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this dream isn't feeling sweet
we're reeling through the midnight streets
tommy doesn't have any friends.
he did, but that's over, that's gone, that's the past and tommy couldn't give a shit.
that's wrong. he could give a shit, but he chooses not to because emotions get him in sticky situations he can't find his way out of.
see, tommy wishes he was still four years old with wilbur and techno and phil and when he wasn't so fucked up. sat in their living room in a small house laughing their asses off at a joke that wilbur made that probably wasn't the slightest bit funny. tommy remembers cursing after hearing phil do it one time, and never stopped, still hasn't. phil always reprimanded him, wilbur would chortle and techno would roll his eyes in amusement. eventually, phil gave up because it became too frequent, becoming a habit he still continues.
once he was a little older, he remembers waking up from a nightmare, and depending on the person, the way he was comforted was always different. wilbur would card his fingers through his hair and strum his guitar quietly, humming a comforting tune. tommy always eventually fell asleep in wilbur’s hold, and would wake up in it too.
techno would blink at tommy’s teary eyes and snotty face, just sigh and tug him to the kitchen. sitting him on a stool, he'd create the best hot chocolate tommy’s ever had and they'd sip on their drinks until the sun rises. techno was never amazing at comfort, never learning how to, the pig hybrid being adopted, but he tried his best.
phil, or dad was his name back then, but phil has since lost that title, lost tommy’s respect. tommy doesn't even really consider him a father anymore, but anyone who looked into his soul, under his curses and lies and stupid jokes, would consider otherwise. the man would hug him tightly, whispering sweet nothings on how tommy would be alright in the end.
lies lies lies, all of them, all lies.
if tommy wasn't alright by morning, phil would grin proudly and pull him into his chest and fly high into the sky. wings flying broadly, a soft grin on his face, six-year-old tommy squealed in delight and when they reached the ground tommy would rub into his brother’s faces on how he flew.
techno would huff indignantly, going back to crafting whatever strange object he was working on. wilbur would pat tommy on the back and would decide to amuse the kid, telling him how cool tommy was with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
techno always groaned and whined about how it was blatantly obvious wilbur was tommy’s favorite and not him. it was okay, techno was obviously phil's favorite, but phil's not going to admit that. tommy always refused to admit it, a familiar stubbornness etched into his features, but wilbur was always there. wilbur was there majority of the time for his nightmares, to play games with, to joke around with, and even when they became older.
when techno and phil disappeared one day when wilbur was sixteen and when tommy was eight. when techno was eighteen, he left with phil after saying, “ we’ll come back.”
they didn't come back. not until years later and tommy's already full of grudges and glares and absolutely no forgiveness. tommy was never the one to forgive, anyways. tommy wasn't old enough to understand wilbur’s tears and screams of how it was so unfair he was left to take care of a child half his age. he wasn't able to understand the loss of an older brother and a father, but he was capable to cry about it. and he did. a lot, and wilbur didn't yell at him to shut up in feigned annoyance like he always did. he would just sling an arm around his frail shoulders and let tommy curl up and cry.
wilbur eventually managed to care for tommy, gathering food in small portions and managed to create a home for them. by the time wilbur was twenty, tommy was twelve, they had created a home and met new people. tommy met a new friend, tubbo, and the rest was history.
then l’manberg was created, when tommy was sixteen and wilbur was twenty-four.
wilbur had a son, fundy, they met jack manifold who was previously thunder1408 for some odd reason, niki, who wilbur took a liking to, eret, and suddenly they were part of a huge dysfunctional family. it was happy for a while, living in a kingdom wilbur and tommy led, with tommy always by wilbur’s side. wilbur didn't tease him whenever tommy got scared and his hand curled into wilbur’s uniform like he did as a child. if anything, wilbur looked nostalgic and just rubbed tommy’s back.
tommy became obsessive with a few discs, the few possessions being tommy’s most prized objects on the entire server. they, being his favorite things, just below wilbur.
later, tommy would say that the discs were always better than tubbo to the kid’s face, and he'd regret it. it wasn't true, but tommy never had a zipper on his mouth, did he?
they had a scuffle with the server’s leader, dream, the green bitch himself and his two watchdogs, george and sapnap.
dream had a god complex, overestimating his own power, and rubbing his authority into other’s faces. tommy is nostalgic for the simpler times when dream didn't care about power and the mask wasn't so intimidating and he didn't haunt tommy’s own dreams. dream had a wheeze laugh, something tommy faintly remembers, and he knows george and sapnap still remember it, and he remembers everyone giggling along with him.
dream was a good person, in the beginning. truly, tommy could vouch for that, everyone could. after all the wars, all the deaths, the inevitable betrayals, dream became high on his own pride and his hands were tainted with sins. dream moved like a robot, all movements meticulously thought out, body strapped in netherite and an axe ominously resting against his back.
tommy hated that axe.
the wars ended, more people entering the server, and now there's a battle for the authority of l’manberg, wilbur and tommy’s country crafted by their fingertips.
now, l’manberg’s citizens want a man named jschlatt to enter the server and tommy doesn't mind him, and wilbur’s uncertain but he enters anyways.
big mistake. that man never should've set foot on tommy and wilbur’s land.
he wins the election, combining himself with wilbur’s own son’s votes and they win. wilbur and tommy, the rightful heirs for l’manberg’s government, are exiled from their own country. l'manberg is wilbur and tommy’s flesh and blood, their hearts so attached to a people like l’manberg, but no one cares what the creators think. they created this place, this home, but was it ever truly home?
tommy sits back and watches his own brother go insane with paranoia and distrust, but he still goes along with wilbur’s decisions, because wilbur’s all that matters. techno returns, and tommy and wilbur honestly can't get themselves to care. they fight, again, and jschlatt is drunk and fucked in the head, with dream just wanting to stir the pot.
phil returns, techno kills tubbo, phil kills wilbur, and tommy couldn't be more fucking done. his father just fucking killed the last person that tommy could give a shit about.
side for tubbo, but nowadays, tommy’s been replaced, hasn't he?
wilbur dies, tommy takes ownership of that damned jacket, and even as much as he hates wilbur, he doesn't have it in him to take it off. he keeps the bandana wrapped around his neck even as his best friend exiles him. he can't keep his mind straight as he's hurt and downright manipulated by the man tommy might've called a friend. he has the shame to run to his ex-brother, a man who left wilbur and tommy to fend for themselves.
he and techno's relationship somewhat mends until the end, where tommy is betrayed, just like every other time. tommy should've seen it coming, but he didn't, blind on the thought that maybe somebody might actually care for him. of course, as-fucking-always, no one does, and tommy is wasting his goddamn time.
dream goes to prison.
fucking hallelujah.
tommy is stuck on the fence between about damn time and too fucking late. he's already alone, wilbur’s a ghost, philza-fucking-minecraft is a pain in the ass, techno is selfish. tubbo- tommy still loves tubbo and he'd do anything for him - but tubbo has ranboo, so fuck that. he doesn't even have henry anymore, lost the cow forever ago.
tommy goes to the prison for closure, and it was a mistake, because he can't stop coming back. when he goes for the last time, telling sam it is his last time, he gets stuck and tommy wants to scream until his voice goes hoarse. dream hasn't changed, he might've even gotten worse, and tommy makes a trip to hell- literally- while he's there. he still has the bruises and can still feel dream’s unrelenting fists against his scarred skin on the cold obsidian floor. he dies, sees wilbur, and suddenly he's not his favorite anymore.
wilbur’s changed, those real life months actually years for him, and wilburs changed. not in the good way. he's probably just as fucked in the head as dream. dream's- dream's fucked up, but dream probably hasn't ever had his own father kill him, has he? has he ever been blown to pieces, or had a sword shoved into his heart? has he gone insane after being forced out of his own country? has he had his older brother and father leave him and force him to watch over his baby brother?
probably not.
it doesn't matter, does it, because the two of them still manipulate and hold up tommy’s wrists like he's a puppet.
he may be a puppet, but tommy is a puppet who can see his own strings.
they play solitaire in the afterlife, tommy humming the able sisters to keep him somewhat sane, because he doesn't wanna become like wilbur. he wants mexican dream to shut up, but he's thankful schlatt is asleep because he'd probably gnaw on his own arms if the man awoke.
wilbur doesn't leave tommy alone, and just smirks a little whenever tommy runs into the void only to run into wilbur in the end, every fucking time.
he'd turn tail and sprint as fast as possible and he'd just run into wilbur’s chest and the man would wrap his arms around him comfortingly. mockingly.
you can't escape, toms.
tommy grits his teeth, and squeezes his eyes shut, forehead knocking against wilbur’s collarbone.
why can't i be free? wasn't that the point of l’manberg?
“ please, wilbur.” he whispers. “ let me go.”
wilbur smiles. “ no.”
even as wilbur whispers his plans into tommy’s ear, giving him whiplash as he goes from maniac psycho to comforting older brother. his passive aggressive whispers going to sweet murmurs within seconds, and tommy wants out.
shoulda fucking jumped off when he had the chance, but he'd still end up here.
his claustrophobia is really seeping into his everything, and wilbur won't let go of his hand.
tommy comes back, and he pleads for dream not to bring wilbur back. dream doesn't listen, he never does, never will. he goes back to his house, and now, his own friends see him as a ghost.
yes, i died, but stop treating me like i'm still gone.
they treat him like a science experiment. so did dream, and even as the world seems against him, tommy hates the part of himself that kinda wishes wilbur was holding his hand in hell. tommy knows wilbur can mold tommy in his hands to the way he wants, and he knows it too.
tommy’s part of a family who tore itself apart, he watched his best friend die, his brother die, lost his friends, and everything was blamed on him.
tommy grips his hair, dropping to his knees, and screams.