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His chat is on their whole “gayinnit” spamming again, and while Tommy isn’t offended, he always feels the need to make an argument against it, because he. Likes. Women. And he needs the entire world to be aware of that fact. Even though they probably are, but it’s his duty to restate it once more.
“I date women all the time. Guys, I’ve made it so immensely clear,” he says, and then looks on the bottom left corner of his Minecraft tab.
He hits the T button on his keyboard to type a message.
TommyInnit: TUBBOTubbo: what?
TommyInnit: I AM NOT GAY!
He grins. “There we go, chat. I love women.”
He glances over at his second monitor momentarily, and it just so happens that someone sent a donation at that exact second, stating “can’t believe Tommy’s a lesbian”, and he stops in his tracks at that statement.
“Wait.” He furrows his brows, thinking.
He likes women, which makes him…? What’s the term?
He’s straight. Heterosexual. He likes women, and he’s the opposite gender. So he’s very much straight.
Huh. Weird to have to say that one aloud.
He’s.
Hold on. Wait…?
“Let’s think about this one,” he says to his stream, because he’s aware he’s been silent for quite a while.
Okay, actually maybe now is not the time. He’s supposed to be playing Minecraft.
“Nevermind, let’s not think about this one,” he overrides, laughing for good measure. “We’re live in front of 58 thousand people.”
Yeah, this is really not the time, so he’ll drop the topic.
Chat moves on quickly after that.
Has he ever wanted anything at all?
He’s a thriving Minecraft Youtuber and Twitch streamer, and he’s achieved so much for his age. He’s reached a level of popularity that so many others can only ever dream of.
He’s made so many friends and fostered a community and fandom from the content he creates. He has amazing friends he’s met through the Dream SMP. He’s doing well in college.
He’s good.
Yeah. His life is going really well. He’s living the dream, truly.
So…
Yeah?
That’s all there is to it, right? He’s refined his internet persona to be Big Man Tommy. He wears the same red and white baseball tee. He makes inappropriate jokes. He swears like a sailor.
That’s the brand he’s created for himself, and he’s quite frankly proud of it.
But of course, it’s mostly a persona, and he’s not all that chaotic in his regular life. It reflects parts of him, but not the whole.
So, who is he?
He’s… well, he’s Tommy. How is he supposed to explain that?
There’s not much more to it.
Except there is. Well. Ugh.
He doesn’t know. The person he is and the person people perceive are not the same.
There are some things only he knows, but that’s how it is for everyone. There are some things you keep to yourself only.
He thinks.
A lot. About everything and nothing at all. He spends hours upon hours in his room sitting down in front of a PC that isn’t turned on, and he thinks.
Does he know what’s wrong? Hidden from plain sight - a concept intangible and purely conceptual - but deep down, does he know what it is?
He wants to say no, that he doesn’t, because there’s nothing wrong. Nothing at all.
But it wouldn’t be the truth, and even if the world doesn’t need to know, he would know. He feels like shit and he can hide it, but the glaring, blatant reality still infiltrates his every thought.
Either he keeps ignoring it like he’s done all his life, or he addresses it. And shedding light to it would take courage - so much more courage than if he pushes it down in hopes of forgetting it. It’s a low hum in the background of his life, a steady distraction.
He leans back against his chair, closes his eyes, and wonders how much longer he can go on like this. It’s almost fun, trying to see how much he can handle before everything accumulates and the day comes that he needs to do something about it.
Today, he’ll make a compromise with himself.
80%.
If, or when, he’s 80% sure, that’ll be enough.
If he’s at least 80% certain about this, he’ll address it.
When or how, he doesn’t know yet, but he’ll figure it out when the time comes. And until then, he’ll wait.
56.0
The girl who sits next to him in one of his college courses asks him if she can do his hair.
He glances up from his laptop screen and pulls the one earbud he has in out of his ear so she has his full attention.
As much as he makes jokes about women all the time when he’s being perceived by the internet, he’s actually not that tactless on a daily basis. He makes acquaintances at college all the time, and he talks to her occasionally about the class material and trivial topics since they sit beside one another.
She has a variety pack of hairclips in her hand, and she holds them out to him. “I’m bored, and I have all of these. Your hair’s all nice and fluffy; I think these would look good on you. But only if you want to, of course.”
“Oh, um,” Tommy says, pushing his laptop to the side. There’s some quiet chatting in the room between some other students as well, but everyone is mostly working on their own stuff. “Sure, those are cute.”
The girl smiles at him and picks out a watermelon barrette. “I’ve got way too many of these fruit ones.”
Tommy laughs. “That’s okay. The pineapple one is pretty cool,” he tells her. “High fashion.”
“Oh really?” she asks. “You can take the strawberry too. Actually - let me figure out a way to assort all the fruits in your hair.”
Tommy remains seated as she stands up to reach up to his hair, finding a placement for the barrettes and clipping them into his blond strands. They’re pinned loosely because that’s the only way she can do it, considering how fluffy his hair is.
When she’s finished, she takes her phone out of her pocket and opens up her camera app to the front-facing view so Tommy can see his own reflection.
“Sorry I couldn’t make them look neat, but it’s not like you part your hair in one direction or the other, so I reckon this was the best idea,” she tells him. “It kinda scattered randomly. Like confetti.”
He smiles, observing his own image. The clips are bright and colorful, adding a pretty touch to his appearance.
It’s really nice. He likes it a lot. They’d probably all fall off if he starts running or something, but y’know. Style over practicality.
“It looks really good,” Tommy says. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome!” she responds, taking a step back to admire her work. “You can keep those if you want. I have tons of hair accessories, and it’s no issue to me.”
Tommy hesitates. These are definitely pretty, but would he wear them again? He doesn’t really need them, and this was all for fun.
“Are you sure?” he asks. “I don’t want to take these if you use -”
“No, no. I don’t mind,” she encourages. “These cost a few cents max. And when I say I have a lot of accessories, I mean it. Keep them.”
“Oh,” Tommy says. He’s not about to say no. That’d be rude. So, voice soft and barely above a whisper, he says the one thing he can: “Thank you.”
He leaves his college campus that day clutching the barrettes close to his chest, safe within the tight grasp of his hands. As the late-afternoon sunlight and cool breeze hit his face, he holds the dainty, small gifts near his heart, feeling happy in a way that transcends words.
62.2
He manages to worm his way into Wilbur’s platonic Love or Host. Of course, he has his way of interrupting just about anything he’d like.
Wilbur doesn’t mind, and neither do the participants. It’s all for entertainment anyway.
Tommy’s loud and abrasive, cracking jokes every now and then, creating banter with the others. They all laugh, having fun within the chaos.
When it’s not his turn to speak, however, he looks around at everybody’s camera screens in the video call. Checking for facial expressions, observing what’s happening in the background. All these Love or Host sessions always take up hours at a time, so they can get pretty boring. It’s also really late at night for him and he’s tired.
Kacey asks Wilbur if he wants to join the E-girl rejects or something like that, but Tommy tunes it out. He’s busy staring at the stuffed animal behind Snifferish. Her room has some cute decor.
Minx starts rambling about something, and her voice is annoyingly loud. She’s speaking too fast for him to catch what she’s saying. So he DMs Wilbur about that.
And then Wilbur, the traitor, tells everyone about it.
And Minx asks Tommy how his day is going, to which Tommy pretends he still can’t tell what she’s saying due to her accent.
And then Austin comes in, making some remark about how Tommy proclaimed that there was nobody better than him at speaking to women, and yet he’s asking for love advice. And then Wilbur says he’s the worst at speaking to women.
And well.
Tommy doesn't know how to respond to that, but he quickly makes up some excuse about how some people speak too fast to be understood, alluding to Minx.
They let him off the hook after that, but even as a joke, Austin and Wilbur’s words still bug him.
62.4
He’s doing a media share stream with Tubbo when the video pops up. A clip that’s a few seconds long shows up on his screen, and it’s of him saying “go tell Fundy I like men”.
He stammers a bit, still processing that after being distracted for the beginning of it because he was in the middle of speaking to Tubbo. It’s taken out of context from an old stream, intended to be a funny clip, but he still makes a clarification before his chat can start laughing about it.
“Wait… no no no no, I don’t. I don’t like men,” he says. “I like girls! Hate men.”
Tubbo nods along to his words. Tommy turns his spinning chair to the side to face him.
What he says next is impulsive. It’s so fucking impulsive.
“I get lesbians.”
Tubbo awkwardly gives him a questioning look.
Tommy pauses. “This isn’t a joke - I love ‘em, and I understand them.”
Tubbo puts his face in his hands, and that should probably be a sign for Tommy to stop talking, but he doesn’t, because he has so much he still needs to say. There’s so much only he knows, and he feels the need to convey it.
“No jokes,” Tubbo says, looking up at him, giving an embarrassed, apologetic smile to the camera.
“It’s not a joke!” Tommy reiterates. “I get it. Like, I resonate, y’know?”
It sounds worse the more he says it. It’s really weirdchamp. Hundreds of thousands of people are watching him right now, and this is the kind of stuff he chooses to say.
“Uh huh,” Tubbo says, looking to the side, unenthusiastic.
“I feel - y’know, I don’t get a lot of people, but I'm on the same wavelength as them,” Tommy says in conclusion. “We’ve got quite a clear thing in common and I respect that.”
“Mhm,” Tubbo responds halfheartedly.
A new media share pops up, and it’s of Jack Manifold dancing.
Tommy’s never been more grateful for an interruption.
62.5
He feels weird afterwards. Annoyed with himself. Distracted. Unfocused on what’s in front of him. His mother offers him and Tubbo some assorted fruits as a snack after their stream and he absentmindedly accepts a bowl just to stare at it for a few minutes until Tubbo snaps his fingers in front of his face.
Tommy blinks and glances upwards. “Huh?”
Tubbo gives him a weird look. “Are you good?”
“Um. Yeah,” Tommy states.
Tubbo doesn’t look convinced. He sighs. “Look, I don’t know what’s wrong, but you’re acting a little off.”
Tommy grabs a grape from his fruit bowl, shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry about me.”
“Dude, you can tell me anything. We’re not live in front of our Twitch audience anymore,” Tubbo tells him. “Speaking of that, is this due to something that happened while streaming?” Tubbo pauses to consider, and Tommy can see it in his face the moment he pinpoints the instance. “Is this due to -”
“Don’t say it,” Tommy interjects. “Please.”
He doesn’t think he can handle Tubbo mentioning anything about it right now, when he has so many regrets about it. He wishes he never made the comment. He wishes he didn’t keep talking about it afterwards and adding on to it.
“Okay,” Tubbo agrees. “But um… I’m sorry I was acting like you were saying something super weird. Which, I mean… it - okay, I don’t know. But if you want to talk about it? Just let me know? But yeah, sorry for making you feel bad?”
“No, no, it’s not that,” Tommy says. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a pretty weird thing for me to say. Forget I mentioned it in the first place.”
He so desperately wants this conversation to end. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.
“Uh, sure, okay,” Tubbo says, reading the room and switching the topic. “So, did you get that new game on your Switch you’ve been meaning to buy?”
“Oh, that,” Tommy looks around at his desk for the console. “Yeah, actually! Hold on, let me find the cartridge and I’ll show you the progress I made. I spent so many hours playing last weekend.”
“Oh, really?” Tubbo says. “Pulling a Dream and speedrunning this?”
Tommy laughs. “Yeah, yeah. He’s onto something. Speedrunning makes everything a thousand times better.”
And just like that, they settle into comfortable familiarity once more, and Tommy feels okay again.
66.0
Tubbo films a shopping vlog for his Youtube channel, and Tommy and Jack are forcefully dragged along for the ride.
They mess around in some stores, laughing at random things and poking fun at basically everything they can for the content. Because the subscribers love the comedy.
They end up in a wig store. How profitable such a place is? Tommy doesn't know, but he doesn’t suppose people buy wigs that often. However, he and Tubbo pressure Jack to purchase one, and that’s exactly what happens.
He’s busy at the register while Tommy and Tubbo are waiting outside, making jokes about how it’s going to look ridiculous on him, how he’ll no longer be bald, and how he’ll look like a woman.
When he finally meets up with them, donning a bright blue bob-cut, Tubbo bursts into laughter while Tommy stares in surprise.
They pressure Jack to walk up ahead while Tubbo films it.
The three of them speedwalk past the other people currently at the mall.
“Look at him, man. He pulls it off, doesn’t he?” Tommy asks, because the wig actually doesn't look bad on Jack. Of course, it doesn’t look professional or like anything he’d wear unironically, but even so, it looks quite… good.
“He’s so magic,” Tubbo says.
“He’s so confident,” Tommy adds.
Jack turns to face the camera. “I look good, I know I do.”
“Yeah, you look so damn good, Jack,” Tommy confirms, laughing.
They’re drawing attention from strangers nearby, but it’s less awkward when you’re joking around with your friends.
“How are you doing this?” Tommy asks.
Jack laughs. “It makes me feel more confident - I think I should’ve always had hair.
Tubbo says something about adjusting the wig, and he goes to pull the fringe up so it looks even more crooked than it did before.
When they head into a clothing store, Jack takes the wig off, and that’s the end of that bit.
It was funny as a joke, but Tommy also thinks it was kind of cool. He knows that the wig was a parody of women’s hairstyles, but… it was still really cool. It genuinely was.
70.5
A clip channel shows up in his Youtube recommendations, and the video is of Phil receiving a donation from someone who recently came out as trans.
They ask for a farewell from the boys, and Phil laughs, saying something about how he usually gets requests for welcoming people to the boys, not the other way around.
He then gives the donator a salute before moving on with his gameplay.
Tommy stares at the screen long after the video ends and a random new one begins due to autoplay, and he has to press the back button to return to it.
He scrolls down to the comments and sees tons of support from members of the trans community and allies. He’s really glad that there are so many people out there who are so welcoming and accepting. He smiles at the positivity he sees.
The Minecraft community is a safe place for everybody, and he’s never been more proud to be part of it.
73.3
These fanmade quizzes are pretty silly, and the only reason he’s streaming himself answering the questions is because he’s interested in seeing what kinds of things the creators type in them.
Wilbur’s in the call with him so he has company. The current quiz they’re working their way through is called “What would TommyInnit think of you?”, so Tommy reckons it’ll be easy to get a good outcome, considering that he is literally TommyInnit himself.
There’s a question about introvert vs. extrovert, and then one that asks him what his favorite color is. He mispronounces ambivert and Wilbur laughs at him for it.
Then, they get to a question that asks for his opinions on women.
He reads off the first answer choice, finding it funny. “They’re attractive, but annoying.”
He looks at the third choice in the middle that reads “best gender”. And yeah, with how much he talks about women, why would he not choose that?
He’s about to click it when the final choice catches his eye, which reads “I am a woman”, and he hovers his mouse over that for a moment, going still.
Wilbur’s voice is in the background, and he’s commenting on the first choice and why it exists.
“Pfft, fucking hell,” he says lightheartedly. “This is what I told you - this is why you gotta stop doing those bits man. People take it out of context.”
“Listen, I - I personally -” Tommy says, trying to reply, but he’s distracted by the four words his cursor is placed over. He quickly moves his mouse away from it and clicks on the “best gender” option so they can move onto the next question and he won’t have to think about this anymore.
Wilbur chuckles into his microphone and Tommy begins reading the next question aloud, focusing on that instead, so he can take his mind off the previous one.
76.2
He stumbles upon one of Niki’s tweets. It’s a post with two pictures of her taken one after the other, with her in slightly different poses.
She cut her hair slightly shorter for a charity stream recently, which Tommy watched a little bit of. She also re-dyed it to make it a bright and more vibrant pink hue, and she looks absolutely stunning.
She looks stunning with any outfit and hair color, really. She takes nice photos of herself, whereas Tommy’s pictures are mostly made to look bad on purpose. For the humor of it.
And also because he doesn’t think he can necessarily look good even if he tried. So he doesn’t try.
But Niki always looks great, in person and in pictures. Candid or posed for. She’s ethereal in a way Tommy can only wish to be.
79.7
He’s taking a pack of Coca Cola out of the shelves of one of Tesco’s grocery aisles when he considers why.
Why is he buying soda?
Because he always does it? Because it’s part of his routine?
Well, yes, but it’s not all that.
It’s simply… because he wants to.
And isn’t that reason enough?
If something makes him happy, isn’t that more than enough of a reason to do it? No matter what the thing in question is?
Regardless of what anyone else thinks, his own opinions speak louder. If he feels a certain way, he’ll acknowledge it. He deserves good things. He deserves respect from himself, first and foremost.
80.4
Eighty percent. There’s no definite a-ha moment on the day of. Things like these don’t come suddenly, and this has been in the making for a long, long time.
He wakes up, has breakfast, and checks Twitter for a bit. He does the chores he’s been putting off for the past few days and that his mother has kept reminding him about.
His routine is nothing out of the ordinary. He takes care of everything he needs to before he can have free time to himself and use the internet.
When starts up his computer, however, he doesn’t head onto Discord or any of his social media. Instead, he opens his browser and loads Google up.
There’s a blinking cursor on the empty search bar. He has access to all the information he could possibly want.
So what does he want?
His fingers hover over his keyboard.
Baby steps, he reminds himself. Take it slow. One thing at a time.
He types in the phrase “trans” and hits the enter button.
An animation shows up. Google’s easter egg for pride month: confetti and flags falling down the screen over the search results. It clears up within a few seconds after the animation ends.
Trans.
It’s a term well-known enough to warrant one of Google’s definition boxes and knowledge panels to show up as the first things in sight.
adjective
denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex.
Okay. That’s simple enough to understand, but Tommy already knew the definition.
He scrolls down for websites and clicks on a random one.
There’s the formal definition of gender dysphoria listed on there, and he reads it in anticipation. It doesn’t take a genius to guess the general things it’s going to say, but still, reading the actual paragraph throws him in for a loop.
The things it lists are quite… reminiscent. Of his own experience. Of his own life.
It’s so weird to see this being put into words.
He squints at the text, considering everything that’s written down.
It’s one thing to know about and support the LGBTQ+ community, but it’s something else entirely to be the person here on Google, searching up information for personal use. It’s just. Not a situation he would’ve ever imagined himself in, because surely, he was always the ally, right? The person watching from the sidelines, not the one going through the experience.
What he’s doing right now says otherwise.
And he keeps going, scouring more of the internet.
He looks through more websites, he reads the DSM 5. He looks at Reddit posts and Twitter. He looks at celebrities who are trans, and thinks about Eret.
There comes a point where he can’t do much more until he acknowledges his own thoughts and feelings.
He’s not going to look into all the specifics of being trans if he’s cis.
So.
Is he trans?
He can pretend to be confused about it all he wants, but…
He knows what the answer is.
He’s known for a long time.
Have you ever wanted anything at all, Tommy?
83.1
She. Her.
The words sound unfamiliar in her head, but they sound right.
She stares up at the ceiling, her back flat against her mattress. It’s nearly pitch dark in the room, and she can barely see the outline of her ceiling light, but she knows it’s there.
She wonders if tomorrow anyone will be able to tell that she changed. That she made a major breakthrough. An epiphany. Will they sense anything different at all?
Regardless of what the answer is, however, she did this for herself, first and foremost.
She took this first step today for herself. And that’s all that matters.
84.3
Ever since she’s been able to make a career out of being a content creator, she’s had her own money to spend. Her parents are more than happy to pay for anything she’d like if she asks for it, but this time, she’ll have to go shopping alone.
She tosses a random hoodie and some jeans on, and has breakfast before heading out. It’s a Friday and she has no urgent responsibilities, so she has the entire day to herself. She heads to her local thrift store with nothing but her phone, wallet, and an enthusiasm she’s never felt before towards getting new clothing.
It’s quite fun. Her heart is beating quickly in her chest as she takes a look at the overalls and sweaters, knowing that she can get anything she wants. Not that she couldn’t before, but she feels differently about the matter now.
There’s a soft yellow pullover sweater she takes off a rack. It’s really fluffy and she likes it a lot. It would go well with the vintage overalls she sees in the nearby section, so she takes it.
She goes around collecting random garments she finds cute. She grabs a striped T-shirt here, a pair of shorts there. There’s a lot of cool items.
She stops by the jewelry section and well. This is unknown territory. She’s never really worn accessories, but it’s never too late to start doing so.
She picks up a beaded bracelet and slips it on, the pastel colors matched together nicely with one another. She smiles at it. It’d be a nice addition to spice up her outfit.
So she decides she’ll buy it, along with a few rings.
86.8
Names. She needs to start thinking about them, if she intends on getting a new one.
She would ask her parents what names they’d thought of before they knew her gender and before she was born, but she’s not so sure she wants to know. Yeah, they’re her parents, but she doesn’t want to feel obligated to use one of their suggestions just because they came up with it.
She wants to do this on her own terms, so she won’t ask. She goes online and looks at a list of feminine names instead.
Some are nice, but they’re all plain. They don’t make her feel a certain way. She certainly doesn’t want to modify a name’s spelling just so it can look unique, nor does she want to use something super obscure.
So what can she do?
Has she ever liked a name at all? Has she ever heard someone else’s name and thought it was nice?
She has. But… it’s due to her admiring the person rather than the name itself. She associates the name with its owner.
Also.
She thinks it’d be weird if she took Niki’s name.
So that’s out of the question.
Is there truly no name she inherently likes, then?
Well, that’s alright, she’s sure there’ll be something that catches her eye if she searches for long enough. And it could be something with a hidden meaning, like Genesis or Nova. Because, y’know… Genesis means origin, and Nova means new. And she’s coming out with a brand new identity, so it’d be pretty fitting.
She’s about to head back onto Google to keep looking, but something stops her.
Huh. These ideas are cool and all, but she can’t help but find it odd that she doesn’t have names she liked beforehand.
Is she sure?
She might not be able to call it to mind immediately, but there has to be something. Like…
Her birth month, maybe? April?
April’s a cool name. She likes the idea of names that are also nouns. There’s no arbitrary definition or anything, because it means something in itself, formatted in a name or not. Like… Amber. Or Hope. Or Melody, Rosemary, Violet.
Because at least with something like that, she won’t end up like all those people who are named Leah, meaning weary, or Mallory, meaning unlucky. Not to say that a name defines a person, but that must suck nonetheless.
She’s digressed too far. Time to go back to what she was doing. She poises her hands over her keyboard, about to type a fresh search, but something stops her. Again.
There’s something she’s forgetting. There’s a memory that hasn’t left her just yet.
What is it?
It was something similar to her situation right now. She brainstormed names at one point, but when and why?
What name did she have to give someone else?
Or something else?
She named her dogs. A long time ago. That was it.
Right?
No. She doesn’t think so.
That can’t be it, can it?
It wasn’t that long ago, it was relatively recent. She was streaming and she -
What did she do?
She doesn’t remember who she was speaking to on a Discord call, but she might’ve - she was messing around on Minecraft and she found - no, she wanted -
- Clementine. She wanted a moth so she could name it Clementine.
Fuck yeah. That was what she was looking for.
Clementine. It’s three syllables long and it's also the name of a fruit. It flows nicely. Not too lengthy, nor difficult to pronounce. She’s quite fond of it.
Clementine.
She smiles. Her name’s Clementine.
89.5
“Mum! Dad!” she yells, bolting down the stairs and into the kitchen, impatient to get their opinions on it.
“Yeah?” her mother calls out, her voice coming from the living room.
“Get over here!” she responds, making a dramatic show of half launching and half hauling herself onto the counter where they keep the fruits. She slides across the marble and snatches the bag of clementines.
It’s unopened, so she has to tear the mesh to take one out.
Her parents enter the kitchen, unfazed by her shenanigans.
“What are you doing?” her father questions.
She presents the clementine in her cupped hands. “What do you think of this?”
“A mandarin?” her mother asks.
Ah. Right. There are different names for it. Obviously, her parents aren’t cool enough to call it a clementine.
“Uh. Well yes. But no,” she says. “What do you think of clementines?”
“Same difference?” her father says, confused. “But they’re good.”
“How about ‘Clementine’ used as a name?” she continues.
“I think it’s nice,” her mother replies.
“Okay! Thanks!” she tells them, dashing out of the kitchen while grinning like a dumbass, but she doesn’t care. She feels ecstatic.
“Wait, is that all?” she hears her father call out to her as she’s sprinting up the stairs. “What did you need our opinions for?”
“You’ll find out later!” she shouts back. “Thanks for the help!”
91.6
She’s heading to the Dream SMP Discord the same question she asked her parents.
She barges in a voice channel with a few other people already in there, and it’s under one of the channels for hanging out, so she knows they’re not streaming or filming.
“Oh, hey Tommy,” Ranboo says when she enters.
“Ranboo! Hello, hello,” she greets. “And hi Tubbo, Phil, and Big Q. I need to send something to you all; check the text channel.”
She heads onto Google and hastily finds a stock image of a clementine so she can copy and paste it onto Discord.
“What do you think of that?” she questions cryptically.
“My sister eats like ten of those in a day,” Tubbo says. “To me, they’re good, but not that good.”
“I’ve never eaten a tangerine,” Ranboo states.
Quackity gasps. “Seriously? How is that possible?”
Ranboo makes a noncommittal hum.
“Dude, you are so uncultured,” Quackity tells him. “I can’t believe this.”
“I’ve had oranges before, though,” Ranboo offers as an apology. “And those are good.”
“But tangerines are better,” Phil says. “Much, much better, mate. You’ve been missing out these seventeen years of your life.”
“Meh,” Ranboo replies. “Maybe I will someday. Anyway, why’d you ask about this, Tommy?”
“I needed to make sure all of you weren’t clementine haters before I’m about to tell you something really important,” she clarifies. “Uh…”
“What is it?” Tubbo asks, while everyone else goes quiet, waiting for her to say something.
Burning embarrassment courses through her suddenly.
This is not as easy as she thought it would be, but of course, it’s a major announcement. Who wouldn’t be nervous in such a situation?
She clears her throat.
“Okay, um. I’m - fuck, this shouldn’t be so difficult, and I trust you all,” she says, glad they can’t see her face right now. “Sorry if this might come as sudden, but the reason why I needed your opinions on clementines is because of the name Clementine, and um. That’s uh. That’s my name. I’m trans. Girl. A trans girl. That’s the reason.”
She grimaces at her own words after she’s done, holding her breath in anticipation.
“Hell yeah!” Quackity’s the first one to react. “That - that’s fucking amazing; I say this warrants a celebration!”
“Wooo!” Tubbo says in succession. “I am so glad for you, oh my god. Clementine. Thank you for telling us.”
“Clementine’s such a poggers name, holy shit,” Ranboo says. “You’re a genius. You’re so damn cool, and you should know that!”
“Clementine! Clem - woah, that’s a nice nickname -” Phil tells her, “-we all support you so much, and you’re so brave. And badass. And just, wow. We definitely need to celebrate.”
Clem buries her face in her hands, smiling. “Thank you guys so, so much. But uh, we don’t need to do anything special to celebrate, it’s okay-”
“No, no, we insist,” Ranboo interrupts. “We can do anything for you. I can give you a thousand Twitch subs. We can rename L’manburg to L’transburg. I can make a Tiktok dance. Anything. I’ll serenade you. Except I can’t sing, but you know what, if you ask for it, I’ll figure out a way to make it work.”
Clem giggles. Maybe she shouldn’t take advantage of this, but Ranboo made the offer in the first place. It’s free real estate. “Okay, then go for it. Serenade me.”
“I -”
94.0
“Mum. Dad.” Clementine fidgets with the charms on her silver bracelet when she approaches them.
Her coming out to them might come as a surprise, but they’re her parents. They’ve known her their whole life, and they’re not going to stop loving her over something like this.
“Yes?” her father prompts.
She glances down at her feet so she doesn’t have to stare at them face-to-face.
They can probably tell that the topic will be something serious by that alone.
She’s unbelievably nervous, filled with adrenaline, and yet. She feels ready.
Exhaling slowly, she’s sure she’s ready. She wants them to know.
She looks up. “I’m trans. I’m a girl, and I hope that’s okay.”
She feels confident, and she’s not scared, but her throat constricts regardless and the corners of her eyes prickle. She’s really fucking overwhelmed.
She feels someone’s arms wrap around her, and then another person does the same.
Her mother is shorter than her, but Clem finds a way to bury her face into her shoulder anyway.
And then she’s full-on crying.
Her father cards his fingers through her hair, trying to comfort her. “It’s okay. We love you so much, and that won’t change. You’re our daughter, and we love you.”
Her mother presses a kiss to the top of her head. “We’re really happy to know. Thank you for trusting us.”
Clem’s nods, unable to speak. But, these are happy tears. She’s exhilarated.
Only good vibes tonight.