?”
“You missed out on so much content,” Techno added.
“I can’t just start doing tricks and shit in the middle of a Minecraft Youtube video,” He groused. A round of disagreements met his statement - with it, the sudden temptation to sink into his well-used chair.
“First off, that would be so cool. Like, really cool. Super unique, all that jazz. Second off, look at your chat if you want a second opinion.”
Reluctantly, his eyes focused on the scrolling wall of text he had been avoiding. All that he could see were words of encouragement and pressure to do something which put his flexibility on display.
“Well, chat is a fucking piece of shit, so-”
“Give the fans what they want Tommy.” Surprisingly, it was Phil who spoke the words of damnation. Despite it all, his skin didn’t crawl with the idea.
“Do you all seriously want me to just do the splits again? What the fuck guys. I’m flexible, not, uh, not some kind of miracle-”
More loud noises as people spoke over each other. He idly wondered how they ever managed to get things done.
“We only got to see you on the fabric things! And it’s really cool, we want to see more. Even if it’s not ground-breaking, it’s still super awesome!”
Tommy sighed, warmth bubbling into a grin. A part of him cursed how soft he could get around Tubbo. As he watched the quick stream of agreement fill up his chat, he weighed his options once again.
It would make good content. Besides, he already let slip the intensity of his second life.
He could do it just once in a while. He didn’t have to outright capitalize on it - he just wouldn’t have to hide it all the time. Maybe that could work.
In his periphery, he caught a particularly detailed comment. An idea formed.
“Fine,” He relented, a pressure lifting off his chest at the blaring sounds of elation. “I’ll do a quick little trick, yeah? Then we get back to actually playing Minecraft.”
“Yes, yes- pull up his stream quick guys, come on-”
With a quick click and a tug at his headset he stood up, mindful of the microphone as he backed away. He ran the logistics of what he had in mind - thankfully, he didn’t have to account for any sort of jean situation - and deliberately shook his legs out in a poor attempt to warm up.
“Are you all ready?” He called out, already knowing he wouldn’t hear their responses. A quick flash of deja vu forced him to stifle a laugh.
“Again, this is just a one-time thing, chat,” He rambled on, unsure as to why he needed to stall. “I’m a Minecraft channel, not an acrobatics channel! That would just- that would just-”
He cut himself off with a deep breath. His nerves settled and calm pulsed through his fingers.
Smoothly, he knelt down and placed his hands on either side of his feet.
He nearly chuckled at what the chat everyone must have been thinking - touching the floor while standing barely compared to what he did the night before. Instead, he controlled his leg up as high at it could go. As his legs settled into a split, he paused and let the pleasant stretch tug at his inner thighs.
With another breath, he slowly lifted his other leg. The distance between his feet never changed.
Pressure began to build against his chest and shoulders, blood already rushing into his face. It didn’t, however, cause him to pause - the strain of supporting all of his weight was a sensation his arms knew far too well. He rested there - legs spread as far as they could go, back and arms tensed straight - just to show his own control with the movement. In all honesty, he had struggled with slow freezes like this. Without any dynamic energy pulling him through, he always managed to fall before he fully completed it.
He counted to three before he began to move. Controlled, almost lazy motions with his legs became the center of his attention. Switches, bent knees, even a middle split - he continued to push his body to keep up the illusion of languid kicks. It felt almost like a dance; yet the only beat he listened to was the frantic pace of his heart as it slowly reached its limit.
Just when he felt it become too much, he disengaged. In a fluid movement, he settled one leg on the ground before the other. He stood up, dusted off his hands, and stumbled back to his chair with a slightly red face.
“What do you think? Did that satisfy your guys’ curiosity?” Tommy asked, slightly breathless. His excited face grinned back at him when he looked into his camera.
Silence.
“That was so fucking sick,” Wilbur whispered, and the stream seemed to reanimate.
When he ended his stream an hour later, the giddy, prideful little feeling he had fought so hard to tame refused to fade.
***
He found himself scrolling through Twitter a few hours later, unable to sleep. It was only supposed to be a quick glance - the last check before he shut down for the day.
On his timeline, an image caught his eye.
Someone had used his character to do a dynamic pose study, the forms sharp and bold as they performed feats only achieved by contortion. There was even a drawing straight from his performance, the bright red one-piece easily distinguishing it from the rest - god, if he looked even half as good he did in the illustration, he may decide to actually rewatch the clip.
If he quietly screenshotted the image and saved it in a folder, no one would know.
***
He found himself in a voice call a few days later, the participants all tired and barely speaking. He was fine with that - it just meant he could more easily focus on his editing.
“You ever planning on doing a Valorant stream, Wilbur?” He said half-heartedly. Even with his focus elsewhere, the call had gotten too quiet for his liking.
“Not really, no. I just don’t think it would be that interesting.”
“Ah, I get that-” He hissed under his breath and furiously tapped control z- “It might be good to branch out and shit. You ever considered doing streams like- like in real life? Like - you know, I don’t know - like doing a stream where you wander around the city trying to find places for your music videos?”
“Oh, that would be cool. Really original,” Tubbo cut in, voice rasping with overuse. He registered a considering hum on the other end.
“I don’t know. I like the concept, but it might be too much work. There’s also a lot of variables you can’t account for if you do that.”
Tommy felt himself nodding in agreement despite not being on camera. “Yeah, I get that. I don’t know. I just thought it might be interesting to smash vlogging and streaming together, you know?”
Phil cut in easily - he sounded the least tired out of all of them, but his naturally quiet disposition accounted for his silence. “It’s a good idea in theory. I wonder if anyone else has tried it.”
“Yeah. I may be pulling a recycled idea out of my ass,” He joked. Wilbur remained oddly silent.
The quiet stretched. He pressed play on some low background music and continued to work.
“You know,” Wilbur started, Tommy jumping slightly at the interruption. “Speaking of real-life live streams - Tommy, why don’t you do some of your acrobatics shit?”
Tommy chuckled apprehensively, the sudden change in topics needing a moment to set in. “Well-” He coughed on his breaking voice- “I don’t have a lot of ideas for that shit. It’s kind of hard to make falling off some rings a dozen times interesting.”
“I think it’s cool,” Tubbo defended.
He brought a hand to his hair and scratched lightly. “I mean sure, it’s cool, but it’s not entertaining. It’s like - if I just pivoted my channel into something solely focused on acrobatics, I would be exchanging entertainment value for like, like, amazement value. It’s just not engaging.”
“Ah.”
They settled back into silence once again. By the time someone spoke again, he had nearly forgotten that he was on a call.
“I would kind of like to try it, actually.”
“Huh?” He responded, attention focusing back onto Wilbur’s voice. His icon blinked dimly in the corner of his eye.
“Acrobatics, I mean,” Wilbur elaborated. “I think it would be a good stream. Because you have a beginner in the mix, it becomes more entertaining for the audience to watch. Plus, you don’t sacrifice any of your channel’s branding.”
He considered it for a moment, fingers drumming against his desk. “Would it be on your channel?”
“Now that’s unfair,” Tubbo replied just as Wilbur responded with a quick “If you want that, yeah.”
Tommy chuckled. “What, you want to get in on the action Tubbo? What about you Philza Minecraft?”
Two quick no’s teased another laugh out of him. For a second, he got enraptured by the short melody his fingers were playing.
“Okay, okay.” He shifted in his seat, suddenly wishing to see his friends’ faces. “Then just Wilbur. I mean, I guess I’m fine with it. I kind of want to see you get fucking wiped out, actually. But yeah, we’d just have to coordinate and shit.”
“I’m free next weekend.”
“Ah.” Suddenly, that felt like too little time. “That- that works. Would you want to try silks or something else?”
“You know other things?” Phil asked, disbelief apparent in his tone. Belatedly, he realized that the second time he would meet Wilbur in person would be to make him fucking suffer.
He focused on Philza’s question instead. “I dabble in a shit ton of things actually. If my studio offers a class on it, I’ve probably done it.”
“Have you done your mom?”
He felt slightly ashamed at his loud, completely sincere laugh. Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one.
“Jesus Christ, we’re all middle schoolers,” Wilbur wheezed, sounding entirely too done. “But like - okay. What would you want to teach Tommy?”
Tommy hummed, considering all his past experience and what a beginner could reasonably work with. Annoyingly, his mind only focused on his most recent, albeit very fun, fixation.
“Well,” He began slowly, relenting to his own logic. “Have you ever heard of aerial lyra?”
***
“Welcome everyone! As you can see, we’re not in our usual office today. Instead, I have a very cool stream-”
“Hello!” Tommy interrupted loudly. Wilbur groaned and the banter began.
The two were at his studio, his own set up transported over to save Wilbur stress. He felt slightly jarred at seeing Wilbur’s aesthetic slammed across his screen - memories of old dreams rose just as quickly as he squashed them.
“- As I was saying, we are going to be learning aerial lyra from our very own TommyInnit who has been kind enough to show us the ropes -”
He shifted on his feet as Wilbur continued, slightly awkward to be on frame. With his entire body in the shot and clad in only leggings and a fitted shirt, he became startlingly aware of just how he moved. A part of him wished to change into his spare pair of sweatpants.
But that would mean leaving Wilbur to be alone in wearing leggings. Which would be hilarious, he realized.
“I’m bored,” He whined comically, uncaring of Wilbur’s interrupted words. “Wilbur, when can we get to the fun shit?”
“When I’m done explaining?” Wilbur said condescendingly, eyebrows raised in a haughty glare. He took that as his cue to kick his shin.
“Ow! What the fuck? I’ve been here for two fucking minutes and you’re assaulting me?”
Tommy threw a sharp grin at the camera before turning and making his way over to the suspended steel hoop. “You don’t ever talk back to your teachers Wilbur, that’s just disrespectful.”
“I’m older than you,” Wilbur huffed, looking torn between staying close to the monitor and rushing to catch up. “I can’t ever be disrespectful to you because you never deserved any respect in the first place.”
“Say you’re sorry or else I’ll refuse to teach you.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” Tommy said seriously, only slightly high on the sensation of being in his domain. “Say you’re sorry.”
Wilbur spluttered, head furiously whipping between the stream and Tommy, hair swinging wildly with the motion. He idly noted that he should get Wilbur a hair tie before he blinded himself on the hoop.
“Say it.”
“I- fine.” Wilbur took a deep breath, eyes trained on the chat. “I’m sorry that I disrespected you. There, happy?”
“Very.” He felt his grin stretch into the territory of somewhat maniacal.
“Anyways!” Wilbur moved on, a clap of his hands signifying the end of a bit. Naturally, Tommy laughed slightly.
“We’re going to be doing Aerial Lyra,” Tommy supplied. “It’s pretty fun and a bit easier to pick up than something like silks. But, I am not a professional - if I see anyone critiquing my form, I’m going to start stabbing shit.”
“In a video game,” Wilbur added quickly. Tommy merely waggled his brows.
“So what you want to do Wilbur-” He placed his hands on the familiar aluminum, grip confident and grounding. “Is you want to start off like this. Now, you can kind of just - fuck, one second - like invert yourself. It’s almost like hanging on a monkey bar. Then you want to just- just- hook your legs and pull yourself up.”
By the time he finished speaking, he had properly positioned his thighs and grip into a more suitable position. He grinned slightly as the hoop spun, the sensation thrilling no matter how many times he did it.
“That’s like the most basic way to get on. In more advanced shit you mount by doing some fun tricks or just pulling yourself up with your arms. That’s mostly because you don’t really sit as the first move - but you’re definitely going to have to start off sitting, you basic beginner bitch. Anyways.”
He efficiently slid off the steel, keeping his grip firm even as he urged the hoop to spin faster.
“When you get more advanced-” He strained his voice louder, knowing his movement likely obstructed it- “You can start doing shit like this.”
And- okay. Maybe he wanted to show off to Wilbur a little bit.
He justified it as inspiration. Everyone needed a goal to work to, right?
Instead of focusing on his intentions, he tensed his muscles and continued in his rotations, the swinging accelerating and accelerating to a point he felt satisfied. He efficiently began to move up, arms straight but grip steadily shifting - his chest burned with a vengeance, but he knew firsthand how smooth it would look. Only when he felt himself at the center of it all, the sudden sensation of becoming one of Michaelangelo’s humans, did he cleanly hook his left leg over and squeeze. With a deep breath, he pressed his right thigh against the ring.
He let go of the hoop. Suddenly, he was upside down.
The hoop slowed in its rotations - almost as if to showcase his position in its entirety. He savored the moment, rotating his arms to touch the ground and float around him; despite his arm’s smooth undulations, he kept his back and legs ramrod straight. Just as the hoop nearly slowed to a stop, he brought his hands back up.
The spinning sped up in time with his adrenaline.
He instinctively let his legs disengage, allowing them to straddle down in a comfortable middle split. The pace quickened, his grin growing wilder by the second; he let his body sway where it wanted, let it move into the transitionary poses it preferred. He let his back arch and go straight, let his shoulders twist and flow - of course, his feet remained flexed at all times.
When he finally found himself with all necessary points of contact, he nearly burst into a cheer.
His surroundings blurred around him, colors melding into one. He could only focus on the hoop against his ankle, one hand gripping high above while the other copied near the bottom.
He took a steadying breath and brought his leg to the other side. With barely any support against his legs, he strained his chest and pulled his legs into a perfect line.
It hurt to stay in the position for long - his upper body screamed at the pain, the force needed to brace blurring his vision - but he pushed himself to freeze as the momentum slowed down. He counted one second, then two, then three.
Just before his strength failed him and he fell into the mats below, he disengaged and transitioned into a resting position. With a sway, he forced the hoop to begin spinning again.
After a few more light poses, his feet finally met the ground.
Breathless, he turned to Wilbur, hands continuing to grip the aluminum in an attempt to hold himself up. He wheezed before pulling his face into a wicked grin.
“But first, you’ll have to learn how to properly mount.”
Silence hung in the air for a few moments, Wilbur staring at him with uncomprehending eyes. His confidence slightly faded. He quickly glanced at the monitor, registering the furious speed at which the chat was zooming by.
“That,” Wilbur finally said, awestruck. “Was way too fucking cool.”
Just like that, the tension snapped. Tommy laughed easily, slightly leaning against the hoop as he did - Wilbur joined in a few moments after, his shocked stiff composure vanishing. He quickly brought out a hand, ushering Wilbur to come closer.
“Okay, okay, before we get too far ahead of ourselves-” He wheezed slightly, cutting himself off- “Here, grab the hoop just like I did, and let yourself hang-”
Wilbur did as he was told. Tommy stood off to the side, hands hovering awkwardly in the air.
“- Good job, that was step one. Now just- just like, bring your legs to your chest. Yeah, there we go, now bring them over, yup, over-”
He had to restrain himself from adjusting Wilbur manually - his crooked legs and shaking arms left him cringing internally.
“Tommy, I don’t think this is working out- this is so unbalanced, what the fuck-”
“It’s fine! You’re fine!” He placated hurriedly, watching the hoop shake even harder. “You just have to bend your legs and like- like nestle the hoop into the back of your knees. Yes! Perfect! Now just reposition your grip to the middle of the- okay, you can just scoot it up, that’s fine-”
Wilbur froze as the hoop tipped and shook precariously, hanging like a desperate prisoner with his knees firmly bent around the metal.
“Ass up, Wilbur!” He barked quickly, panic bringing his arms up in an attempt to correct. “Ass up! It’s tipping because you’re hanging like- shift so it’s not at your knees, it should be on your thighs-”
He placed a stabilizing hand on the ring just in time for Wilbur to assume the proper position. Wilbur took a few measured breaths as the hoop stilled - in an instant, he was staring him down with terrified eyes.
“This stream is fucking canceled,” Wilbur shouted, eyes so wide it nearly swallowed his face. Tommy barely restrained a snort.
“You’re giving up already?”
“I’m not giving up, I’m saving myself,” Wilbur shrieked, knuckles going white against the hoop. “This shit is terrifying, what the fuck- no, no, I’m getting off right now-”
Just as Wilbur began to slide off, Tommy swayed the hoop slightly with a devilish grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to go for a spin?”
“No, I don’t want a fucking spin, are you fucking insane-”
Tommy grinned so hard it nearly broke his face. With a wave, he pushed the hoop firmly and watched the momentum build.
“What the fuck! What the fuck! Get me off get me off get me off-”
“So, chat.” Tommy turned back to the monitor, firmly ignoring the screaming at his back. “How has your day been?”
“Oh fuck you-”
Needless to say, they didn’t touch the lyra after that.
***
He expected a familiar discontent to stretch against his skin, a familiar dissatisfied shame to coat his mouth and stifle his words. He expected himself to cringe at the new clips of his other side. He expected himself to feel like a kid showing off a crude drawing to thousands of overly-polite adults.
Instead - as he scrolled through the sea of praise and excitement and work based on what he had shown - he felt something he never truly felt before.
He felt good. About his ability, about his skills.
About his performance.
If he had to force away many unwanted thoughts while staring at himself, no one would know.
As he finally commented on some of his friends’ urging for a collaboration, he was okay with that.