Work Text:
1. Nature
Tommy’s never been the type of person to be super prestigious and proper like Wilbur or Techno had been.
In the early days of L’Manberg (back when Tommy didn’t have to take charge of anything big, anything life-changing), Tommy seemed to “emit grime,” as Wilbur would put it. He could often be found with dirt on his person; in his hair, on his hands, on the underside of his foot (as he would often run around without socks or shoes).
Funnily enough, Tommy was the reason Wilbur created a law that all members of L’Manberg had to take a mandatory shower everyday.
Most people wouldn’t like dirt. It got everywhere, it smelled gross, and its texture could be gross at times. Tommy loved it. The dirt is what everything comes from; all the flowers, plants, and foods came from the ground first and foremost.
It wasn’t just dirt that you could find Tommy covered in, though. Moss was another one; Tommy had an irrational - and almost insatiable - obsession with moss. The reason he built his towers out of cobblestone was because moss commonly grew on cobblestone.
At least, that had been Tommy’s thought process when he was younger.
Most people probably wouldn’t like moss. Moss is damp and has spores and spongey. And Tommy loved it.
He loved the softness of it, and he loved how real it was. It was dirty, and it smelled gross, and it was nature. It came from the earth, and it grew larger and larger, and it had a natural life cycle.
Maybe it wasn’t moss that Tommy was obsessed with. Maybe it wasn’t even dirt.
Maybe Tommy just liked life.
(As the sun rises on a new day, a boy goes outside. Instead of doing something fun or productive, he just sits down on the ground. He digs into the earth, ruining his hands and dirtying his fingernails. But he doesn’t care; he digs deeper and deeper until he reaches the cool and damp layer of dirt.
The boy’s dug into the ground many times in the past; sometimes with his hands, sometimes with a shovel, and sometimes with other tools. But this time, rather than using the dug ground for something productive like making a farm or something underground, the boy leaves the hole in the ground alone.
The smell of the damp dirt hits the boy’s nose. Despite all the internal feelings he has right now, he smiles. That smile turns into a laugh.
The laugh turns into a soft cry. He’s sad. He’s happy. He’s feeling nostalgic.
He…doesn’t know what he’s feeling. But maybe that’s fine for now.)
2. Heights
Tommy’s always been a fan of heights. Maybe it was because of Wilbur’s grandeur tales of his father, Philza Minecraft, who had a pair of black wings so large that they carried his body into the air. Or, maybe it was because Tommy’s always liked the blue sky above with its white, fluffy clouds.
Tommy always loved building towers and feeling the breeze on his skin. It sent goosebumps all over his arms and legs, but in a good way. It was like a tingle of excitement.
He’d always liked jumping off of high places. The rush of adrenaline he got during the fall was almost addictive. His heart rate would pick up infinitely, and it would always feel as if he was falling for eternity before landing.
Of course, Tommy always made sure to stay safe when doing dangerous things like that. He always made sure to land in the water.
(Even at the brink of hopelessness, the boy knew he’d always aim for the water.
The boy stands up from the ground and wipes his hands on his pants, getting some of the dirt off of his hands. Next, he climbs up on top of his house.
The height isn’t as high as he used to like. But even though he’s not that high up, he can still feel the soft breeze; it’s not too cold, but it’s not an uncomfortable hot one either. It’s a perfect medium.
The boy swings his legs off the ledge of the roof. His heart rate doesn’t pick up; his veins don’t fill with the addictive adrenaline that he uses to be obsessed with. But that’s fine. He’s not seeking adrenaline today.
He just sits and enjoys life for a second.)
3. Christmas
Christmas was always Tommy’s favorite holiday. He liked the smell of the pine tree (though he never liked the sharp edges of the pines). He liked decorating the Christmas tree - putting the star on the top was always his favorite part - and he liked drinking hot chocolate and filling the cup up with marshmallows.
He liked playing in the snow and building snowmen and making snow angels. Oh, and he couldn’t forget about baking cookies for Santa.
But his favorite part of Christmas has always been giving his loved ones gifts. He enjoys giving; he always had. He’d sew, mine, and make so many things for his friends; all they would have to do is ask.
(Christmas’ likability has probably lessened for the boy over the past year. Don’t get him wrong; he’ll always favor Christmas. One bad experience with it won’t make him stop liking it.
It’s warm outside, so the boy can only think of Christmas right now. Around this time, he’d usually start thinking of presents to get all his friends. Maybe he’d give his brother a newly sewn coat so that he could finally stop wearing that other smelly one.
Right now, the boy can only speculate gifts to get his loved ones. He will never be able to actually give the presents to his friends. After all, it isn’t Christmas!
Maybe another time.)
4. Music
All the people around Tommy seemed to have some correspondence with music. Wilbur was the one who created L’Manberg’s anthem, after all.
Tommy himself played the piano after wanting to be in a band with Wilbur.
Techno would play the violin, in the short time that Tommy stayed with him. He was a master with the strings; Tommy looked up to him for that. (Tommy had always looked up to Techno, and never stopped. He’d never stop looking up to him.)
And who could forget Tommy’s prized possessions? His music discs: Cat and Mellohi.
Cat was a nice soothing sound, while its melody was a little chaotic at times; it promised fun times. Mellohi, on the other hand, sounded like one of those soundtracks you’d find on a detectice show; it promised adventures yet to come.
Tommy had sacrificed so much for those two discs. (Too much.) They’d seen countless amounts of fighting, and Tommy was dependent on them.
(The boy gets down safely from his house’s rooftop, landing safely in water for an easier way down. He walks over to the cliff his house was built by, all that time ago.
The boy doesn’t have his precious music discs anymore. They’re gone; and all the boy has left is the empty jukebox and the bench that overlooks the lands.
Except, that’s not all the boy has left in his world.)
5. Tubbo
The boy has always had, and will always have his best friend by his side.
Tubbo.
Tubbo was there, right alongside Tommy, running around through the mud and the dirt and all the gross parts of nature, for he, too, loved life.
(Tubbo was there with Tommy when both of their lives first started going downhill. Before Doosmday, before the Election…before L’Manberg.
It’s always been Tommy and Tubbo, right from the start.
They had revolted together. And even when they were split up by higher powers, they still stood strong.
One life. They both had one life left; they weren’t going to waste it.)
Tubbo wasn’t the biggest fan of heights; he was always the one on the ground, ready to place water for Tommy if he was ever in danger.
(After being exiled, Tommy had been so full of hatred.
No, it wasn’t fair to call this feeling something as shallow as hatred; because Tommy could never hate Tubbo. He was mad - so very mad at him for exiling Tommy - but…at the end of the day, Tommy knew that it wasn’t fair to either of them.
Tubbo had been placed into a position of power without any genuine support. Tommy only made Tubbo feel more pressure.
Tommy’s mindset had changed during exile. He’d never be able to go back to how he used to be; Dream had caused him irrevocable damage. And Tubbo was the one that exiled him.
No, no, that wasn’t right either.
What happened was…they weren’t there for each other. And that was probably the biggest mistake they could’ve made.)
Of all his friends, Tommy had the hardest time coming up with presents to give to Tubbo. Not because he didn’t know what to get him - after all, the two shared all of their thoughts. Tommy knew everything Tubbo would be thankful to receive for Christmas.
But Tommy never wanted to just get Tubbo a gift that would just be used once and then done with; Tommy wanted to get Tubbo something meaningful.
(The Christmas in exile was the first Christmas Tommy had spent alone. Tommy was there, huddled up in his stupid tent, cold.
Tommy hated the cold. Because the cold meant that no one else was around to make hot chocolate or to start a fire.
This cold seeped into his bones; into his very being. And it settled there. All the way until Tommy and Tubbo reunited in the ruins of the Community House.
That coldness in his soul froze. It froze so much that it burned. And the fire spread around his hole body, leaving through his mouth in a burst of words.
Hurtful words. Words Tommy would take back in an instant if he could. Because the look on Tubbo’s face wasn’t worth the relief Tommy felt at the cold finally being out of his body.
When Doomsday arrived, Tommy didn’t feel the freezing cold. He didn’t feel the burning fire.
He just felt numb.)
Tubbo. Tommy’s other half. The one person he could trust.
After all, Tommy’s discs wouldn’t be nearly as valuable if Tubbo hadn’t been there to help Tommy take them back all that time ago. Tubbo has always been trustworthy; he’s always been there for the discs.
There are a few constants in the universe. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west; fauna bloom in the spring and wither in the winter; Tubbo will always be there for Tommy.
(Tommy was willing to trade the discs for Tubbo. It didn’t matter that those discs were what he fought for so desperately; Tubbo would always come before the discs.
Tommy didn’t want Tubbo to go. He never did. He clung to Tubbo; Tubbo, who was ready to trade his own life for Tommy’s discs. Tubbo seemed content; happy, almost.
Tommy wasn’t. He’d never be happy if Tubbo were gone.
It was a good thing Punz and the others arrived when they did. If they hadn’t…if they’d been too late…Tommy wouldn’t know what to do with himself.
They started to heal, after that.
Well, no. Everyone besides Tommy started to heal; but Tommy couldn’t.
Closure was all he wanted. Heh; maybe he should’ve worded his wishes better. After all, he was never a fan of enclosed spaces.
And after death - after seeing the emptiness of Limbo - his hatred of the cold was only reinforced.
Leaving Pandora’s Vault…was hard. Everyone had moved on without him.
Tommy wasn’t ready for something like that. He wasn’t ready for people to forget about him as if he was just- just some myth.)
Tommy cries. He cries and he breaks things and then he fixes it and then he cries again. He’s not ready.
But he is. He’s prepared to sacrif- no, sacrifice isn’t quite the right word.
Tommy’s accepted his fate. He knows how today is going to play out, and he’s not afraid of what will come.
He’s scared of…what is he scared of?
He sits down at the bench. The one place of sanctuary he has—except no, that’s not true.
He has Tubbo.
Nonetheless, the bench has been another constant. It’s possibly the one thing Tommy has that’s made it through all the wars untouched. His house has been taken apart countless times; his discs have been stolen from him many times; he has not had a single pair of armor that’s lasted more than a month.
And yet, this bench has stood here the whole time. This bench, with its jukebox.
There’s a tree behind the bench, almost covering it as if offering protection. (Once upon a time, Tommy heard his brother’s voice whispering, “I’m proud of you, Tommy.”)
There’s flowers sprouting around the green outside Tommy’s house. A result of when Tommy had been…gone for a whole three months days.
(The most common flower growing around his house is the purple allium flower. He chokes up at the thought of his friend; a friend who, in hindsight, was much more patient with Tommy than he probably deserved. He apologies aloud to that friend; that friend who didn’t deserve their fate.)
Tommy’s hands automatically move up to his hair to start braiding it; when he realizes that his hair is too short to braid, he quickly drops his hands. (He remembers how the closest person he had to a father would always make him put his hair up. After all, working at a construction sight with loose hair was a disaster bound to happen.
He remembers how the closest person he had to a mother taught him how to braid his hair. She had guided his hands softly - so soft, so unlike what he was used to - and was always so patient with him.)
On that bench, Tommy breaks. He cries a thousand tears, he whispers a thousand apologies and prayers, he curses at all the gods in the world.
As Tommy starts to calm down, he realizes what’s happening. It’s a sudden realization of, Oh, I’m mourning.
Because it’s true. Tommy mourns everything; he mourns his brother who left him. He mourns his friend who wouldn’t appreciate the tears, if only because the tears would burn them. He mourns his discs, his most prized possessions. He mourns all the relationships on the server that have been torn apart due to war. He mourns the people on the server that aren’t who they used to be because of his actions.
He mourns himself. He mourns the life he used to have, and the life he could’ve had.
It’s…odd. And not in a good or bad way; it’s simply odd to think about mourning yourself.
But Tommy does. He mourns the boy who used to run around carefree in the mud and diet. The boy who used to love the thought of being high up and free. The boy who used to anticipate a fun Christmas. The boy who sat on the bench with his friends and could play his discs freely.
That boy is gone. Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe not; Tommy doesn’t know. (He mourns that boy as well.)
Hours of mourning later - though it had felt like centuries - the sun is high in the sky, and Tommy knows what he must do.
The world isn’t fair. It’s not fair that he was a child soldier who was stripped of all he used to be. It’s not fair that his older brother is gone, and that one of his best friends is dead. It’s not fair that he can probably count on one hand the amount of people who don’t want to bring him harm.
It’s not fair that Tommy’s about to die today.
Another universal rule: the world isn’t fair. So, Tommy has decided it’s time to be unfair to the world.
That’ll be up to Tubbo.
Tommy hears Tubbo walking up the Prime Path long before he sees him. Maybe it’s because Tommy’s so much more sensitive because of the revival; maybe he’s just imagining Tubbo’s footsteps that are so loud, it feels like a death sentence.
A self-imposed death sentence, Tommy corrects in his mind with an outward smile that holds no amusement. How could he laugh? He’s terrified.
Tubbo’s scared too. Tommy knows. Tommy knows because he knows Tubbo like the back of his hand. He knows because they’re Tommy and Tubbo, and they always have been.
And so, they say their goodbyes. (No, no, Tommy’s not ready yet, he doesn’t want—)
“It’s not fair!” Tubbo pleads.
“The world isn’t fair,” Tommy responds calmly. (Please, Tubbo, don’t leave Tommy, he still—)
“Take the bench,” Tommy says. “And sit on it while watching the world decay.”
(Tommy doesn’t want to decay, he can’t, he still has so much to do in his life—)
Tommy steels his heart. (He ignores the way Tubbo sniffles.) He turns and walks away. (He ignores the way his chest feels cold cold cold.)
(“I’m sorry,” he wants to say.)
(“Let’s think of a better way,” he wants to say.)
(“I’ll miss you,” he wants to say.)
“There’s no other way,” is what he says. “You need to be there in ten minutes.”
(He doesn’t know if he’s talking to Tubbo or to himself.)
And so, once again (for the last time), Tommy and Tubbo separate.
Tommy doesn’t cry. He makes it to the prison, and then inside, and then to the last enemy that’s keeping Tubbo and everyone else from having a happy ending.
(“I’m sorry,” he says aloud. To his enemies, to the world, to himself; he’s sorry.)
(+1). New Beginnings
Tommy quite likes the dirt. He thinks theres an authenticity to be found in more dirty substances like mud or moss. He also likes high places, so maybe he’s create a base that’s more high up, like a treehouse. Ooh, and obviously, he’ll make sure to secure himself some discs! A music room definitely sounds cool.
Might as well start mining this wood before I even think about all that, Tommy thinks to himself with a laugh. He starts mining the tree in front of him—
There are footsteps behind him. Tommy takes a sharp turn. He sees two people. One is a weird green man.
The other is a boy - who looks about Tommy’s age - wearing a green shirt and blue jeans.
“Who’s that guy, starin’ at me?” Tommy questions rhetorically. He then turns to the green man. “Hey, wanna make a base together?”
“Who are you?” the green man replies.
Maybe - just maybe - he could be friends with these two weird people. Then he’d have someone to give Christmas presents to!
Tommy’s flooded with many different emotions, all of a sudden. He’s excited, happy, sad(?), and worried all at once.
A brand new start awaits him.