Mcyt oneshots :)

Tommy angst

TW: CHARACTER DEATH, SUICIDE, MANIPULATION

Stacks upon stacks of dirt shiver beneath my feet, unstable as all I do is go higher. I climb until I reach the block limit, the air is so free here. Basking in the sun’s rays, early dawn becomes day. I climb higher, thinking everything yet nothing at all. Dream.. He betrayed me, not only that, he was never my friend. He never cared about me, he never gave a single fuck if I lived or if I died, didnt care how many times he hurt me. Dream didn't mind that the armor I had just crafted by hand only moments prior now lies at the bottom of his pit. His TNT has destroyed everything. Logshedshire is gone, and I know I can't replace it. Everything that still matters is in my ender chest, if I die, that won't change. Slight breeze timidly graces my cheeks, swiping away regrets. Removing memories, but I don't mind, because they’re memories I never should have made.

Memories of Wilbur, strong and kind. A leader, who wanted rebellion only because he cared. The man who raised me to be who I am today, and I don't mean the one who stands at the brink of the afterlife, grasping at reasons to be alive. Wilbur, who’s laugh floods my every daydream with it’s forlorn joy and passion. The brother I never had, but always wished to. That man who came to me one day and asked if I would start a nation with him, to which I responded with “you're crazy Wilbur”. But he wasn’t. I was the crazy one. I was the one who shot my shot, and missed. Come to think of it, that was a shot angled for Dream. Wilbur wasn’t crazy when he founded L’manburg, he was happy. Happy beyond recognition, beyond any happiness I had ever hoped to achieve. Wilbur Soot, who led alongside me in an election that we should have won, but we didn't. I watched as Wilbur died that day, watched as that happiness drained from his face, his laugh becoming sinister, tone laced with pure, unbridled fear. “Tommy, we have to go” he spoke, eyes once full of adoration now overflowing with dread. I watched as Wilbur went insane, he lost everything, and I stood by. The man I knew and loved is gone, he died trying to restore some ounce of peace. I hated him. I hated him for blowing up L’manburg, hated him for leaving, hated him for going insane, but it was never his fault. He died in the control room, the same place that not long before the words had been said that “it was never meant to be”, but it was. L’manburg was meant to be, Wilbur was meant to be, ME! I was meant to be, but am I now? Am I meant to stay? Memories gone on the soft breeze of what almost feels like spring.

Memories of Tubbo, as we sit on the bench, side by side, listening to music disks. Letting the slow, steady rhythm of the disc named Mellohi encompass us. The compass. The compass given to me by Ghostbur. The one last connection I have to my best friend. Or is he? Can I call him that anymore? Memories of the van, Tubbo holding my hand as we reminisced about how it began. Tubbo, who was always by my side, who stole emeralds from Technoblade just because he could. The boy who when L’manburg needed a ruler, filled that gap with his charm and his phrase. The Tubbo who loves bees so much he cries when they die, and that's the reason he doesn't like their stings. The small, scared child I saw be executed that day. The ruler of the nation we once founded alongside Wilbur, calling upon an anarchist to slaughter the defenseless. Tubbo who screamed for help and begged for forgiveness from an unjust God. The boy who shouted my name when a firework impaled his chest. Tubbo died that day, in more ways than one, “he said he wasn’t going to hurt me”. Well Tubbo I guess he lied. I promised I would never leave you, I guess so did I. Tubbo, who looked me dead in the eyes and asked Dream to “escort Tommy out of my nation”. It was my nation, and I had a right to it. I’m sorry Tubbo, I guess I wasn’t enough. Memories gone, as if calling my bluff.

The dirt shivers and shakes under my body weight, crumbling down, smashing against the water. What am I doing? I don’t want to forget. I want to go home, I have to get down! I don't want to die up here all alone. The fires spread to a tree. The tree crumbles down, toppling the bottom layer of dirt. The tower sways, before I can count to ten, I’m falling. My limbs spread, hands reaching toward the sky, feet trying to land on something soft enough to survive. My back faces the ground as I watch the trees grow closer and closer over my shoulder. Leaves.

The last thing I see is the leaves. And then it all goes blank.

Was It meant to be?

I don’t know, maybe home was never free.

What was my name again?