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It isn’t something he’s ashamed of. Far from it, actually. Tommy was extremely proud of how far he’s come and his identity as a whole. He just doesn’t talk about it because he doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. Also, he thinks it’s incredibly funny that twitter has deemed him the token cishet.
Tommy’s friends are just in the dark as his fans are, which is a lot more unintentional and more because he just isn’t sure how to work it into conversation. So he just… doesn’t. He isn’t worried about them not supporting him, he’s confident in his online family’s love for him. It just isn’t a big deal. He’ll get around to it eventually.
Wilbur
They just got done filming a vlog, braving a water obstacle course with good ol’ Gogy. Tommy had been wearing his binder, and now that they’re out of the water the wet material has become increasingly uncomfortable.
They had just dropped George off at his flat, and Tommy had commandeered the passenger seat and with it, the aux cord. They were almost at Wilbur’s flat, the two of them planning for some off-camera bonding time.
Tommy reached for his bag, pulling it into his lap and rifling through it, checking to make sure he had a change of clothes. He didn’t bring an extra binder, and he wasn’t planning on wearing his still drying binder under dry clothes.
He planned on stealing one of Wil’s big sweaters and changing into that. One issue: Wilbur was woefully unaware he would be lending Tommy his clothing. Poor, poor man.
Tommy slid out of the car, throwing his bag over his shoulder and leaning over Wilbur’s shoulder as he unlocked the door.
“Personal space gremlin.” Wilbur scolded, giving him a small shove as he opened the door for the two of them.
“It’s not my fault you’re so slow, I really need to change. Wet clothes are not poggers, you know.” Tommy informs him, shooting him a cheeky grin as Wil rolls his eyes at him.
“Well, the bathroom’s open so you can change now and stop being a pest. How does pasta sound for lunch?” He receives a thumbs up in response, and the younger disappears into the bathroom.
Peeling a wet binder off is, admittedly, kind of gross. But in a satisfying way. Like peeling off dry skin, Tommy muses to himself as he replaces it with one of the shirts Wilbur had insisted he buy. Something about better fashion and being good for his brand. Whatever, he was perfectly content looking like a teenage boy whose mother still dressed him.
Maybe the older had been onto something, he relents, as he studies himself in the full length mirror hanging from the door. He’s wearing the shirt and pair of cotton shorts, and he’s pleased to admit that he’s not hit with dysphoria while examining himself not wearing a binder.
The shirt looks good too, and he’ll be almost sad to cover it up with one of Wil’s sweaters. Almost. It’s cold in the older’s flat, and he shivers as goosebumps start to prickle up his arms.
He shoves his towel and mostly dry clothes into his bag, save for his binder. He’ll have to ask Wil where he can hang it up to dry, Tommy doesn’t like leaving it wet for extended periods of time, worried it’ll damage the item.
He shoulders the bag again and pushes open the door, walking out of the bathroom. He sets his bag beside the couch, placing his binder gently over it for the time being. First, the sweater. He pokes his head into the kitchen, seeing Wilbur bent over a boiling pot, shaking a box of pasta into it.
“Hey,” Tommy calls out, silently delighting in the older’s startled look that settles into something fond when he spots Tommy in the archway. “I need to borrow one of your sweaters, where’s your fuckin’ Los Campesinos one?”
Wilbur wrinkles his nose at him. “Why do you insist on stealing my clothes? Especially my favorite ones. You’re a menace.” Tommy raised an eyebrow. He sighed, “It’s in my room, hanging over my chair.”
Tommy cheered, making his way into Wil’s room and snatching the beloved sweater from its spot on the desk chair.
He slips it on, reveling in the warmth and added comfort he gets from it. He’s not necessarily insecure about not binding around people he trusts, but it’s still nice to have the safety net of oversized clothing.
Speaking of, he still has to ask Wilbur where he can put his binder. Then, he muses to himself, lunch time.
He bypasses the kitchen, heading into the living room and snagging his binder from the top of his bag. He reappears in the kitchen, watching as Wilbur strains the pasta.
“Hey boss man,” Wil doesn’t look up, just hums in acknowledgment, “Where can I hang my binder to dry?” He holds up the garment in question.
This time Wilbur does look up, his eyes glancing from Tommy to the binder and back again.
“Pardon?” He blinks. Tommy hefts the binder a little higher. “My binder.” He reiterates, “Where can I hang it to dry?”
“You can put it over the towel rack if you want.” Wilbur says eventually. “You’ve been binding safely, right?” Tommy snorts at his overprotectiveness.
“Yes oh big brother Soot, of course big brother Soot.” Wilbur rolls his eyes. “I’ve been binding for years, big man, no need to worry.” Wilbur’s face softens.
“I’m proud of you,” He says, and Tommy flushes, “Thank you for trusting me.” Tommy goes to wring his hands together, before remembering, oh yeah, he was still holding his wet binder. He flushes harder.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you, I wasn’t trying to like- keep it a secret or anything, I just didn’t think it was a huge deal? Maybe I was a little worried you would treat me different, I don’t know, it’s dumb.” Wilbur frowns, abandons the cooling pasta at the counter, placing his hands on his shoulders. Tommy looks up at him, eyes slightly watery.
“Tommy,” he starts, and his voice is soft, gentle in the way Wil used to talk to cats he’d come across while walking through Brighton on early mornings, on call with Tommy while he was getting ready for college, “Nothing you can do could change how I think about you. You’ll always be my little brother man, I don’t give a shit about things like that, ok? I love you.”
“Fuck,” Tommy chokes out, reaching out to wipe away tears that he would forever deny were falling in the first place, “I love you too, Wil, you’re my older brother, seriously, and- I really, really appreciate it.” A pause, then, “Now can I please hang up my binder? My hands are getting all clammy holding it, you jerk.”
“Oh fuck you!”
Tubbo
They’re on a discord call, going over thumbnail ideas. It’s midday- the sun is shiny and the birds are chirping and Tommy has been staring at this goddamn thumbnail for thirty minutes, and his eyes are starting to water from how dry they’ve become.
He’s just about to open his mouth to start complaining when his phone goes off. Or, more specifically, his alarm reminding him to do his T shot goes off.
“Ah shit,” He murmurs, turning the alarm off and turning back to his monitor displaying their call, “Hey, are you squeamish with needles?” Tubbo makes a confused noise, the green bubble around his icon lighting up.
“Um, no? Not particularly, why?” Tommy grins, pushing his chair back and standing up, wincing as his joints pop. He really needs to go outside more.
“Wanna see something cool?” He questions, leaning down and flicking on his camera, his face taking up a part of his screen. After a second, Tubbo appears too, looking slightly unsure but curious.
“Please tell me you’re about to shoot up heroin on our discord call.” Tubbo’s grin is a little bit unhinged, and Tommy bursts into laughter.
“Something even better, boss man. Hang on a second.” He turns away from his monitor and leaves his room, turning into his bathroom and grabbing a needle, a vial of testosterone, some alcohol pads, and a needle container.
He returns back to his room, and after moving his keyboard out of the way, lays out his items, tilting his camera so Tubbo had a better view.
“I’m doing my T shot, big man.” He explains, glancing up to garner Tubbo’s reaction. Predicitibly, he looks slightly lost.
“Is that the one- the one that transgender people do?” He asks hesitantly, and Tommy gives him a smile.
“Yeah, specifically transmasc people- or, trans people who present more masculinely.” He explains, popping the lid off his testosterone vial. “You cool with watching me stab myself in the stomach?” Tubbo blinks.
“Yeah man go for it. Give me a whole tour- or like, overview of everything. Vlog it for me.” He grins, and Tommy wonders why he was ever worried in the first place.
“That I can do. Ok so, this is the vial of testosterone,” He holds up the bottle, setting it down so he can free the needle from its packaging, “and this is the needle, I have to remove this cap before pulling the syringe thing back-”
He talks Tubbo through the whole process, and the older boy listens attentively, peering at his screen with a bit of an awed grin as he watches Tommy administer the testosterone, leaning back and stretching when Tommy finishes and lets his shirt fall back over his stomach.
“And you do this every week? Holy shit, you’re more man than I am. I’d probably do it wrong and kill myself.” Tubbo muses, so serious that he can’t help but fall into laughter, the older following suit.
“Jesus Tubbo, that’s morbid. But yeah, every week I take my oh so masculine man juice. Brings in all the primes and women Tubbo, you wouldn’t even believe-”
“Oh shut up man, you’re totally stalling because you don’t want to go back to that god awful thumbnail-”
“You said it looked good!”
“I lied!”
Niki
It’s a rare occurrence that he and Niki get alone time, and even rarer when said time is in person and not over discord.
They were filming a vlog, for Niki this time, not for Tommy’s channel, some sort of cozy shopping type of thing. Not really his thing, but he was always happy to spend time with his friends.
It was originally supposed to be Niki, Wilbur and him, but Wil had to cancel at the last minute as one of his flatmates got sick and needed to be taken care of.
So here they were, the two of them, braving a mall in Brighton on a particularly dreary day. Not too cold to be shivering, but enough that Tommy had to pull out his signature blue puffer jacket. Sue him, it was warm.
The vlog was going fairly successfully, he thought, they had braved some clothing stores and the two were now stopped at the food court, Tommy halfway through a soft pretzel.
“I was thinking after this we could stop at a makeup store, I ran out of mascara.” Niki comments, taking a sip of her lemonade. Tommy gives a thumbs up, mouth too full to reply.
“You know,” Niki ponders, a terrible smile coming over her face, “I was supposed to do Wil’s makeup for a segment of my vlog. But seeing as he’s not here…” She trails off, wiggling her eyebrows at him.
Tommy pauses, halfway through chewing. He hadn’t had his makeup done since he was twelve at oldest.
“You don’t have to,” Niki reassures when she sees his uncertainty, “We can find something else to do instead.” Tommy’s heart warms slightly at his friend’s worry for him.
“No, no,” He waves her off, “A big man like myself could only gain beauty from makeup, which is why I so graciously never wear it, don’t want to make anyone feel inferior and such. But I suppose if it’s for my good pal Niki Nihachu I could make an exception.” Niki’s grin makes up for any anxiety he feels.
That’s how they end up on Niki’s streaming office floor an hour later, cross legged and facing each other. Niki had shown a before for the vlog, and then sat the camera aside so she could concentrate on Tommy’s face.
He had to admit, he definitely didn’t miss the slight discomfort that wearing makeup gave him. But Niki was incredibly gentle and reassuring, holding a mirror up every so often so he could see the progress.
“You know,” He started, eyes gently closed as Niki started on eyeshadow and eyeliner, “I haven’t worn makeup in a long time. Feels all weird.”
“Yeah?” She hums, and a brush swipes over his left eye. “When’s the last time you wore it, if you feel comfortable saying?” He suppresses a flinch when the brush starts on his right eye.
“Used to wear it in year 6, before I figured out I was trans. I wasn’t any good at it of course, I was like 11 or some shit, so at least I know it’ll look better this time.” He jokes, fingers twisting in his lap.
I’m sure it wasn’t too bad, I bet you looked quite handsome.” Niki comments softly, pausing her movements for a second.
Tommy blinks open his eyes, meeting the older girl’s. She gives him a soft smile, and he exhales shakily.
“...Thank you Niki.” He murmurs quietly, eyes sliding back shut so she could apply his eyeliner. “I really appreciate it.”
Later, when his face is all done, Niki hands him the mirror for a final time, camera not yet on to showcase the look.
“Very handsome.” She promises him as he examines himself in the handheld mirror. He can’t help but agree with her.
Ranboo
Contrary to popular belief, regardless of whether that belief was reinforced by Tommy himself, him and Ranboo were friends. Not to say they were incredibly close, but Tommy could confidently say he felt comfortable around the older boy. Meeting the older in person certainly helped, even though he was still slightly bitter Ranboo was taller.
Right now they were hanging out in a discord call, together but both doing their own thing. Tubbo was busy in a meeting, something about his server, so it was just the two of them. Tommy was completing a mindless worksheet for college while Ranboo was scrolling through twitter, occasionally breaking the silence to send him a meme or hum out a song lyric.
Tommy was on the last question of the worksheet, flipping through his textbook to retrieve the answer, when Ranboo let out a snort. He hums questioningly, not quite paying attention.
“Just- I saw a meme someone made, you know the whole gender joke? Like me stealing people’s gender and stuff. I am the epitome of gender envy apparently.” Tommy snorts, finishing the problem and leaning back in his chair.
“You know,” He starts, brain hazy with the lifted burden of finished schoolwork, “You give me gender envy sometimes.” For a moment, there’s silence on Ranboo’s end. Then, he makes an odd noise, halfway between a laugh and a cough.
“I really appreciate the sentiment Tommy, but, uh- only trans people can experience gender envy. It’s like- a trans specific thing, where those people are envious of me because I like- I present myself in a way they want to? So, um, yeah. I appreciate it though.”
Tommy blinks. Oh, shit. Bless Ranboo’s poor, kind heart. He lolls his head to one side so he can stare at his monitor displaying discord. Neither have their cams on, but Tommy still feels satisfaction giving the camera a deadpan stare.
“Ranboo,” He starts gently, a small grin appearing on his face, “I know. I’m trans. That was me coming out to you. Which clearly didn’t work. Way to go, ruining my coming out experience. Good going, boob boy.”
“You’re- what? Oh my god, Tommy, I’m so sorry.” He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “You totally just came out to me and I just mansplained gender envy to you, didn’t I?”
Tommy can’t help it, he bursts into laughter, “Oh my god,” He wheezes, “What the fuck, you totally did. Transphobic Ranboo arc, I’m exposing you right now. Logging onto twitter as we speak.”
“No- No please, Tommy oh my gosh,” Ranboo sounds like he’s struggling to breathe, which makes Tommy spiel into laughter again, “I love trans people- I love you, please, next time you take a train up I’ll buy you ice cream or something, that was so bad of me I’m sorry.”
They dissolve into laughter, and Ranboo is laughing so hard Tubbo has to stick his head in to tell him to quiet down, which of course serves only to send them into another round of laughter. As they’re finally recovering from their laughter, breathing heavily, Ranboo spoke up again.
“Wait, hang on- I give you gender envy?” His voice is curious, and there’s no teasing in his tone, but Tommy still flushes slightly.
“Well- I mean you’re all tall and lanky and handsome and shit- I can’t help it ok? Shut up man.” He mumbles, his face reddening further as he trails off.
“No, no- I’m not making fun of you at all, I know it’s not something you can help. But- you know you just described yourself to the tee, right? You’re tall, you’re lanky, you’re easy on the eyes,” Tommy can hear the teasing lilt of his voice and rolls his eyes.
“My point is, every white minecraft streamer boy looks the same. I know it’s easier to say than believe, but if you’re ever feeling bad- or, or dysphoric, you can always call me. I know we aren’t as close as you and Tubbo, but you’re still my friend and I still care about you, you know?”
Tommy blinks. He hasn’t cried in a long time, testosterone has made it harder for him to do so, but this is the closest he’s gotten in a long time.
“Fuck- Ranboo man, you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cry or something. I- I know I heckle you a lot but you’re a really cool dude, and I really appreciate it man. I might take you up on that. Tubbo knows, by the way, so do Wilbur and Niki. So um, don’t worry about mentioning it to them or anything.”
“Thanks Tommy. And um- yeah sorry for earlier, I know we were laughing about it but I do feel kinda bad.” Tommy waves him off, even though the older can’t see him.
“You’re good dude, that’s by far the best reaction I’ve gotten. I still expect that ice cream, though. You know, as sufficient apology and all.”
Tommy can hear the grin in Ranboo’s voice when he replies.
“Sure Tommy, whatever you want.”
Quackity
They’re in the middle of filming a mod video for his channel, and it’s gone completely off the rails, which is to say it’s going exactly as expected.
Quackity has started a running bit, Tommy isn’t sure how it started or why he’s clung onto it throughout the whole video, but he’s latched onto a whole new identity, including a new name, that he of course forces all of them to use.
The two of them are in a separate vc from Wilbur and Phil, who are in the middle of their own obscure bit that Tommy won’t even pretend to understand.
Tommy has been consistently forgetting to use Quackity’s made up name, mostly because the man had made it wholly unpronounceable.
“Thomas, Tommy, my man. Name’s are important!” He rambles, gearing up for a tangent after Tommy had messed up his name for the millionth time.
“The right name is essential man! This name has been chosen by me, for me, and it’s incredibly rude of you to not use it, you know.” Tommy stares into his camera, face a mask of confusion and incredulity, blinking.
The video goes, well, not quite smoothly, as it is a TommyInnit video, but as well as it can. They ended up after Wilbur, the last one alive, had gotten slain by an enderman.
Phil had to leave immediately, something about a meeting or finances or some other adult stuff that he would never give the time of day.
Wilbur had stuck around a bit longer, but had to leave to go record a song for Lovejoy’s new album, Tommy and Quackity sending him off excitedly.
That left the two of them, still bantering and going over bits of the recording and laughing over Wilbur and Phil’s bit that they hadn’t gotten to see.
Eventually they got around to the topic of Quackity’s identity bit, more specifically, the part about his name.
“You know,” Tommy commented, “I chose my name too.” He’s been coming out a lot recently, he thinks, why not one more person? It’s not like he even plans to, at this point opportunities have been falling into his lap left and right. He gets it universe, cheers and all.
“Oh yeah, you chose to go by Tommy instead of Tom for your channel, right?” Quackity questions, noises of him shuffling in his chair being picked up by his mic.
“Yeah,” He hums, “That too, I guess. I meant I chose the name Thomas, mostly. Like, I changed my name and everything.” Quackity makes a confused noise.
“I don’t get it. Like how Wilbur’s name isn’t really Wilbur, he just started going by Wilbur Soot for his brand or whatever?”
“No, no, not like that,” Tommy explains patiently, twirling a fidget toy he had stolen from the man in question between his fingers. “Like I had a legal name, a deadname is what it’s properly called, and when I transitioned I changed it. So now Thomas is my legal name. I chose it myself.”
Quackity hums, and he can hear his keyboard clacking before a brief silence that has Tommy nervously twirling the toy faster. He’s not truly worried, but it is a bit nerve wracking.
“Oh. Oh ok. So, absolutely correct me if I’m wrong, because I don’t wanna misunderstand what you’re saying at all but- are you coming out to me? As- as transgender?”
“Yeah. Female to male if you were, uh, confused about that. Been on testosterone for about two and a half years.”
“Woah. Wow that’s- congrats, Tommy, I’m so happy for you dude. And- thank you for trusting me man, you know I’ll always support you. And if anyone ever gives you shit, I’m practically a lawyer you know, I could fuck them up. Legally speaking, of course.”
Tommy laughs, a warm feeling growing in his chest, “Thank Big Q. You know, I’ve been telling a lot of my friends recently, and you’re all so- you’ve all been lovely man, seriously, it’s almost overwhelming how cool you’ve all been.”
“Well, of course dude. We all care about you a whole lot, I know sometimes it can feel like we’re only like- colleagues, but that’s not true, we’ll always be here for you, and I speak for the whole server when I say that. We’ll always have your back.”
“And if any of them don’t, and they give you problems, seriously don’t be scared to tell any of us, you know Dream won’t stand for that shit.”
Tommy exhales shakily. Logically, he knew all this. He knew his friends cared about him, loved him even, and he didn’t doubt that Dream would give anyone who gave Tommy shit the boot- but to hear it all verbalized, said by one of his close friends? It felt real, more solid somehow.
“Jesus, man. Thank you so much, seriously, you’ve no idea how much that means.” He breathes out, setting down the fidget toy and scrubbing his hands over his face.
“Yeah Tommy, of course. Listen I gotta go, but I meant all that ok? I’m always here if you need me, and so is the rest of the server.”
Tommy murmurs out a goodbye, waving despite their lack of cameras, and lets his hand drop when Quackity leaves the call, quickly following suit.
He pushes out of his chair, standing and stretching. As he does, his eyes catch on the trans flag hanging behind his set up, beside his plaques.
Maybe it’s time to move it, he muses, glancing over at his closet doors. It’s in view of his streaming camera, people will be sure to notice it.
Perfect, Tommy thinks to himself, and gets to work.