Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I’m so heavy

A snapping pair of fingers.

“Are you even listening to me? How many fucking times Tommy”

Dream. Of course it was. Who else would it be.

A TNT explosion.

Dreams trademark.

Yet another chest strewn about the beach, random pieces of wood splintered about the place, remnants of his hard work gone. Again.

“You do know this is your fault? Right Tommy?”

A single nod.

The old Tommy would have rolled his eyes, called him a bitch and executed his trademark handshake but not now. Tubbo was no where to be seen. He hadn’t visited.

No one had.

Only Dream. His true friend.

This Tommy just stared. He lacked the energy to fight back. What’s the point in fighting your demons when they are the ones feeding you? So he wouldn’t talk back. Not while he was here, in exile. The middle of dog shit nowhere.

He was so fucking tired. Tired of the endless mining for no reward. Tired of the punches, tired of the fake sympathy, tired of the endless healing pots and fake smiles.

No. He should be grateful. Dream made that clear. Without Dream he wouldn’t be alive. He needed him. His true friend. His only friend.

But he knows. Any day now Tubbo will come. That was always the plan they had made. They would wait for a few days and then come to the rescue, keep the capture seemingly docile before they attack.

Sure Tubbo was six weeks late to the plan but that’s okay, these things happen. Tommy will wait for him. He knows he will come.

Tubbo would rescue him from this endless pit of shit.

No one comes to see him. Only the fucking ghost.
He’s no help. With his shitty blue, he didn’t even see Tommy. He only saw the shell of the boy he has become.

Because that’s the thing. He is a boy.

A child.

A child put into this world that doesn’t care for children. The world cares for the labour it produces and the work they put in to making everything “better” without giving a single care towards the children themselves.

But Tommy knows the world isn’t fair. He knows he has to lie and cheat and kill and punch to even get through the day. He knows it’s the children who suffer. The adults don’t care. They sit and watch and discuss how to push the children until they snap in two.

But thats life. And Tommy knows that. And Dream knows that.

He wishes he didn’t hide that single piece of iron. He truly didn’t mean to. How could he be so careless.

Now all that remained of his hard work was soot. Fucking great.

It’s not like he wasn’t used to this. Dream found any opportunity to punish him. It was almost like he got pleasure out of it. But he didn’t. He was his friend. He would never.

But Tommy had another friend.

This tiny voice in his head that whispered encouragement, not quite his own voice but similar. He could almost place it. Almost.

The little voice praised him for his attempts at liberty, at freedom. It comforted him as he applied healing potions to his scratches and cuts, soft lullaby’s floating through his head.

Yes, he can admit he tried to hide food, yes he can admit that watching his hard work be blown up hurt and yes he can admit that he felt sorry for taking innocent animals lives for no reason bothered him.

But no, he didn't truly care anymore. He hadn't cared for a long time. It only took a week before Tommy fell complicit in the hands of Dream. What else was there to do. He had realised he was his friend. They were friends.

Still it would have been nice to see his dad. Or Techno. Or Wilbur. The fucking ghost didn’t count. He wasn’t Wilbur.

But they hadn’t come.

So he was alone.

No one cares.

So why should he?

So here he is, in his state of dissociation.

It was the only way his mind went quiet. The lullabies soothing him as he worked.

He found it ironic, the desolate corner of his new forced home may be lapsed in silence but his mind wasn't. It never had been. They all called him crazy, energetic, didn't have an off switch. But maybe, just maybe if they were to take even a second longer to look they would see a broken child, going to desperate lengths to attempt to fit into a society that didn't have the capacity for him.

“And you’re still not listening to me now”

The waves in his head stilled for a second before they crashed onto shore once again.

His head snapped up as Dreams cane pressed into his jaw, steering him to stare into the soulless mask he insisted on wearing.

A single breath.

“Sorry sir”

Tommy could practically feel the smirk radiating from his a̶b̶u̶s̶e̶r̶ only friend.

Good." Dream moved the cane down his throat, pressing slightly on his adams apple, digging it in more with the sharp intake of breath from Tommy "I'll be back here tomorrow. Don't try anything You know what will happen”

Tommy nodded again. "Yes sir"

Dream released him, throwing a bag of steak over his shoulder as he walked away.

Tommy didn't move towards it.

Dream wheeled round, tiling his head slightly as he nodded.

"Free"

Tommy grabbed it.

He really had been trained well.

Chapter Text

Jump into my ocean

"Come on Dad, I’ve been good today, tell me one more time, please dad!"

Tommy had always loved hearing the bitter sweet stories about his mother. His version of a bed time story. Even though it wasn’t fiction, it was his story.

He'd spend hours begging Phil to re-tell the stories of how he found him, cold, tiny and alone on the side of the east dock, seagulls pecking at the strand of seaweed stuck in his hair as he wiggled about in his blanket.

That blanket went everywhere with Tommy. It was his last memory of her. And his shell necklace. It was all he had.

Phil would never stop telling him how much their little family needed him. They loved their tiny bundle of bubbles who toddled around, chewing on whatever he could find (no matter how sanitary, much to Technos dismay)

Tommy agrees they were the best thing that ever happened to him. Who wouldn’t agree. He’s fantastic.

Well, he used to agree.

Radio silence was the only way to describe what he had been receiving. Not once had Phil or Techno bothered to visit. Not even Wilbur. His big brother.

Tommy knew that everyone found it strange he held so much attachment towards someone he didn’t remember. Someone who left him alone, at his most vulnerable. Babies need the help and support of others, that’s obvious. Yet she didn’t want to give it to him. He never understood why. But he loved her.

Like she loves him. He knows she loved him.

Then again an abandoned child could only hold attachment towards what they could have had, clinging to some last hope.

Tommy had always adored the tiny house library. His Dad had always made so many attempts to weave in stories of his mother into everything they read.

The brave pirate who was forced to leave her tiny baby by the rest of the crew, hoping and praying that whatever Gods out there would protect her child.

The stories would be the only things to calm him. They were the only way he'd fall asleep.

Well that and the white noise of the waves lapping against their dock. Phil had built it as a surprise for Tommy. He had never cried more at a gift.

Maybe thats why he held such attachment to the ocean. He knew she was out there, speaking to him through the water.

Wilbur had laughed at him when a six year old Tommy had come sprinting back into the house, dripping from head to toe, smelling only faintly like salt. Tommy told him he had gone to find his mum in the ocean. He had failed… obviously. However he did meet a pufferfish he aptly named spike. He was original like that.

Six year old him was convinced he could paddle out into the waves and there she would be, her crew and ship on the horizon, waiving to him over the horizon. Welcoming him back to them with open arms. He could have sworn he could see the shadow of a ship against the horizon, slowly coming towards him every second. But then he’d blink. He’d blink and it would disappear, just another image he could have sworn to have been his chance to find her.

Techno had laughed when ten year old Tommy sat on the edge of the dock, whispering to himself and the great outdoors, silently laughing every time a wave even grazed his feet.

Tommy claimed it was a sign she was there, speaking to him.

Techno laughed more.

Tommy had laughed when the ocean sprayed all over Techno. He’d laughed even more when Techno slipped as he stood and fell into the ocean, surfacing with a piece of seaweed tangled in his pink hair. He saw it as her revenge.

Tubbo had laughed at Tommys shell collection in his dirt hut, he'd laughed at the single shell on a necklace he refused to take off, but he didn't understand. No one did. They wouldn’t understand. Maybe Dream would. He was a good friend.

But Tommy knew.

He knew every crash of a wave was out of anger. She felt it with him.

He knew the sea spray was one thousand kisses all meant for him. Only him.

He knew every wave that hit his feet was a hello, every drag of a wave was a momentary goodbye. She was always there. Just like she had promised.

So that's why he sat here, on top of his wooden tower, staring down onto his only form of communication with his mother. The only one who ever cared.

He breathed a short breath in as his knees tucked into his chin, the scraping of the wood echoing throughout the night. The wood was starting to seep with water, becoming damp beneath him the chill set in as the rain started to slow.

Tommy knew that the rain was her. It was her comforting him as he cried, she cried with him.

Dream had hit him the first time he spoke about his mother.

Something about him getting too far into his head? He should be thankful for him, not praying for her? Tommy wasn’t sure. But Dream was always right.

Still it took him a while to shake the habit.

Dream had eventually stopped hitting him whenever he mentioned her. True it was only because he had found him unconscious at the base of the makeshift dock Tommy had assembled.

What use was a target that wouldn't even try and put up a fight once every while.

Then again, that feeling of undeniable desire to wade out into the water and never look back was consistently on his mind as of late.

The suffocation he would feel under the deep blue would be easier to cope with than the suffocation of the air around him.

He lay under the stars that night, smiling to himself as he listened to the waves crash against the shore. He knew she was talking to him.

The necklace lay flat in his palm, a consistent reminder she would always be there for him. She would help him fight his battles. She would help him get through this.

Still, he always had to hide it from Dream, he couldn't risk it being broken or blown up.

Not when that was all he had.

It was all he ever had.

Any day now she would hear his cries for help, she would receive the letters he'd been throwing into the ocean for years. She would come to his call.

Any day now she would come to him.

He would be home soon. He can feel it.

Chapter Text

Can't you see me sinking

“Tommy, would you stop sitting up there. You’re getting far to close to the edge for my liking, you know you’re no use to me if you fall off”

Dream couldn’t understand why Tommy was so infatuated with the tower. Every single time he would show up there he would be, sat over the edge, that determined look on his face.

It was a stupid tower, what use did it have? It was only a distraction from the real world. The world Tommy needed to be present in. Not this stupid make believe bubble he had engulfed himself into.

Tommy loves his tower. The twenty foot drop beneath seemed so enticing, with the sea lapping at the bottom, slowly staining and attaching algae to the foot of the tower. It was so… peaceful.

Dream found it unnerving.

He found it more than unnerving in fact.

He found it terrifying. He had ever since he had to launch himself at Tommy mid fall and pull him back down to the safety of dry land.

Tommy had been ignoring him since. It wasn’t like he really had made the effort in the first place. Still it was worrying. Tommy always had something to say.

Dream hated it.

He hated the fact he had some form of pity for the boy.

One half of him yearned to help. The logical half told him he deserved it.

He hated the fact he found Tommy laying face down in the sand, motionless.

True- it was only a brief moment of panic he had experienced, but still he had felt it.

He couldn’t tell if it was pity he felt as the life slowly re entered Tommys eyes and water spewed from his lungs.

Tommy was fuming when he woke up, screaming and cursing Dream out, hot tears falling down his face.

Dream couldn’t quite comprehend that.

He asked if he had jumped.

Tommy told him he was trying to go home.

He found him like that three days in a row, the cycle seemed never ending. Tommy refused to accept he was damaging himself.

Dream tried to move him further in land. It didn’t break the cycle. No matter the threats or violence Tommy took simply sat there and took it.

He sat there and took it and Dream would again find him unconscious in the ocean, using the little mental and physical strength he had left in him to drag him out.

There truly was no way to part him from the ocean.

Tommy likes the ocean. The crashing of the waves providing him with the comfort he could only long to gain from those around him. The only form of conversation he felt he actually understood. The only type of conversation where he was understood.

In a strange way Tommy felt the ocean was talking for him, if he was angry, a storm would shortly appear. If he was upset, it would start to pour. If he was happy...

Well he wasn't. So nothing happened.

Maybe he didn't need a voice anymore. It wasn’t as if anyone heard him. Not even his family spoke for him. Not like they used to.

He never really had one anyway now he thinks about it. No one that bothered to listen, he was merely laughed over or pushed to the side. Exile was almost a relief. At least now he had Dream. His true friend.

Even as a child he was quiet. He didn’t find his voice until the age of three and a half. Phil had always said that once he found his voice he spent his time making up for the years he didn’t speak. His brothers said his constant chatter was endearing. Do they not miss it? Do they not miss him? He misses them. Did his letters mean nothing to them?

He had people to speak for him then, he was a baby, he had needs, they provided.

Didn’t he still have needs now? Where was everyone?

But they didn’t know Tommy saw the pity glances, the disappointed looks thrown in his direction. Tommy heard every conversation behind closed doors between his brothers. Every sorry glance their friends sent their way as Tommy refused to even let out a sound.

Tommy knew he was the family disappointment, so what was the point in trying to defy that label? He lived in a house of perfection. The impossible standards thrust upon him set by the twins, much too big boots to fill.

They were avid hunters, expert duellers, knowledgeable, they had friends.

Tommy had nothing.

Thats why Tommy had to be the loud, obnoxious child. That was the only role left in the house. The loud, boisterous, slightly annoying child.

Yes it may have been dysfunctional, but if he got attention, even if it was regularly negative, it was still attention. It was all he ever craved. What he needed.

But even so, despite his many flaws, Phil showed him love and care. True fatherly affection.

Tommy wondered where that had gone, what had made Phil change.

What had he ever done to them?

Surely whatever it was it didn't warrant radio silence. Surely he deserved some form of communication. Not even a single fucking letter in six months.

But he knows Phil knows.

He knows that Tommys seen him. Perched on that stupid fucking branch on the edge of the forest.

The eye contact Phil would pretend he didn’t see.

But he never came close. No one does anymore.

Apart from his mum. He was the only one to ever get close. The waves seem to be the only thing that wouldn't shy away from him.

So Tommy sat there, on his makeshift perch, staring down at the abyss of blue that provided him with that strange sense of comfort.

He knows she's there, she's watching and listening and always will be.

She's calling him, and he will answer.

Chapter Text

Love that fear of falling

Tommys refused to get off his perch. It was his spot. So no he wouldn’t move. In fact he would sit there for as long as he could.

Seven hours a day. Seven days a week. Sitting still, motionless, with that far away look on his face. It was the look Tommy often wore during his childhood whenever they were in a public space.

He hated the public. So many unknown people. So many people that have a story to tell but never would have the chance to.

Phil wonders what goes through Tommy’s head when he sits up there, probably not a lot by the lack of reaction to anything. Not a flinch or a blink when a bird would swoop down and sit next to him, just an absent minded pet over their head and a scratch under their chin before they flew on.

Techno calls him weird for watching him, says he needs to let Tommy go. Wilbur had agreed, it’s not like Tommy tried to make contact whenever he sees him. He just sits avoiding eye contact. They both had argued Tommy was there for punishment and didn't deserve their sympathy, he had messed up, this was his hill to die on.

But Tommys still his son. And he still has a degree of responsibility over him. He has a right to keep an eye on him.

But that doesn't stop him from intervening with Dream. No matter how many punches he sees being thrown he can never seem to move from his perch. Almost as if he was glued to it, unable to escape the horrors he was witnessing.

Does he feel guilty?

Yes.

But will he do anything.

No.

If he was given the chance to help him would he.

Truly, he couldn’t answer that.

Tommy loves his perch. He feels it brings him closer with his family, his old family. Reminiscing over the days when Phil would build them a hideout in the woods, leaves and twigs getting stuck in their hair as they played high above the ground, overlooking their cabin and the pets, pretending they were all avians like Phil.

But that was then.

And this was now.

And all Tommy could do was pretend he wasn't really here.

Tommy often remembers the fond times of him attempting to mimic Phils flying, staring at the edge of the dock, using the water as his safety net. His mum would catch him when he fell.

The ground didn’t catch him. It let him fall. It let him break his bones and it would simply leave him there. His mum would never do that to him. She would wash him back to shore and crash into rocks until Phil came running, scooping him up in his arms and whispering sweet nothings as he wiped away his tears.

Still, the moment Phil would coo and tell him that "Everything's ok my little chick" Tommy would soothe and settle.

Was it weird that he adopted that nickname for his once adopted spider. Tubbo loved to point out that Chick didn’t suit the spider, he was much more of a stab kinda guy. Shroud had been killed, obviously, like everything else he loved, but Tommy still remembers the joy he experienced when he rescued him.

That tiny little spider that had crawled into his hair as he had walked through the forest, dangling in front of his face as he had entered his home.

What else was he to do except for making a tiny bed in a tiny enclosure.

Tommy hadn't felt that love towards anything in a long time.

Don’t get him wrong, he had gone adventuring through the woods during the early stages of his exile to see if another small critter would find him and keep him company.

He couldn't really explain why he was so drawn to them, the woods that is not small critters. He absentmindedly wondered if it was a last, futile attempt at gaining some form of relationship with this once family. Wandering until he smelt that familiar smell of burning charcoal, seeing a tiny amount of smoke billowing above the trees and that wood cabin coming into view.

And there they would be. His brother and his dad. Waiting to hug him tightly and put him to bed, stroking his hair as they hummed him to sleep.

But he knew deep down it was hopeless.

After all he was in the middle of batshit nowhere, with no one to rescue him, no one to hear his screams as he patched up his forever bleeding cuts.

He really was alone. With no one. No support system. No shoulder to cry on. No hand to hold when the world becomes too much.

Maybe that's why he should jump. He should take that leap and find where he truly belongs. With his mother, in the deep blue where only he and his problems can truly be laid to rest.

Phil always used to tall him to take that jump. Take that leap of faith. You never know what might be on the other side. What's the point of staying right where you are when your goal is in eyesight.

So what if he would always jump into the ocean, trying to swim as far has he can go until his lungs physically give up on him and he is inevitably washed back to shore, where Dream stands with his stupid mask and stupid weapons and stupid power.

So what if he maybe wanted to never surface, sleep peacefully at the bottom of the deep blue, hair swaying in the waves in time with the coral and seaweed.

It's not even like anyone would care. Radio silence was all he had gotten from everyone he considered to be a friend. From every member of his family.

Old family.

If they were true family they would have visited. They would have helped him to rebel. They would have at least come to his stupid party or make contact.

But no. He had been left here, alone, to sit and fall deeper an deeper into his thoughts.

But oddly, he loves it.

He loves the peace of mind the ocean brings.

Can you blame him for loving the fear of stepping off the platform without the knowledge of if it would be his last breath. It was the closest form of entertainment he had. Guessing if Dream would appear and snatch him out of the air holding that stupid trident. Taking away once again what he truly wanted from the cruel world.

Falling was truly liberating.