A Splash Of Paint (MCYT Oneshots)

Ever-Youth (Tommy-centric)

(A/N: based off of that one fic where ytbers' appearance are how their fans think of them as. anyways here have some mcyt angst)

Once upon a time, he grew up.

When he looked back at old photographs, he could see clearly how he grew. From being a small, wide-eyed, quiet baby, to a loud child, to a louder teenager.

The photographs stop at that. His parents didn't want a reminder of his 'condition', as they called it, and Tommy didn't want a reminder of how much he had changed, all because he became a YouTuber, and a popular one at that.

The changes weren't known to normal people. It was a YouTuber's curse, one that couldn't get out and be known to the whole world. Tommy still remembered how, when his changes first started appearing, a group of black-dressed men and came to his house, and explained what would be happening to him.

That was a year ago. He was seventeen now, but he hadn't changed a day. His braces stayed on, no matter how many times he had tried to remove them earlier on. He grew shorter, if that was even a normal thing, and though he still stood taller than Tubbo, he was much shorter compared to when he was sixteen.

All in all, he supposed he was one of the few who got the better draw out of everything. Because of Tubbo's love for bees, his fans drew him as a bee quite often, and now he had large bee wings, translucent and measuring at least half his body size. People like Fundy and Technoblade, they were one type of the truly unlucky ones. The ones who just had to have an animal motif, and paid the price for it.

They had to have the black-dressed men help shop for them, because if anyone outside of the popular YouTuber community were to get a hold of the fact that the YouTubers with animals motifs now had actual animal traits, and in some extreme, unlucky people, becoming a human animal themselves, they would go hysterical.

There was another unlucky type, but it was far less common. It didn't mean that it was any less pitiful, however. The first time Tommy met Finnster, he was almost convinced that Finn had been a cisfemale. There was almost no trace of masculinity in his face, even as Finn did everything he could to seem as masculine as possible.

"The only times I can be male is when I need to do the makeup videos," he had told him once, whispered into his ear. "My body shifts, and it switches between whatever forms the fans want to see on the stream today. I hope you'll never have to experience the feeling of your body constantly morphing painfully, Tommy-Innit."

Everyday, the urge to just not stream for the day grew bigger. But not streaming would only hurt his body, would piss off the fans, would make the pain that came with his body forcing itself to change and shape and mould itself into the ideas of people who never knew him in the first place, and he would rather prevent that kind of stuff from happening.

The Dream SMP looked after their own. After every streaming time, they would all get into a call together, and just talk. No need for discussions about their changes, or plans for the SMP, or even ways to slowly but surely change their appearances back to normal.

No, they didn't need to talk about how there was a permanent mask stuck onto Dream's face, nor how the goggles on George's face were as permanent as Sapnap's headband. They didn't need to talk about how Wilbur's skin was already half-grey, or how Phil's wings had become clipped, or how Quackity had virtually no hair on his head now. They didn't need to talk about how Bad was already as inhuman as any of them could get, or how Skeppy could only wear blue clothes now.

No, because those were saved for angry, dark days. Instead, they joked around. They made plans to meet up without the fans knowing, just to have someone to comfort and be comforted by. They told each other stories and played games that they would never record, would never show to those watching them from screens, would never let out of their tight-knit, close community.

Tommy knew he wouldn't be stopping his YouTube thing for a long time. He had heard horror stories of those who tried to stop, who tried to pull themselves away from the curse. There were always two ways it would pan out: they would either return, desperate for the pain to settle down and dull and stop, or they would never be heard back from again, the pain overbearing and too harsh for them to continue.

Once upon a time, he grew up. Once upon a time, Tommy aged.

He stopped doing that a long time ago.