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[DreamSMP discord server, 9th February 2023]
TommyInnit 10:27
hey guys
im gonna do a stream tuesday in two weeks
just
planning on fucking around the smp
get those nostalgia drugs
TommyInnit 10:28
idk itd be poggers if a lot of us can come
you don’t need a persona or funny hat
just log into the smp and walk around with me
Four people are typing…
Dream 10:28
sounds epic to me
Queen Eret Traitor Bastard 10:29
can we stream as well?
dream’s bitch (sleepy) 10:29
yeh im free
Dream’s bitch (arsonist) 10:30
I have no other comittments
as per usual
TommyInnit 10:30
[Replying to Queen Eret Traitor Bastard’s message]
yea anyone can stream it
Seven people are typing…
Tommy’s stream started with a smile, drinking from a mug of coffee instead of a coke. He looked a little bit more subdued than usual, one knee tucked up to his chest and the other dangling down and he cupped the reusable cup with both hands.
“Hey guys,” he grinned, swaying gently to the Able Sisters. “This isn’t gonna be a funny stream, sorry if you wanted that, but we’re just gonna log into the SMP. It’s been quite a few months since any of us have streamed on it, now that we’ve wrapped up the lore and all that, so I just wanted to give it a proper send-off.”
He chatted with chat (ha) for a few minutes, giggling at his own stupid comments and watching the numbers climb until he was in the top three viewed on Twitch.
Then he joined the VC.
There was instantly chaos hitting his ears, including (but not limited to): Wilbur and Quackity in a shrieking match, Schlatt sobbing with laughter at Charlie’s snide comments, and Phil hitting his head against his desk in order to convey his pure disappointment and hatred towards the world of today.
Everything fell silent when they heard the chime before Quacity exclaimed, “Tomas!”
“Big Q!” Tommy cheered in response, his grin blinding the camera. “I’ve missed you, dude, it’s been fucking forever.”
“Eyy, we should do a stream together sometime.” Quackity agreed.
“There is no way you’re dragging me into that,” Schlatt interjected bluntly. “How many people here are streaming right now?”
Tommy pulled up Twitch and scanned it. “Uhh, me, Eret, Dré, Tubbo and Boo are in some VC or other, Techno’s fucking around and monologuing about anarchy or some shit-”
At that moment, Discord gave another chime.
“Speak of the devil,” Wilbur mused.
Techno groaned. “Were you slandering me? My chat was bugging me to join, it interrupted my statement on the negative impacts of capitalism-”
Multiple boos interrupted his statement. Tommy shouted over the top, “Fuck off, Techno, Mr I’m-Better-Than-You-Because-I-Understand-Photosynthesis, your arc is over!”
“Reliving the glory days is better than pretending they didn’t happen!” Techno roared back. There was a smile in his voice that only the people closest to him could hear.
“No quoting The Incredibles in my discord,” Dream warned. The rest of them jumped.
“Since when were you there?” Sapnap asked incredulously.
“Since when were you there?” Karl yelped in shock.
“What- Karl?” Skeppy gasped. “I didn’t realise you were on the call!”
“For fuck’s sake, we get it,” Puffy groaned. “It’s hard to balance having so many people on one stream.”
The rest of the people freaked out upon the realisation that Puffy was there, and so on and so forth.
Nearly half an hour into Tommy’s stream, he shouted (no words, just scream) to get everyone’s attention. “I’m joining the SMP,” Tommy announced. “Come join me if you want to.”
Almost everybody present spoke their agreement, and soon the Minecraft chat was filled with logging in messages. At Sam's suggestion, they met at spawn.
So began the tour of the server. Dream gave everyone creative mode so that they could fly (leading to Techno and Tommy living up to their names and stealing bedrock, which in turn caused a lot of pretend-angry fighting). Then Wilbur called for Tommy to join him, and when they all TP’d, they stood where the drug van had first been. The origin of L’Manburg, once a plains, now a broken crater sealed in glass like a museum case.
Tommy smiled, spinning his character around to take in the sight. “This is where it all began,” he said softly.
Wilbur nodded, unable to put the twisting of his chest into words. It wasn’t sadness, not at all, but he wasn’t exactly happy.
“You know that TikTok audio?” Ranboo spoke finally, breaking the silence.
Tommy snorted. “You would go around talking about TikTok. You would.”
Ranboo rolled his eyes. “I’m going somewhere with this. There’s that TikTok audio, a lot of people use it to talk about fantasy worlds like Hogwarts, and stuff. Just let me google it.”
For a moment, the only sound in the call was the clicking of keys, and then he made a triumphant noise. “Here it is - ‘anemoia, the nostalgia for a time or place that never was’.”
This time, the silence was heavy. “Yeah,” Tommy sighed. “That’s about right.”
On his own stream, Wilbur gave a watery smile as well . “It’s really fucking weird to think about,” he giggled. “We were invited to a server with a whole bunch of huge youtubers and immediately decided to make an independent nation.”
Tommy laughed, but before he could say more, Schlatt butted in. “Yeah, then you named that nation fucking ‘L’Manburg’. Because you were all men.”
“And we wanted to sound European,” Jack reminded him. A few people made noises of surprise, and he scoffed. “You guys always forget how long I’ve been here for.”
“Well to be fair, Jack, you only blew up more recently compared to the rest of us,” Tommy blustered, setting down his empty mug.
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t exist!” Jack shouted. “For fuck’s sake, you guys have always ignored me, but one of these days-”
“Shut the fuck up, Jack.” Tubbo cut him off. “Your rip-off Team Rocket villain arc is over, stop bitching.”
Niki gasped, offended. “Excuse me, we were not having a villain arc. We were perfectly justified in our actions.”
“Here that, everyone?” Sapnap announced. “Murder’s okay if you don’t like that person.”
“In a video game,” Karl corrected through his cackles.
“Bitch!” Tommy yelled in rage. “Minecraft is not a fookin’ video game. Minecraft is love, minecraft is life.”
“I will beat you over the head with the charred remains of the L’Mantree,” Niki threatened.
Fundy gasped. “The L’Mantree, guys, c’mon!” They all sprinted to where the tree had once been, ignoring Techno as he built an anarchy symbol in the sky out of netherrack and the flames of fury.
“I know it’s just lore and all,” Wilbur murmured. “But I’m honestly kind of sad that it’s gone.”
The viewers on Niki’s stream saw her smile. “I don’t write the script,” she teased, using her sleeves to dab unshed tears from her eyes.
Everybody stopped as they heard a sniffle.
“Tom?” Eret asked, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.. “You alright?”
Tommy sniffled, then gave a watery laugh. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, leaning back to take in a deep breath. It didn’t stop him from crying. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just-” his voice broke. “It’s been fucking amazing, being on this journey with you guys.”
He laughed again, burying his face in his knees as he hugged his legs. “Sorry.” His words were muffled by the fabric.
“S’just a lot. I’m really- like, I’m so grateful,” Tommy croaked out. “I’m so glad you let some sixteen-year-old join your friends’ server and steal all your shit. It meant a lot back then, and it means so much more now.”
His ears were burning red, obviously embarrassed to be telling the internet this, but he didn’t back down. Tommy rested his chin on his knees, unable to stop smiling - even when everybody awwed at him.
Wilbur whispered a curse, taking off his glasses so that he could wipe his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Tommy, you’ll make me cry.”
Tommy stuck his tongue out. “Too late, bitch. We’re like brothers, you know.”
Another tear slid down Wilbur’s face. “Fuck,” he choked out. “Don’t say that.” Tommy’s grin only widened.
There was a second of quiet before Techno deadpanned, “You know, I’m feeling a little left out here-”
“Oh, fuck off, Techno.” Wilbur complained. “You ruined the moment.”
Tommy deepened his voice to mock, “Look at me, I’m a dickhead, and since being the favourite child isn’t enough attention, I’m gonna burst everyone else’s bubble-”
“Techno isn’t the favourite child,” Phil chastised, disappointment clear in his voice.
Tommy scoffed. “Tell that to the lore, Phil.”
“Yeah,” Wilbur bounced off Tommy. “Blowing up two of your sons’ home with the third one? How is that not favouritism?”
“For fuck’s sake-” Phil laughed, slapping the desk. “You can’t keep using lore against me, it’s already fucking over. You got revived anyway!”
Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying it’s okay to stab your child so long as you fix them later?”
“Not the message you want to be putting out, Phil!” Wilbur sang sassily.
“You cheeky bastards-”
They fucked around on the SMP for a bit, visiting Snowchester, threatening to blow up Techno’s cabin, and destroying the ‘DRISTA’ sign in Logstedshire now that they had creative mode. Drista immediately burst into Dream’s room and demanded they rebuild it, claiming that she’d ‘/stop’ the server if they didn’t. (They rebuilt it.)
Until, after almost an hour, they were gathered back at the spawn.
Wilbur gave a speech - nothing huge, nothing grand. Just talking about how wonderful the opportunity had been, for all of them. He made a few jokes, not the kind that you laughed at, but the kind that drew smiles from everybody.
Finally, Tommy raised his arm to copy the ‘o7’s that were being spammed in the chat. “Salute, boys.” He called out. There was a gentle smile on his face, soft and sweet. He made no move to wipe away the tears that slipped down his face. “Dream, give us a countdown. We’ll all leave.”
Dream nodded, sitting in Sapnap’s stream with a mask over his face. He held up his hand in salute. “Alright, everybody.” he declared, using that voice that made it impossible not to listen. He sniffled quietly and continued. “It’s been an honour to work with you, and I’m so glad for everything that we’ve achieved.”
He took a second to gather himself. “I honestly can’t think of a better group to have spent the last two years with. This isn’t a goodbye to us, but the SMP - I hope I can still see you as often as I can, and that we’ll always keep in contact.”
The silence sat for a moment before Tommy nodded. His voice was tight with emotion but held steady. “You can’t get rid of me, Dré. I’ll still be here.”
Mumbles of confirmation swept around the call with various levels of firmness.
Dream nodded again. Underneath the mask, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Alright. We ready?”
Nobody disagreed.
“Three. Two. One. Log off.”
[Dream has left the game.]
After the first message, they all came flooding in, until Tommy stood alone. He glanced around the empty clearing, exhaled shakily, and clicked out. He followed through the salute, trying to suppress a sob.
So much was unfamiliar - he had a different background, a different sweater, a different haircut. He had grown into his skin, he had become more comfortable with his own jokes, he had become more comfortable with the people surrounding him.
Tommy was older, and his face was blotchy, and his eyes were puffy, and there were tear tracks all down his face that left wet patches on his jumper.
But he smiled into the camera, and it was so familiar despite everything else changing. His eyes crinkled and his cheeks dimpled just that little bit, and he was still Tom, and he was still Tommy, and it was the end of an era. And it was the start of something new.
BONUS:
(Later, the people who didn’t want to be on stream joined VC1. Tommy went to Wilbur’s streaming room and curled up next to him, all but falling asleep with his head buried in his friend’s neck. He listened to the conversation with the clarity that remained, and that sweet half-smile never left his face.
A gentle warmth swelled inside of him, a familiarity, and he soaked in it. It felt like rays of sunshine, like laying in the grass with the people you love surrounding you.
It was the kindness in a laugh, the fondness in an insult, the words that were never spoken outright but were heard in every comfortable silence.
“I love you guys,” he whispered, not realising that he spoke, not hearing as everybody fell silent. He breathed deeply, inhaling the grounding smell of Wilbur’s cologne.
Those who had heard were staring up in shock, unable to stop the grins from spreading on their faces as the others asked what was wrong. Tommy didn’t hear the cooing as the voice in the back of his head beckoned to him, calling for him to let go of consciousness.
Wilbur saw that he was losing the battle to stay awake and smiled, squeezing his shoulders gingerly. “Go to sleep, Toms.” he told him quietly. “We’ll still be here when you wake up.”
That was all it took for him to let go, content with the knowledge that his pseudo family would be there in the morning.
The metaphorical morning, of course. He could spend hours discussing what the sunrise truly symbolised, whether that be steadiness or unpredictability. Everyone is sure that the morning will come, but there is never a guarantee of what is afterwards.
Maybe the sun should be associated with life, as without it, life couldn’t exist. Maybe the sun should be associated with death, as if nobody interferes fast enough, it will expand to devour us.
Maybe it doesn’t matter how you interpret the morning, because that was never the point, was it? The point was that they were there. His friends, his people, would stay by his side for as long as they could.
So he sunk into Wilbur’s side and closed his eyes.
Safe.)