Chapter Text
It was supposed to be a joke. A silly little joke that would leave his mind the second the bit ended, but no. Here Tommy was sat staring at his stupid computer contemplating why being called a lesbian felt so fucking good.
Tommy couldn’t be one! He was a man! A man that, although loved women a whole lot, was still a Man! It was impossible for him to be a lesbian. Which was fine. He was fine with that, he promised himself, because not being a straight man was a very scary thought, one Tommy was fine leaving be.
-
Alright, maybe Tommy couldn’t just leave this be, but that was fine because it was just curiosity, just a simple itch that needed to be scratched, Tommy would look at pretty girls and NOT think about how much he wished he looked as soft and pretty as them, and would instead think about being their boyfriends and kissing them, but like a man and woman kissing not him being a girl and kissing another girl.
(If he ignored that annoying warm feeling that filled his chest at the thought of being another girl's girlfriend, Tommy would deny even having the thought.)
Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. Was this creepy? Just staring at images of girls and wishing to be like them. Probably. None of Tommy’s friends talked or even so much as hinted at wishing to be more like the gender they weren’t.
Maybe it was just him. Once again pushed to the sidelines to be the freak of nature, dumb little brother. Everyone saw Tommy as a boy and him staring at a couple of pictures wouldn’t change that.
Well, they are all accepting of Eret. She isn’t just a boy, she’s whatever she wants to be. They can be pretty and soft or jagged and crude, and aren’t judged.
But, that's Eret. Who wouldn’t do that for Eret, she was like mega awesome, one of the coolest sometimes a woman Tommy knew.
Why is this even a conversation? Tommy couldn’t be, won’t, can’t, never will be a girl or a lesbian, and even if it left a gross icky feeling in his tummy and chest Tommy would ignore it, because he was content as a man.
(Tommy was scared to say he hated being a man)
-
Here he was again. A fucking idiot staring at his search bar, trying to find why he felt so fucking gross and ugly and not pretty everytime he looked in the mirror. Tommy hated it and wanted it to stop immediately, it had to stop because he wasn’t anything but a boy
why do i feel gross looking in the mirror
i want to look like a girl
what does it mean that i want to be a girl
being a boy feels wrong
Fuck.
Maybe Tommy was a boy. The icky feeling somewhat lessened at the confession, but dread filled him up fast.
Nevermind, he would forget this. Tommy would stay Tommy, because being anything but Tommy was terrifying.
-
Tommy - that name feels a lot grosser and yucky than before - , was once again in front of his (her?) computer. With a stupidly loud groan he searched for that site that would let him try new pronouns. Pronoun closet or whatever, it didn’t matter he would only be here once, figure out he was wrong and go back to being a boy.
He input the feminine pronouns and his name and hated how happy he felt reading the sentences.
Tommy is a great friend of mine! She helps with my homework a lot.
I wonder what Tommy uses for her hair, she’s really talented.
Oh! I need to give Tommy her book back, she’s going to english next!
He scowled, forcefully pushing down those stupid tears and warm clammy feeling in his throat. Tommy closed his eyes and heaved a sigh before staring at the screen for way too long.
Maybe he- she, yeah she, maybe Tommy could accept being a girl.
For once after leaving these stupid ‘trying to figure out who I really am’ sessions she went to bed feeling a lot better than she had felt in a while.
-
Ok! This was FINE! She was fine. A new name wasn’t that big of a deal. Just, a new thing to be called. Fuck, how did people do this?? She had spent the past two weeks searching for a good name, checking and rechecking the same stupid lists every few hours just to see the same dumb names she saw last time, before finally deciding to just pick one out that like came to her or whatever.
Elizabeth, like the queen? No, no, no, that name didn’t feel right.
Jessica??? Oh, ew, nevermind.
Diana! That could work. . . DianaInnit? Scratch that.
.
..
… Clementine.
That was a pretty name, one she knew she adored already. It felt nice. Clementine. ClementineInnit.
She was Clementine.
-
Nevermind, she takes it back. This sucks, because now that she has a wonderful name that she adores and loves, no one uses it. Which, alright, is her fault but she couldn’t just drop a bomb on her friends, “Hey I’m a girl and my name is Clementine and I’m a lesbian now pog, uhm bye”, she didn’t want them to be like, mad at her for being , well, a her.
Once again, she knows is dumb, Techno loves lesbians, said so himself, Wilbur has whole comps dedicated to him speaking out on trans rights, and Phil probably wouldn’t be chill with them if he himself wasn’t also super accepting, but! Still, maybe they wouldn’t want Clementine, they would probably only want Tommy, which even that was a stretch, because no one wanted Tommy. Fuck, Tommy didn’t want Tommy, which is how she got into this whole fucking mess.
Whatever, she’ll just focus on the call and ignore the stupid feeling of like she was dying inside everytime her psuedo-family called her Tommy or big man or their little brother, all dumb jokes she stupidly made to squash the used to be repressed feelings of needing to be seen as a man 1000% of the time to hide she desperately didn’t want to be a man.
“Toms, you alright? You got all quiet,” Phil said suddenly, snapping Clementine out of her train of thoughts, fuck, she forgot she was in a call.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m a’right, old man!” She snarked back, trying to ignore every single emotion she felt upon hearing the name Toms.
Phil rolled his eyes, or well she assumed he did, Phil did that alot, but she wasn’t looking at him. “Whatever you say, big man.”
Her phone pinged, a private message from Wilbur and Phil, both asking if she was actually ok. Clementine hated how fucking nice they are, stupid dumb stupidly nice Wilbur and Phil. She shot a message back, telling them she was fine, because she was. Perfectly fine. Just, ignore that suffocating feeling in her chest.
Clementine went quiet again, not able to keep up with the conversation, just fiddling with pens and whatever she could get her hands on, bored with everything but scared to move and worry her friends again. Once she heard Phil and Wilbur end their streams she perked up. This was her chance ! She could be called Clementine by her friends!
“You guys ended your streams, yeah?” She asked quickly, scared they would leave while she was quiet.
“Yeah, Toms, weren't you listening, you little gremlin?” Wilbur shot at her teasingly with a small smile on his face.
“O-of course I was ! I’m always listening, just needed to make sure,” she huffed.
“So, do you wanna talk some, Tommy? You were quiet today,” Phil, oh sweet Phil with his dad aura and too kind eyes, and FUCK this was hard.
“U-Uh, yes! Actually! I have something important to say,”
“Weeell? Spit it out child.”
“Shut up, Wilbur!”
“Tommy take your time.”
Ok, deep breathe, she could do this. Clementine was no coward. “Ok, ok, uhm, can you guys like, uh…. callmeClementinebecauseimagirlandthatsmyname.”
“Woah, woah, woah, slow down Toms I couldn’ catch that,' ' Phil said way too easily, like Clem wasn’t pouring her heart out. Another sigh,
“Alright, could you guys, like use she/her pronouns for me and like call me Clementine, but like only in private not on stream or anything, or whatever, yeah.”
Nothing. No one said anything. She looked up and saw them both there, they didn’t leave and she didn’t leave, but they weren’t saying anything. Why weren’t they saying anything? Did they hate her? Oh god, oh fuck, she messed up, they hated her now, fuck fuck fuck fuck.
“N-n-nevermind, you guys don’t have to like do that or anything just uhm, please don’t tell a-anyone, fuck sorry. You can block me. I won’t be mad or anything. I’ll get going now. Sorry. Yeah, sorry bye.” She couldn’t think. Tears blurred her vision but she managed to leave the call.
Clementine messed it all up, fuck two of the people she fucking idolized hated her now because she couldn’t just be Tommy. Couldn’t be their little brother or pseudo son or whatever she was to them.
God she couldn’t breathe, fuck why was her phone making so much noise! The computer was so fucking bright, why did Clementine want to blind herself. Shit shit shit, someone was calling, who was calling why would anyone be calling her Tubbo was asleep, having been forced to by Clem, worried about her friends sleep schedule. Finally, she looked down to see the caller ID.
Wilby is calling….
Her chest was closing in, fuck fuck fuck, it felt like knives were entering her lungs oh god oh god, she can’t breathe. Why was she so fucking hot. Shakily, she pulled off her clothes ignoring how hated the idea of anyone seeing her body, god she could barely see, fuck was she going to die?
Why wouldn’t her fucking phone shut up!! Fuck where was her bed, get in bed, she’ll be safe in bed, bed was safe. Only Clementine existed and she could be however she wanted and right not she just wanted to stop the crushing feeling in her chest.
Clementines head hurt so fucking bad, wait, when did she start crying. Idiot, idiot, idiot, she didn’t deserve to cry, she’s the one that messed everything up. Clementine didn't even realize she was slamming her fists against her head , but it seemed to help her calm the fuck down.
Once she touched her bed she sobbed even more, crawling on and covering herself in her blankets, steadily ignored her phone and how loud it was and she still couldn’t really breathe and her head hurt and just,, ignored everything.
She closed her eyes and hoped to fall asleep.