drista and tommy trying their best despite being sooo different + tommy wilbur scene

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: physical abuse, manipulation

HELLOOOO!! i wrote all of this in one sitting just now and didn't beta read it so enjoy !! i think this is one of my worst chapters yet so apologies in advance

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Drista sighed, running a hand through her hair as she stood, glancing back at where Tommy was curled on the floor. The place she’d brought him to was just… space. A sort of empty place where gods often resided. There wasn’t truly a way to describe it, it was and wasn’t everything, but in one word other than space, she’d have to say it was… dark.

She hadn’t anticipated… whatever the hell it was that was going on. Her friend was completely unresponsive, and any attempt she made to bring him back down to earth proved useless.

She didn’t understand; she was doing it for Tommy. She wanted him to finally be okay, but for some reason he had quite literally just stopped, entirely. Drista saw the way people shared what they’d been through, she watched down on them as they moaned and groaned and eventually came to understandings, but not Tommy. He didn’t share, and if he did, it was a watered down vague semblance of the truth at best. She saw how much easier it would be for her friend if he would just open up even slightly, but he wouldn’t, and so she took it into her own hands.

And yes, perhaps she was slightly biased. Perhaps there were other members of the server who omitted certain facts and details about their own stories and personal hells, but to be quite frank, Drista didn’t care for them. Hell, she was still new to caring about Tommy. She’d never set her mind to caring about a mortal, about someone so… fragile. Well, she supposed there was sort-of her brother… her lowly grovelling excuse for a brother, but she’d never felt much for him. She had only her eldest brother, another deity, that she loved.

Until Tommy, that was.

Tommy was… different. He was loud and rude, prone to injuries, impulsive and brash. By all means he was exactly what she despised about mortals, because he was the exact definition of one. He lived with such fiery passion, never once giving into the idea that in the grand scheme of things it might all be pointless. He didn’t ever stop to think about the grand scheme, actually, he just focused on the then and there. He lived in the moment, and that had always meant so little to Drista because a moment for her was eons to him. His moment that he fought tooth and nail for, his moment that he quite literally died for over and over again, was pathetic in her eyes.

She supposed it was his raw simplicity that drew her in. Where others were profound and esoteric, where they seemed to grow larger than life and push boundaries they shouldn’t, Tommy was simply himself. He was so disgustingly human .

Mortality, in a way, was precious. It was fleeting, and unless you knew otherwise it was all there was. Humans and other creatures alike lived and died before Drista herself could even blink, but somewhere along the line she’d come to envy that, and she was almost dead certain it was Tommy’s fault.

He lived without fear of deadline, without fear of gods and monsters, without existentialism that she’d seen so many other humans latch onto. Perhaps it was because he didn’t have time for gods and monsters, or perhaps it was because if he stopped for even a moment to truly think he’d be slain where he stood.

Tommyinnit was always running, always going, always in motion; and Drista couldn’t help the admiration that came as she watched. It was so… simple. Being a divine being herself she didn’t get simplicity, but Tommy himself was just that.

That was why he was so precious to her. He was the closest she would ever get to understanding the raw purity of living numbered days.

And her brother had taken that from him. Dream had taken what made Tommy himself. Mortals weren’t supposed to come back. That wasn’t something that occurred. Death needed to have meaning. Death needed to have weight or existence itself would become fruitless.

The fact that Dream had taken mortality in its purest and molded it into his undead project, well, it enraged her.

By that point, she’d had enough. As a god she wasn’t supposed to interfere in the way she was. It was probably a given that she shouldn’t have rounded up all those people and sat them through what they were seeing, but as far as letting nature take its course had gone, her annoyance of a brother had sent that down the drain when he brought back Tommy from the dead.

If the story of Tommyinnit had been forcibly reopened, Drista was certain she wouldn’t let the following chapters be the same as the ones that came before them. She wouldn’t let the spiral of grief and horror continue on.

The lectures she’d get from Foolish and X seemed insignificant if it meant she could help her one and only friend.

“Tommy,” She began, crouching down beside him, “I don’t get it… What are you doing? I’ve checked over all your vitals, all your systems and you’re fine, but you won’t speak or move I don’t…”

She trailed off, looking him over again. His knees were tucked tightly into his chest as he sat, staring vacantly into space. He just, wouldn’t move. No matter what she did.

“I hate you.”

Drista blinked, surprised from behind her mask, looking over at where the soft spoken and dead words had come from. “What?” She tilted her head.

“I hate you.” Tommy repeated, still staring into nothingness, eyes hollow and empty.

She felt something brand new at that; a sort of sinking feeling in her gut. Leaning forward, a strand of hair fell over her mask. “You don’t mean that..”

Tommy’s eyes suddenly focused, and his gaze locked on her, bubbling with fury. He stood shakily, but with intention, pushing himself up hastily, and she backed away. He was sneering at her, and though she floated above the ground making her appear taller than him he was still somewhat intimidating. Well, perhaps that wasn’t the right word… or perhaps it was.

Drista wasn’t afraid of Tommy hurting her in that moment, not with his fists at least. The one sentence uttered before seemed to have jarred her, and she didn’t quite know how to react.

“I thought you were my friend!” He cried, pleading yet angered. “I thought you… I… Why would you do this Drista?”

She frowned, not sure what to say. Why didn’t he see? “Tommy I-”

“I hate you!” He said once more, chest heaving with uneven breaths as tears of rage pricked at his eyes. “How could you show them those things!?”

“Look at yourself, Tommy.” She muttered, finding it hard to swallow for some reason.

“You-”

“ Look at yourself.”

Tommy faltered, looking down at his hands. They were pale and bruised, fingers crooked and bandaged. Cuts from clawing at obsidian had yet to heal, and he could see the bits of scar tissue from every single ember that had graced them with its tantalizing promise of warmth before forever marring him with the mark of someone destined to be cold and alone.

It was disgusting.

He scoffed, shoving them into his sweater pockets unceremoniously. He had the sickening feeling that if he were to look at them for any longer he’d be on his knees begging Drista to hack them off.

“What about it,” Tommy muttered, glaring at her, “Quit being so fucking vague you massive asshole.”

“I’m not being vague, Tommy.” Drista insisted, “You’re hurt, and you need help.”

I’m damaged, and I deserve to be alone.

“Oh fuck off,” he rolled his eyes, “since when do you care? Didn’t see you giving a shit when I was hm... You know? With your best pal? Your brother? ” fists clenching as he said the words, as though they were physically damaging him, he still wouldn’t back down.

“Tommy I- I wasn’t allowed to get involved before; gods aren’t supposed to meddle-”

“Well you seem to have no problem now, huh? What? Were you just bored?” He taunted, not seeing how tense she was growing, “Why now? Why now, Drist-”

“Because he interfered first!” She hissed, voice raising. Tommy instantly went still, hurt flashing over his eyes for a mere moment before they glazed over. Silence washed over them, suddenly making somewhere that could only be defined by words like space and empty feel so, so cramped and small.

“Oh I get it,” Tommy huffed out a laugh, rocking back on his heels, “This isn’t actually about me. It’s about getting back at him, hm? I’m just- what, your game piece? Some fuckin checker in a game with big brother?”

“Tommy…” Drista began, feeling her pent up anger leave her body as he went on, “It’s not like that I promise…”

“Then why didn’t you save me?” Tommy whispered, the overly big sleeves of Ranboo’s sweater were balled up in his fists, locked in a death grip, and he was shaking with barely contained rage.

“Tommy,”

“Why!?” He shrieked, chest heaving. Tommy’s eyes were ablaze as he continued to tremble with unbridled fury. Drista watched sadly as the silence stretched out between them.

“I told you,” She managed, feeling something tight in her chest she’d never felt before, “we aren’t supposed to interfere with mortals.” Tommy looked like he wanted to interrupt, but she continued before he could. “I- I’m not even supposed to be doing this right now I mean, I’m gonna be in trouble for centuries but Tommy, ” she urged, and somehow the boy could feel her stare through the mask, “everything I’m doing right now is for you.”

Tommy looked as though he was in pain, trying to swallow his own anger and listen to her. He was quiet for what felt like decades before letting out a sad laugh and shaking his head.

“This whole fuckin situation is the definition of good intentions bad execution…” He muttered.

“I don’t understand what I did wrong.” Drista supplied unhelpfully, already moving past the conversation completely and hoping he would too. She didn’t like the idea of Tommy being mad at her.

“Course you don’t,” Tommy glared, “you’re a huge fuckin idiot, you are. They’re all going to hate me Drista, they’re going to see me for what I really am and then- and then it’ll be all your fault and-”

“What are you really, Tommy?” She interrupted. He looked up at her, something unreadable in his eyes. A million voices screamed different answers, all synonyms for one thing, in his mind.

“Fuck you.” He laughed bitterly.

The silence began once more.

Jack Manifold was sick. He had never had a very good stomach for violence and seeing Wilbur act with such malice had him reeling. That was all it was. He could care less about Tommy’s whines, could care less about Tommy in general.

That’s not true, a voice in his mind hissed, and he did everything within his power to block it out.

His whole life, Jack had just wanted to be seen. He wanted to be treated on equal par, and he wanted others to see him as someone deserving of their respect. He didn’t want to be unknown, some nobody on a server full of sombodies. He didn’t want to be constantly dismissed, to have his problems constantly looked over just because “Tommy had it worse” . Tommy could go fuck himself. He got himself into those situations.

He didn’t, you saw he didn’t. Not there, at least. Not with Wilbur.

“ Shut up! ” He whispered quietly to himself, ignoring the stares he got and gripping his temple with great stress.

Whatever then, maybe Pogtopia hadn’t necessarily been Tommy’s fault, but that didn’t mean exile wasn’t due to his own actions. It didn’t mean he had any right to kill others. Jack wasn’t going to let him get away scot free just because he was a little roughed up on the edges.

Jack had spent every waking hour being looked down upon and forgotten, losing possession after possession and watching absolutely no one give a fuck. He wasn’t going to sit there and cry for Tommy when he hadn’t even gotten an apology from the boy. He wouldn’t let himself forgive so easily, that time. Either they would try for his favour or they’d die trying. He’d had enough of being so casually looked over; enough of being no one.

If Tommy wanted to garner pity it wasn’t working.

Deep down he knew; he knew that Tommy would never purposely try to gain pity. The boy loathed pity. He knew Tommy was prideful to a fault, and would never have plotted something like this, but it didn’t stop him from insisting to himself that it was all some trick; that he couldn’t let himself feel bad for even a moment.

Two rows ahead of him, he saw Karl whisper something in Sapnap’s ear, and they both giggled. He scowled, feeling something crawling and clawing its way up from deep down inside of him, but swallowed it back down all the same.

He hated Tommy. That was all. Tommy was the reason he felt the way he did.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can do…” Sam muttered quietly, frowning deeply. A couple people seemed to agree with the statement. “I mean, Tommy obviously doesn’t want us seeing this, isn’t it… wrong? ”

“It’s not like we have a choice,” Techno shrugged it off, “quicker we sit through it the quicker it’s over.”

Sam’s eyes flicked over to where Tubbo was drying his eyes with the back of his forearm, sniffling quietly. Ranboo was silent, staring ahead blankly in a situation where he’d normally be fretting over his husband. “Yeah…” The warden nodded hesitantly.

The screen flickered to life, settling them all back down.

Tommy scuttered down the ravine, eyes alight and arms filled with diamond blocks. He had… that sort of look on his face; the one where you knew he knew he was doing something not necessarily in his best interest.

He ambled around, eyes scanning the walls, and dug out a one block hole before filling it with the diamond block. He looked proud of himself, grinning and moving on.

“What the hell is he doing?”

“Decoratin’.” Techno declared. He remembered the stupid blocks being everywhere.

“He’s a shit decorator.” George wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“That’s why all his houses are made out of dirt.” Karl laughed.

“This is ridiculous!”

Wilbur’s unenthused voice rang through the halls of Pogtopia, echoing and bouncing off jagged rocks. He looked to be on call with someone, holding his communicator up to his ear. Tommy grew closer, still placing blocks at random.

“We’ve abided by all your laws. We’re exiled, not wanted criminals.” He hissed into the line, looking visibly upset. When he saw what Tommy was doing his eyes instantly widened. He reached his hand out and began to snap at the boy, clearly signalling for the boy to cease.

Tommy merely stared at him, as though he was confused, tilting his head like the little shit he was.

Wilbur’s nostrils flared as he pursed his lips, snapping more frantically and making gestures with his hands as he did.

Tommy placed a block while making eye contact with the man.

“He is so fucking stupid…” Tubbo muttered, and though the statement was lighthearted, anyone could hear the dread in his tone. They were all feeling it.

Despite it all, Tommy had never stopped being a nuisance.

“I’m gonna have to mute for a moment,” Wilbur declared suddenly into his communicator, eye twitching slightly. He shoved the device into his pocket angrily and glared at the blond. Tommy gave him a large grin.

“Tommy what the fuck are you doing?” The man deadpanned.

“Making this place look better,” Tommy shrugged, turning on his heel, “it’s quite depressing, Wilbur. Much like you.” There was an undertone of fear laced in his voice, but he hid it well.

“Put the diamond blocks down!”

“Fuck you!”

Wilbur scowled, wordlessly picking up a moderately sized rock.

“They used to do this all the time.” Phil put his head in his hands. He should have felt happy at the memory, should have been able to reminisce, but Wilbur’s unstable and violent actions were much too fresh in his mind.

He launched it at Tommy, hitting him square in the shoulder. The blond gasped momentarily, before whirling to glare at his brother.

“Remember when Tommy threw that massive rock and it hit Wil right in the eye?” Techno grinned, “Had to keep him on bedrest for a week.”

“You make it sound like I let these fights happen,” Phil groaned, “They always did it behind my back.”

Wordlessly, Wilbur threw another, hitting his brother again. There was a small amused grin on his face. Tommy seemed elated at some semblance of the older brother he knew, and played into it immediately.

He enderpearled closer, staring Wil in the eyes. “You’re gonna regret it if you throw another one.”

Smirking, the older flicked a pebble at Tommy’s forehead. The latter scowled.

“Throw one more. I dare you.” He taunted.

Wilbur smiled, eyes warm with recognition for the first time in forever. He threw another rock.

“So they had rock fights as kids… for fun…” Ranboo trailed off, not really knowing what to say. Phil chuckled.

“Living on a farm away from almost everyone and everything with only your brothers can get pretty boring. It wasn’t like we had any sports equipment or anything either. Rock fights were all the rage.”

“Humans are so weird…”

Tommy silently bent down low, straining slightly as he picked up a large rock about half the size of his head. Wilbur’s smile slipped from his face as he turned on his heel, booking it to avoid being hit by it.

“Stop!” He laughed, watching as Tommy picked up another rock, an even bigger one.

“Say sorry, bitch!” The blond declared, fingers itching with the need to launch the thing, “say you like my decorating skills!”

Phil smiled sadly at the screen, watching his two boys as they laughed. That’s what it was supposed to be like. What he was seeing, that was the Wilbur and Tommy he knew so well.

“Tommy,” A voice crackled through Wilbur’s pocket, making both of them go deathly quiet as it did, “Y’know I’m hiring and I am all for public displays of wealth.”

Any semblance of comradery between the two instantly went down the drain the second Schlatt spoke. Wilbur’s eyes glazed over, returning to the cold ones that Tommy knew all too well.

You lost him again, Tommy thought angrily to himself, he’s gone. Again.

He looked his big brother up and down, suddenly feeling his heart rate increase. He wanted Wilbur back. He hated this Wilbur.

A small, barely noticeable smile grew on his face.

“Oh no…” Tubbo muttered, eyes going wide.

“What?” Puffy looked concerned.

“That’s his ‘I’m gonna do something awful because I'm angry’ face…” The ram hybrid looked greatly distressed.

“Wouldn’t that just be his face in general then?” Techno quirked a brow. Fundy let out a little bark of laughter before instantly trying to smother it. Technoblade terrified him, if he was being honest, and after the butcher army he doubted they were on good enough terms for him to be laughing at the guy’s jokes.

“Really?” He replied to Schlatt, voice high and polite and fake. Wilbur looked livid.

“Oh for sure,” The president of Manberg “I’d let you put diamond blocks wherever you wanted.”

Wilbur sucked in a large breath, fists clenching and unclenching. Tommy barely spared him a glance, walking towards the nether portal.

“Where the fuck are you going?” He demanded, watching the younger go. “Where the fuck are you going?” He began to follow, hot on Tommy’s heels.

The boy picked up his speed.

“Get back here!” Wilbur growled, and Tommy laughed, before turning around from inside the portal and flipping off his brother with both hands. He disappeared not a second later.

“Why would he…?” Quackity was gesturing vaguely at the screen, fidgeting uncomfortably, “I mean he knows Wilbur’s like…”

“It’s Tommy.” Fundy smiled sadly. “Dude wouldn’t stop being a little shit even in the face of death…. which I guess we’ve seen one or two times already.

“Zero self preservation skills.” Karl noted.

Ranboo frowned. Curling in on himself even more. It wasn’t just a lack of self-preservation it was self-destructive. Tommy was well aware that Wilbur wasn’t in a place to be toyed with, and yet he still did it.

He was egging the man on. He knew what he was doing, knew the possible consequences for his actions, and yet he still did it. Why?

“Hey Wilbur,” Tommy’s amused voice buzzed from Wil’s communicator, “come to the nether dickhead.”

The man looked down at the device, gripping it so hard it was a miracle it didn’t break. He looked livid. Without a word he stepped through the portal. What greeted him was multiple blocks of diamonds placed in awkward positions above the lava. Tommy was leaning up against the wall grinning, but there was anger hidden in his eyes.

“Fuck you.” Was all the blond said.

The scene shifted to a haggard looking Wilbur dragging Tommy back through the portal, all the diamond in his inventory. He was seething silently, his younger brother’s wrist held so tightly he knew it would bruise.

Without so much as an ounce of hesitation he threw Tommy onto the cold floor, staring down at him. The latter said nothing, merely glaring up.

“Do it.” Tommy whispered.

“What the fuck?”

Everyone in the room was confused, staring with wide eyes.

“Do what?” Wilbur scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Hit me.” Tommy urged, looking a bit desperate, “Hit me and then say you’re sorry! Pretend you care and say you’ll never do it again until the next time I piss you off! Until the next time I leave without asking or fuck up!” He was shaking, laying on his front on the stone, propped up on his forearms.

Wilbur said nothing, watching the boy with his piercing gaze. They spent a good minute in silence before the elder relented, laughing quietly to himself. He crouched down, smiling gently and cupping Tommy’s cheek.

The younger looked concerned, as if readying himself for his brother’s wrath.

“I would never hit you, Tommy.” Wilbur tilted his head, a sad smile on his face. “Why would you ever say that?”

Ranboo suddenly felt very sick. Tommy had been purposely acting out with the sole goal of getting his brother to hit him. He wracked his mind over and over, trying to think, but still, he couldn’t think of why.

Tommy blanched, as though he was disappointed. He drew his brows together, confused. “But-”

“I love you, Toms.” Wilbur crooned, interrupting the boy. His touch was gentle and caring, like that the blond had used to know.

Tommy looked white as a sheet.

Puffy sat quietly, trying to figure out why Tommy would want Wilbur to hit him, and also why Wilbur hadn’t.

The older man had looked very close to it, clearly furious, but after looking Tommy over he seemed to grow… somewhat intrigued. He fell back on himself, and his whole demanor had changed.

Tommy had seemed to be encompassed by a large cloud of rage, but also desperation. His disobedience didn’t… it didn’t make sense.

Wilbur sauntered off rather quickly after that, disappearing into the shadows and humming a tune to himself.

What’s wrong with you? Tommy thought to himself, still on the ground. He gritted his teeth, glaring harshly down at the ground. He stood, wiping the snot from his nose with his sleeve as his eyes watered. Why would you ask him to do that? He loves you.

“He doesn’t love me.” He said aloud, though no one was around to hear it. “H-He doesn’t he hits me…”

When you deserve it. He thought bitterly back, And sometimes even when you do deserve it he doesn’t. It’s because he loves you. You even tried to get him to hit you there and he didn’t. Because he loves you.

“No,” He grabbed fistfulls of his hair, pulling at them, “No no no no…”

You want to leave him. He loves you and you want to leave him. You promised you’d never leave him. You’re a terrible brother. Dad and Techno would be so disappointed in y-

“Shut up!” He shrieked, slamming his fist against the stone wall as he panted. He slid down, pulling his knees up close to his chest.

“I won’t. I won’t leave. I’ll stay, I swear.”

The screen faded to black.

Ranboo blindly grabbed for Tubbo’s hand as he stared at the black screen, not resting until he found it. Tubbo squeezed it once.

Tommy had been trying to get Wilbur to hit him to validate his feelings towards the man. He’d been scared, and wanted to leave and yet he felt guilty for it. He needed Wilbur to act out against him to help himself feel more in the right.

Instead Wilbur had acted with love, and it had sent Tommy spiralling.

Ranboo so badly wanted to rush to the ravine. To find his friend and tell him to run, to leave and never look back. He wanted to find Tommy and tell him to never feel guilty for something like that; that he deserved to leave.

But it had already happened, and Tommy had never left.

“Fucking hell…” Quackity sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“W-We all understand what Tommy was trying to do, right?”

The silence felt like a big enough yes. Puffy had no doubt certain people in the room had found a way to twist it on the boy, but she’d deal with them later. In that moment? All she could do was keep herself from breaking down.

“Why didn’t he leave …” Karl whispered hollowly, tears rolling down his cheeks. He wasn’t really looking for an answer, he knew why. He just couldn’t bear the thought of Tommy staying through it all because of how much he loved Wilbur. It felt so fucking unfair to him.

All they could really do was pray that Wilbur’s death would come sooner, as morbid and awful as it sounded. No one, well not most of them at least, wanted Wilbur dead, but it seemed that was the only way to free Tommy. Even Phil found himself sitting there wishing so badly that it was over.

They couldn’t stand to see Wilbur doing those things.

Come his death, everything would be fine.

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THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT U GUYS ARE LITERALLY INSANE I MEAN IT!!! SOOO GRATEFUL FOR U GUYS