DSMP oneshots - sleepytime_tea - Minecraft (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: The child marionette

Chapter Text

Tommy was a good kid. That's what he thinks. He knows he didn't deserve any of the horrible things that happened to him. the things that dream says aren't true. Tubbo does still like him. Wilbur didn't want to actually blow up the nation, he was just setting an example. He didn't think it would be this lonely. Maybe his abandonment issues were getting to him again. He was always scared to go outside because there was always someone who hated him walking around, he didn't want to endure more pain and even possible death. He was terrified of death.

"Tommy? Are you here?"

he looked up from his place on the floor up to Tubbo who was casting a shadow into Tommy's darkened room. "I've been looking for you, are you alright?" from what Tubbo could see the room was a mess. plates of food discarded on his desk. blankets on the floor as well as pillows and clothes. Tubbo felt pain grip his heart as he looked at the weakened teen sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest.

"He's fine, right Tommy!"

Dream's mocking voice echoed around the room as his hand made its way to Tommy's face gripping at it. "Dream f*ck off, I thought you were done with being a dick to Tommy." Tubbo couldn't cover the anger seeping from him, he hated Dream for everything he did, he hated him for hurting everyone he loved. it broke his heart when he saw Tommy's dull eyes still staring at the ground and making no attempt to get away from the grasp. "Oh come on Tubbo, stop pretending you still care about Tommy, he blew up the community house! he burned down George's house! he was on Techno's side! he BETRAYED you!" Dream yelled, causing Tommy to slightly flinch with his eyes glossing over as he curled up even more than he already was. Tubbo couldn't see Dream's smile but he could hear it in his voice, the taunting smug man looming over his best friend pulling and tugging on his strings like he's a puppet. Tubbo slowly acquired his axe, changing his footing so he was prepared to fight. "Tubbo, Tubbo! we don't need to fight. I was just about to leave anyway, have fun with him!'' A singsong voice filled the quiet room as it followed the homeless green Teletubby out of the house and into the street.

Tubbo turned his attention back to his friend. Tommy looked wide-eyed at the axe that he was holding and slowly tried to scoot back away from the weapon, failing as his back met with the cold wall.

"Don't worry Bossman, I'm not going to hurt you."

Tubbo knelt to the floor dropping his axe where Tommy could see it and raised his hands as a way of signalling that he was not a threat. "See? I'm not going to hurt you." he could hear a small mumble come from the weaker of the two as he nodded and looked to the side with a glare. "Let's go Tommy, you can stay with Ranboo and me for a while until you can get a house somewhere safer." Tubbo held out his gloved hand offering it to Tommy, who took it cautiously having trouble standing up due to malnourishment and dehydration that took a major toll on the boy. The shorter one of the two helped him walk to the house that was shared with Ranboo and their son Michael.

"Tommy!" Ranboo called from the deck of the house cheerily. Tommy jumped at the loud noise, then calmed when he saw it was only the half enderman who married his best friend. Ranboo ran down the steps up to the two and smiled brightly. "What are you doing here?" Tommy didn't say anything so Tubbo answered for him. "He's staying with us for a while until he can find a safe place to live." the half enderman softly smiled at this, it wasn't that he was not glad Tommy was staying with them, he was! It just seemed like Tommy wasn't himself. not the loud, energetic self.
As Tubbo led the blonde to the sofa and set him down handing him some blankets and a cow plushie he walked into the hall with his husband to discuss the situation at hand. While Tommy was sitting on the sofa Michael waddled over looking up at the tired blonde. "Tom!" The little one was learning English since it wasn't his first language and he was doing well for a piglin.

Tommy barely smiled before the small toddler climbed onto his lap smiling brightly at his uncle. Michael turned to face his uncle as he shoved the cow plushie that Tubbo had given him into his face. “Tom sad?” for someone so young and not having much experience with the outside world and people, he was very intuitive. Tommy nodded slowly. Thankfully Tubbo had taught his son sign language so they could communicate with each other when he first started learning English. Tommy signed, “I’m not feeling well.’

Michael thought for a moment before hopping off his lap and running into the hallway coming back with his two dads. Tubbo was the first to speak up. “Tommy, Michael told us that you aren’t feeling well? Is there anything we can do to help?” Tommy shook his head signing once again. ‘No I’m okay, I don’t want to be even more of a burden than I already am.’ Ranboo huffed pushing past his husband and son walking right up to the blonde looking him dead in the eyes. “You're not a burden Tommy, you're our family and we are here for you.” ‘But what about you? You have your own issues, and what if Dream comes here and hurts you?’ Tommy signed quickly in absolute worry for the family, the thing about Tommy was that he cared so much that it hurt him. He cared so much about those he loved that he would willingly give up his life for them. “We’ll be fine, we are here for you.” The teen felt a wave of safety and calm wash over him as Ranboo smiled softly.

Tommy was safe with his family, he finally for the first time in years felt like everything was okay, finally the bad would stop from coming into his life even more than it already was. Sure maybe dream was still out there waiting for the next chance to traumatize him even more but he had his family to help him through it, he finally had a family that wasn’t going to abandon him like his biological family did. He was happy.

Chapter 2: Like A Roaring Ocean Of Voices

Chapter Text

The origins SMP was nice, there were no wars and no fighting. There were no conflicts between politics and anarchists. To put it simply Techno liked it better here, he was just an anarchist bunny hopping around in the world with his only wish being carrots. But, even being on a different server he still had the voices following him everywhere. They were less loud but they were there.

‘Blood for the Blood God!’

‘We want to see blood.’

He didn’t want to but he knew they would get louder and louder until he broke under the pressure. He started with the less repulsive things such as killing animals for food, (even though he wasn’t able to eat it.) They were fine for a while, then came the day when they started to scream at him.

It was too much for him to handle, his breath quickened and tears ran down his face, his heart raced and his ears rang. It was all too loud, he felt like he was going insane gripping at his pink hair and covering his ears trying his best to keep calm.

Phil noticed Techno was acting less like himself. He originally told him that his origin made him only able to eat carrots, so when he started to kill animals Phil knew something was wrong. He spread his black wings flying into the sky, the day was nice, there was sun out casting over the world with its yellow tint making everything seem more positive. He spotted Tommy and Wilbur building a house near a mountain, Jschlatt was being Jschlatt. He glided to the house that Technoblade was staying in, which was Phil’s as well. He entered the floating island house.

It was strangely quiet, there was no sign of anyone in the house, and the kitchen had not been touched since he had left. Techno was quiet more often than not, but usually when the door was shut he would hear Techno welcome him home, even if he had just woken up. “Maybe I should go wake him up?” Phil knew that he liked his privacy and no one coming into his room but when he doesn’t wake up before noon he was hell to deal with. Phil slowly walked up the stairs with some every once in a while creaking with the weight of being stepped on.

Slowly making his way down the short hallway to Technoblade’s room he stopped at the door, he could hear faint mumbling that sounded distorted, weak and shaky. He could hear gasps and someone attempting to get air which failed as they hyperventilated uncontrollably. “Techno, are you in there mate?” he could hear muffled hyperventilating like someone covered their mouth so they weren’t so loud. “Ph-Phil please don-n’t come in-in.” his voice broke Phil’s heart, he sounded so out of place, not the fearless strong man people made him out to be, he could tell that he was having a panic attack. “Techno I know you're having a panic attack, if you let me in I can try to help you.” A few seconds of Techno pondering on whether he should let Phil in or not ended with him yelling. “F-f*ck off Phil! I said don’t co-come in!” Techno’s voice was brittle and croaky, although Phil respected Techno’s boundaries and never overstepped them he couldn’t help but want to help him, Phil slowly twisted the handle and pushed open the door into the dimly lit room.

His room was in shambles, some of the shelves that were previously hanging on the wall were on the floor or limply hanging from one of the nails holding them up. There were things thrown around, holes in the walls from what looked like fists, and the taller of the two curled up in the corner of the room with his knees to his chest and the look of absolute terror present on his face as his eyes locked with Philza’s green ones. He was shaking terribly and breathing hard, his hand shakenly covering his mouth, his other tangled around in his long hair that was ill-kept and messy. “P-Phil I- you-'' he was cut short when what looked like a pain shot throughout his chest and made his situation even worse, he tightly gripped at his shirt trying to get away from something that wasn’t there, he held his hands over his ears tightly with tears rushing down his face and dripping into the shirt that he hasn’t changed in what looked like days.

“Can I come over to you?”

Phil asked cautiously. Normally Techno would have said no instantly, but he felt like he was dying and he didn’t know how to calm down from this, instead of what Phil expected Technoblade nodded slowly and shoved his face back into his arms with his hands still covering his ears. Phil slowly made his way to the younger’s side pulling him into an embrace. “I-I don’t wa-want to hur-t you.” “You're not going to mate, take as much time as you need.” his tense body slowly relaxed into the embrace, they sat on the floor for what seemed like hours, from the very beginning to the very end Phil swore to protect his children with his life, this is one of the times that he needed to prove that he was always going to be there for each and every one of them.

When Technoblade was calm and collected Phil tried to pry him to talk about what caused him to panic so much. “Voices.” a quiet reply escaped from the youngest of the two. “Do you want to talk about it?” of course Techno didn’t want to talk about it, he just wanted to lay down and sleep, he was too tired and didn’t want to answer questions. “They got too loud, couldn’t handle it,” he whispered. The rest of the night was spent with Phil, Wilbur, Tommy and Techno all watching movies until they fell asleep. The next morning was even better than the night before. When they were all awake Phil greeted them with freshly cooked pancakes. To say the least their family had a tight bond even if they were little sh*ts from time to time.

Chapter 3: Can We Truly Be What We Were?

Chapter Text

He could feel his body being torn apart and stitched back together, all was dark, he could hear faint voices and disembodied shuffling. Then, a blinding light. Slowly opening his eyes he was met with the sunset. He had waited so long to see some type of life, something else other than limbo. He hated seeing schlatt all time, even more so all the alcohol he drank half the time. The sunset was the most beautiful thing he had seen in over a decade.

“Wilbur…?” he turned his head to where the voice came from, there stood Tommy along beside Tubbo and someone he has never met. “Tommy, you look so grown up!” he shouted in happiness, as climbed his way down to his younger brother he saw how dishevelled and broken he was, he looked like he hated everyone and everything.

“Let me look at you!”

Wilbur made his way towards the younger teen putting his hands on his face, smiling brightly. “You look so much more different from when I last saw you.” Tommy quickly pulled from the embrace. Wilbur’s hands felt freezing like he was still dead, he looked new but his eyes were dead and his smile pierced into his soul and tore it right out to be ripped apart again. “Don’t touch me, you f*cked yourself over, you don’t get to be all brotherly to me anymore.” Wilbur’s smile faltered, his little brother finally snapping and saying what he had been meaning to say finally came out.

“Oh Tommy, you know that it was your fault. You picked the wrong side and I had to set an example.”

Anger grew in Tommy’s stomach and burst its way out of his dry mouth. “Me!? Don’t get me wrong you set an example for everyone in l’manberg but they didn’t care! No one did! They were happy you died!” he angrily smiled, it felt so good to get all of this anger and resentment out of his system, Wilbur was shocked, he knew people hated him but his own brother, his own flesh and blood. He was offended, he wanted to punch that smug look off the blonde's face, so that’s what he did. Swiftly Wilbur throws a punch straight to the younger teen's face causing him to stumble back and stare in shock with eyes tearing up from the sting, Tommy furrows his eyebrows and narrows his eyes lunging to his torso tackling Wilbur to the ground knocking the wind from his lungs. Tommy sat on top of his brother staring directly into his soul with a burning hatred for the man under him.

“f*ck you!”

he shouted before starting to mercilessly punch the older in the face multiple times Wilbur tried to stop the fists from coming more and more but each time they landed right back where they were before. “Tommy stop!” Tubbo pulled him off, and even then he was trying to pull from the grasp to destroy the older’s face even more. Wilbur slowly sat up in pain, his hands shakenly glided over his bloodied skin hissing at the burning and stings he felt when his hand made contact with his cheek. Tommy shouted. “f*ck YOU!” he looked up to his brother who was furious with tears streaming down his face. “Why did you have to go?” His voice broke into sobs as he stopped trying to pull away from the shorter and instead let Tubbo hug him from behind. Wilbur opened his mouth to try and say something, anything but nothing came out.

Wilbur reached for his broken glasses that had fallen off his face due to Tommy and put them on, standing up he made his way to his brother towering over him despite being only inches taller, resting his hands on the shoulders of the other. “I can’t take back what I did to you and everyone else, but what I can do is try to make it better.” he paused before speaking again. “Tommy I’m sorry for everything, I swear I’ll make it up to you, just give me one last chance and if it doesn’t work, I’ll leave l’manburg for good.” Tommy hated Wilbur but didn’t want him to ever leave again, he wanted his brother back, he wanted to go back to being children, climbing trees and messing around with Phil and Techno.

Wilbur's eyes were cold but soft, the blood dripping from his face was soaking into his yellow jumper turning it dark orange. Tommy felt guilty as he looked at the bloody mess in front of him, he was weary of his decision and knew that he might regret it depending on how it went. “Let’s restart.” Tommy held out his hand, Wilbur could see him trembling, hand shaking slightly, even though, Wilbur took it softly giving a small sad smile. “This time we put everything that happened between us behind and restart.”

The next few months Wilbur spent trying to fix what he did wrong, obviously, it was hard for him at first and he messed up a couple of times but they always started over and tried again. Tommy started to feel less and less tense around his older brother and was feeling better about being around him for longer than 5 minutes.

“Tommy!” Wilbur shouted joyfully as he slammed open the door to Technoblades house where they were visiting. “I brought you something!” he made his way through the house finding Tommy with Techno’s dog army. “Toms, I have something for you! You have to come with me though.” He thought for a minute before standing up and following Wilbur to his surprise. After a bit of walking, they ended up outside in the cold. “Okay stay here.” Tommy watched as Wilbur ran around the house and then came back with a lead in his hand attached to a blue sheep that went right up to Tommy and nuzzled his chest. “I remembered you telling me that Ghostbur had a blue sheep called friend so I found him and wanted to bring him to you.” Tommy’s eyes glossed over as he held the sheep close to him pushing into its warmth and soft wool. “I thought that he died?” Tommy continued to bask in the warmth and let the tears fall as he pushed his face further into the wool to feel less vulnerable.

Wilbur's heart shattered into a million pieces, what had happened since he left? How damaged was Tommy really? The poor boy was breaking in front of Wilbur, Friend had sat down in the snow with Tommy clinging onto him tightly. Wilbur’s eyes softened at the teen on the ground pressed to the sheep. “Tommy, let's go home. We’ll bring friend and he can come inside.” Tommy looked up from his place on the cold snowy ground and took Wilbur’s hand pulling himself up. Saying their goodbyes to Phil and Techno; they both walked towards the house that was shared between them.

Needless to say, they were a broken family but they were willing to try. No matter what Tommy loved his family and so did Wilbur. There were definitely problems, and there were definitely times when Techno wanted to bash his head against the wall because both his siblings were little sh*ts, but they were a family willing to try and fix the problems.

Chapter 4: Healing Takes Time. A Lot Of Time.

Chapter Text

Tubbo knew from the moment they stood on that obsidian wall that he would regret every single word that fell from his lips and landed on the cold dark purple surface. Rubbing salt in the wound was what it felt like, seeing Dream looming above them all, pulling his strings, manipulating everything he touches. It was all too painful, Dream slowly walking away smiling to himself and Tommy…Don’t get him started on Tommy, he didn’t want to talk about it. He felt numb when someone brought it up. He didn’t want to exile anyone, but he had to in order to not go into a war. There was too much happening already, he was so busy, signing paper after paper, his hand tended to cramp and still, there wasn’t enough time to relax, so he pushed through the pain and pushed and pushed until he pushed so much that he fell. Into a dark hole. A dark hole he couldn’t climb out of; it kept getting deeper, darker, and colder. It got hard for him to get out of bed. It got hard for him to express emotion, Ranboo tried to help but he was only met with. “Not now Ranboo, I need to get some paperwork done.” and he would walk away without a word down the corridor not to be seen until far later that night. When he would come home Ranboo would find him asleep on top of his desk with paper scattered on the floor; because he’s a good husband and cares about Tubbo he would carry him to their bed letting him rest until the next day where it would start all over again.

When Tubbo would wake he would be met with the ceiling, and the warmth from his husband sleeping next to him peacefully. Michael would be snuggled into his side snoring quietly with a light green blanket wrapped around his tiny body as well as Tubbo and Ranboo’s. He softly smiled to himself feeling a lump in his throat that he was all too familiar with. His eyes slowly but surely glossed over, tears welling up in his eyes until they spilt onto his cheeks sliding down his face soaking into the fabric beneath him. He hated everything about the world now. He wanted it all to stop, he wanted Tommy back, he wanted to be there for his husband and son. But of course, he couldn’t because the government f*cking sucked. The first few months were good, he had power and people respected him for once. He was actually in control of something, even if it was small; he had control. He was so relentlessly upset and angry at everything and didn’t understand why. He rubbed his face violently sitting up and dangling his legs over the side of the bed. A few more tears left his eyes as he walked to the shared bathroom, he closed the door and turned on the faucet splashing water in his face. “Get ahold of yourself Toby.” he quietly mumbled.

Looking into the mirror he visibly cringed at the sight. Messy and greasy hair, eye bags for days, and pale skin. He looked like hell. Well, that was an understatement. It looked like he went to hell and back several times and then died and came back alive. He looked like sh*t. He felt something in the pit of his stomach quickly rising into his throat, he dashed to the toilet kneeling and emptying all the contents in his stomach, which was close to nothing. He felt so cold yet he was sweating. His hands were shaking violently, he felt so weak, his head was pounding and his ears were ringing. He could hear knocking at the door, he couldn’t pick himself up from the crouched position by the toilet, his body felt too heavy to move, he felt as if he was full of sand.

The bathroom door clicked open to Ranboo holding their son Michael. “Tubbo we wanted-'' Ranboo saw the state of his husband, quickly putting their son back in the playpen so he didn’t have to witness his father in this particular situation and ran back to Tubbo’s side rubbing circles on his back as he threw up once more. “Do you need anything? I can take you back to bed to rest.” The shorter violently shook his head no and tried to hoist himself up using the countertop as a stabilizer. Which frankly failed miserable seeing as he crashed to the ground with a thud. “Tubbo you need to rest.” Ranboo put one hand on Tubbo’s back and the other grabbed his forearm to hoist him so he was standing. Tubbo had his hand on the wall as they walked through the hallway towards their bedroom, that wouldn’t have meant much but to Ranboo he knew that the state Tubbo was in was bad, even if Tubbo was sick he was still usually strong enough to hold himself up and get down the hallway because it wasn’t all that long. Tubbo was sweating and shaking, trembling like a leaf in winter that hasn’t fallen from the tree yet, but he felt worse than he looked. To put it another way, he felt like death.

When the couple got to the master bedroom Ranboo bridle carried the smaller onto the bed and wrapped him in blankets only being satisfied when he looked like a tubborito. (tubbo+burrito=tubborito) he left to fetch some medicine for the sick and food that he could keep down in his weakened state. Growling in anger Tubbo furiously rubbed his eyes and face looking to the window at the other side of the room.

He sighed.

Not the type of sigh that came from someone who was disappointed or getting a deep breath of air. No; this was a sigh of someone who wanted nothing more than to sleep their life away and not deal with the burdens of being the person he was. Ranboo came back into the room carrying medicine, slices of bread, an Ice pack that was filled with cold water, and a thermometer; he sat all the items he had in his arms taking the thermometer first telling Tubbo to open his mouth. “I need to check your temperature so we can see how bad it is.'' He didn’t want to cause any trouble to the others so he obediently opened his mouth where the thermometer was sitting until it was done. The high pitched beeping was heard breaking the two out of their thoughts, the brunette pulled the metal piece from his mouth and read the numbers. “38.8” tubbo spoke softly due to his dry and raw throat. “How much is that in American?” Tubbo laughed, going into a coughing fit. “102 degrees for you.” Ranboo smiled seeing his husband laugh for the first time in weeks. Or months, he had forgotten the first few weeks because it had gone on for so long. Taking the thermometer from Tubbo’s hand he pushed the chest of the other down until he was laying in the bed.

“You need to rest now. if I see you up I will tie you to this bed.”

Tubbo knew he wasn’t serious, he would never actually tie him to the bed, it was just an empty threat. “Sure bossman.” Tubbo turned over in the bed melting into the warmth of the blankets and comfort. His eyes became too heavy to keep open and fell closed.

The room was filled with darkness, not a sound was heard. The dark void then opened to a dark obsidian wall, he knew this memory but it seemed all too real. His mind was tormenting him and twisting his worst memories into what would be the most unpleasant moments of his days. “Tommy, I sentence you to Exile.” his voice seemed distant and disembodied, the people around him didn’t have faces. Well, they did, but they were blurry making it hard to see features. It looked like he was looking underwater, it was blurry and distorted. Tommy faded into the blur that he assumed was the background of the memory, and stood still watching the green man walk away the one in red and white. His body couldn’t move, he was a statue watching as his mind contort his memories and made sleeping literal hell for him. Next, there was Technoblade, it was the festival.

“you said they wouldn’t hurt me!”

his voice quivered in fear as he stared at the man before him holding a crossbow that wielded a firework.

he could feel everything that he felt in that moment, the fire burning his skin making it peel and sting like nothing he ever felt before. The searing pain throughout his whole body where the fire touched. He closed his eyes tightly before opening them once again.

He was holding an axe in one hand and the other was a paper, he held his hand to see what was written on the paper, it was a picture of his husband, son, and him smiling. He knew what this one was. He hated this one just as much as the memory of exiling his best friend. “Please be mindful, I am going through the 5 stages of grief. With that; Where the f*ck is my child?” Eret sat on their throne with a surprised expression as he hit the upper right side with his axe looking into her eyes.

He blinked.

He opened and saw Sam.

“Where is my child Sam?” it sounded like more of a threat than a question but judging by what Sam’s face read he perceived it as a statement than either a question or threat. “He’s somewhere safe, don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt him.” The ground below him started to turn transparent and weak, he fell through being submerged in water.

Dark, deep water that he could describe as the void he woke up in. he tried to swim up but the more he tried the more he sunk, the air was taken from his lungs and filled with water. He couldn’t breathe, he panicked trying desperately to drag his poor body out of the dark abyss.

With a big gasp, Tubbo opened his eyes breathing heavily trying to catch his breath. The room seemed darker from the last time he was awake; he wanted to call for his husband but his throat was raw and burning, too dry to speak. Beads of sweat littered the brunette’s forehead, he lay still on the queen-sized bed breathing in and out like he had just run a marathon.

As if the gods were looking out for him, Ranboo opened the door quietly holding a bowl that Tubbo assumed was some type of soup. His legs were weak, he was sweating so much he could fill a swimming pool, and his breaths were rapid and deep.

“Tubbo?” Ranboo put a loving hand on the smaller’s back. “You doing okay?” Ranboo’s voice was laced with concern as well as care.

Tubbo responded by making a very loud and drawn out groan. “You’ll be alright, I got some food for you.” Rubbing Tubbos back he turned him over to make him look at the red and green-eyed teen. “Get up so you can eat.” His husband muttered a quiet reply slowly sitting up letting the blankets fall from his shoulders and lie on the bed.

Tubbo brings his hands to the bowl holding it carefully to not spill, taking in the warmth from the hot liquid. “Hehe no. You're not feeding yourself.” Ranboo takes the bowl that Tubbo was previously holding and sets it down on the nightstand taking time to make himself more comfortable.; To say the least, Tubbo is a bit pissed at this, he wasn’t a baby, he could feed himself just fine with no help. Groggily he smacks the taller one’s arm and grumbles something about being a responsible adult and not a needy child, like Tommy.

“How’d you get sick anyways?”

Tubbo honestly didn’t know, maybe it was because he was so stressed about being the president? Or maybe because of the suppressed memories that suddenly decided to show up and punch him in the face like there was no tomorrow? He couldn’t tell but he assumed it had to do with something along the lines of that.

“I dunno, the stress I guess?”

Tubbo brought his hand up to the back of his neck and scratched then moved to run his hands through his fluffy brown hair. Ranboo hummed in response taking the bowl and bringing it to his hands. After a couple of moments of sitting in comfortable silence while Ranboo was helping Tubbo feed himself, one spoke up, his voice soft and caring unlike the other which was hoars and scratchy.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tubbo’s brown eyes looked up to meet the red and green eyes that were gazing at the other. He really didn’t, but he knew if he never talked about it he would never heal from the agonizing pain that it brought to him. “I just…” he trailed off thinking to himself about how he would explain what brought him into the state of vulnerability and sickness.

Throughout it all, Ranboo sat and listened to his husband being there for him and giving him reassurance when he felt uneasy talking about his past trauma. When Tubbo was done, Ranboo was also there to be the shoulder that he cried on despite the pain that the tears caused when they soaked through the material of his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay, maybe not today or anytime soon but one day it will be okay. And there are so many people who love you more than you could ever imagine. We’re all here for you.”

The weight of Tubbo’s body got heavier indicating that he had fallen asleep. Ranboo smiled to himself counting it as a win in his book. With that, he called his son to sleep with them. Tubbo had more nightmares that ended with him waking up in pure dread and tears in his eyes, but over time it got better. It’s not easy to heal. Hell, it’s probably one of the hardest things to do but he was trying and that’s all he could do.

Chapter 5: No One Asked So I'll Do It Myself

Chapter Text

Just like a melody he was kind and simple yet beautiful in every way. So delicate, so strong and independent. His curly brown locks braided by his younger brothers, flowers added by his father, round glasses lay upon his face and the yellow jumper he always wore stained with soil that they had wrestled in. The tree they sit under would one day be where his lifeless body would be buried; of course, he didn’t know. he was in his highest state of happiness, that was until he descended into madness being intertwined with politics and obsessed with wanting to win. His younger brother Tommy saw how he descended the pathway of no redemption and he knew that it would end with death and blood.

His second younger brother Technoblade also saw this; he was an anarchist so he didn’t play with fire that he didn’t want to get burned in. But he knew just like Tommy that it would end with war, death and blood. Nothing ended differently, and if it did it was short-lived by the one who tried to make peace being executed and punished for wrongdoing that they had made several months ago. This world was cruel and Wilbur was turning even crueller. Ridiculing everything his younger brothers did despite the please for him to take a break and heal his suffering mind from the millions of thorns slowly poking into his declining sanity.

“Wilbur please you need to take a break.”

his father even tried to plead with him, but just like the others he never got through. His son was looking through a fog, the fog of being overcome with power. “I will later, right now I need to find Tommy.” Phil was confused, why would he need to find Tommy? His concern only doubled when his oldest stumbled down the stairs, he looked like a ghost. His face pail and his bones poked through his skin in an unhealthy way.

But that was months and months ago. It felt like years to the family. They all drifted apart after that, never to be seen around each other for more than 10 minutes. They all took it hard but Phil took it the hardest. He would wake up in a panic breathing heavily with cold sweat dripping down his forehead. Technoblade had distanced himself mentally, he didn’t know what healthy way he could grieve the loss of his brother so he did what he could, to cope with the feelings. Tommy hadn’t been seen by anyone for about 2 months after Wilbur’s death. When Phil had asked around, all he would get in reply was.

“The last time I saw him was when l’manberg was blown up.”

No one had seen him. I suppose that was his own way of mourning the loss of his older brother. Disappearing.

The days of being woken up to his three boys jumping on his bed with smiles and laughter were nothing but a distant memory. To say that he missed it was only skimming the tip of the iceberg. He yearned for the feeling back. The feeling of knowing his children were safe under his guidance.

He hated to think that he saw all three of them get worse and worse each passing day. The guilt of those thoughts filled his brain with kerosene and set it ablaze; it let it burn until he couldn’t feel anymore. He would spend nights staring at the ceiling only wondering where he went wrong only coming to the conclusion that his existence was the downfall of them all.

Maybe if he had never gone into the streets on that faithful night, would that have been better for him?

He loved his son’s beyond what words could describe, so when anyone would ask him how much he loved his son’s he would stay silent only remember the days when they would take long walks to the river and collect rocks that they found beautiful. It was bittersweet. Those memories. No one truly knew how it was to lose a child. It was like your whole world was taken away and whatever you tried to tell yourself or do you weren’t getting it back. Never. Phil knew that, and it hurt. It hurt like hell.

Technoblade would not be seen by anyone. He would ignore anyone who dared to talk to him when he wasn’t in the mood. His mind tormented him and pulled him every way. From It’s not my fault, to I could have prevented this and I didn’t do anything. He thought to himself about why he was so stupid and didn’t do anything more. He could have done so much more things differently and maybe that would have helped. He obsessively thought over and over about what things he could have done differently, writing them down in several different journals and filling each page back to back. The last time he had contact with the rest of his family was unknown to him. How long had it been since Wilbur died? When he would remember he would be confused and wonder why it had felt like not that much time had passed; everything from that day was still fresh in his memory. It felt like a raw wound, but this one never healed, it just kept getting bigger and bigger.

Unfortunately for Tommy, he was in a bad place, literally. Dream had found him and wanted to teach him a lesson about loyalty. He had been in the same place for many days now, he would watch the sunrise just to set again while he waited in a dark room filled with things that were familiar to him. Pictures of his once loving family and his once breathing brother. Dream had taken and made things that reminded Tommy of Wilbur. This was his own personal hell, but Dream didn’t stop there. He would occasionally come back to the room unlocking the door with a click walking into it wielding an axe. Tommy knew what was to come when he would have the netherite axe in his hands. Death.

[Tommyinnit was slain by Dream].

They all had their major issues, the pitter-patter of the rain reminded them of him. Even the smell, the way that the wind would blow; everything would remind them and taunt them that he was dead and gone. It hurt too much. Technoblade knew it all too well, although he was the most feared on the SMP he was also so overcome by emotion and guilt that he prayed to the gods that he would lose the ability to feel so he didn’t have to endure more agony; the agony of losing a brother and a dear friend that had been there for him since day one.

[Technoblade fell from a high place]

Phil looked over the horizon taking in the gorgeous colours that ranged from blues to yellows. Taking a big breath of air and only releasing it when he looked into the eyes of his beloved; he nodded as his final answer to the question he had been asked. If they were all gone, who was he to be continuing in this world with nothing to live for?

[Ph1lza fell out of the world]

Chapter 6: Adressing a few things

Chapter Text

I just wanted to address a few things with you all real quick. Right now I having a burnout and I do have a one-shot in progress but I have to find the motivation to write it again, I've come to a writer's block and I cannot do it at the moment. I plan to have at least some of the chapter out come this weekend depending on how my motivation is. Please be patient with me getting out a new chapter, and thank you so much for all the reads!!! I didn't think it would get this many reads in such a short time, I'm serious, thank you <3

Chapter 7: Waiting at the standstil

Chapter Text

The heat from the dessert had infiltrated his mind. Sitting quietly flipping a poker chip from finger to finger, hand to hand, waiting. He knew what he was waiting for but he just couldn’t get his brain to wrap around the thought of it anymore; he had once managed to convince himself that he had made it by himself and it was all real. The other times he felt like a fraud; he would remember all the people that had helped him and had given him resources to make his great city of Las Nevadas. Imposter syndrome, he had heard of it before and had seen it take people hostage only to be free when they had been taken down, never would he think that it would happen to himself. He was confident, smug, tricky, and an overall badass; but what most didn’t know is that when he is looking over his land and gazing at the people passing through shops or the many casinos it had, he was convinced that he was a fraud, someone had let him or secretly helped him make it this far. He was waiting to be betrayed.

But right now he couldn’t be pondering on that, he was waiting for a friend to make their way to his territory. He climbed his way down the space needle making his way to meet his visitor, he would stop to check on the shops and say hello to the workers, showing himself in public was a way he would be relevant and the people would have trust in him, he liked it as well; being able to get away from his duties as president was a nice way to relax and just be human rather than a leader. It was interesting to him when he would think about it, he was a leader and some people might not even see him as human because all they know is that Quackity is the president of Las Nevadas; he would wonder from time to time how it would be if Wilbur took his offer of being vice president. Now that he thinks about it he was glad that Wilbur had a freak-out, Las Nevadas would be better off if someone who blew up a nation wasn’t calling the shots from behind the curtains. Making his way to the giant billboard flashing in the ever so slowly dimming area waiting for his visitor. For what felt like forever making Quackity’s anxiousness grow they finally arrived.

“Hey big Q, sorry that took so long.”

The blonde teen walked over to the older, slightly tugging on his red cardigan as he tensed and his body language screamed how much he wanted to get it done and over with. “That's alright, are you ready?”

Quackity gave the younger a soft smile of reassurance, which to say the least helped seeing as he smiled in return and nodded loosening up a bit. It was almost like the weather was reading how each step made both males more and more scared of what was to come when they stepped through the big spruce doors because the clouds turned dark and the wind blew aggressively enough to make Quackity hang onto his LAPD beanie on his head.

Luckily where they were going there was a shortcut consisting of a nether portal and a lot of walking, thankfully not too much walking that they would be exhausted by the time they arrived.

The giant building came into view, and the same sinking feeling made itself present in Tommy’s stomach, Quackity had to swallow his nervousness as they approached the portal that allowed them to enter. Walking through they were met with the familiar man wearing a gas mask and crown, holding a trident. Tommy was the first to speak, “Hey sam…”

The older said nothing other than nodding as a way of greeting the teen, He then averted his eyes to the other looking at his state. “You look tired, when’s the last time you’ve slept?” Sam turned to the levers pulling the ones that would allow them to progress further into the prison.

“Been a while, but that’s not important right now.”

Quackity’s nose was running from the cold weather causing him to sniff and rub his nose with the back of his hand; he returned to his stance resting on one leg with his arms crossed avoiding any eye contact with the others in the room with him. “Are you sure you want to do this Tommy? You can turn back now if you want.”

Sam’s voice was concerned and worried but had a hint of tiredness in it.

How long has it been since he left the prison? Probably a long time, you never really see him away from the prison, sadly it was like he made it his home and lived there rather than going to his actual house and taking time for himself.

“No, I want to do this. I need to do this.”

His voice sounded grave and rough, the teen then sanded himself up straighter in false confidence. He needed to do this, he knew it, but the fear was present with each step, with each lever that the green-haired man pulled, with each breath he longed that he didn’t choose this, he knew this was his own doing but he needed to.

Quackity feared for the blonde, he knew that the moment he saw the green man and his brother he would possibly break down or worse. He also feared both men but masked it with anger and smugness, to be able to walk out with no words back to his office in Las Nevadas where it was safe and familiar was only a dream as the lava slowly drained revealing the brunette and the green man that had caused the teen so much trauma and suffering.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Tommy take small steps back with widened eyes of terror and betrayal.

in the middle of the obsidian room laughing and joking around about the pain they caused were his brother and Dream. Tommy’s breath quickened as he felt emotionally vulnerable, panic rising in his chest storming in his head; trying to catch his breath pushing it off as nothing to worry about he tried to speak only resulting in it getting caught in his throat.

He couldn’t talk only looking to Sam who looked away shamefully, then to Quackity who had an unreadable expression, “He…”

Tommy’s voice cut off making him cough due to him inhaling saliva.

“I’ll go with you Tommy.”

Quackity broke the silence that filled the room, “Sam just make sure that no one can get out until we’re ready.” Sam hummed in response rubbing the tired out of his eyes and pulling down the lever that was used to make the platform move.

Both males stepped onto the platform as it began to move towards the floating room, every push they regretted coming into the prison, every sound of the pistons, the two dreaded what was to come with their mental doom, they felt worse and worse about their decision; Quackity was waiting for the two to speak up and try to hurt the teen, his body was tense and stiff as he was ready to draw his axe and fight the other two, picking at his skin on his scar had become a bad habit but because of the current situation it was worse than ever.

“Big Q do you think we’ll be okay?” Tommy’s voice was trembling and soft, looking over at the boy he saw that he was nervous and overall terrified, he was pulling at a string on his red cardigan and doing anything to keep his hands busy, anything else to distract his mind from tormenting and thrashing around thoughts that haunted him.

“We’ll be fine, Sam will make sure we get out safe and I’m here to make sure we make it out.”

Thankfully the reassurance eased the teen, but inside Quackity knew he was lying, he was lying because he didn’t know if they would be safe, he was lying because he didn’t know if Sam would make sure they got out; not after Tommy died in the prison, not after Technoblade was stuck for three months. A tyrant and criminal were in a cell together laughing and joking about the things they did;

laughing about the festival, about Jschlatt’s death, about how Tommy’s blood was spilt on the ground and his dead lifeless body was like a ragdoll beat mercilessly and thrown around like it was nothing.

Unfortunately, their attention was broken as the platform made contact with the cell. The two stopped talking dropping their smiles standing up from their place on the floor walking to the blocks separating the room in half.

“I’m going to bring the platform back.”

it was Sam, his voice laced with concern and uneasiness, but was also kind and felt safe; Quackity looked back to the green-haired man nodding and giving a thumbs up.

His attention was turned back to the boy next to him and the two older males standing on the other side of the room.

Wilbur’s hair had a white streak, it was greasy from what he assumed was a lack of hygiene, and his skin was stitched with darker and lighter patches here and there.

Dream was, well… he looked better than the last time Quackity had visited; instead of the many wounds his axe gave him he had scabs and scars from the many cuts Quackity made on his skin, his hair was long and messy, his eyes were the same dreaded green colour but tired and worn out, he looked like he had seen some things that no person should ever see.

Quackity didn’t care, he was happy that his terror and wrong-doings had finally caught up with him.

“Hello, Tommy.”

Wilbur smiled at his little brother narrowing his eyes in the process making him look like he was planning something against the two, he looked to the ravenette dropping his smile to a small grin.

“Quackity.”

“Oh f*ck off Wilbur, you know why we’re here don’t you?”

Wilbur sighed at his remark lowering his head and turning to the man in the prison uniform, shrugging Dream looked at the teen with a deadly glint in his eye. Quackity took note of that.

“Of course I do.”

Wilbur stepped aside to let Dream through to the front staring at the blonde teen who was currently speechless, lips trembling like he wanted to scream at the men. Quackity’s heart broke just a little more seeing him like that.

Later he would just fix it with paperwork and cigarettes; sometimes he would remember when he was working under Schlatt, it would remind him of how much he hated himself for allowing himself to continue being in that situation. And remembering that, he would drown himself in alcohol forgetting the night before he started drinking.

“Tommy I wanted to remind you that before you do anything, I was your best friend, I was the only one who ever visited you in exile. No one else did but I was there, I was and still am the only one who cares about you.”

the conflicted teen stepped farther away from the green man nearing the edge of the room. “Tommy, c’mon. You know you don’t have the heart to do this.”

Wilbur's voice menacing and annoyingly was heard, Quackity looked to Wilbur and Dream wishing that he could just plunge a knife into their hearts.

“He knows, but he also knows we have to do this.” he looked to Tommy.

“We have to do it now before they try to convince you otherwise.”

retrieving his axe from his inventory he handed it to Tommy; desperate Dream lunged for Quackity while Wilbur punched his brother in the face making him crash to the floor. Picking up the axe Wilbur stepped on the younger’s head restraining him from moving.

The hands around Quackity’s neck were getting tighter and tighter by the seconds.

“You messed up for the last time Quackity.”

Dream smiled at his suffering, the smaller tried to claw at his hands and arms that were wrapped tightly around his throat squeezing until he was seeing black.

Quackity was growing weaker by the minute, he felt like the pain would never end. At this point in time, he was hoping he would die so the torment would end. As if the universe heard his plead for death,

“Dream behind you!”

Wilbur shouted from the other end of the room.

All that was seen is a golden blur that logged Quackity’s axe into the right shoulder making it stick. His heavy body fell to the cold floor with a thud.
[Dream was slain by Tommyinnit]
[Technoblade> L]
[Eryn> WHAT]
[Georgenofound> HOW]
[Tubbo_> CANON]

Panting was heard from the blonde as he ran to Quackity’s side helping him to his feet.

“What the f*ck Tommy!”

Wilbur sounded angry stomping toward the two getting face to face with Tommy; the expression on Tommy’s face did something to Wilbur, Quackity couldn’t see Tommy’s face but could tell that something shattered in Wilbur as his intimidating aura faded into fear and horror.

Tommy walked to the dead body on the floor putting his hand on the axe’s handle and his foot on the back of the dead one tugging it out, then walked to his brother holding the axe against the skin of his throat, he put his hands up in a way of saying he didn’t want to fight.

“If you don’t want me to kill you as I did to Dream, I suggest that you move out of the way.”

To say that Wilbur wasn’t on the edge of literally sh*tting his pants was nothing, he was terrified.

He didn’t want to die again but the child just killed his hero, if something like that happened would you just stand aside as they walked out?

Wilbur surely didn’t.

“Well, you- you just killed him! You can’t just do that and walk out!”

Wilbur’s voice raised in anger, it was funny to Quackity because it remind him of a five-year-old being angry about his sandcastle being torn down.

A low growl made itself present in the blonde's throat.
[Wilbursoot was slain by Tommyinnit]

Brushing the murder off he grabbed Quackity’s arm dragging him towards the platform. They stood in comfortable silence with the only noise being the occasional bubble popping in the lava. When they got to the safe side of the pris
[this is unfinished so I'm terribly sorry for the random end. i hope you enjoy and I'll be working on a new one so I can get those out.]

Chapter 8: Some Things Never Change

Chapter Text

The fuzzy memories that came with growing up swarmed him from time to time. He would push it away just for them to come back, but it was years ago, how come they’re coming back stronger than ever now? When people would ask he would change the subject only for it to resurface again somehow, the pain and torment it brought to him never changed, it only got bigger and greater soon drowning him. He sat in his room trying to sleep; his room was dark and quiet with the only noise being the wind blowing from outside; the wooden door to his bedroom opened with a slight creak and his mother walked through. “I forgot to say goodnight to you.” He preferably didn’t want to deal with her at the moment, for several reasons but one more than the others.

She was drunk.

He’s been around her when she was drunk before and most times it ended with him curled in his blankets trying to breathe with his tears rushing down his face feeling guilty about something he couldn’t control.

This time was different. She was on the telephone with someone, he didn’t think anything of it until she said his name. “Wilbur do you want to say goodnight to him?” there was silence.

“Fundy do you want to say goodnight to your dad?”

No! He left and never came back! He abandoned me…why would I want to talk to him?

“Sure.”

his answer left his lips before he could process what those words meant; being that he had just been woken up randomly at midnight, he was groggy and still half asleep so he wasn’t sure what was a dream and what was real life.

Although it was like that every day, he tried to remember what happened for it only to come back to him as fragments and tiny threads. He felt like he was still asleep dreaming so he would try to ground himself by touching physical things, it worked from time to time but if it was bad enough he would need to touch an actual person to remind him that he wasn’t dreaming and everything was real.

Come to find out later, much later. He would be diagnosed with derealization.

Handing him the phone he held it to his ear waiting for his voice.

“Hey sweetheart, good night. Sleep well, I love you.”

“I love you too dad.”

Any normal day he would break down in tears, but because of the life he’s lived and who he became over the years, not many years only 15. He couldn’t feel anything about the man on the other side of the phone, it was like he was listening to a stranger recite what his dad could never tell him for the years he left.

Damn it! he was only 7 when he left!

That's traumatizing to a 7-year old who's always been afraid of abandonment.

You’d think that he would be more open about it and more forgiving since it happened years ago. But even if it did, he wasn’t any of those things.

He was angry, he was angry that the man he looked up to and wanted to be like when he was older left him for someone who was on drugs and didn’t care to even send a letter back after Fundy wrote more letters than he did in his entire life.

He felt hopeless; he wasn’t going to have the childhood back where Wilbur was working on his broken bike while Fundy was riding his in the street.

He wasn’t getting any of that back, and it was slipping from his mind more and more each passing day. It hurt a lot and suppressing the emotions and memories that would come back to take him down into the pit of despair hurt him a lot more.

It felt like he was a balloon, he was being squeezed so much until eventually, he explodes.

The next day he woke up like normal.

The most normal you can be after speaking with someone you haven’t seen in a long time only remembering it as a dream.

He would likely spend his day not thinking about the night before nor thinking about the bold fact that his father had finally said he loved him.

Sure Wilbur told him this as a child when he was there, but after several months turned into years and almost a decade it was almost like it was foreign to him.

He’d push it off until it hit him in the face like a train does a car that isn’t able to move off the tracks. He’d tell himself that it’s fine, he didn’t need help and he’s been in therapy for enough time that he know’s how to deal with unwanted thoughts or emotions that randomly came up.

He was as fine as a person who has reached the peak of their life.

Yeah, he was great.

The vibration that slowly turned into the Minecraft disc Otherside from his phone on the bed woke the sleeping boy. Reaching over he smacked his phone in the hope it would stop, thankfully it did. With a groan, he picked his head from the pillow letting his eyes adjust to the light that snuck through the closed blinds.

His head felt heavy and it was hard to pick himself up, but nevertheless, he sat up in his bed with insanely messy hair and looked around.

His room was terrible.

There was a pile of clothing that progressively got bigger throughout the weeks by his closet door; his schoolbag was lying on the floor with papers spilling out, he didn’t really care about that since most of the papers were just notes or something that wasn’t important.

His bed had even more clothes on it.

Honestly, he didn’t know how one person could have this many clothes but then again, there were people with entire cars full.

After checking his phone and ruffling his messy hair he flung his legs over the side of the bed, blinking to drive away from his sleep.

“It’s almost Friday, we can make it,” he whispered, he hated to talk normally when he had just woken up because his anxiety somehow spiked when he woke up, looking at his hands that shook violently on the regular he stood up making his way to the closet.

Twisting the door handle and pulling it open he decided to wear something else other than a hoodie and sweatpants.

So instead, he retrieved a grey and black striped sweater and a turtle neck to be under; he also opened a drawer in his dresser pulling out a pair of light green sweatpants.

After getting all the clothes pulled over his cold body he made his way to the bathroom washing his face and brushing his hair and teeth.

He normally wouldn’t eat breakfast but he didn’t have much the day before, the only food consisting of a protein bar, one piece of gum and a small cup of milk that was enough to hold him over.

He didn’t like to think about food; it was almost painful to think of. He’d usually just brush it off or if someone were to ask if he was hungry he would say.

“No I’m alright, I already ate.”

Of course that was a lie, but what they don’t know, won’t hurt them.

He made his way to the kitchen snatching a protein bar on his way out.

His backpack slumped over his should as he walked was heavy, everything was too bright and too loud; fumbling with his shirt he finally lifted up the soft fabric so he could handle his phone for music. Putting on the music and his earbuds on he walked the rest of the way.

The day felt like it was dragging on, a raging headache tended to toy with him while he was in class which was not fun to deal with, 0/10 would not recommend he would tell himself to lighten the mood.

He would close his eyes to try and find some way to get rid of it but just like the rest of the time it would come back stronger and just as painful as the time before.

“Are you alright?”

Eret put a soft hand on the shoulder of the shorter stopping them as they walked down the bland and cold hallway.

“Yeah, I just have a headache right now. I’m alright though, no worries.”

Fundy smiled to reassure the older, to which returned the smile back to the boy.

Eret knew something was off with him but didn’t want to pry, they knew what happens when you pry. One of two things, they open up; or they shut you out completely.

He knew Fundy was sensitive and didn’t like people trying to break their way through his walls, so he wouldn’t pressure him to open up.

After they said their goodbyes and made it to their separate busses only then did Fundy see how loud and bright everything was. His head was pounding and his eyes hurt from the sun.

when he had gotten home from a hellish bus ride he felt his anxiety rising so far up that he thought he might die.

Not even making through the door without burtsting in tears he tried to keep his breathing steady and calm, just as he thought it was getting better and gust of wind came and pushed a pot off a storage shelf causing it to make a loud crashing noise.

This was the moment where the dam broke, the water rushed out like it was life or death, and all air that was surrounding that area was replaced with what was flowing at a rapid pace.

He couldn’t breathe.

Even with his state he pushed himself off the chair that was holding his weight and to the door that let him onto the balcony, he picked up the pot and anything else that fell putting them back in their respected places.

Getting back into the safety of the house his state became even worse, his breathing became distorted and short, his mind was racing, tears flooded from his eyes and down his face.

He was shaking uncontrollably, his knees buckled beneath him sending him crashing to the floor, he’d wish that this didn’t have to happen on a almost daily basis, he was so tired of it as it deteriorated his mind more and more each time taking a piece with it.

He was terrified, he was terrified that someone would walk into the house seeing him in shambles.

He picked up his heavy body locking the front door, then putting his back against the wall sliding down and curling in on himself.

And then just like it started it ended.

For him, it felt like hours had passed but in reality, it was roughly only ten minutes, but that's the price of a panic attack.

Your concept of time is manipulated by the breaths that seem to not exist in your lungs, the tears making your vision blurry, and your body cold but sweating, shaking like a leaf on a tree.

He felt better but he was exhausred, the last hours of that day was him watching Youtube on his computer from the comfort of his bedroom, and him lying again.

Until the next day, it’ll start all over again.

But he was fine with that, because he was fine.

Yeah, he’s great.

Chapter 9: regarding the other chapters and other things :D

Chapter Text

I hope you all are having a good day, night, morning, afternoon, or whatever time of day it is. so to start I am working on a new one plus also working on my script for another thing that I am excited to do. unfortunately, I won't be able to really use it until I get my PC set up and start streaming. So instead, I was thinking I could make a new book for the script, it won't make any sense really, and it'll be random and all over the place but that is because it is still a work in progress and very rough since it is the first draft. please let me know because I want your feedback on this, please. I want to know if anyone would actually read it. :)

Chapter 10: Please read this

Chapter Text

hello! I hope that everyone is doing well. I am having a bit of a block of sorts, I am not going into detail but I won't be uploading for a while just because I need to take a mental health break to heal a little. I hope you all understand and I know that I haven't been getting many out anyways but I just wanted to update you guys.
have a lovely, day, night, morning, evening, afternoon or whatever time of day it is for you. :)

Chapter 11: Happier Than Ever

Chapter Text

They had been split for years upon years, the feeling of comfort and security was replaced by a void of secrets; if Phil could even maintain eye contact with one of his sons for more than 3 seconds, it would be a record. All though he tried, it was never enough and he couldn’t blame them.

When Tommy and Technoblade were young, Wilbur had left them in the middle of the night with nothing more than a scribbled letter that was left on the kitchen table after a night that ended badly with a major fight that broke out between the family.

His room looked as if it was robbed; with clothes, drawers left open, and many of his belongings scattered around, he had taken his keys with him, also taking his car that his father had bought him on his sixteenth birthday.

The house smelt of cannabis that emerged from the empty room telling them that before he had left, he got high.

The family would have trouble, fights breaking out almost every night, it was a daily thing. Both boys were full of rage and hatred for each other and their father that had neglected them when his oldest left. They both hated him for that, that was one thing they had in common.

“You don’t have to take your anger out on me every time you fail an exam!”

the shout was heard from the top of the stairs, and so was the sound of stomping, something that Tommy did when he wasn’t in a good mood. “You were the one that walked into my room like a dick! I didn’t ask you to start annoying me!”

he stomped down the stairs into the kitchen getting a glass from the cabinet slamming it closed before turning the faucet and filling it with the liquid, he then chugged the cold water reliving his sore throat. “Tommy you were the one who asked me to help you with your homework,” Techno followed close behind, throwing his hands in the air with fury, yelling once again, “It’s not my fault that your thick skull won’t take the damn information!”

luckily Phil wasn’t home to see this, if he was, he would scold both teens sending them up to their rooms to take a cool down; then after they were done he would yell about how they were a family and just because Wilbur left doesn’t mean that they can hate everything for something that was no one's fault.

But they knew that, they knew it was no one's fault except Wilbur’s. But they were so angry about it and hurt that they didn’t know how to vent it healthily so they took it out on each other and their father.

The fights were so common that one would tend to leave the house slamming the front door and making something fall off a nearby shelf shattering against the floor.

Phil would stay silent shutting down while whoever was left in the house was left to tend to himself in whatever state he was in. Sometimes, very rarely; they would apologise feeling guilty about what they had said or acted moments prior. That would end up with the two teens sitting on the roof watching the stars sitting in comfortable silence before one had to comfort the other due to pent up emotions.

Tears burnt like fire, words thrown and spit with venom dripping from their tongues, this was normal to them; if any other person (depending on what type of home life you have) were to see what was called normal in that household they would be worried and would even possibly call CPS.

It had happened before, neighbours had come home at the wrong time and saw the blonde teen slam the front door open pacing his way down the street with his brother yelling from the top step.

“Tommy! You can’t just leave every time you're angry! You're a coward if you think you can just walk away after you started this!”

Technoblade caught up with the teen in seconds before roughly grasping his arm just above his elbow giving him leverage to yank the boy backwards towards the house; the neighbours who witnessed this were unsure of the situation, do they call the police for potential abuse? Or do they just let it go and not do anything?

A few more moments of resisting one grew impatient of the other swiftly hitting him across the face making a hand mark glow red on his skin;

“you either do this the easy way or the hard way, you know I don’t want to do that Theseus.”

Tommy’s eyes were threatening to spill with tears, it had been common for them to fight but never did he think that his own older brother would attack him like that; they had gotten physical before but honestly, Tommy was terrified of that, he hated to think that he would be the reason why his brother had bruises and split skin.

He hated it, he knew that when someone would question it he would blow it off by saying that he was in sports or had gotten bullied.

Luckily that wasn’t 100% a lie because yes, he was bullied and pushed around but wasn’t in sports; hell, he hated it because it remind him of his oldest sibling. Wilbur used to play lots of sports, he couldn’t remember all of them though, it was too long ago to recall.

Sirens were heard down the street making their way towards the two brothers, one police car pulled up beside them opening the door and hastily walking toward the two. “Hello gents, do you know why I’m here?” Techno quickly let go of the younger's arm letting his fall to his side. “Somone had called reporting violence.”

After what felt like hours of talking to the police they had let them go with a warning, and unfortunately, they said that a CPS worker had to come by to make sure that the boys were safe in the parenting of Phil.

Now in the present once again, Phil had pulled into the driveway turned the key sitting in silence with himself before eventually opening the car door and dragging himself towards the dreaded house his sons were in.

“I asked you one simple question and you explained it to me like I was a child! I asked one f*cking question! I didn’t ask you to go in f*cking details!”

Phil sighed in sadness, it broke his heart that his boys were like this, he knew that they took it hard with Wilbur leaving but he had tried.

He had put them into therapy, didn’t work.

He tried to talk to them, but it only ended in anger and objects being thrown around.

He was tired and running out of options, that was until over all the yelling and chaos there was a knock at the door.

“Techno please go get the door!”

Phil shouted into the house, he understood that he was closest but he needed some way to break up the fight that was waiting to get physical. Stomping was heard as the pinkette rushed to the door with a scowl across his face, he opened the door shutting down immediately. “Tech what is it?” Phil walked to where the boy was staring and was met with a law enforcement officer with a grim look on his face.

“Excuse me, does Phillip Watson live here?”

he took off his cap as he talked, his voice low and a hushed whisper almost making Phil question if he even had heard the man. “That's me, can I help you?”

The officer took a deep breath before beginning to speak once again. “At 5:28 pm yesterday someone had called and reported a noise complaint in your son’s apartment.” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “When he did not answer we entered, finding him unconscious in the bathroom. He is in the hospital now and in critical condition, we aren’t sure he’ll make it. He was in and out of consciousness so we weren’t able to get names of relatives until he finally spoke.”

Tears flooded from the father's eyes as he thought about his son that had left them years prior in the hospital on the brink of death, “your kidding right?” Tommy’s voice perked up through the silence broken and wavering with uncertainty. They looked to the top of the stairs where he was standing, eyes growing red by the seconds, eyebrows pinched together and lips trembling. “I’m sorry sir, he is at the St. James hospital.”

he shook his head ‘no’ chuckling in disbelief. He didn’t want to believe it regardless of the emotion present on every face inside that house.

“Your lying, he died long ago, he’s dead.” a weight made itself present in all the inhabitants of the house, they felt heavy as the words set into their minds circling around until planted a seed of hopelessness.

“Tommy…” Phil tried to reason with his son, trying to get him to understand that what the police had said years ago was just something that they had closed the case with since they had never found him. But, he was too far gone. Breaking down in tears, anger, eyes red, nose running, lips trembling.

“No! Don’t you dare try to f*cking talk to me you dick!” the youngest knee’s buckled beneath him sending him onto the stairs grasping onto the railing to steady himself.

“Theseus...” Technoblade walked to his younger brother holding onto his wrists. “Theseus, listen to me.” Tommy tried to pull away from the grasp shouting hysterically,

“let go you prick!”

Technoblade’s heart hurt seeing his brother like this, he hated physical contact but nevertheless pulled his brother into an embrace holding tightly like if he let go Tommy would break, shatter with the slightest bit of force. He let him sob into his shirt soaking it with tears and snot that flooded from the boy, tears streamed from his own face damping the blonde's hair with sorrow and grief.

The family talked about what they were going to do with the situation, well, it was mostly Phil talking because his sons were quietly holding onto each other for dear life; something they hadn’t done since they were little.

It made Phil smile but sad that it took a situation like this to bring them back together. They had officially decided that they were going to visit the hospital, they needed some closer, and they absent-mindedly hoped that it wasn’t who they thought it was, they hoped that it was someone who looked highly similar to the boy that had run away all those years ago.

But like the universe was working against all three males, they were wrong. Any bit of hope that it wasn’t their missing brother and son was broken the second they walked into the bland white hospital room.

He was there, lying on the bed, tubes down his nose, an IV drip attached to his arm. The taunting noise of the heart monitor beeping with his heartbeats.

“Phil?”

He didn’t even realize that he had zoned out but judging by Tommy standing in front of him with concern sprayed across his features he assumed that he had been zoned out for quite a while.

His name.

God how he hated that he went from dad, to father, to just Phil. He wasn’t a dad anymore, he was nothing more than a caretaker and how could he blame them when he had shut them all out emotionally and physically, Techno was reserved, he always was, but he was even more; how could that even be possible, he questioned.

And Tommy, he was a different person from when he was younger, he would stay out all day only coming home when he needed to, he also always stayed at his friend's house, Tubbo mostly, it was like he didn’t even live with them anymore, his room was bland and didn’t have decoration because who needed decor when you didn’t even stay in that room for more than one night?

“This is really him isn’t it?”

Techno questioned, his voice soft and raspy, he cleared his voice starting again. “I thought they were lying, I assumed he died…” Phil stopped him before he could say any more

“don’t say that.”

the room was filled with suffocating silence with the only noise being that damn heart monitor; the door happened to open as they were all lost in thought. “Phil Watson?” there stood a man with green hair; interesting for a doctor. He didn’t question it stepping outside with the man.

The two brothers stood in the room in silence watching Wilbur’s chest rise and fall. Taking in the details of the man lying like a corpse on the bed they saw what looked like he had many self-inflicted wounds, some fresh, some not, most of them being healed or just scabs. Beads of sweat littered his forehead, there were bandages across his torso and stitches littering his chest.

It looked like he had gotten stabbed in the chest, too close to his heart. They wondered if there was an attempted murder, they couldn’t tell with all the thoughts crowding their heads making them feel fuzzy and lightheaded.

“Sam…”

a small voice, the British accent being heavy and slurred.

He tried again sounding pained. “Sam…” the two brothers looked at each other with widened eyes.

Wilbur took in his surroundings as his eyes fluttered open immediately shutting them when the light hit them.

"Wilbur?"

Wilbur turned his head to see his two brothers who had expressions of worry and concern. “This isn’t how I wanted to see you guys…I’m sorry that you have to see me like this…” his eyes welled up with tears shortly spilling over, a sad smile was plastered across his features. He chuckled sadly.

“I don’t think I’ll be here for much longer, didn’t want you guys to have to go through this.” he tried to catch his breath through the broken words; both brothers stood in disbelief, they didn’t know what do say or do.

What were you meant to say? What were you meant to do? They couldn’t answer, just stare and wonder what had gone wrong in his life.

The brother they knew who was fearless, brave, and so much more, was lying there on the bed, with tubes, and wires attached to him. He looked on the edge of death.

“I don’t want to die.”

A quiet broken voice, like one that was shattered and all hope and light was taken away. The heart monitor slowly sped up with Wilbur’s increasing heart rate. More and more tears were streaming down his pale thin face, he looked like he could break at any moment, they assumed that so much had happened when he left, they knew that it must have been bad for him to end up like this.

“Boys? We need to talk.”

Getting into the hallway away from the one they hadn’t seen in years and years they stood face to face with their father who had a terrible look on his face.

His eyes were red and puffy, he’d been crying.

His lips trembled trying to string together words; he didn’t know how to tell them.

His hands shook with each passing second of silence, he didn’t want to tell them this way.

“Listen, the doctor said that…” he swallowed the heavy feeling in his throat. “The doctor said that he might not make it,” he tried to continue before Technoblade cut in immediately with rage.

“What do you mean!? He can’t die, we just got him back!” “Tech, please try to understand-” then Tommy, with a booming voice over all the others, startling everyone in the room with him, including Wilbur whose heart monitor sped up once again.

“No, don’t you dare try to father us when you did fine for years not looking at us or even saying anything.”

“Toms, come on.”

Techno cut in once again“Phil we need to just let it go.” “but-” “just let it go.”

Entering back into the room, the doctor with the green hair was hovering over Wilbur whispering things and shining lights into his eyes. “Is he okay?” the man looked at Phil with a saddened look.

“I’m so sorry sir, he didn’t make it.”

It was like the entire world came crashing down, he saw the villages get torn down by tsunamis, and he saw the sun burn out making the earth nothing more than a dark ball of horror. He couldn’t look at his other sons as his eyes were glued onto his oldest lying in the white bed lifeless.

What had he done wrong?

He wished he could go back, make everything better, catch Wilbur as he was leaving tell him that this wasn’t the way to go. It was his last bit of sanity. It was something to see your children slowly decline in health mentally and physically but it was another when you see that one of your children had run away after getting high at 14.

He was 14! He died too young, where had he gone wrong.

“Wilbur! wake up you dick!”

Tommy rushed to the side of the corpse shaking his arms violently with tears spilling down his face. Techno just stood there with no expression, he broke down.

This was the end.

This was the end of this family’s happy days.

It was never happy to begin with but they had originally tried to get better.

But this was the last of trying, they threw everything out of the window and it was gone.

No more was that family who was happy, watching movies, singing songs, comforting each other when times had gotten rough.

It wasn’t there anymore.

It was gone.

It was the ashes of what had been.

And now it was an empty husk of a broken dysfunctional family.

Chapter 12: update

Chapter Text

so, I just wanted to let you all know that I will be taking a break from writing and uploading more chapters for a while to focus on school. I really need to do this and if I don't there will be dire consequences. I hope you all understand and when I am done with the break there will be about two more chapters coming out. I am also thinking about making a new book [as stated in a previous chapter] of a script I have been working on for my SMP when I start streaming, it is heavily inspired by the DSMP, it would be messy and all over the place but that is because it is still being worked on [by me] I would like to have some feedback from anyone who would be interested in it because I have been working on it for some time and want to show it off ^^

I hope you all have a lovely day, night, afternoon, evening, morning, or whatever time of day it is for you :)

Chapter 13: Question? from the author? yes sir!

Chapter Text

hello again you sleepy gremlins. yes, that is what I call you now, deal with it.

how do you feel about a Sir Billiam one-shot? I'm sure you would appreciate it since I haven't uploaded it in quite a while. as you can tell from the 'question' I have been working on a Sir Billiam one shot because I thought that would be fun and I like to write villains, plus I also like to write violence and no one can stop me. :)

I also just wanted to say thank you for all the reads. 311!? thank you all so much, this means a whole lot to me, I have no words that couldn't describe how happy I am about this, I didn't think that this would blow up like it did so thank you so much!

have a lovely, day, night, afternoon, evening, or whatever time of day it is for you!

stay safe and please make sure to take care of yourself! <3

Chapter 14: Memento Mori

Chapter Text

“Let me tell you a story.”

The room they were in was one of many that sir Billiam had, red and teal vines curling and growing by the second were hanging menacingly above the guests, his voice echoing through the vines echoing off the walls; the group of people who stood in the room were what they called on the edge and the ever-growing red hue that was in the room made the guests far more uneasy. Sir Billiam stood at the top of the stairs with both hands behind his back and a face that would only be described as a maniacal small smile.

“There once was a man who was unsatisfied with his life, he longed for something to save him from the poor unfulfilling life, he was tainted by sadness and corruption. That was before he met his saviour; before he met the one who would give him the world and more if he abided by the rules.”

The people in the room grew more and more eager, the story that he spoke so clearly and so fondly almost as if he was living it all over again made them more curious. Curiosity killed the cat, and as the saying goes, they would meet the same fate that the feline did.

“He would serve his saviour, he would cherish every moment that they held together in his heart, and he would do anything it asked of him. So, when it wanted more, he sent out his servant to request attendance from other lords, duch*ess, and those in the higher ranks. They arrived but didn’t know what the evening had in store for them. One by one they would be picked off, never to return to the safety of their homes. One by one their lives would be taken for a greater cost. One by one, you will see the greater reason as to why you are here today.”

the guest soon knew why they were there. They were the ones who were going to be fed to his saviour. Sir Billiam smiled lifting his arm keeping one behind his back as he talked once more.

“I would like you to all meet the guest of honour!” he shouted before pulling a lever next to him, when he pulled the lever the house shook making the glasses and anything that was sitting peacefully still, shake with a rattle. Then, the wall opened behind the man, revealing a red egg. The red crimson vines that were growing throughout the house were wrapped protectively around the menacing object. Sir Billiam stood at the top of the stairs with his hand still on the lever smiling fondly.

“I hope you all enjoy your stay, I could care less about all the blood that is about to be on my floor but I’m sure you will not enjoy it.” his butler, who looked oddly like he was contemplating his entire life decisions wielded a diamond sword, the blade was most definitely sharpened moments prior, and his stance was one of noble and loyalty with hidden anxiety that engulfed the poor boy. He didn’t want to do this.

“You won’t hurt us.” one of the many guests shot back, his voice confident, he wore a white tie around his head under his hair. What a shame it would be if he were to be the first victim of many. With one slight glance at his master, the butler lunged forward to the man piercing the blue blade into his flesh; he didn’t have time to react before he collide with the floor coughing violently with crimson blood flowing from his wound and mouth. A smug chuckle was heard from Sir Billiam. “I wouldn’t hurt you? Now, that’s a bold assumption. Butler,” he paused before a murderer's grin was upon his face. “Kill them all, leave no survivors.” The man pulled the lever, turning on his heels with his hands folded behind his back, and walked into the room behind him before the doors closed.

the butler turned his attention back to the guest before the scattered running for their lives.

victim one, the one wearing bright colours with brown hair. “Karl.” the butler whispered to himself, remembering their names as he took their lives made him feel more guilty, but he couldn’t help but memorize every one.

Karl would be the first.

following close behind as Karl ran, he threw objects he could reach while he was hunting his prey to hopefully trip him up or slow him down a bit. But Mans was fast, he didn’t think he could keep up with him for long until thankfully his foot got caught on a statue as he was turning a corner. He fell to the hardwood floor with a massive thud, The butler would be lying if he said that he didn’t cringe slightly because that sh*t looked like it hurt.

“Please! Pl- you- you don’t have to do this- we can talk it out! I-I can give you whatever you want- just please, please don’t kill me!”

Sir Billiam would be angry with me if I listened to Karl, I’m so sorry.

He raised the blade in his hand plunging it into Karl's flesh making the dark red blood soak into his sweater and the wooded floor. There was no mercy. He saw red and only red, blinded by pleasing his master and keeping his own life.

selfish

Two down, too many more to go.

It was almost like a game of hide and seek, he was the seeker and the rest were hiding for their lives; he knew where they were at all times, however. The egg spoke to him, showing him the way and where each person was. At the corner of his eye, something he almost missed, was a glimpse of pink hair. It was too light to be Sir Billiam's, all though he knew that his master was with the Egg, the freak.

With every person he killed the less and less he felt guilty, after the first four he didn’t feel anything anymore, he felt like he was slaughtering animals. They were like that, rats in a maze; they were trying so hard but to no avail, they wouldn’t get anywhere if they aren’t thinking properly, but with the adrenaline and fear that consumed them they wouldn’t be thinking logically any time soon.

He had tried to reason with Sir Billiam before, well, before Billiam had started to become obsessed with the Egg, before he was corrupted. In Sir Billiam’s story he had told of a man who was overcome by emotion and selfishness, but what he didn’t narrate was how the man became like that. No one knew, not even the butler. Although he would like it to stay that way because he didn’t care much for the man of the house.

He sat on the stomach of his next victim, a woman with pink hair, lighter than Sir Billiam’s but pink hair nonetheless. She was the kindest to him, it pained him to murder her, she was always so kind, she smiled at him when he entered the room. Niki; She was a good soul, he choked up with a sob as he plunged the blade back into her flesh before she was no longer identifiable. As her lifeless body lay there on the ground he brushed loose strands of hair out of her face and behind her ear before apologizing quietly, taking flowers from a vas nearby and enclosing them in her cold hands.

it was painful and held his heart guilty to have been the one to do it. He hated himself. But he needed to continue before his master became enraged and took it out on him.

hours later, well he couldn’t tell anymore because it was so long. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, but what he did know was that everyone was dead and he had done his job.

“Memento Mori, do you know that saying?”

he nodded his head.

“and you know what has to happen now, don’t you?”

he nodded once again, he knew what was going to happen and he embraced it with open arms; he was almost relieved when he knew what was to happen to him.

he would finally be free.

Sir Billiam walk to face the boy, the man towering over the one who was sitting on his knees, the younger bowed his head accepting everything that was coming to him. “You were a decent butler,” he took the blade from the hands of the butler, sliding it into the flesh of his chest directly into his heart. “I expected better from you.” the red liquid made its way up his throat causing him to cough it up, the blood from the wound that Sir Billiam caused stained his suit a dark red. He smiled at the man above him, “I promise to try better sir.”

He fell to the floor with a smile upon his face, he was happy to have some type of validation from the one person he was stuck with. He could sleep soundly, he could sleep.

Chapter 15: Icarus

Chapter Text

My dear Icarus,You could never know how I regret this, my son who was cursed to be the son of a craftsman, the son of the Goddess Of Death. You were cursed to walk this earth with me and I had failed to see how it pained you to see the terrible ways of this world. I want you to know that if I could take back everything I would. I have failed you, my son. I hope for one day that you will see that I had only wished for the best for you, I tried to play God and played with my son, my son who was nothing less than good. My son of pure gold, pure bliss. Feathers and wax made promising wings, but what had I done? I had hurt my son far more than any father could ever imagine. You flew too close to the sun to escape this world and the tyranny it brought the lands. Your soft brown hair had faded to what felt like yarn, your face worn out, your golden heart traded for steal. So hard that I could not make my way back in. It was supposed to be us, but now it’s just me. Don’t fly to the sea, or too close to the sun. But I had let you spread your wings and fly; I failed to protect you when you needed me. You fell to the sea drowning in the water filling your lungs. Now my dear Icarus your body and wings lie in a grave under a tree. I had wished to see you fly again, you looked so free, so happy, those days watching you sore through the sky with pure joy and a wide smile were never coming back. I know that you had left this world for another. But, Icarus, I wish to see you again, my son. If you were ever to see this please, let the wrongs and discrimination against you go, it weighed you down drowning you in the thoughts that consumed you. My dear Icarus, sleep well my son, sleep peacefully and soundly; I will be watching over your body. Goodbye, my son.

the sunshine was streaming in through the leaves of the tree as Philza sat the letter down next to the headstone. He smiled sadly knowing that Wilbur was in a better place, that day when he had asked him to end his life he had been flooded with terrible thoughts, but over time; over a long amount of time, he had come to accept his Son’s decision. He forgave everyone that had done him wrong. And instead of feeling conflicted and planning ways to revenge his son, he would sit down at the grave talking about things that had occurred that day. He was better.

He stood up using his knee as leverage, picking his iconic bucket hat from the green grass and setting it upon his head smiling back to the headstone that read,

Wilbur soot, Beloved brother, son, and president of L’Manburg.

“Goodbye Wil, I will see you tomorrow.”

He smiled one last time before walking away from the tree feeling better than he did moments before.

Chapter 16: Backstabber

Chapter Text

He stared at the other with pain and betrayal. The one he thought he could trust just threw him out the second he could, the one he thought that his relationship with them would get better was just thrown on the grown and stepped on like it was nothing the second that his relationship with his best friend just so happened to be tied back together with broken and tethered strings. What about him? He was a person too. He wasn’t just a war machine.

“Your such a backstabber!”

STABBER

STABBER

BACKSTABBER

TRAITOR

KILL HIM

WE WANT BLOOD

The voices in his head screamed at him, the golden haired boy under him.

He locked eyes with the other as he set the last Wither head upon the wither statue. The sound of hissing and the wither being birthed into existence was heard as Technoblade stood above the rest of L’manberg with hatred burning into each and everyone he looked at, the green man with the smiling mask stood next to him laughing hysterically, he was a maniac. The f*cking insane prick. He also hated that man just as much as the rest of the people he was seeing.

The ash from the TNT blowing the country to dust was blowing in the air. The only peaceful thing about this whole ordeal was that. The ash. He loves to think that ash was the one thing that he could count on being constant. Even his father figure wasn’t constant. Well, he was but that was different. If you were in his body you would understand, but you're not, so you couldn’t understand.

“Technoblade! I thought- I thought that you weren’t going to blow it up!?” Techno growled at this, the naive and small child standing there below him trying to reason with him. He couldn’t even come close to reasoning with him because he was already too deep. And he would go all the way no matter what, it didn’t matter who it hurts or what happened to him, he would forever go all the way.

“Well, you thought wrong.”

No further words he turned his back to the family he once knew. He left the country to defend itself hoping that there would be blood and hurt when he didn’t apologize or refuse to say that he felt any remorse for his actions; he did what he did and there was no going back. He hoped that they would die with regret of not seeing him as more than just a card that they could play in battle, he was a human. He was Technoblade, the killer of men.

Chapter 17: I Am sh*t

Chapter Text

He stared at the water, thinking to himself. The words that the people whispered about him flew around his head poking him and prodding him until he was bound to break. He sang to himself quietly.

“Language is scary, when over-analysed. Every word that I say, seems far too contrived.”

the feeling of hopelessness came into his chest, tightening around his lungs smothering them in depression. The world seemed ever so more black and white when he opened his eyes to meet the sky, the clouds hovering over everything with a soft soal and kind heart.

“What are your intentions? I'm ashamed by mine. When I’m thinking too much, to realize I’m unkind.”

he paused taking in the sunset. The tower he sat on made it easier to look at, the soft colours spreading across the vast world touching everything with its soft hands. He wished he could join the sky and become a cloud that was never pained by the terrible ways of the world…maybe he could become one with the sky?

“Pretend that I’m nicer, than I’ll ever be. I’m selfish and deluded, enjoy my hypocrisy.”

he looked down the tower to the trees below, he saw his ‘friends’ making their way to their homes before it had become too dark, he saw people he loved talking with each other with smiles plastered across their faces. He smiled sadly.

“Complain that I’m bored, when being bored is a privilege. Act like I’m suffering, there’s no suffering in this.”

he pinched his eyebrows together at this, it was terrible how much he related to this song, it wasn’t about him yet he couldn’t help but feel like it was somehow written for him. His hands felt weak as he thought about what his family would say if he were to die, they probably wouldn’t mind.

“First world problems, they breed in my head.”

He felt a lump in his throat as he thought about what he had done, he killed so many people and asked his father to kill him so that he didn’t have to face his problems. Pathetic.

“Ethical contradictions between my actions and what I’ve said.”

He had manipulated everyone he came into contact with, he was a disease and no one could officially get rid of him. Even while he was dead there was Ghostbur and he was the husk of the man that had destroyed an entire country that he and his brother had worked for. Blood, sweat and tears had gone into it and he was willing to throw it away because he was petty and selfish.

“I should just shut my mouth, as evidence piles against me, that I’m so much worse than I think, exposed as a phoney.”

The time Eret had snapped, it echoed in his mind. “You stand there and accuse me of being terrible, but you are so much worse than I will ever be.” Eret’s voice echoed in his head like it was waiting to be forgiven and recycled for something else. He wouldn’t let that go, not this time. He knew that he had to be better for everyone he loved, even his son; who he abandoned was starting to forgive him. If he were to die with that only accomplishment he would die a happy man, it would be enough.

He sighed looking at the ground below, about 100 blocks high. Probably enough to die from fall damage. “Why did I come back?” he felt guilt, so much guilt. It drowned him as he gritted his teeth taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it shortly after stabilizing it in his hand. He took a long drag, blowing out the smoke when it burned his throat then putting it out on the cobblestone he was sitting on when he finished it.

When he had finally decided what he was going to do he stood up on the ledge of the tower looking into the newly darkening night sky, he smiled knowing that everyone on the SMP would be at peace once again. Looking at the trees he stepped closer to the edge. One more step and they’ll all be free again.

He edged closer, and closer until-

“Wil?”

He turned his attention behind him,

“Fundy?”

his son, ratty hair stuck out like he hadn’t taken care of it in a while, his hat was sat on his head like he rushed to put it on and he wasn’t wearing his iconic jacket that his mother made him when he was just a kid, he was only wearing a grey T-shirt that was wet with sweat.

“What are you- what are you doing?”

So much guilt, how much guilt could he feel in just a matter of seconds before he exploded right then and there? “I was uh..” Fundy looked worried, betrayed, hurt. His father was trying to lie to him, shield him from the truth that was so obvious that it was crystal clear to anyone who saw this unfold. Wilbur’s hands trembled. His lips quivered.

“Dad…just-just come down and we can talk about it,” he tried to step nearer to 0the man holding out a hand to him. “No, no I don't want you to see me like this, I’ll just.” he thought for a minute before looking behind him at the land below the tower, then looking back to his son with an unsure expression.

He sighed.

“You should go home Fundy.” his heart hurt at the small sound that erupted from the boy in front of him, the small sound of hurt. “Dad we-we can talk about this, we can get you help- you don’t even have to get help if it feels like too much!” his voice was pleading, it hurt Wilbur’s heart to see this, his only child trying to plead with death, but death already had a hand grasped around his mind pulling and whispering to him, telling him to jump.

Do it, jump.

DO IT.

He shook his head trying to shake the voices that whispered and mumbled into his ears. “I’m sorry my little champion,” he smiled sadly. “Go home son, It’s my time to go. I wasn’t meant to be revived and everyone knows it.” tears snuck their way out of his eye sliding down his cheeks and down his neck. “But da-” Wilbur cut him off holding his hand up, then putting them at his side. “Please,” he rummaged through his pocket before pulling out a golden chain with an amethyst shard on the end, then stepping off the edge of the tower to his son grabbing one of his hands and enclosing the necklace safely in his palm. He smiled at the boy facing him then put a loving hand on his cheek caressing it lovingly.

“I’m not going home, not without you.”

Wilbur frowned, he was stubborn, just like him.

“Okay…rest with me.” he stepped away from the edge as he held his arms wide open which Fundy crashed into with a quiet sob escaping his lips as buried his head into his father’s yellow jumper that was stitched poorly in the middle.

“Shh, it’s okay my little champion, I’m not going anywhere.”

They both slowly sat down on the hard cobblestone roof. The older ran his fingers through his son’s red hair softly holding him tightly like if he were to let go he would shatter into a million pieces. His poor son. He had been through so much and he couldn’t even bat an eye in remorse for the things that the boy had been through. He had done so much at such a young age when he should have been in his bed sleeping soundly waking up from a small nightmare that made him come into his parent’s room asking to sleep with them.

Fundy’s sobs soon turned into soft breaths of sleep.

do it.

he’s asleep, he wouldn’t miss you.

the voices that seemed to run in his family were back, they were back and they got louder and louder until he was on the edge of the building once again looking at the damp grass below the structure. It was almost as if the wind was beckoning him to fall into its arms, saying “I will catch you, trust me.” He knew that in the end, it wouldn’t have caught him, he was all too aware that he was never to trust the intrusive thoughts that crowded his mind. But nevertheless, he gave in to the calls from the ground below. He slipped off his brown trench coat draping it around his son to keep him warm then slipped off the edge of the building with no sounds.

He was still conscious when he hit the ground, he couldn’t feel anything as he lay there on the wet grass looking up at the grey sky, blood pooled in his mouth but he didn’t care enough to cough it out. The sky was so calm, he hoped that when he was taken from this world he would become one with the sky so that he was able to look after his family. He hoped that Fundy would forgive him for once again lying to him.

“Wilbur oh my god!”

His eyes felt heavy as he looked to where the source of the sound was coming from, only to find that it was from Phil. Phil ran to his side talking to him like he could hear it, but he couldn’t. It sounded like he was hearing something underwater, it was too muffled as he let his eye droop making his vision go black. He finally fell asleep.

Chapter 18: Empty Bed [I Am sh*t pt.2]

Chapter Text

The void of sleep was broken by shuffling and low voices having a conversation.

Was he dead?

There were warm hands brushing through his hair as he lay wherever he was, the unknown person was humming a song that he remembered. He slowly opened his eyes only to shut them as soon as they were opened. “I’ll turn down the lights.” The hands retracted from his hair as he heard whoever was there stand up and flick a switch. Then the hands returned to his hair, rubbing circles into his scalp comfortingly and playing with his curly locks.

“You don’t have to say anything right now, I just want to know that you're okay.” Wilbur opened his eyes letting them adjust to the light before locking eyes with Phil’s green ones. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

He was alive…

It didn’t work.

He snuggled further into Phil’s stomach which his head was laying on groaning at the stiffness in his body. “Please wil…” he looked back at his father who had reddened eyes looking saddened at his son. “I was thirteen years old, tried to make some friends, almost killed myself instead.” Phil frowned when he saw how Wilbur spoke of this like it wasn’t worrying at all. Phil averted his eyes to the distance out of the window in the room they were in. Only then did Wilbur really take in his surroundings.

It was his childhood room, his guitar still on the stand, posters of random bands that he liked were on the wall having not been touched for years. And the bed they were laid on was still the gross puke brown colour that he had insisted on Phil getting him when he was just a boy. He tried to sit up but was flooded with pain erupting from his middle and his spine.

“Whoa,” Phil put his hand on his son’s back and chest to guide him back down onto the soft bed. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself more.” When Wilbur was back down on the bed Phil sighed sadly before talking. “Your spine is broken and so are most of your ribs, you have a concussion and some head trauma.'' During all the wars in L’manburg and outside of it Phil had to be the medic which also made him have to know what had happened to each person, this made him able to understand what had happened to Wilbur’s body when he jumped.

“oh…”

Oh…

that wasn’t good, it most definitely wasn’t good at all.

f*ck.

Wilbur lifted his eyes to meet his fathers, he felt violated. Why hadn’t he let him die?

“Why didn’t you let me die?”

Phil opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the other who was enraged and angered from every inch of his body.

“Why didn’t you let me die! Why did you save me!?” Wilbur’s voice broke, it cracked and hurt his lungs. He was a broken man with an even more broken body. His voice was broken to pieces by his hyperventilating. “Why-why di-didn’t you let me-me d-die?”

Phil sighed sadly, he continued to brush his fingers through his son's hair. “I couldn’t lose you again, no one can.”

Wilbur’s face scrunched up with anger and tears rolled down his face and into the bed under him also annoyingly making their way into his ears as he managed to push out three simple words.

“I hate you.”

“I know Wilbur.”

“You could have just left me to die.”

a moment of silence, then “I know Wilbur.” and then nothing else. Nothing more than the silence between father and son. Nothing more than the silence between father and son and the sound of staggered breaths and sniffles coming from the son lying on the bed.

months upon months have passed since that fateful day, the SBI family had spent more time together after that, something that Phil had managed to convince them all. Something about ‘being a family again since this world is f*cked.’ something like that. Because of Wilbur’s injuries he had been forced to use a cane, his brothers had to defend him many times from others on the SMP making fun of him calling him ‘old’ they ended up beating them up behind the rainbow target.

This would have made a great ending to a story, but that's just not how it goes for these people. They can’t have anything nice.

“You don’t really want to know about the tower do you?” Tommy said quietly, his eyes dull and almost dead, the bright blue that once shinned like diamonds was replaced by cold dark ice. The once happy, loud, and energetic boy was no longer who he used to be.

“Well, yeah! You said he hurt you with it. What-what did he… I don't know watch you with it? Or-” Wilbur was trying his best to understand why a tower was so significant to his little brother, how did Dream use a tower to hurt Tommy?

“While I was in my exile every single day Dream would come here and erase my progress. He would erase quite frankly any wil to live, that I used to have.” His voice grew a bit higher in memory of his ‘friend’. “And every day I’d think that maybe it’d get better, maybe-maybe there’d be hope that people would show up at the party. Maybe ghostbur would start seeing me again.” his voice grew lower again and quiet. “And every day a little bit of that hope left, and left, and left. Till I broke.”

“This tower,” Tommy held his hand out to the tower beside him. “Is where I went to kill myself.”

“Because of dream.”

It was almost like something completely snapped in his mind, because it felt like only seconds before he was already at the prison and at Dream’s cell face to face with the man who revived him.

Wilbur smiled before speaking. “It’s so good to see you man, I-I thank you for everything, I couldn’t be more grateful.”

“So you’ve come to return the favour?” Dream questioned, a little flicker of hope blossomed in his eyes.

“Yeah, something like that, you remember Tommy don’t you?”

“Of course I remember Tommy! He was my best friend!” Wilbur’s chest tightened, he was growing impatient.

“He told me about exile, he told me about logstedshire, about the party,” he paused. “And most importantly he told me about that tower Dream, and the pit-”

“fond memories, fond memories”

in an instant time stopped, the world stopped, everything stopped. “What did you say?”

“Those were some fond memories Wilbur, it was quite funny how he was.”

Wilbur chuckled, “Okay, that's what I thought you said.” He then placed a block of TNT in the cell lighting the flint and steel causing an explosion that allowed him to enter the cell further. He walked closer to Dream holding his fist up and then bringing it down until it collided with the other face. That continued until…

Dream was slain by WilburSoot

Chapter 19: The end

Chapter Text

So as I'm sure you have all heard, Alex or better known as Technoblade has passed away today. Because of that, I've come to the decision to stop writing one-shots that involve techno, however, I might put little mentions of him inside the stories. In my own personal opinion I just think that is disrespectful and not right. So I hope you all understand.

Technoblade we all love you very much, you have inspired so many of us to be who we are today, you have been a impactful role model to me and many others. I hope you are not in pain anymore. Rest well. Fly high.

as of today I will be taking a break to process his death. And please anyone who reads this. Remember it's okay to feel emotion and cry. And it's okay to take a break if you need it.

stay safe and please take care of yourselves <3

Chapter 20: update, I'm not dead I promise

Chapter Text

hello my sleepy gremlins!! I'm sorry that I haven't been posting new chapters, I've been at work a lot this summer and it has me working some long hours.

fun fact: I'm a lifeguard :)

aaaanyways, I'm working on writing another angsty story for you all because I've been gone for so long.

I hope you all have a lovely day, night, afternoon or whatever time of day it is for you <3

Chapter 21: f*ck this, Let Gravity Win

Chapter Text

It was the usual time for Tommy to stay awake, he could never truly fall asleep without the words in his mind attacking him.

12:21 am

Why didn’t you just give up?

It would have been so much better if you just let those things happen to you, then no one would have gotten hurt.

He knew the voices in his head weren’t real, they were just there to make his life harder, even more so than it was now. He was living with Phil and well, Wilbur of course.

When he had first moved in he decided that it would be best to isolate himself from any human interaction, his mind said that it would have been better that way. He would have made a different decision if he knew that this was going to happen.

lying in his bed staring at the ceiling because his body and mind couldn’t fall asleep. He felt…hopeless, as long as he was still breathing, death and blood would be brought to him. That's all he knew from an early age. That's all he knew. And…he was just a kid.

His thoughts were broken by a small soft knock at his closed door, and a quiet, “Hey mate, are you okay? You haven’t been out of your room all week.'' He couldn’t muster up any will to answer, he wasn’t physically or mentally okay to let anyone in, yet spill his feelings to them just because they asked one simple question. Instead, he ignored the voice and continued staring at the bland ceiling.

“Toms, can I come in? I just want to talk to you.” His blue eyes felt droopy, not like the tired droopy, but the type of droopy where you feel like you just can’t keep them open because your body wants to shut down but you know that if you let it then bad things would happen.

“sure…”

Finally with an answer that was barely heard on the other side of the door, it was pushed open by Phil who stood there with tired eyes and pyjamas on. Clearly woken up by something. Tommy hoped that he didn’t wake him up. “Hey Phil…” deep and raspy voice, a fake smile that dropped too quickly, and his body lying on the top of his bed that hasn’t been touched since he moved in. something was wrong.

Phil came and sat next to his youngest and looked at him with empathetic eyes that told Tommy that Phil was most definitely worried about him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Tommy didn’t answer, he couldn’t answer so he just stayed in the same position. On his bed looking at the ceiling.

“Let me help you. Please. Stop pushing everyone away.”

A few moments of silence then a small trembling, “I think I need help…”

Phil frowned, Tommy would never admit this to anyone unless he thought he truly needed help, he always joked about how he was a big man, he could do anything by himself. But now here he was, hopeless, still, quiet and needing help. His son, lying on a bed looking lifeless, like a statue.

“Just tell me how I can help you and we’ll do it.” again more silence, this caused Phil to get desperate, he wanted to know, anyway he could help his kid he would do it in a heartbeat. “I don’t know dad…I don’t even know how to get myself out of bed…” His heart shattered, and at the ripe age of 8, he was diagnosed with severe depression. Phil hated hearing the doctors say with a pitty voice that his son was depressed and it wasn’t just something that would end up going away.

and it followed him since, Tommy always felt like he was weighted down. His chest felt heavy, his limbs took too much energy to move and yet it was still hard for him. Talking to Phil was a chore, he didn’t recognise his own voice but nevertheless, he knew it was coming from him because he could feel his throat vibrating.

“How about we go and watch the stars? I know it’s late but it might be good for you to get outside.” Tommy stayed silent, only giving a hum in response to Phil. “Here mate, let me help you up.” Phil softly grabbed Tommy’s forearm lifting him up from his bed, setting him on the side of his mattress, Phil then walked to the other side of the room where his wardrobe was and took a coat from it. “Do you think you can put it on? It’s a bit cold outside tonight.” He hummed in response, putting on a simple light coat couldn’t be too hard, could it?

Turns out it was, as soon as Phil left to get his own coat Tommy sat there staring at the floor, he didn’t move to attempt putting on his coat; so when Phil came back in, it was only natural for him to look at his son in worry. “Here, I’ll help you.” he didn’t know why but when Phil had said this he felt anger, so much anger piled in him slowly rising until he snapped yelling at his father.

“I can do it myself!”

With anger, also comes guilt when he realised what he had done. Phil stood baffled about what had happened, shocked, taking a step back from his son.

Tommy took a shaken breath, “I…I’m sorry- I don’t- I don’t know what's wrong with me- everything feels so fuzzy and I don’t know if I’m dreaming or not- I-” before he could speak anymore Phil laid a hand on his shoulder choosing to ignore how he flinches away like a scared animal. “Mate, it’s okay, you don’t need to apologise for things you can’t control.”

“But you didn’t deserve any of that- it was uncalled for and- I just- it’s not okay for me to do that, be angry at me- do anything- yell, scream- why haven’t you done anything yet?”

Phil looked at him with sadness, why did Tommy want him to get mad at him? That didn’t make sense, but he also knew why.

He wanted validation for his feelings, he wanted someone to react to them because no one had for a horribly long time. He needed the resistance of someone else because he was stuck by himself for so long that he needed something, anything to help him feel at most like he was getting back to how he used to be.

Instead of getting angry like Tommy wanted he held his son close whispering sweet reassuring words into the room, rocking him back and forth, and rubbing circles into his back while he sobbed.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, you're okay, you're safe. You’re home, shh…shhh.”

After a while, Tommy’s sobs turned into quiet breaths, so Phil took an opportunity to offer a choice to the boy. “Would you like to go watch the stars? We don’t have to if you think that might be too much for you.” Tommy tiredly shook his head no then followed by a raspy, “no, I want to…”

The father and son made their way to the backdoor opening it up to a cool spring breeze then sat down on a bench that was in the yard when they had moved in. Tommy stared in awe as he gazed amongst the stars, he could make out some of the constellations that Techno had told him about before he moved out, the ones that he liked the most were the zodiac constellations, Aries, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, Pisces. He liked those ones, he didn’t know why, maybe it was the stupid stereotypes people said that the others had just because they were born in that timeline of the sign, or maybe it was because they looked unique and were mesmerising to look at every night he couldn’t seem to sleep.

Both father and son sat on the bench looking at the stars until it got too cold for them. By the time they went back into the warmth of their home, it was 4:00 in the morning. Some days had passed since then, the family was more open since that night, Wilbur had started to open up more about what had happened with Sally and Fundy, but he was still quite closed off no matter how hard Phil or his therapist tried to pry into him.

Phil had started talking to the boys more about the voices that had run through the family for generations before them all. It wasn’t fun to hear both boys exclaim that they finally knew why they heard people talking when there were no people around, but it was enough to see them smile because they had finally gotten an answer.

But of course, they were all still very flawed, Tommy had severe PTSD and most of the time loud sounds would trigger it causing him to go into a panic attack that would take hours to pass. Wilbur had anger burst that would make him throw things and yell, it wasn’t a good mix.

In the family’s home you could hear the running footsteps of the youngest brother and the sound of the older one following close behind. This would have been wholesome if not for the fact that one was furious at the other for a small reason that turned into a full-blown argument. Phil of course wasn’t home because he had to go to the shops for more food. Having food was also a sense of security that Tommy had grown to feel.

“Tommy, give me that back right now!” Tommy had stolen one of Wilbur’s jumpers, his iconic yellow jumper. It started out as a fun game of chase, and then it wasn’t. “Come get it dick!” the blonde chuckled at this statement causing him to trip on the carpet that they had in one of the hallways inside the house. The older brother stomped up to the one on the floor enraged with the fire of a thousand suns. “I f*cking hate you, give me my sh*t back!” the venom behind his voice startled the boy, the feeling of being in exile came back, the fear, the coldness, the constant anxiety; it all came back to him hitting him in the face like a train.

frantically the teen threw the yellow jumper to his brother throwing quick apologies with trembling hands. “I-I’m sorry, I-I’m so-Please don’t get mad at me, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he then soon curled into a ball in the hallway only illuminated by a single lamp from Phil’s bedroom that was on. Wilbur was too blind by rage to see the state that the younger was in, so after snatching the jumper and spitting, “You never f*cking listen.” he stomped to his room and slammed the door.

the voices in his mind peaked, they swam and prodded into him like needles sewing back together a ripped shirt, he was the shirt that was worn by people. He was the shirt that was thrown into the dirty laundry to be forgotten about until whoever wore him hadto use for him. He was merely a piece of cloth worn by people who had use for him, when he wasn’t needed he was forgotten.

why are you crying?

what’s wrong with you?

he was angry, it was only right of him to hate you.

stop being a baby.

The only thing he could remember from that night was seeing his father run to his side whispering sweet nothings. “Tommy, your okay, just breath with me, okay?” his voice was muffled, it felt like everything was spinning, the world was blurry and dark. He couldn’t breathe, he was drowning.

when he awoke from the slumber that had consumed him, he took a deep breath. It was almost refreshing until his eyes caught sight of the brunette boy sitting at Tommy’s desk sleeping. With that, what was supposed to be a refreshing breath caught in his throat causing him to cough it out; this woke up his brother.

“Oh, Tommy!” his brother smiled with pride, it was nostalgic to see his smile, something that he had almost forgotten about from when he was a child. It was warm like the sun but crooked like the stars. “Tommy, I…Listen I feel terrible about last night…I uh, Dad wanted me to come to apologise and…I honestly don’t know how to do this very well.” Wilbur started to fidget with the hem of his sleeve, a small string that had come loose was wrapped around his finger then changed to be slightly pulled making it longer.

“It’s okay, I just…I think we all need help…we aren’t as ‘okay’ as we pretend to be.”

since that night, they vowed to get better. It was easy, and none of them were completely better but they worked around it. They made adjustments, and they adapted.

Chapter 22: Fly High King

Chapter Text

The light from the sun snuck in through the window making it into his eyes causing him to stir in his sleep,

“maybe only getting 3 hours of sleep wasn’t a good idea.”

A throbbing pain made itself present in his head, with a groan he dragged his heavy body away from the warmth and comfort of his bed making his way to the bathroom where he looked into the mirror and wished he hadn’t. His pink hair was messy, greasy, and overall looked like a mess. Under his eyes were dark eye bags, shades of purple, green, and blue; If he didn’t know any better he would have assumed that he had two black eyes. His skin was even paler than it was the night before, and he wondered, how could that even be possible?

A buzzing sound was heard from his bedroom, he assumed it was a notification from Youtube saying that someone had liked his video or subscribed so he dismissed it and continued doing his regular routine. Only when he was done did he pick up his phone, turning it on and checking his notifications. It was texts from Tommy and some from the SBI group chat.

Child: Techno we have to stream lore today!’

The Blade: ‘okay.’

He really didn’t feel like streaming, he felt mentally exhausted, his body felt heavy, and everything was oddly too loud, and out of place. When he managed to get his stream set up having the timer set for a fifty-minute countdown he logged onto the dreamSMP getting his character into place, while also setting up a VC for all the people who were joining in the lore stream to talk. With no warning, Tommy joined the VC loudly shouting. “HEY BLADE!” he sounded excited but it hurt techno’s ears to hear the boy shout that loudly.

“Hey Tommy.” he replied quietly, Tommy was taken aback by this; of course techno was quiet and he was well, ya know, Technoblade. But Tommy could tell by the way he had said that, that something was wrong. “You okay Techno?” Tommy waited patiently on the other side of the call to hear from Technoblade but only heard a small huff.

Techno rested his head on his hand that was propped up on his desk. “Not feeling too well, I can still stream but I’m not sure how long I can stream for.” Tommy hummed in response, he understood that Techno overworked himself until near death, he worked himself that sometimes he would go days without food or water, he had reminded Techno that it wasn’t healthy and if he continuously did it then he would end up in the hospital.

“We can do the stream another time, plus I’m sure you didn’t get any sleep last night and probably didn’t eat yesterday.” Techno froze, he hated that Tommy knew him like that. He felt bad that at a young age he had to take care of an adult, he knew that Tommy liked to help out and check up on his friends but he wasn’t responsible for someone who should be able to take care of himself. “Tommy, stop trying to take care of me.” his voice was hushed, laced with guilt. Tommy knew he didn’t mean anything bad behind it, he was feeling guilty for putting Tommy in the position of being a babysitter.

Tommy knew otherwise.

“Too bad boss man, I’ll be coming over later today with reinforcements.” Tommy turned to his stream once the countdown timer went to zero, then muted himself on discord before yelling so that Techno’s state didn’t decrease because of his loud voice. Technoblade looked to his own chat before smiling to himself seeing all the chatter's spam.

supernova: Techno is finally streaming!!

dsmpstan123: TECHNOBLADEEEEEE

frognoblade: TECHNO’S LIVE!? LETS GOOOOOOO

Many more of the chatters were spamming the usual, E. He smiled and laughed looking at the random chats, he would never admit it but he enjoyed streaming and seeing what all his chatters were talking about. Although there were times when he regretted looking into chat because someone would say something like “Technodaddy” or something absurd like that. He really regretted looking at those messages but usually chose to ignore them and DM his mods to have them banned since he was uncomfortable with the thought of someone thinking about him in that way.

He decided to check Tommy’s stream to see what he was talking about. Luckily the night before he remembered to turn down his volume so when he tuned into Tommy’s stream, his ears didn’t bleed when he saw him going on a rant about how someone asked him why he was British. “Alright boys! Unfortunately, we are postponing the lore stream to another day because today we weren’t ready. But!” he held up a light teal jumper sweater that had the name Tommyinnit printed on it with childish letters. “WE GOT NEW MERCH BOYS!” Techno laughed that the enthusiasm in the teen's voice, he continued to watch the stream until it ended with a loud but usual sincere goodbye to his chatters.

The notification from discord telling him that Tommy had undefined from the VC was heard as he turned his attention back to it. “I told chat that the lore stream isn’t today, we’ll do it another day, today jus’ isn’t the right day to do it.” before Technoblade could put in a noise or voice any of his complaints about the choice, Tommy cut in. “You have no say in that, Wilbur, Phil and I will be coming over today. See you soon boss man!” with that Tommy’s icon disappeared with the iconic sound and Techno was left alone.

He thought back to his childhood, how he became how he was now. He didn’t understand how he became this way and didn’t understand it in the slightest. How had he become the most hated person on the SMP? don’t get him wrong, he was well aware that it was a game and he was merely only playing a character in a made-up world, but the way the words were spat at him like fire, and venom, it stung. He knew they didn’t mean it and if he were to ask the people who said those words, they would reassure him saying that it wasn’t real, it was the script. He had to remind himself every time, It’s not real, they’re playing a character He knew it. He knew it but it still hurt.

One thing he does remember, the thing he does remember that made him this way. That was when he knew how the real world was. How the real world doesn’t have fairy tales, it doesn’t have soft streets where you couldn’t hurt yourself if you fell, it doesn’t have parents that will always be there for you no matter what, no matter the time, no matter what happened. None of that was true. The real world was cruel, cold, hard, and hurtful. He knew the real world, he knew it all too well.

his mind became foggy as he sat in his office chair longer, the longer he sat the more his mind fell away from his body, and the more he felt like he was looking through the eyes of another person and he wasn’t in his own body. He had no motivation to stray away from his seat, he had no motivation to do anything. He just stared at his computer screen which only had his chat spamming concerns and confused words.

Oh sh*t…the stream

How long had he been live for? He looked at the screen as he was pulled away from his thoughts; thirty minutes. He rushed to get his bearings knocking some things off of his desk as he turned his microphone on chuckling nervously. “Hey chat, how are we all doing?”

wedon’ttalkaboutthis_: You okay techno?

sleepychild: anyone else worried about him?

laranotfound: you’ve been live for quite some time now boss man.

Technoblade’s heart sank, he had forgotten that he was live and now had to live with the consequences of people making TikToks about him being live for an hour and a half, and not saying anything, let alone even ‘starting’ the stream. “Hey don’t worry chat, I’m alright, just forgot that I was streaming.” beads of sweat were scattered across his forehead and his neck but continued regardless of the anxiety creeping up on him. “I don’t know if all of you heard or saw Tommy’s stream today but for those of you who didn’t, Tommy had said that we would be doing the lore stream another day because today just was not the right time to do it. So instead we will be having a just chatting stream.”

Yeah, that's okay…they won’t question it since he did say that.

After about an hour of streaming he ended it by saying that he had to go to bed. Just as he ended the stream and was lying back in his chair staring at the ceiling he heard the doorbell ring. He tore his gaze away from the ‘interesting’ ceiling and made his way down the brown carpeted stairs. When he got to the front door he opened it and almost in an instant he was brought into a tight hug making him shut his eyes tightly by…one, wait no… three people? He opened his eyes cautiously.

“Techno! Hey mate, how are you doing?” Phil, the father of the SBI group smiled at him with kindness and a genuine joy to see him. Techno stepped to the side to let them all in shutting the door behind all four of them. “What are you guys doing here?” the gremlin child pushed through the two older ones getting to Techno. “I told you I was coming over.” he stretched his arms out towards the two other men in the room. “An’ I would bring reinforcements.” the two others smiled while Wilbur scratched the back of his neck opening his mouth to talk before Tommy cut in once again. “Wilbur shut up, Techno doesn’t want to hear your complaining.” soon the small comment erupted into a fight between the two that ended in laughing and a huge coughing fit from Tommy.

Techno sat on the couch in the living room turning on the TV to a random channel while waiting for the others to join him. Phil was the first to sit beside him looking at him with worry and an ungodly amount of concern. “Do you want to talk about it?” Techno knew what he meant, he didn’t want help; he was an adult and that meant he should be able to take care of himself, so he shook his head in response. “When you do, just let me know.” Phil turned back to the TV watching whatever was on it, some random thing about young birds being thrown out of the nest to learn how to fly. It was kind of funny if he really thought of it. The mother of the young just kicked them off saying “fly bitch!” and hoping that the baby would fly in enough time to not hit the ground. But the more he thought about it, it got dark so he refrained from thinking anymore.

Techno could faintly hear the sound of footsteps approaching the living room but decided that he could let his guard down since they would probably never do anything to harm him.

Keyword: Probably

Tommy came behind the couch quickly tying a blindfold over the pinkette while the tall lengthy bastard Wilbur, scooped him up over his shoulder restraining the man from inflicting any harm on the other.

Unfortunately, there was a small bit of harm done from Techno kicking and jabbing the side of Wilbur’s head with his elbow, but other than that it went smoothly. When they had arrived at their destination Wilbur threw the shorter off of his shoulders and onto his bed that was Minecraft pig theme. “Stay there.” Techno tried to protest but he wasn’t able to see anything due to Tommy tying the blindfold on so he ripped it off shouting at the taller man who was exiting his room. “What the hell wil!?” he hung his legs off the bed in hopes of walking into the room where the other people were in but was pushed down immediately by the oldest in the house.

“Sorry mate, we all made a deal before coming over that we would take care of you.”

His voice was genuine and more or less stern. “Please, we don’t want to stress you more.”

A/N: with this, I want to apologize for bringing up upsetting emotional revolving around his passing. I'm not going to make this super long since most people would skip through this anways to the other chapters but I want to say my final goodbyes to Alex.

I truly felt connected to you, even through a screen. I was hoping and dreaming of the day when I could smile and say that I had met the infamous Technoblade. But that had come to an end. I couldn't have ever imagined how much pain you were in, I'm holding onto the sole fact that you are in the afterlife, or reincarnated as someone else, but not suffering with the pain that you had gone through. You will forever live in the hearts of the people who loved you, admired you, knew you and so much more. Sleep well my friend, you have finally won the last battle.

Chapter 23: Odd Comforts

Chapter Text

How did this happen? He could only remember bits and pieces of what happened, and even then it was hard.

[then he’d forget making him try and remember again.]

Not to mention the tight as-hell blindfold over his eyes making it harder to concentrate on one thing.

The jerking of what he assumed was a vehicle was painful against his body since it made him slam against the wall every now and then. He couldn’t hear much, aside from what sounded like tires driving against a gravel road, he took deep breaths to calm his panic that was rising ever so slowly that made it painful. On his right he could hear a conversation going on, he shifted slightly to hopefully hear what they were saying,

“-how bad this can be for us?” then he heard another who sounded younger, another brit in the vehicle, “We talked about this, we do what we can, then leave him.” The other, who he first heard huffed in annoyance, he sounded like he didn’t want to do this.

Then Wilbur wondered.

sh*t.

What are they going to do with me?

That was when panic started to settle in, he wanted to see where he was at, what he was in. He tried to raise his hands but was met with resistance. He thrashed around anxiety taking hold on his mind. He pulled and twisted his hands, maybe they’ll get free, he twisted and pulled until warm liquid was felt trailing down his hands.

Blood.

The vehicle came to an abrupt stop throwing Wilbur, once again, against the wall with a thud. There was silence, he heard doors open then close, and then, nothing. A few seconds passed before he heard the doors on his left swing open and hands were violently grabbing his forearms, with a yelp he was led out of the vehicle and into some type of building. [that was also the moment he realized he was wearing just a T-shirt and sweatpants with only socks on.]

“Sit him down.” a voice, he couldn’t remember where he had heard it before was behind him, directing the others. He then again was shoved farther into the room they were in and seated on a chair where they tied his hands (once a-f*cking-gain) behind him.

Then after a door slammed shut, he heard heavy boots strutting towards him and with not a second to react the blindfold was tugged off some hairs being pulled along with it.

He squinted and blinked his eyes to adjust to the hard light that was brightening the room. There, he could see three figures.

One had shoulder-length hair tied up with a white bandana, and his arms were crossed, but he couldn’t see the expression that was painted on his face. But he could feel it, pity and sorrow.

The next had only a blue T-shirt on with a red and white box in the middle, he couldn’t see his face very well but he swore that it looked like he had clout glasses on.

the f*ck?

The last one, dear god he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a bit intimidated. He was standing over him wearing a white porcelain mask with a smile, he wore a long emerald green cloak with a hood that was draped over the mask in a dramatic matter. He also wore dark purple armour over what looked like a lime-coloured hoodie. On the belt that held his pants, he could see a halster that held a handgun.

His blood ran cold.

were they going to use that on him? Were they going to kill him?

“If you’re wondering if we’re going to kill you, then no.” He looked up to meet the beady black eyes on the mask that the man above him wore. His voice was gruff and distorted like something was interfering with what his voice actually sounded like. The brunette shuddered at the sight of the menacing smile above him. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Wh-why am I here? How’d I get here?” Wilbur’s eyes flicked around the room for anything that was a helpful escape, the other must have seen the way his eyes scanned over everything, he shifted his weight to one leg and crossed his arms over himself. “Trust me, you won’t be able to get out on your own, we’ve made sure that there wasn’t a way.”

His heart dropped, how long were they going to keep him there?

wait, we?

He looked up to the man looming over him furrowing his eyebrows, “we?” his voice was small, and he choose to ignore how the other two behind who he assumed were the ‘boss’ tensed with the word's we.

“That’s not important, but what is important, is what we need from you.” The green man pulled a chair in front of the other and sat on it, tossing one leg over the other and leaning back with his arms still crossed over his chest. Behind the green man, he heard the other two’s shoes scrape against the concrete floor as they handled items and gather whatever they were doing. The two then walked behind Wilbur setting the items on a metal table with wheels.

The green man stood up retrieving an item from the table. when his hands were on the item he sat back into the chair. “We should introduce ourselves, it’s not nice to not know who you’re talking to,” He gestured to the one in the blue shirt, who did, as a matter of fact, have clout glasses on. “This is George, he’ll be the one cleaning you up after our sessions.” he then gestured to the man with black hair, “This is Sapnap, he is the one that will be helping me during our sessions.”

Then as if the world was slowly as to make a dramatic build-up, he put his hand on his chest. “And I am Dream, I’m sure from the process of illumination, you know what my job is.”

He did, he was the one who was going to do those things to him. He just hoped to the gods that it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be. But to his disappointment, it was much much worse.

The first time dream visited him after they brought him in, he talked about things he did. How Sapnap, him, and George watched movies until they all passed out, then he would walk to the table behind Wilbur getting a random tool that he liked that day and proceed to use it to hurt the brunette. The first time, he used a scalpel. He dragged it against the skin of his arm making Wilbur cry out in pain. That continued until Wilbur was struggling to focus his eyes on anything due to the blood loss making him lightheaded, so he lied his head on the back of the chair.

He didn’t notice when Sapnap entered the room, “Alright Soot,” he sat down in the chair that Dream had pulled up, “Where is Techno?” “wha- I-I don’t know, I haven’t seen him!” Sapnap huffed pulling himself to his feet and stood over Wilbur crossing his arms over himself. “Don’t play stupid, I don’t want to hurt you.” From the darkness, you could hear a disappointed sigh from the green man. “Nick, you know what to do.”

All Wilbur could remember after that was pain, so much pain, and yelling. Questions, questions and more questions were screamed at him, though he couldn’t answer them because he truly didn’t know the answer.

Dream walked up to Wilbur running fingers through his hair that oddly calmed the brunette. He took one hand handling an item, he then injected a purple liquid into his arm. “You did good, I’ll see you tomorrow.” the hand retracted from the curls to which Wilbur made a disappointed sound. The sound of a heavy metal door was heard opening and closing, he then heard the door once again, this time hearing sneakers walk across the floor next to him. His eyes felt so heavy but he lifted them to meet the face of George.

“Damn, he really did a number on you.” At that moment Wilbur felt a need to beg for his freedom, he took a deep breath slurring his words as he spoke, “Why do you have me here? Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” As George wet a towel he sighed. “I can’t do that, Dream will kick my ass.” George chucked thinking about it, to which Wilbur reacted angrily. “Do you think this is funny? You sick bastards.” He grinned slumping his head to where he was able to look at the ceiling. “They’ll find me, you're not going to be doing this for long.” he chuckled softly then looking back at the man that was cleaning the open wounds that littered his body, he heard George sigh beside him. “You don’t have anyone looking for you, they think you’re staying at a friend's house for a few weeks.” Wilbur scrunched up his face speaking before he registered what he was saying. “They’re not going to believe that, I don’t have many friends.” He could feel whatever Dream injected into him making its presents known, he felt like he was floating but his head felt so heavy, too heavy to keep up.

He could barely feel the rough material of the towel scratching against the wounds on his body, but he felt them enough to hiss in pain when George pushed too hard. “Your so dramatic, this isn’t the worst it's going to get.” He threw the towel in a bucket of water nearby the chair he was sitting at. He then stood up stretching, after he was done stretching he patted Wilbur on the back and walked away slamming the metal door after saying, “Good luck!”

And that's how the rotation would go, Dream would come in first, talk about something random he and his friends did together, talk about the outside and random things happening in the news, and then he’d inflict harm onto the other still chatting while Wilbur screamed in pain and thrashed around trying to escape the hurt, and then inject the purple liquid into his body that made him feel wonky.

Then when Dream was done, Sapnap would come in and then ask him things he didn’t have the answer to, give him a few swings in the face giving him a bloody nose and more bruises to add to the collection. Then as Sapnap left, George would brush past him holding medical dressings to help his wounds. Then after everything was done, they would feed him.

And that was the rotation, day after day. He would endure more pain and slowly grow to like the feeling that the purple liquid gave him. He couldn’t tell how long had passed since the last time he saw his family, he could imagine how Phil reacted to seeing him not home. He whispered to himself mimicking Phil's voice, “Where’s Wilbur?” He laughed at how bad his voice sounded, so scratchy from all the screaming he did every day.

Days passed since then, possibly weeks. He’d lost count. He had scars from Dream, littering his body like a canvas that was splashed with red paint over and over. He had grown to find comfort in the rough scrubbing of the towel when George cleaned his wounds and the purple liquid. Most days he couldn’t wait for the liquid. He hated seeing Dreams mask look into his soul but couldn’t help but lean into the touch when he brushed through his hair.

On one particular day he felt worse than all the other times, his eyes wanted to close, his head was pounding, and his entire body was shaking more than usual. His breathing became irregular and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

He felt like he was dying.

Thankfully he mustered up enough strength to yell for someone. “Phil!” his voice was weak but as long as someone heard him it would be enough. He tried again, this time yelling like he was in one of the sessions. “PHIL!”

He was back in his room, in his bed. It looked all the same from when he last saw it, the walls, the windows, the door that Phil burst through rushing over to him. Phil lifted his head with his hands to scan over the younger person's face. “You don’t look good,” He went behind Wilbur, [was he sitting up?] and untied what bound his arms together, “We’re going to go get you fixed up.” Phil grasped Wilbur’s arm and threw it over his shoulder hoisting him to his feet.

His feet were heavy as they walked out of his room and into the hallway of his childhood home. The pictures that hung on the walls were blurry, he couldn’t quite make out the faces of two other people. One with pink hair, and the other with golden locks. He could hear whispers of other people around him but he dismissed them as the voices in his head. “Here, lay him down.” He heard one of the voices say, it was a small comforting voice. His body was pulled onto a surface where he lay his head down, everything he looked at was like looking through a glass of water. His eyes felt too heavy to keep open, but he tried, he wanted to know why his body felt like things were being stabbed into his sides, why there was liquid being poured into a tube that was shoved down his throat. But nevertheless, the sleep had a hold on his fragile state, it beckoned him to fall into its arms, “come with me.” it said. It was futile for him to resist the calls of sleep, it took him 10 minutes from the time he got onto the surface to when they started the work on him to fall into a deep numb slumber that he would later regret.

There was shuffling beside him, arms wrapped around his back and under his knees picking him up from the surface. Wilbur opened his eyes lazily looking at who was carrying him.

It was Dream.

Wilbur felt more comforted by Dream than anyone else in the wretched place, he smiled softly pushing his face into Dream's green cloak before he was sat down on something bouncy. Below him there was a mattress, he appreciated this more than anything since it was a change from the chair was tied up to for days on end. Dream threw a thin blanket to the man on the mattress, then walked out of the heavy iron door with a slam. Wilbur snuggled under the small number of blankets he was given and succumbed to the sleep that wanted to take him away once again.

When he woke up his mind immediately focused on the throbbing pain in his head and throat, it felt like someone ripped out his vocal cords. He rubbed where the throbbing in his head was and cleared his throat. He could barely focus on anything due to his eyes being completely f*cked. This time, he was mostly able to see the room.

It wasn’t anything terrible, nor was it good. In the dim-lit room there on the concrete wall there was a camera in the corner of the room. Great he’s being watched. The throbbing in his head did not stop, he was able to at least sit up and look around more from where he was. Beside the mattress he was on, was a table. On the table was a glass of water and a small plate of food. [he couldn’t tell what type of food it was.] He shuffled himself over to the table where he chugged the water, making his throat slightly better, and greedily scarfed down the food.

No one came in that day, he was left on his own, and left with a suffocating feeling of disappointment in his chest, he also noticed that it was quieter than usual. Usually, he would hear them walking near the heavy iron door from time to time but could never tell if it was them or not. [or if it was all in his head.]

That night while he was laying on his mattress there were sounds that sounded eerily like Phil. The more he thought about his family the more it dawned on him that he might not make it home to see them. Tears welled up in his eyes threatening to pour out if he blinked, he would rub his eyes but they wouldn’t go away, they kept coming back.

He broke down. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even register when someone came rushing through the door at him. They violently grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, then they grasped his wrist and pulled him out of the room and down a corridor that looked like something from a horror movie. They kept talking to him but he couldn't hear it over the sounds of fighting in the building.

As he was being pulled down the corridor he looked behind him and saw the green man, he held something out towards Wilbur. He didn’t have time to react before the echo of a shot being fired was heard, he wasn’t sure where it hit because all he felt was pressure and nothing else. Then as he was turning his head someone, or something tackled the green man to the ground.

Did that really happen?

In his delusion he heard voices, not the ones he would normally hear, not the static rough voice that were in his head but something outside of that, but it didn’t have a body.

“Don’t fall.” it said, and at that moment the floor turned to soup, his legs buckled underneath him sending him falling to the cold concrete floor. “Get up, it’s not hard,” it said, the taunting voice of whoever was speaking to him was the only thing he could focus on, that and the faint feeling of arms wrapping themselves around under his legs and over his back, he grasped at his [hopefully] rescuers shirt and squeezed his eyes shut like a child who was trying to make the monster from a nightmare go away.

The world was spinning, it felt like every step this person took made the gravity change, he was spinning left and right, his body felt like it was in water that was pushing him through sand. There was more and more yelling and screaming. His ears rang as this person pushed through the corridor of this hell hole he was held prisoner in.

“No, no, stay awake.” This voice, this is one he has heard before, this is one that is familiar, this one is safe. He slowly opened his eyes. It was Phil. He could feel his heart pounding inside his chest like it was trying to leap out onto the concrete floor and spill everything that happened to him to this man. As Phil walked, more and more his body felt like it was melting wax, he was slipping from his father’s grip. He was going to drop him. The hand that was holding onto the fabric of his shirt clung on more tightly as paranoia set in. “Phi-Phil don’t drop m-me.” The feeling the purple liquid gave him convinced his brain that he was falling, he was falling and no one was going to physically be able to catch him. He would hit the ground and stay there for the birds to feast on.

“I’ve got you mate, I’m not going to drop you, your not falling.” Phil talked to Wilbur like he was a scared child, he supposed that he was like a scared child in those moments due to how his father was whispering to him. Little nothings Wilbur thought, he didn’t want to be like a child, not again.

He didn’t remember when, but they had made it outside of the building, behind him he could hear gunshots and angry screaming for Phil to bring him back. Of course, just like any sensible person, Phil didn’t, instead, he walked further and further from that prison still holding his son in his arms. Eventually, his walk was rewarded with a vehicle that was sitting parked on the side of an abandoned road. Phil went to the passenger side first sitting Wilbur down before sitting in his seat and starting the car with urgency.

The car was silent, aside from Wil’s small slurred voice. “Am I safe?” Phil took his eyes off the road to gaze at his son who was slumped against the car seat, he smiled, “You’re safe, I got you now.” A small smile tugged at the corners of Wilbur's lips, “Finally.” His eyes finally closed, he was safe. He was safe finally.

“Wil! No- don’t-don’t fall asleep!” He violently shook his son’s shoulder which was returned with no reaction. “sh*t!” He pressed harder on the gas pedal speeding down the road. He needed to get Wilbur to a hospital. Now.

Chapter 24: Hello there :D

Chapter Text

Hello my sleepy little gremlins! I have a update for you all :)

I will admit, I wasn't really working on the one-shots a whole lot, mostly because I had a huge writer's block, but also because I was mentally in a sh*t hole. But luckily! I'm back!

There should be another one-shot coming out sooner or later, it's a lighter one than the one before this because I need a small break from killing all the characters I kin.

I hope you all have a good, day, night, afternoon, evening, or whatever time of day it is for you! stay safe my lovelies :)

Chapter 25: Go to sleep

Chapter Text

Before this even starts, let him say, he doesn’t need that much sleep. He already had enough sleep, 4 hours can be sufficient enough, and he’d be able to function enough to get through the day. His work didn’t require him to be completely there but he needed to be there enough to where he could type on a computer.

“Sam!” Ponk slammed open his office door with his prosthetic arm. “Sam?” the one in question was still focused on his computer his nose pinched in between his fingers as he was trying to get over a problem he was facing. “Saaaamm!” Ponk drew out his name whining for some type of attention from the green-haired man sitting at the computer. “Ponk, I can’t right now, I’m trying to figure this out.” His voice was stern, honestly, it was tight, he was holding a breath he forgot he had. “Can’t be that hard for the great Samuel.” Ponk spit back in a sarcastic manner, he made his way around the desk and looked at what was troubling him so much.

On the screen was bar graphs and other things that his eyes couldn’t focus on just due to the sheer amount of graphs that were present. “Really? What’d they assign you to?” Ponk turned his gaze to sam whose eyes were still glued onto the screen that was burning a starting headache behind his eyes. He took a deep breath rubbing his eyes and his temples, “I have to look at this year's status with our marketing. As you can see,” He gestured to a line graph in the corner of his desktop window that showed the line plummeting dramatically, “It’s not going too well.”

After about an hour of helping Sam, Pink decided that it was time for him to go home since he already worked several hours overtime, in an attempt to get him to leave the building, he turned off the computer when Sam had saved the project. “I- Ponk what the hell? I need to work on that as much as possible.” Sam stood up to turn the computer back on when Ponk slapped his hand away, “Yeah, so about that. You’re going home so that you can sleep. You look like death.” The bluntness in his voice made Sam do a double take, “what? I don’t look that bad, plus I did get sleep last night.” A hand turned Sam around in his chair so he was facing his friend. “Yeah? And how much was that? Like, 5 hours? That’s not enough for anyone to function properly.” He grabbed the taller one's hand, hoisting him out of the chair that, if he was being honest, looked very uncomfortable. Ponk dragged Sam out of his office and to the elevator. “Ponk I really need to-” Before Sam could finish his sentence the elevator dinged indicating that their ‘ride’ was there. “Nope, I don’t want to hear it, you need sleep.”

Eventually they made it to Ponk’s apartment since it was the closest to the office building, when they made it to the inside of the house Ponk pushed open the door after unlocking it and shoved Sam in. As Sam stood there awkwardly Ponk went about his usual routine of taking off his coat and putting it with the others, then making his way to the sink where he got two glasses of water and handed one to Sam. “You look like you need it,” He said with brutal honesty. After Sam had drunk a sufficient amount Ponk led the man to a spare bedroom and forcefully pushed the taller onto the bed and threw a blanket in his face, “You are going to get some sleep, okay? And I swear to god that if I see you awake I will make you sleep.”

Sam knew this was an empty threat, what would he do? Throw punches at him that wouldn’t do much? Sam snorted, then got off the bed, “Look at you, your tiny,” It wasn’t a lie, he was significantly shorter than Sam but he was buff as sh*t, he could flick someone and they would go across the country. Ponk huffed in annoyance turning on his heel, and walking to a room that was nearby. As Sam was examining the room Ponk came back into the room holding something behind his back, “What’s that?” Sam questioned with a smirk, he’d thought it was something like sleeping pills to force Sam asleep. What he didn’t expect was Ponk to pull a gun from behind his back.

Ponk co*cked the gun looking Sam dead in the eyes, “Go to bed,” He pointed it at Sam who was still with fear, “This is no longer a request, this is a threat.” Sam put his hands up in a way to tell Ponk that he meant no harm and not to shoot. “Don’t worry, it’s not real.” Ponk pointed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, a small white bead shot from the barrel of the gun and bounced off the wall. “See?” That seemed to soothe Sam who eased his tense shoulders.After the situation with Ponk holding Sam at gunpoint, they both watched movies before Sam ended up falling asleep on the couch. Ponk sighed in relief as he also gave into the grace of sleep.

Chapter 26: Red

Chapter Text

Ever since exile something snapped in his brain. Maybe it was the constant isolation, or maybe it was the man with the porcelain mask influencing him more than he thought. All that he could see was red, he had loved the colour red since he was a boy, but even more, he loved how it looked dripping from the body of the unfortunate. When Dream had offered the opportunity to be mentored, he didn’t think much of it, but when those rose-coloured glasses turned into fire burning of one thousand suns, he liked the sound of it.

He taught him from the basics, “Keep your stance wide, keep your guard up at all times.” He’d strike him down with a blow to his back, “You’re weak, you need discipline.” He’d say. After months and months of mentoring him, he finally stuck down Dream. “Ha! Take that f*cker!” He’d say with a wide smile of success, Dream would pick himself off the ground ruffle the golden curls, wrap his fingers tightly around his hand and throw him to the ground. Tommy would look up at the man with betrayal in his eyes and ask “Why?” Dream had his mask off most of the time while training, Tommy could see his eyes darkening with disappointment. “There is no happiness in revenge. If you want to get back at them for what they have done, do it out of anger and spite.” Dream broke his gaze from the boy to fix the glove on his hand while still speaking, “Pick yourself up and get your priorities straight.”

Since then, more and more training had followed, more and more plans had been made, and more and more did Tommy plan around Dreams plans and found the weak points that he would exploit. He liked to think about how they would all react and he hoped it would be better than he ever imagined, he would blast music while he worked on his machines, his blueprints, and his redstone while drawing out the blueprints to it that he would need to review later. He would pretend to be a good little sidekick for Dream, he would do everything he said, he would pretend to listen to him talk whilst he went through options of making sure Dream’s plans failed in a horrible and embarrassing manner.

The day came when all would take place. Dream was tense, as always, that’s when he made the most mistakes. He’d mumble to himself, talking about things over and over while Tommy watched him from atop a closed chest with his head propped up on his knee. Dream paced the room while checking the list over and over until he had no more room on the page. Tommy scoffed from annoyance, got off his perch on the chest and put his hand on the other male's shoulder, “Dream, stop worrying, it’s going to be fine. Plus, what are they going to do anyways?” He smiled with false loyalty before continuing, “Plus, big man Innit is here to back you up.” He could see Dream’s tense shoulder’s relaxed with the reassurance. Second wrong move.

Mentor and student walked the hills to L’manberg, they looked into the horizon that is filled with lanterns and fireworks exploding with colour, and he laughed. “Looks like today is going to be a great day.” Dream remarked before returning his mask to its place on his face and fastened behind his head. With that they separated making their way to their positions, Tommy waiting atop the obsidian structure that was in the sky above the city and Dream in the crowd waiting for him chance to take his shot.

After all the fireworks set off, and everyone was silenced, President Tubbo made his way to the stage. He cleared his voice before speaking into the microphone, “The great country of L’manberg has seen great misfortune and fought through wars, we all together have made this nation, built it up from the rubble, seen it fall and rise again.” Dream sifted through the crowd slowly making his way to the stage, “We have seen tyranny, betrayal, presidents rise and fall, corrupt government judge those who did wrong, we have seen criminals be brought to justice,” Tommy rerouted the redstone to where he had his mechanism hidden, he had extra things in his inventory to make a connection from the obsidian structure to where his machines where “And yet we are still reliving history.” The already silent crowd seemed even more silent as they awaited the president’s words, “Years ago, I had to choose between this country and my best friend.” Tommy connected the two redstone structures together awaiting Dream’s signal. “A dear friend of mine was exiled because we failed to open our eyes to the real dictator of this server.”

Dream made his way up the stairs on the back of the stage stalking the president, looking for a weak point to make his move. The president rested his arms on the podium slumping his shoulder with a pleading look in his eyes, “We fail to see that Dream has always been the one pulling the strings, if not for Dream there would not constantly be impending doom looming over our heads,” He gestured to the obsidian structure above them all, “If not for dream, what our nation is today would have been what it was initiated to be, a land of freedom and love, our original President was brought to insanity over power because of this man.”

Dream had enough of the mockery, he swiftly made his way to the President’s side wrapping an arm around his neck putting him into a choke hold and holding him in place holding a crossbow with a firework attached, to his head, he then repositioned the microphone to his likeness. “Don’t we love celebrations? This lovely little country that our dear friend Wilbur soot made, has made its way into so many people’s hearts.” Tubbo thrashed to get out of the grip of Dream which only tightened as he pressed the crossbow farther into the side of his head. “Now, we wait for the impending doom looming over our heads, when will it come? When will it stop?” His voice grew dark, “It will stop when you give me what I want, you all know what that is, and you know how to give it to me. If I have what I want,” He slightly weakened the grasp on Tubbo, “I will leave you to peace, it’s as simple as that.” The crowd sat in silence, they felt like they were waiting for a gun to be put to their head. Dream scoffed “Understandably, you all are afraid, well then, let’s get back to the festivities, shall we?” Dream put an arm behind his back holding a button that would tell Tommy to press the button, “This year will go off with a bang.”

Tommy watched from above the festival, he was bored. He laid across the blocks on his stomach resting his head on crossed arms looking down at the festival. Finally, from his coat pocket, he heard a high-pitched beeping sound, “It’s time!” He sprung up from the place on the blocks to stand up, he fished the device from his jacket pocket and clicked it twice to send a live broadcast message to Dream.

“Hey big man, you’ve been a great mentor,” He pulled a lever to activate the connection between the redstone and the obsidian structure, “But unfortunately, as every sidekick does,” he loaded more TNT into the dispensers, “I have taken your beautiful machine and made it mine.” After he was done with overriding the mechanism he sat with his legs handing over the ledge, “So, I hope this doesn’t put a bad taste in your mouth, but,” He looked off to the side imagining all the training with Dream, all the times he knocked him down, all the times he slashed his flesh open, all the times the saw red running down his face, all the times he had split knuckles, bloody noses, black eyes, scars added to his skin, and more and more trauma to add to the collection. Tommy grinned bitterly biting away the swelling in his chest, “I’ve had enough of your bullsh*t. So, when this happens, the nation will know Tommyinnit did this, and you will be forgotten after you are dead.” the muffled questioning yelling of Dream was head over the device before Tommy threw it over the edge to freefall to the ground.

The blonde boy made his way to a lever and then pulled it. One after another, blocks of TNT fell onto the victims below him, and the sounds of explosions and screams filled his ears. He burst out laughing as he watched those below come face to face with the terror and wrongdoings they had done out of their own arrogance. When he had regained his composure he built his way down to the ground to face the citizens, he passed ones pleading for help, turned away those questioning what was happening and made his way to the stage where the president, as well as Dream, were, then up to the podium.

He stood there patiently waiting until the sound of booming was over, when all was calm he tapped the microphone catching the attention of everyone that survived. “How are we all doing after that?” He propped his head up on his hand that was resting on the podium at the elbow, after no one answered he answered for them. “Can we ask the question of who did all of this destruction? Can we ask who you all have wronged in a way that could never be repaired?” Behind him he could hear the heavy strutting of Dream’s boots against the wooden planks of the stage, he grasped the boy by the shoulder spinning him around to meet his face, “What the hell is going on Tommy?” Tommy smiled expanding his arm to the blown-up country, “You said you wanted to go off with a bang! So you are!” quickly before Dream could react Tommy shot a firework at the man killing him instantly.

[Dream went off with a bang]

Turning to the audience who was silent with shock he leaned into the microphone, “God that man pissed me off.” again, behind him, he could hear shuffling, he turned to see tubbo shoving fallen wooden planks off himself and others. Tubbo’s eyes rose to meet ice, honey against the bitter cold. “Tommy I…They told me you were dead.” the blonde shrugged chuckling, “Guess I’m back from the dead.” after assuring the safety of the others around him the shorter one walked cautiously to his friend examining his features.

He had definitely gotten taller, his hair was much longer and looked to be tied into a low ponytail. He had many many more scars on his face, and his hands looked like carpenter hands, so rough and scarred even with the minimum he could see because of the fingerless gloves. He wore a dark brown trench coat, and his normal red and white T-shirt, and Tubbo’s green bandanna was replaced by a red one with designs in it. “How did you change so quickly? Why didn’t you ever come back after your exile? ”

All there was to see was red, Tommy’s vision was clouded by rage and anger so hot it would leave blisters on whoever was to touch the surface. “Why? Why don’t you ask our dear friend Dream why I never came back? Why don’t you ask the man who constantly pounded me into the f*cking ground, engraved his blade into my skin, who never, once said that I was free from him!” He snapped, he couldn’t stop himself, his words were spit with fire and acid that burnt through his skin and singed the ground beneath it. Tubbo opened his mouth to say something, his lips trembled before he could get the words out. “I- we-we didn’t know! We assumed you moved somewhere else, your exile was lifted 3 years ago! Dream told us you ran, he said you didn’t want to come back.”

“3 years ago? HA!” he went into a wheeze which ended with a coughing fit, he whipped the stray tears from his eye before talking once again. “If I knew that, maybe I would have come back,” his features darkened locking eyes with his past friend, he raised the crossbow he was still holding towards the brunette closing one eye and aiming for the head. “But I’m not sure if past me would have done so well with that.”

Tubbo shuffled in front of Tommy smacking the crossbow away from his head and pleading to the older, “This isn’t you! Tommy! You don’t have to be like Wilbur! You’re better than he could ever be! Just put the crossbow down and we can fix this.” locking eyes Tubbo slowly reached for the weapon just before he was knocked to the ground by it forcefully being hit into his face. “DON’T!” he took a breath calming himself, running a hand through stray hairs, “Don’t tell me who I am, you have no idea who I have become.” He gazed out to the crowd taking in the chaos that was unfolding, then looking back to his past friend who cast him aside when he needed him most. He crouched down in front of the boy resting his arms on his knees, “You’re not going to be the hero Tubbo, we all know what happens to the hero’s in this world,” He lifted Tubbo’s chin to meet with his eyes, summer against winter. With his other hand, he wiped the trickle of blood coming from his nose, “You die like one.”

[Tubbo went off with a bang.]

Chapter 27: You say you're too busy saving everybody else, to save yourself.

Chapter Text

Once there was a small child, a child full of light, he looked as if gods themselves had once blessed the boy with the gift of being ever so kind to others. He would go days upon days taking care of others, he would make sure they ate, bathed, and helped themselves when they needed help. The boy was known for his kindness, he was known to treat others as if they were the rulers of the world; however, he wouldn’t treat himself the same.

“Remember Wilbur, you must put others before yourself at all times.” His family would remind him of the importance of putting others before himself. His father would tell him that it was okay to take breaks and take care of himself, though he never listened to that bit.

He cared for his family and friends far more than his own well-being, he would defend himself when someone would ask why he wouldn’t take care of himself by saying, “They needed help and I could wait.” Unfortunately, no one truly believed it, they would turn a blind eye and brush it off as being too attached to the people in his life. “Wilbur, you need to take care of yourself, not just others.” Phil would beg and beg his son to take care of himself, but he wouldn’t, even his siblings noticed something was different about him.

The dark circles under his eye looked like bruises, his hair was always messy and ill-kept, and he was pale. Though, he would still smile at the little banters that Techno and Tommy would get in.

He wished he could have turned out differently maybe he would have been like Tommy, caring for his friends but also to himself, or maybe like Techno, calm and reserved, although that came at its own price. He wished that he didn’t have to be like a machine, or a therapist that people went to only when they needed help. He wasn’t cut out for that, his mental health was already bad enough, and he didn’t need more thoughts to wear it down.

This was the child of light, the one blessed by the Gods. His light had been burnt out and set ablaze far too many times to count. Wilbur Soot, the child of light, was burning out once again but suppressed it for the sake of those he loves.

It was the morning of Tuesday, and the family was getting ready for a dinner that they had been invited to, (aside from Wilbur and Tommy they weren’t going to attend,) and Wilbur along with Techno were eating a small snack before leaving. “Hey Wilbur, I won’t be able to take Tommy to Tubbo’s house, can you take him instead?” Wilbur’s head throbbed from the sound of his father's voice, his forehead felt hot and his chest ached like someone was setting fire to it. “I…sure.” He wished he had spoken up, maybe then he would have told his Dad that his stomach felt like it was going to expel itself from his body and stay there until he was dead. “Thanks mate!” his head throbbed once again making it feel like someone was pushing their finger into his temples extremely hard.

That evening was bitter and cold. He wouldn’t have admitted it aloud but he couldn’t help but shudder when he felt the breeze go straight through his jumper. “Wilbur?” He turned his sight away from the car door he was trying to unlock with his key to his little brother standing beside him. “Yeah? What's up?” The smaller one looked tired, but had a concerned look on his face. “you…uh…I don’t know how to put this nicely without sounding mean, so I’m jus’ going to say it straight up. You look like sh*t.” It took a few seconds for Wilbur to process what he had said, how’d he look that bad?

He’s lying, you don’t look like sh*t.

“I…I don’t look that bad right?” Tommy shifted his weight to his other leg folding his arms over his chest and bringing his gaze to the ground. “I told you I didn’t want to sound mean, but yeah, you look that bad.”

oh…

Oh.

“I…Tommy that’s not funny, you can’t joke around like that.” Wilbur truly didn’t want to believe that he looked that horrible. He didn’t…did he? “I’m not, I’m serious!” So then… he wasn’t just joking, he really looked like that.

The conversation, if you could even call it, ended abruptly to not endure a fight that was boiling just beneath the surface. It was silent the whole ride apart from the soft ambience of autumn rain and the music quietly on the radio. It was a quick ride, he would be lying if he said that it felt like an eternity. Tommy left with a small “Thanks.” before closing the car door and meeting up with Ranboo and Tubbo who were waiting for him at the front door.

Wilbur stayed in the driveway for a while just staring at nothing. His mind felt fuzzy, he couldn’t pinpoint why he felt like that. He thought he got enough sleep the night before. (If 4 hours of sleep is even enough.) Or maybe it was because he didn’t drink enough water? He honestly couldn’t say.

He drove home in silence, the noise in his head was only the sound of T.V static. He hoped that when he got home everyone would be gone for dinner. He couldn’t remember if Phil and Techno both had been invited or if one of them had something else to go to. The feeling of his phone buzzing ripped him away from the pointless thoughts that crowded his mind, he brought the phone into his view when he was at a stop light seeing that it was Quackity. Immediately he answered the phone.

“Hello?” There was silence on the other end of the call, he could hear coughs and heavy breath. “Quackity? What’s going on?” Instead of driving to his house, he made a turn making his way to Quackity’s house in case he wasn’t doing well.

“ah shi- Hey wil, I uh…you remember Schlatt, right?” he replied quickly. “Yes, why?” The male on the other side of the phone sighed. “I can’t find him, we got into a fight and he just walked out the door. Do you mind coming over to help me find him?”

“I’m already on my way.”

He wished deep down that he never asked for his help, He just wanted to go home.

When he arrived at the house his stomach felt nauseous, why did he feel like that? He walked to the front door knocked on the wood then waited for his friends to answer the door.

There was shuffling, something being knocked over, some loud cursing and then the door opened. Quackity looked unwell, his messy hair stuck to his forehead from sweat, “Thank you so much for helping me, you have no idea how important this is.” Quackity stepped to the side so that the taller could enter, the house wasn’t terrible, it was a good size. To be exact it was a duplex, he wondered how the neighbours felt when they heard the fight between the two. It was nicely decorated, well it would have been if most of the paintings and photographs on the wall weren’t broken on the floor. He walked further into the house until he got to the living room, it was completely trashed. Alcohol bottles littered the ground, the stench of newly smothered cigarettes stung his nose, and the sight of vases that were once filled with flowers was broken on the floor with water dripping down the wall from where they made contact after being thrown.

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows turning his gaze to the shorter, “Did he…throw those at you?” Quackity snorted, “No, he got angry and threw it at the wall. I wasn’t the main target, it was just to intimidate me.”

What? He was joking at a time like this? Why wasn’t he taking this seriously? His abusive housemate was just running around drunk outside, and he threw items at the wall to intimidate him. That wasn’t right and anyone could see that from a mile away.

After a bit of talking to assess the situation they both agreed to start looking for the intoxicated in the town, anywhere they think he might end up. Alleyways, ditches, shops, random abandoned buildings; anywhere that he could possibly pass out.

They drove around the town looking everywhere, but they couldn’t find him. Wilbur's feeling of nausea didn’t leave him, it only got stronger and stronger, until he felt like he could bend over and spill his guts on the ground at any moment.

Both males had gotten out of the vehicle to walk around, Quackity thought it would be better on foot since they could actually look in places where the car couldn’t go.

“He could have gone in here?” Quackity drew attention to a park that was hidden behind apartment buildings, apparently, it wasn’t very known. They walked into the gated area walking around and trying their best to see in the dark. There were old wooden benches with leaves and spider webs strung around them leading to the ground and tree’s surroundings.

It looked like something from a horror movie.

Wilbur heard a sharp gasp from his friend, “Wil! I found him!” The brunette ran to his friend's side and looked where he was pointing. Schlatt was lying asleep against a tree with several empty alcohol bottles scattered around him and one half-empty bottle lazily in his hand. He was wearing a sky blue hoodie with black sweatpants and his usual New York Yankees hat, he had many scratches on his face and hands as well as a hole in his pants with a scrape on his knee that had beads of blood forming.

Quackity sighed, it sounded sad and pained. Maybe he cared too much for that man.

They both grabbed one of Schlatt’s arms and pulled him to his feet to which he protested with a loud grunt and small curses under his breath. Schlatt tried to pull away from the two while they walked him to the car, to say that it was easy, was a lie. Since there was a big height difference it made walking a bit difficult, plus Schlatt wouldn’t cooperate. They stumbled quite a few times before they made it to the door, when they opened it and shoved Schlatt in, nausea that had a hold on Wilbur finally was taking its toll.

He felt the acidic liquid climbing up his throat, just before it came out he turned around running quickly to the grass where he spilt all the contents in his stomach, which wasn’t much.

That didn’t stop until he had tears in his eyes and his head was pounding with pain. He couldn’t remember when but he had fallen to his knees with Quackity by his side rubbing circles into his back to try and ground him, he heard his voice trying to talk to him but it was muffled and overridden by his heavy breathing to catch his breath. He tried to look at Quackity who was beside him but he only saw a blurry navy blue and grey blob. He could feel his whole body trembling and the river of tears running down his face.

He tried to speak but to no avail, his voice failed him due to his throat being in absolute pain. “No Wil, don’t try to talk…God, what happened to you?” He could hear the pain in Quackity’s voice. To think that his friend was seeing him in this state sent shivers down his spine. He quietly tried to mutter something to apologise but his throat hurt too much, he tried and tried, till eventually, “I-I’m sorry…I didn’t want an-anyone to see me like this.” More tears spilt out of his eyes and down his cheeks, Quackity sighed softly and frowned.

When you look at Wilbur he had the look of a very smart, talented, genuine, and kind person. He seemed like he had his entire life together, he looked as if he was the child of light that you heard in the books, but under the light and sun that he portrayed, he was a small child who needed help. At that moment Quackity saw Wilbur turn on his heels and run to the grass he saw through all the light, all the sun, the blinding light that he wore around his body to keep out the darkness. It went cloudy and started raining, the poor child of light was in shambles on the ground with tears spilling down his eyes, vomit at the corners of his mouth and his entire body trembling.

“I-I’m so sorry…I couldn’t stop it.” his voice broke and cracked, it was quiet enough to make Quackity ask himself if he’d heard him right. He frowned even more at that, he sounded like a scared child who didn’t want his caretakers to be angry with him, it was natural and you couldn’t control when you throw up. “Hey-no, you don’t have to say sorry. I’m not mad, you can’t control it.”

“Come here, give me your hand.” Quackity held out his hand for Wilbur to take, he looked from the outstretched hand to his eyes which showed a genuine look of wanting to help him. But he shied away from the hand and tried to stand on his own, “It’s okay, I can walk myself. I don’t need help.” he used his hands to push off the concrete to his feet, which only lasted about a second before his knee gave out on him and made him stumble. “Bullsh*t Wilbur,” Quackity went under the taller one's arm and wrapped it around his shoulders then put his other arm around his waist for support. “I’m helping you walk to the car.”

Despite the situation Wilbur snorted thinking it was funny because of the height difference. “You're so short.” Quackity snapped his head to look at the man above him and glared, if looks could kill then he would have been dead the second they made eye contact. “You’re just a tall asshole with no self-control.” “Yeah, that's fair.” there wasn’t any anger behind Quackity’s words but it stung, it felt like he’d just gotten hit with a small rock, it’ll bruise but eventually it goes away…right?

When they both eventually got into the car and started driving, Quackity finally spoke over the silence. “You know your not actually an asshole, right?” Wilbur scrunched up his face humming in response. Quackity’s sight was still focused on the road, rightfully so, but he kept shooting concerned gazes where Wilbur was sitting in the passenger seat. “Do you not believe me?” You could hear the hurt in his voice, if he could he would have given Wilbur all the things he thought of him, it would have been so pure. He wouldn’t have to treat himself like this anymore, pushing his anxiety and own mental illnesses down far enough for them to physically come back up and exit his body.

That night wasn’t terrible, it started raining harder, only enough to dampen you if you didn’t bring an umbrella. It looked beautiful with the passing street lights, you could see couples walking down streets and entering other cafes; they looked like fake people, and they didn’t really look in love.

The soft music on the radio helped calm all three males in the car, and Schlatt ended up being sober enough to throw some insults at the two in the front. When the car pulled into the driveway the ravenette took a deep breath then realising it, he held tighter onto the steering wheel turning to look at Wilbur. “Are you doing okay?” Wilbur turned to his friend, the only thing that Quackity could read on his face was purely mental and physical tiredness.

He looked like he could pass out at any moment.

Wilbur rubbed his tired eyes with the heel of his hand, then responded, “Yeah I'm okay, do you want me to help you get Schlatt inside?” Even though he was exhausted from everything that had happened, he still wanted to help him. It was painful to see him try to use the very last of his energy to help him drag his housemate inside. “No, no I’ll do it myself. Do you want to stay the night? It might not be a good idea to drive home with you like that.” He seemed to think for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of staying the night at his house.

Pros: He could get sleep, the pounding pain in his head and chest would go away [hopefully], and he wouldn’t have to worry about passing out behind the wheel while driving home.

Cons: He would have to worry about passing out behind the wheel, he would be intruding on Quackity, and the pounding in his head and chest wouldn’t go away until he was in his bed and asleep. He would be intruding on Quackity.

He took a deep breath combing through his curly hair, “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.” Quackity’s expression immediately turned to something Wilbur couldn’t exactly describe. His eyebrows were pinched together and his eyes were looking for traces of bullsh*t in Wilbur. Clearly, he couldn’t determine where the line between complete sh*t and utter not wanting to waste the others' time was because he hesitantly let him off the hook with a low, “Alright, but call me if you need anything, okay?” “Okay.” Wilbur exited the car with a genuine smile and started walking to his own.

While he was driving he could feel the tightness in his chest squeeze his lungs, he told himself that he just had to hold out until he got to the comforts of his family home. It felt like someone was smashing his head in with a rock, it was pounding and pounding. His eyes got blurry with tears that were threatening to pour out.

Soon he had pulled over on the side of the road stopping. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to take gasps of air but it failed with him continuing to heave for something he couldn’t get a grasp on. He clenched the steering wheel with a death tight grip.

Why are you freaking out?

Just breathe, it’s not that hard.

All the voices in his head were jumbled and screaming, yelling, shouting things, it made his state all the more worse. He took his hands from the steering wheel and clasped them over his ears as tight as he could. He couldn’t hear anything other than the voices, even with his ears covered he could hear them as if they forced his hands away, screaming into his ears. His head hurt badly, it was far worse than it was before.

He remembered the phone that he had in his pocket, took it out and tried his best to call Phil. He shakenly held the phone close to his ear trying his best to focus on the noise of ringing.

It took two rings before… “Hey wil!” Wilbur tried his best to muffle his breaths by smothering his hand over his mouth, on the other end of the phone he heard his father make a concerned sound upon hearing his son’s predicament, he then spoke quieter with a lower voice. “What’s going on, do you need me to come get you?” He removed his hand away from his mouth and muttered as best as he could. “B-Brooke avenue.” The voices only got louder, still screaming at him to hang up and deal with it himself, but he knew, deep down, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t be able to. “Okay, I’m coming to get you, try to focus on my voice, okay?” He hummed in response the best he could.

Hang up, you can deal with it yourself

He doesn’t really care

Why didn’t you call Quackity?

He said you could call if you needed anything.

No matter what he did, the voice of his father was immediately drowned out by the voices that twirled around becoming louder and louder. They were singing, they were screaming, and they were having conversations with each other. He couldn’t make out what most of them were saying until he heard one loud familiar voice among the ocean of noise.

“I got you mate, listen to my voice, they’re not real. Breathe with me.” Over the phone, Phil made dramatic deep breathes for him to follow, “Come on wil, you have to try, I know it’ll be hard but you need to at least try.” in response Wilbur tried to copy the breaths, he hiccuped but still tried despite the voices screaming for him to not listen because Phil didn’t care about him.

“Dad, they- they’re so lo-ud.”

Phil knew what he meant. He knew and he wished to the gods that they would stop screaming at his son. There had been instances where they won, they made Tommy overwhelmed while he was doing the dishes to the point where he shattered a plate on a nearby wall and curled in on himself. Techno was the only one home at the time, as soon as he heard the plate shatter against the wall he called Phil. It felt like ages before he could properly focus on one voice.

“I got you mate, we’re almost there.” On the other side of the phone, he could hear Techno asking for directions on where to drive the car, in the end [Wilbur didn’t notice.] they made it to the road he was stranded at. It took both men a while to figure out where Wilbur was but when they did Phil and Techno immediately jumped out of the car and raced to his side.

Phil went to the driver’s side while Technoblade went to the other. When he opened the door he saw how terrible his son looked, he was pale, too pale to be normal and healthy, and his eyes had dark blue and purple bags that if he didn’t look a second time he would have assumed he had two black eyes, but he was asleep. He softly put his hand on his shoulder and slightly shook.

Wilbur’s eyes shot open with panic, he flinched away from the hand and hit his head on the steering wheel in the process. Phil extended his arms to grip Wilbur’s shoulders in his hands, he didn’t take that too well. He thrashed around trying to pry the arms away.

He’s trying to hurt you!

Getaway!

Not safe, not safe!

Help!

”Wil! It’s me, it’s dad, I need you to calm down a bit so we can get you home.” But still, the younger fought his hands, the voices were screaming and telling him that if the hands got to him, his world would go dark and he will forever see and feel nothing. A broken, raw, and desperate voice spoke over the blonde. “No! No! Don’t touch me!” Wilbur was still in the fight or flight mode that his panic attack gave him, he was trying to escape safety that he never realised was there.

Techno sat on the other side of the car where he was gathering Wilbur’s belongings, father and son made eye contact where blue said ‘We need to help him’ and amber said ‘How?’ in a silent mutual agreement, Technoblade gathered the rest of his belongings, put them in a bag that Wilbur constantly brings with him, and made his way to beside his father. Phil wasn’t exactly the strongest one in the family that could endure having a human being thrashing around in his arms, so instead, Techno was the one to carry Wilbur to their vehicle. Techno gripped his younger brother’s forearms in his hand tenderly looking into his crazed eyes, he talked in a low comforting voice, “We need you to calm down so we can get you home. Can you do that for us?”

Wilbur started to calm down, his brother’s voice was always so unique, none of the voices shared the same tone or the way he spoke like silk when he genuinely cared for another person. Wilbur’s hand was guided to his brother’s chest where dramatic breaths were made for him to copy. Eventually, he was calm enough to be carried to their family vehicle, Techno wrapped his arms around his younger brother carrying him bridal style.

The drive back to their home wasn’t completely peaceful, as one would expect Wilbur was very sensitive to everything, and anything would set him off and his breathing would become irregular again. Phil ended up being in the back with his son while Techno was the one driving because they both decided that Phil would be the most reliable to calm Wilbur down again.

When they did eventually get back to their house, they held a sleeping Wilbur into the house where they put him into his bed assuring that one of them would be there for when he woke up.

Wilbur’s eyes lazily blinked open, he was in his room. He looked around like it was the first time he’d ever seen it. Piles of clothing we stuffed in one corner by his closet, and on his walls were many posters of bands that he liked. At his desk, sat in his chair was Techno, he was asleep with his arms crossed. He was okay with this, he let his brother sleep while he also relaxed into the arms of sleep himself.

Tomorrow he would tell them what happened, tomorrow he would let them help. But right now, the night was quiet, it was peaceful, so he slept.

Chapter 28: It's ok!

Chapter Text

“Ranboo, you okay big man?” He snapped out of his trance of staring at the ground and looked to his friend sitting next to him. “Ah…yeah, I’m okay, just spacing out.” Tubbo shot him a worried look before going back to talking with Tommy, Ranboo couldn’t remember what they were talking about until they asked him something. Of course, he didn’t hear them. “Sorry, could you say that again?” Both boys shared a look of worry.

Tubbo cleared his throat explaining, “we were talking about having a day where we all spend some time together, we wanted to know what you thought about it.”

A day together? That would be nice, but he had too much to do. School grades were hanging by a thread, only because he hadn’t felt like himself and completely forgot everything he had to do. Ranboo shifted his eyes away from the two looking at the brown carpet that was on their apartment floors. “You guys can go ahead, I have schoolwork that I need to get done.”

“Ranboo-” Tommy tried to sit closer to his friend, to which Ranboo shied away.

Standing up he tried to walk away, he didn’t want to talk about it. Not right now, not ever really. “No, no, it's okay. Really, just go have some fun, okay?” he backed up slightly ready to walk away from the conversation when he was stopped by his hoodie being pulled backwards, “Come on man, sit down, what's been going on with you? You’ve been away all the time and it looks like your a walking corpse.” Tommy pulled the taller down onto the sofa where he avoided eye contact for as long as he could, that was before Tubbo put his hands on each side of the duo-coloured face. The touch was so comforting, so warm, not cold like what he was used to, not like the cold stares that he got from his classmates when he explained to the teacher that he wasn’t able to turn it in because he was ‘too busy’.

“What’s going on?”

He tried to ignore the stinging feeling in his eyes trying to blink it away but it came too fast for him to stop. The tears ran down his cheeks, wetting his friend's hands that held his face. “Nothing, I’m fine.” trying to pry his friend’s hands away from his face as more tears flooded down. He brought his trembling hand to the shorters to pry them off, but they wouldn’t go. “Tubbo, c’mon I’m fine, I told you.” More and more tears ran down his face, “Tubbo, I-I’m fine. Just let go.”

Tubbo used his thumb to wipe away some stray tears, he looked at his friend with a sorrowful look. “It's okay, you’re okay, just let it out.” Tubbo pulled him close to wrap his arms around the taller who shattered into his friend sobbing into the crook of his neck where he hid his face. Tommy had also lifted himself off the sofa to sit next to Ranboo rubbing circles into his back and laying his head on his shoulder.

Tommy’s soft voice rose above the sobbing and gasps for air. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, everybody feels kinda weird some days.” Ranboo lifted his head away from the brunette and looked to his friend who was rubbing his back, he smiled at the two through tears and red puffy eyes.

“You guys have no idea how much I love you.” Tubbo had shifted to sit on the sofa next to the two as they sat in comfortable silence.

They all ended up falling asleep wrapped in each other's arms, the sleep that consumed the trio led them into a dream of nostalgia and comfort. Thankfully the sofa was big enough to hold all three teens comfortably while they slept, they would stay there until the one that they were laying on, woke up.

Tubbo’s eyes fluttered open surveying the room, his eyes fell to the two snuggling on him. Ranboo was lying on his chest, his arms wrapped around him and Tommy was pressed against his side. This is going to be hard to get up. He tried to wiggle his way out of the grasp of Ranboo while trying to not wake up the other two. Thankfully his attempt was successful as he made his way out of the front room and into the kitchen where he put a pot of coffee on.

About an hour later Tommy came into the kitchen rubbing his sleepy eyes, he walked to Tubbo was sitting on the countertop scrolling through his phone and sipping at his coffee, he wrapped his arms around Tubbo’s waist and laid his head on his chest with a dramatic groan. “Got bad sleep?” Tubbo smirked. Tommy was always the one who got sh*t sleep, but they always made him take naps throughout the day to make up for it.

“Ranboo wouldn’t stop putting his leg on me.” Tubbo set down his phone and mug chuckling at the dramatic actions of the other, he brushed through the golden locks to which Tommy thanked him by snuggling further into the brunette's chest. They sat in comfortable silence, they could hear birds singing in the tree that stood in front of the front room window, the sun was shining and cast a peaceful honey light into the apartment. They sat there, taking in the comfort of the other, heartbeats aligned, feeling at peace with the world, breathing so soft you couldn’t hear it if you tried.

Ranboo woke up to the summer breeze brushing against his skin, he blinked his eyes getting used to the bright sun that was streaming in through the window that they left open the night before. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting up and taking in his surroundings before making his way to the kitchen. There he saw his two friends sitting in comfortable silence in each other’s embrace. “Aw, you guys are so clingy to each other.” Tommy was the first to spring into defence as he yelled that he wasn’t clingy and it was definitely Tubbo who asked to cuddle. But through it all, neither of them made a movement to detach themselves from the other.

Ranboo liked this. The bantering, the cuddling, no stress weighing on his shoulders. He was going to take in this day, bask in its warmth while he can. He was going to be okay, sometimes he forgot that. Then he’d look into his friend’s eyes and remember. I’ll be okay, I’ve got these two to lean on.

Chapter 29: 80 pence

Chapter Text

“Your total will be 8.80.”

Wilbur stood at the cash register, holding a small boy in his arms as he stared at the cashier with saddened tired eyes. He rummaged through his pocket pulling out 5 and 3 ones. He handed the cashier his money and waited while resituating Tommy on his other hip, the small boy giggled tiredly as he yawned and laid his head on his older brother’s shoulder. The cashier looked at him with a co*cked eyebrow and a disgusted look. “Are you serious?” Wilbur made a noise of confusion as he didn’t understand what the man was talking about. The man held up the money he was given and scoffed, “Do you seriously not have 80 pence?” Wilbur chuckled nervously, “It's only 80 pence, can’t you just let it slide this one time? My brother and I are really hungry, we haven’t eaten anything in 2 days.”

“Nice try kid, I’ve seen kids like you try to swindle shop owners like me into bullsh*t.” The shop owner threw the money back at him and yelled, “Get out of here you rat!”

At that moment, Wilbur had two choices: Walk away and go hungry again, or two: Take the food and hide so he could feed Tommy.

“HEY!” Wilbur ran as fast as he could with his little brother in his arms trying his best to handle the child and the loose items of food in his hands. Not far behind him, he could hear the voices of Police screaming at him to stop and return the stolen items, he kept running. ‘If I keep running I can feed Tommy and that’s all that matters.’ he told himself. He dashed into a back ally near a compact neighbourhood with many hiding places.

Wilbur was about to turn into a random yard when his foot got his own united shoelaces. The police weren’t far behind and in a moment of panic Wilbur scrambled to the side of a patio and shoved the scared boy under it, “Shh! You have to be quiet or they’ll find you,” he sat the food and items he had in his hands in Tommy’s lap then untied the thick blanket from his shoulders that he used to carry Tommy and wrapped the small boy inside. “Stay here until they are gone, I’ll lead them away and then we’ll meet at the park okay?” Tommy nodded with complete confusion, “The park Tommy! We’ll meet there!” Wilbur gazed over his shoulder then back to his little brother, placed a quick kiss on his cheek and ruffled his hair before dashing to the other side of the street.

Tommy didn’t know how long it was before he started to walk to the park where they were supposed to meet, he held the blanket close to his chest and dragged the bag of items with him. He sat on one of the park benches and waited.

“Tommy! Time for school!” Tommy woke up and groaned, he heard his door open with a creak, someone walked in and sat on his bed then ripped the blanket around him off and started to continuously hit him with a pillow. “TUBBO! STOP!” Tubbo stood on his bed still hitting him with the pillow as he laughed maniacally, “HAHA NO!” Finally, after 5 minutes of both boys fighting with each other, they made it to the kitchen to eat breakfast.

Phil dropped both of them off at school and drove Techno to work. Both boys met up with their friends, Bill, Amy, Ranboo and Freddy. In the parking lot as they made their way inside the school building, a man with round glasses watched their every move, Tommy leaned over to Bill and whispered, “Let’s get inside, there’s someone watching us.” Bill nodded, and then with a light smile, he ushered everyone inside quickly.

Days passed since then. Tommy would see the man occasionally but wouldn’t put any attention to it because it could make matters worse. Eventually, seeing the man constantly he could describe him almost in perfect detail. He had short dark brown curly hair under a red beanie, round glasses that were tinted red, he had scars all over his face, and some of them looked like patches. He wore a brown trench coat and a gross yellow jumper that had bad stitches across the chest. Every time he saw the man, he was smoking, and his hands were covered by black fingerless gloves that looked almost as rough as he did. The eyes were something he couldn’t quite get right, they were sometimes what seemed to be black, and other times they seemed honey brown. The eyes looked familiar, the way they looked into his soul like they knew each other, the way that they felt comforting and safe.

Tommy would wait at school for the man to appear, he would wait until he saw him and would ask a friend to walk home with him. At home he would tell his father what was happening, “Dad, could you start driving me to school?” Phil looked up from the paperwork he was pre-reading, he took the papers and set them down to give his son his full attention. “Any particular reason?” Tommy sat down at the table next to Phil and nervously told him. “I’ve been seeing a random man at my school all the time, he’s there during the mornings and afternoons. He’s always looking at me and it’s creepy.” Tommy cringed at the thought of the man, “he just creeps me out.”

The next day Phil drove him to school. When they got to the destination Phil turned to Tommy and gave him a reassuring squeeze on his hand. “If you feel unsafe or uncomfortable at all while you're at school, or walking, or anything; give me a call and I’ll be right there.” “I will.” Tommy left the vehicle with a bigger smile than he had since the man started appearing.

School was as boring as ever, which wasn’t such a surprise since it was school and most of Tommy’s classes didn’t have his friends in them even though somehow all his friends had classes with each other. When the bell dismissed the class to lunch Tommy threw his bag over his shoulder and ran as fast as he could out of the classroom and to the spot where his friends met. When he got to the area Ranboo and Tubbo were already there, he ran up to the two and scared them from behind. “BOO!” Ranboo jumped turning around and holding his hand to his chest, Tubbo on the other hand immediately threw a punch Tommy's way and screamed. Tommy jumped out of the way, “Whoa! Calm down big man!” when Tubbo saw it none other than his brother he smiled breathing a heavy sigh of relief. “You scared the sh*t out of me, prick!”

The end of lunch came with a mob of people pushing their way to their classes, people talking loudly, and Bill and Tommy squeezing through a crowd of people to get to their Environmental Science class. In their class, it was normal, their teacher spoke up across the room, “Alright everyone! We are starting a new project!” Their classmates whispered amongst themselves, some saying that they were bored of all the projects, others saying they were excited about what it was. “Today we will get in groups of 2 at one of the lab stations.” Bill and Tommy both mutually agreed that they would be in a group since they normally were anyways. “Okay! It looks like we are all in our group. I will assign a specific country to each group and it is your job to research the issues with farmland and invasive species that prevent good crops from growing in this country.” The teacher went through every group, then after she was done, she sent them on their way with the rubric and everything they would need to get a good grade on the assignment.

At the end of school, none of his friends were able to walk home with him. He walked the sidewalk with eyes darting everywhere. His body told him that today would be the day that he met the man face to face. Every alleyway he came across he would look down to make sure he wasn’t there, every corner he turned, he peaked his head around to see if the man was there. After 15 minutes of walking his nerves cooled down and a sense of calm was washed over him. As he was approaching the street his house was down, he was violently pulled into an abandoned alleyway.

He should have looked down on that one.

He was slammed against the brick wall and retained with hands against his chest. He slowly opened his squeezed-shut eyes and was met with the prick that has been watching him. Just like all the other times he saw him, he had scars all over his face that trailed down his neck and Tommy assumed it probably was all over his body as well. His glasses were as a matter of fact, red. The sun from that day glinted off the prick’s glasses and right into Tommy’s eyes so he wasn’t able to see the full face of the abductor. He shifted his arm to rest across Tommy’s chest and with his other he turned Tommy’s face to the side and examined it. After what felt like a terribly long time, the man smiles fondly and lets go of the boy. He steps back to let Tommy have some room to breathe before talking with a gruff and scratchy voice.

“I’ve been watching you for some time.” angrily Tommy brushed off his sweater and stomped his foot down, “What the hell! Who the f*ck even are you? Are you here to rob me?” He swiftly pulled out his phone and dialled 999, “I’ll call it an’ tell ‘em you're a paedophile.” his finger hovered over the call button, and the man brought his hands up to signal he wasn’t going to do anything, “I’m not trying to do any of that to you, what kind of people are in this town?” He shook his head throwing the other comments away and continued to explain to the boy. “I’m not trying to rob you or any of that sh*t.” He dug through his pocket retrieving a small polaroid picture and handed it to Tommy who looked at him with a glare. “Just look at it.” He pushed the photo more towards Tommy who took it with suspiciousness.

In the Photograph, that on the back was labelled, ‘Wilbur(11) and Tommy(3)’, were two children. One, obviously the older of the two, had dark brown curly hair, he wore a grey T-shirt and held a baby in his arms. From the background, he could tell that both children were inside a house that he assumed was their childhood home. The baby Wilbur(he assumed), was holding a blonde with blue eyes. Tommy looked at the man and waved the photo in confusion, “Who are these people? Who are you? Why have you been following me?” He sighed taking the photo from Tommy’s hands and placing a finger on the golden-haired baby. “That is you,” He then moved his finger to the older boy, “and that is me.”

It took Tommy several seconds to realize what he was saying, and then memories came flashing back, memories that he thought he would never remember again. The man stared at the boy with a sombre expression as the kid looked at him with widened blue eyes. The blue eyes that he thought he would never see again, the same blue eyes his little brother had, the same blue eyes that he hadn’t seen for 10 years. Those diamond eyes were dampened with tears as he tried to string together words, “you…you left me…” Wilbur’s eyes were filled with the guilt of leaving his brother but were filled even more with the feeling of the pure joy of finding him again. He rubbed the back of his neck, a form of nervous habit he developed. “I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t why I hid you. I didn’t want to leave you there.” Tommy didn’t like this explanation, he pointed a finger at Wilbur with the fury and anger of 100 gods. “ You left me. You were the one who didn’t come back! I was supposed to be taken care of by you!”

Wilbur took a deep breath trying to get the boy to understand some part of the story, “Tommy, you have to understand that I was running away from the police. Do you remember that day?” If he were honest, no, he did not remember that day but he wasn’t about to let his “brother” know, he wasn’t about to let him have some power over him when he disappeared on him for 10 years. “Yeah what about it?” He put on a defensive tone, he didn’t want Wilbur to get in, and he didn’t want him to see his emotions even though there were semi-dry tears running down his cheeks. “Do you really remember what happened that day?” Wilbur questioned further. Tommy didn’t remember, all he could recall was complaining about being hungry and when they were going to eat next, he remembered Wilbur telling him that he would find something as long as that meant Tommy would stop whining. He also remembered all the nights, when they did get food, Wilbur would make sure Tommy ate until he was completely full and take what was left that he didn’t eat. He spoke carefully, “I remember annoying you that I was hungry, but what does that have to do with anything?” Wilbur’s hand reached for Tommy’s shoulder but then shrunk back when he was given a death glare from the younger, instead he pushed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah you did,” He smiled fondly, remembering the little boy, “I said that I would get you some food if you stopped being annoying.”

Wilbur laughed for the first time in 10 years, and Tommy was the first to witness it. The crooked smile that he remembered, the almost straight semi-yellow teeth, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “...You did,” he responded quietly, almost in a whisper. Wilbur, still half smiling, started to talk once again, “You don’t remember the rest do you?” Tommy shook his head in embarrassment, suddenly feeling judged by the man that once was his brother he folded his arms over his chest and avoided eye contact. “That's okay! It’s- it’s been a long time, I don’t expect you to remember everything.”

But Wilbur wanted too desperately for him to remember, he wanted him to remember hiding the small boy under a deck with the stolen food and blanket from their house that kept them warm for months after running away from their abusive parents. He wanted Tommy to remember how when he was 3 he would whisper promises of a new life away from the hatred of their mum, and the violent tendencies of their father. He also wanted Tommy to know that when he did take the boy away from that horrible house he was only 12 and didn’t know what he was doing besides the fact that he wanted to protect the only thing he had left from his original life.

He reached for Tommy like he was a scared animal that would run with the slightest amount of movement. “Listen, when I ran away with you, I think you were 4 and I was 12. We were away for months on end, barely making it by, we had no food half the time. One day, you were sick from a lack of nutrition, and I needed to get you something to feel better. I tried everything I could, I tried knocking on doors asking for medicine or anything small they could give us but…” Wilbur’s eyes glossed over remembering the moments, he cleared his throat before starting again. “No one wanted to help the homeless kids.” He gave Tommy a minute to process what he was saying. “I ended up finding 8 pounds on the ground outside of a cafe and tried to use it to feed you. I bought whatever I could with the money. The cashier, he…” Wilbur took a deep breath blinking away the tears that threatened to spill, “He said we didn’t have enough money to pay, I wasn’t thinking about anything except you, I needed to feed you even if that meant putting myself in a bad situation, so, I stole it.” Tommy barely remembered that part, all that was going through his mind were questions. Why did he steal? Why did they run away?

“The police started to chase us so I went into a small neighbourhood to find somewhere to hide,” Wilbur grimaced remembering what happened, “I stupidly didn’t tie my shoes so I tripped while running. We were right next to a massive house that had a space under their deck that was hidden, so I pushed you inside and told you to wait until they were gone. I gave you everything I had on me, the blanket we stole from the house, the food I took, everything.” he took a shaky breath. “I wanted so badly to come back to you but they caught me.” He left out the part where they slammed him against the ground, breaking his nose, kicked him repetitively and basically broke his f*cking arm. “They took me back to that sh*t hole and I had to stay with our parents until I was 18. They tried to get me to tell them where you were put I refused, I would not let you come back into that house. But I looked everywhere for you, as soon as I was able to leave the house I looked everywhere, I wouldn’t sleep for days because I was looking.”

Tommy took a minute to process everything, everything that had taken 10 years to be told to him. The closure he didn’t know he needed, the words that he didn’t know would weigh so heavy on his heart making him want to heave for air. From his pocket something vibrated, he pulled the device from its hiding space and looked to see what it was.

Dadza is calling…

f*ck. Okay, this is a bad time.

He left Wilbur to wonder who was on the phone as he answered putting on a fake smile, “Hey Phil!” Wilbur couldn’t hear what was happening on the other side of the phone but he could make out a concerned voice and another more monotone voice that cut the other one off. Tommy smiled answering whatever question was asked, “Yeah, I’ll be home soon don’t worry.” more talking, then, “I might have to show you something when I get home,” Tommy’s eyes sat on Wilbur as he softly smiled again, “it’s a good surprise.” Tommy laughed into the phone bantering with whoever was on the other side then said goodbye. He turned his attention back to Wilbur with a lighter feeling in his eyes. “Let’s go home.”

When Tommy said they were going home, he didn’t think that he meant some random house on a wealthy ashell street. But nevertheless, he lead the older down the sidewalk and to a decent-sized house, that wasn’t big but it wasn’t small either. Walking up to the front door the blonde rummaged through his pocket finally finding his key after roughly 4 minutes of searching, he unlocked the door, stepped through, looked around the front room and motioned for Wilbur to follow him inside. When he stepped foot onto the carpeted floor he was met with the smell of cooking potatoes and vanilla. He didn’t really mind both smells as they were some of his favourite smells. The front room had 2 sofas both facing a big TV that was hung on the wall in the centre. “Wil, c’mon.” Tommy ushered the male further inside from where he was standing next to the front door. He followed Tommy to the kitchen where two people were standing, one with… pink hair? And the other, a blonde just like Tommy but slightly duller. The one with pink hair was cooking, as he assumed, potatoes, and the blonde man was, washing lettuce in the sink. Tommy quickly dragged Wilbur by the hand into the hallway that was beside the kitchen and shushed his questions, “Just stay here until I come to get you, okay?” Timidly Wilbur agreed.

Phil was washing the lettuce for a salad they would have for dinner that night when Tommy crashed into him giving him a tight hug from behind. “Whoa! Mate, I didn’t see you there,” He spun around embracing his son in an even tighter hug that he tried to squirm from. “How was your day?” They both had a small talk as the younger of the two waited for the perfect time. Meanwhile, Wilbur was stuck in the hallway to be bored to death. He looked at the wall and there, he saw many, MANY, pictures of the family. One was of the pink-haired boy and Tommy playing in a creek. He couldn’t bring himself to look at him anymore, his eyes welled up with tears as he thought about how long he’d left Tommy for. “Wil! C’mon! It’s the time!” Before he could voice his opinions Tommy pulled the brunette into the kitchen where three, wait no…four sets of eyes locked onto him. The two people he already saw, were Tommy and a kid with fluffy brown hair wearing a green button-up.

All three people stared quietly but he noticed how they all judged the scars, the jacket, the sweater, everything he wore, and everything he looked like. “Tommy…who is…this?” the boy with pink hair, who sounded so much older for what he looked like, and had a far more monotone voice than Wilbur expected was the first to break the silence. “This is Wilbur,” Tommy pushed Wilbur from behind closer to the two others, “He’s my big brother.” Wilbur flinched as Phil raised his hand then set it back at his side when he realized what he’d done. “He’s your brother? But you were all alone when the CPS workers found you.” Tommy nodded in confirmation, it was true, Tommy was alone when people came and claimed they were there to help him. “Yes, but it was because he got caught by the police.”

Ouch. That probably put a bad taste in ‘Phil’s’ mouth, finding out that Tommy’s older brother went to jail and left his brother alone. “Why were the police after you?” Phil put on the fatherly protectiveness and puffed out his chest with darkened eyes as the one in question tried to explain. “W-well, I-, Tommy was sick and I needed to get something to make him feel better.” His voice, sounding far too hoarse and obviously not something that the family expected from someone who looked like him, cracked with nervousness and anxiety creeping into his bones. “We didn’t have any money-” The boy with pink hair cut him off aggressively striding towards him. Far more intimidating than he thought seeing as he was almost a whole foot shorter than himself. “So what? You stole it? Criminal.” Tommy cut in between the two pushing the pink one back with a hand to his chest. “Techno, no! He didn’t, you both need to hear him out.” ‘Techno’ with a scowl on his face backed down and let him continue, “We-” Techno looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “I-I mean me, I found money on the ground and thought that it would be enough to help Toms.” Hands trembling were shoved into his pocket as a way of concealing the fear he felt.

He desperately tried to avoid eye contact, but when Tommy put a hand on his shoulder he couldn’t keep in the fear anymore, his eyes pleaded for the boy to take him somewhere else, to let him run out of the house, his lips trembled with words that wouldn’t fall from his tongue. “I need you to tell them everything.” His face was calm. His eyes were soft as the summer sky. Wilbur took a deep shaky breath once again, “The shopkeeper told us to get lost, so I stole the food to feed Tommy,” He felt their stares as his shifted to the floor, “I ran into a nearby neighbourhood and hid him under a deck, I tried to outrun the police but they caught up to me.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, someone was actually listening to him, someone was quiet and listening, and he was spilling everything to these people he never knew, “when they caught up to me, they slammed me against the ground, broke my nose, they kicked me and tried to get me to say where Tommy was but I wouldn’t tell them. They basically broke my arm when they got on top of me to search for any other stolen items.”

Recalling that memory physically and mentally hurt him, the feeling of being stomped on repeatedly still lingered in his body, and the feeling when they broke his arm left a phantom pain in his shoulder and elbow. He squeezed where he felt the pain to remind himself that it was in the past. Phil took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair and down his face as he thought about what to do. “Tommy, do you want him back in your life?” Tommy looked up at his adoptive father, thought for a moment, and responded with tears in his eyes. “Yes, I haven’t seen him in gods-knows how long and now he’s back.” Techno huffed, letting the seriousness from his face melt away into a calm expression as he went to Tommy and ruffled his hair he was returned with a light punch to his side. “Wilbur was it?” He nodded silently, “Hm…” He looked Wilbur up and down before making a face that looked like he just watched a dog roll around in the mud, “You definitely need to take a shower, and new clothes.” With no further words, he walked from the kitchen to the hallway where Wilbur was originally and gestured for him to follow. Wilbur looked to Tommy who gave him a smile and followed after Techno to which Wilbur followed Tommy.

He followed the two into a bathroom that was way bigger than he had expected and stood awkwardly. Techno turned on the water and turned it to a shower, he went to another room came back out with clothing and a towel from a closet beside the bathroom and plopped them down on the countertop. “There are some clothes for you, they’re mine so don’t f*ck ‘em up too badly. Take a shower and we’ll all be in the living room watching a movie or somethin’.” Techno grabbed Tommy by the shoulders and dragged the boy out as he shut the door behind them.

What the hell just happened? Wilbur thought to himself. He looked around the bathroom for some type of sign that he shouldn’t be there and that he should have just left Tommy to forget him altogether, but there was nothing. All there was, was the sound of water running, his own staggered breaths, and the panic rising even more. His lungs started to close up, and in his panicked state of mind, he stumbled into the shower still fully clothed to hopefully shock his body out of what he was feeling.

Tommy sat on the sofa as close to the bathroom as he could waiting for his brother, Phil sat next to him and pulled him close. “Are you sure you want him in your life?” Tommy knew what he meant, and in all honesty, he wasn’t sure. He thought back to when he first brought Wilbur in. His hand shaking like he was freezing to death, the sickly pale that was his skin, his brown eyes that looked far too dull for how old he was. How old was he anyways? “Yeah, who knows how long he’s been gone for.” He quietly rested his head on the older man’s shoulder, “He looks, tired dad. Something bad happened to him.” Phil hummed in response, caressing his golden locks, and smiled softly asking, “What was your favourite memory with him?” Tommy looked at the ceiling fan in hopes something would come to mind, and it did. “I can’t remember well, but when we were living at our parent's house, Wilbur used to play hide and seek with me when our parents got mad.” He snorted thinking about how he would run away from Wilbur because he wanted to find the greatest hiding place.

Techno and Phil each took turns asking about his older brother, after many stories that slowly became more and more silly and upsetting, Techno spoke up interrupting Tommy who grumbled under his breath about not finishing his story. “How long has it been since Wilbur was in the shower?” Phil looked down at his watch, squinting his old man's eyes and answered, “Like…an hour and a half.” Tommy was the first to rise from the sofa and walked quickly to the bathroom door, he knocked on it speaking carefully, but loud enough to hear over the water, “H-hey Wil, you doin’ okay?” there was no answer, so he knocked again, a little louder than the last time. “Wil, are you okay? Can I come in?” Techno didn’t wait for an answer when he pushed past Tommy and swiftly opened the door.

On the floor his trench coat was discarded, as well as his yellow jumper and socks. Techno made a concerned noise advancing further into the room, he slowly put his hand on the curtain blocking the family from Wilbur. “Wilbur, I’m going to open the curtain, okay?” Veugly the three could hear what sounded like a pleading voice, talking to no one, and with each word came a pained gasp or half inhale. When He did pull back the curtain, they were met with the sight that completely broke their hearts, and even more so did Tommy’s.

Wilbur was sat on the bottom of the bathtub, knee’s curled up to his chest, his hands painfully tangled in his wet curly hair, his face shoved in between his knees. Techno’s hands tensed with worry, he looked to Phil for guidance, “what do we do?” Phil pushed past Tommy who was still standing at the door, frozen with shock as he watched Phil turn off the water and crouch next to the hyperventilating boy. He lowered his voice, “hey, can you hear me.” He tried to put his hands on the brunettes shoulder’s which didn’t go too well, Wilbur’s head snapped up with a painful cracking noise, his eyes blown wide and scared, he threw back his arms trying to scoot away from Phil rambling more to himself than anything. “Hey- Hey you’re okay, no one is trying to hurt you.” Tommy moved from the doorway and to Phil’s side with a highly concerned face.

Phil looked at the boy and decided what he needed to do, “Tommy, go get some blankets.” Phil took hold of the situation as he whispered reassuring words and tried to get him to get out of his soaked clothing. When Wilbur was calm enough, Phil and Techno helped him step out of the tub and sat him on the closed toilet where they took a clean shirt and placed it over his badly scarred body. Both took a mental note to ask him about that later. Tommy came in at the perfect time, panting he held the blankets out to Phil who took them on and wrapped them around the violently shivering boy. Tommy stood in front of Wilbur drowning him in another blanket and taking his hands in his own, he squeezed them tightly and started to whisper to his brother.

The two oldest stood back and watched as Tommy calmed him down, they held hands as Tommy guided the older boy to the front room and onto the sofa, Techno and Phil followed close behind the two walking as if they made any noise a bomb would go off. Tommy sat on the sofa and brought Wilbur down with him. He was strangely quiet and looked disoriented. Wilbur leaned over to Tommy and whispered something in his ear, “He says that he’s sorry you guys had to see him like that.” another whisper, and, “He said that he doesn’t want to stay here if we don’t want him here.” Tommy squeezed his brother’s hand as the older looked away with a guilt-ridden face, tears ran down Wilbur’s face as he tried to control his breathing, Tommy locked eyes with him, put his hand on his chest and made breaths for the older to follow.

Later that night, all four people fell asleep embraced in each other’s arms, blankets tangled around their bodies, the TV still playing the random thing on a public program they happened to all mutually agree was fine to watch.

eventually Phil decided Wilbur should stay with them. He had his own room next to Tommy’s, and eventually became part of the family. There were many many times when they would find him in shambles on the floor or in depressive episodes that they had to help pull him out of. They gave him several days to settle in which became weeks before they asked about the scars on his body. “Wil, do you mind coming down to the family room?” Phil peaked his head inside Wilbur’s room which was bare, to say the least, but it had a bed and a desk with very little clothing in the closet. Wilbur walked with Phil, he was cautious too not step to close to the man or too far away either, something he learned and made a habit while living with his parents. When they made their way into the room, Techno and Tommy were both already there. Wilbur’s body tensed and his stress levels rose greatly, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “We all wanted to ask you a few questions if that’s okay?” He nodded giving them permission.

“Okay, um, first things first: When’s your birthday?” Wilbur rubbed his arm as he thought, “September 14th.” Satisfied Phil took note of his birthday, which was coming up soon since it was September 9th. “Okay, how old are you?” This question, he felt like he shouldn’t answer, if they knew, would they kick him out to find a way to live on his own? Or would they still be okay with him staying since he was nowhere near mentally stable enough to live alone? Wearily he answered in a quiet voice, “22…” Phil smiled, put one arm around Techno and said, “That’s great! Tech’s 23!” Seeing the smile both males had eased his nerves, he softly smiled back and relaxed his shoulders leaning more into the sofa. “So, can I ask what gave you all those scars?” Phil’s head snapped towards his son whose arm was wrapped around him, he had a murderous smile on his face as he held a death grip and whispered to him, “You weren’t supposed to ask him too quickly.” Looking at the two Wilbur sat up getting both of their attention, “I-It’s okay, I’ve been with you a while, and you deserve to know, just…be patent with me please.” He took a deep breath before explaining.

“WILLIAM!” quickly the little boy, 12 years of age raced up the stairs, into his once shared bedroom, slammed the door, locked it and quickly rushed over to his wardrobe to hide. He heard the moment the glass was slammed against the wooden table, he would be in trouble, and even more so, he would be in pain. He rummaged through the many boxes and clothing he had inside the closet, and hid in the back corner, praying to whatever god(s) were up there that he wouldn’t be found. Hours later, he sat on the bathroom floor, a bloody nose, bruises littering his body, and his back felt like fire, as he held an already bloodied towel to his head and nose. The voices of his ‘parents’ ran through his head. But despite it all, he loved them with his entire being. Something that he didn’t understand, he loved those who hurt him. In his room, the indent in his bed from his little brother would leave a hollow feeling in his chest. But he’d remind himself that as long as Tommy wasn’t there, they wouldn’t lay a hand on him.

After Wilbur described how his parents would hurt him, physically, or emotionally, the three had a better understanding as to why he ran away with Tommy in the first place. “Wil, I-” Wilbur shook his head, bitterly laughing, “No, please don’t say you’re sorry, or you didn’t know. Because you didn’t know, how were you supposed to?” He swallowed the painful memories clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, it’s just over the years, of having to tell people that same story, they gave me so much pity and treated me like a piece of glass that could be shattered. I don’t want to be treated like that again.”

And he wasn’t, he was treated with love, patents, calm, fatherly, and brotherly love that he so desperately needed for so long that it felt foreign to him. Slowly over time, he became less afraid of those who he lived with and became more confident in himself and that those around him wouldn’t hurt him. He had so much healing to do and he timidly let the two new people and his brother that came into his life, help. When he needed help, he would reach out to them. When he was scared, he would look to them for guidance. He relied on them when he needed to.

His broken heart, slowly was sewn back together by people he never knew he needed.

Chapter 30: The trip

Chapter Text

Today was the day that Charlie was going to travel to the UK to see some of his friends. He knew that Tubbo, Wilbur, Jack, Nikki, and many others would be there. What he didn’t know is that in a few hours, he would have one of his friends sitting on the sink while he tended to wounds.

When he stepped foot off the plane and into the airport and started walking to where Wilbur said they’d meet up, he was immediately engulfed in a tight hug. He looked down to meet his eyes with cotton candy pink hair, “Charlie! It’s so good to see you!” Niki looked up from the hug with a bright smile and hugged the man tighter, Charlie tried to breathe through the tight ass grasp of smaller, “Niki, I think you’re going to kill me.” A small chuckle erupted from the pink-haired girl as she finally let him go, he took some needed deep breaths as he chuckled at the girl. “Wil, Tommy, Tubbo and Jack should be here soon.”

The two fell into a comfortable conversation as they made their way over to where they were to meet the others. When they got to where the location, they saw Jack, James, Wilbur, George, Ranboo, Tommy, Phil, and Tubbo all standing together conversating with each other while waiting for the other two to arrive. As they got closer the first to notice them was James, “There you are! I thought we might have to wait all day for you.” He was the first to walk over to Charlie and greet him with a hug, “Charlie! My man!” Tommy shouted with a bright smile, he drew out his name as he gave Charlie a side hug.

After they were done individually greeting the man they decided to go back to the hotel they were all staying at, and let Charlie rest since he had a massive case of jetlag. Phil walked over to where Charlie was slumped against an armchair slowly succumbing to sleep and put a soft hand on his shoulder, “We’re going to the shops to get some more food for the room, do you want anything?” He opened his eyes just slightly more thinking, then answered, “Just some corn please.” Phil chuckled at the answer and then gave a comforting squeeze on his shoulder before pulling away and leaving with the group to the shops. Charlie couldn’t even hear the door shut behind the group before his eyes shut and he fell asleep.

The next day when he woke up, blue eyes met teal. “WHAT THE f*ck!” Charlie yelped jumping up causing his leg to lock on him which sent him flying down to the floor where his face met the floor. “sh*t- Sorry charlie!” Tommy ran to the older one’s side helping him up by pulling him to his feet. Hearing the commotion the others in the room and the neighbouring room ran to see what had happened.

“What happened!?” Wilbur was the first to slam open the door, he clearly had just woken up since his shirt was lazily thrown on at the moment and his curly brown hair was all over the place. The two blondes looked at each other and then back to Wilbur who was looking between the two. Wilbur raised his eyebrows and gestured for them to hurry and explain, “Oh- Well, Charlie got scared like the little bitch he is-” Charlie stopped Tommy from continuing by elbowing him in the side which got returned by a smack on his chest. He huffed rubbing his chest before explaining, “I was sleeping and this little f*cker scared me, he was just standing over me like the gremlin child he is!” The two glared at each other as Wilbur looked between the two before sighing and running a hand down his face. “It’s too early for this.” He then turned on his heel back into his room and flopped onto the sofa he was sleeping on.

Later when the group had gotten up all the way, they decided to explore the town they were in. Before they had booked their flights to Norwich, Phil had looked at activities they could do during their stay, “Where are we going?” Nikki asked from the back seat, they had been driving for a little while and Phil had said “don’t worry, it’ll be a fun experience.”

“As I said before,” Phil grinned, “It’ll be a fun experience!” He turned the wheel and they all met the sight of a normal-looking building, but the way Phil looked at Kristin, then into the mirror told the rest of the group that they would be in for a treat.

When the whole group pilled into the building which was far smaller than it looked, Phil came back from a backroom holding several papers, he looked smug which did not sit well with the group because they knew how he could be.

“alright everyone,” He looked at the group smiling, “You all are going to get into groups, Group one will be: James, Jack, Tommy and Tubbo. Group two will be Charlie, Kristin, Ranboo and Wilbur. Then the last group is Niki, George and me.”

After they all got into their separate groups they left with a paper Phil had handed to them. “So this is a…scavenger hunt?” Kristin questioned as they were walking to nowhere in particular, Wilbur asked to see the paper which was put into his hands, “It looks like there are riddles, then we find where those are and…” He squinted at the paper, seeing without his glasses made it a bit hard, and unfortunately, he forgot them back at his house before he left. “Take them with you throughout your journey, it says.”

Kristin took the paper and read the first riddle, “At night they come without being fetched. By day they are lost without being stolen, what are they?” The group blurted out several answers before Ranboo talked over the rest who were talking, “Stars!” Ranboo shouted when he figured it out. They all looked to the tallest of the group in surprise from hearing him randomly shout, “I- sorry, I got excited.” He rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. “But the answer is stars.”

They all thought of where something with stars could be, and of course, they all looked to Wilbur because apparently he was really good at geography and knows where everything is. He made an uncertain face before looking behind the group and pointing a finger. “We could search there.” They all looked to where he was pointing, a big building with larger letters that read. Museum of Space. “Well I mean, it definitely has to do with stars.” Kristin deadpanned.

The group searched around. When they got into the building they all mutually agreed to split up to cover more ground. Ranboo walked around the museum searching for stars, when he got to a tucked away room he looked to the ceiling and saw many stars, constellations and galaxies. With excitement, he power walked to where he saw the other’s talking. “Guys, I found it.” The group turned to look at him, Kristin made a gesture that they would follow him to where he said it was. In the room they looked more and more until Wilbur found a small folded piece of paper, he opened it and read aloud for all to hear. “I build up castles. I tear down mountains. I make some men blind, I help others see. What am I?”

After many many riddles, maybe too many riddles, they had found their way to the rest of the group. All teams were there, all standing around waiting for Phil to explain why there were so many riddles and why they had to solve them. Weirdly enough they all met up at a shop that had electric bicycles inside. Phil ran into the shop and then stopped trying to catch his breath, “I…” He took a deep breath and continued, “I’m so sorry we’re late,” He looked to the rest of his group and glared daggers at them, “George decided to get stuck in a damn baby swing.” George turned bright red and tried to defend himself which didn’t work because no one listened to him, instead they listened to Phil who tiredly walked to the front of the group and clapped his hands together smiling. “I hope you all had fun! Our next activity is to solve the very last riddle while riding bikes of your choosing.” He held his hand out to his left where there were different coloured bikes.

After twenty minutes of bantering and playful fighting over a bike, [electric bikes may I remind the author.] they all got their bikes and headed out to solve the last riddle.

Charlie and Ranboo were racing down an alleyway when Ranboo looked back to mock the slime man, “HAHA, YOU SUCK-” Before he could finish his entire sentence the wheel of Ranboo’s bike caught on a broken part of a fence and sent him flying to the ground. Ranboo curled up on the ground in pain and let out a loud, pained groan. When Charlie and the rest of the group caught up to the other they immediately ran to his side and tried to see what happened. “Are you hurt? Do I need to call Phil?” Wilbur squeezed his arm to turn him over and was met with a bloody nose and a newly bruised cheek. “sh*t- I’ll call Phil.” Kristin took Wilbur’s place as he went to the side to call the rest of the group. Kristin helped Ranboo sit up as Charlie and she both looked at his injuries.

There was a new hole in Ranboo’s pants that was soaking blood into its material, his nose would not stop bleeding no matter what Charlie or Kristin did, and there would most definitely be a large scar on his knee as well as his cheek which was also scrapped by the concrete.

Charlie piped up trying to make the situation lighter, “sh*t man, you didn’t have to go and lose your dignity like that.” He successfully lightened the mood as both Kristin and Ranboo chuckled at his lame joke. Wilbur came back to the three, crouched down and handed his phone to Kristin who happily took the device. The brunette looked down at the bloodied male and cringed, “I’ve got some serviette’s from a restaurant nearby, clean up your face a little, and put some on your knee.” Ranboo did as the man said, and to which, the paper napkins didn’t last long before they were completely soaked with blood.

Kristin came back to the group after talking to her husband for a few minutes. “Okay, Ranboo you’re going to have to get up so we can meet the rest.” Kristin grasped his bicep trying to lift him up, he returned the movements with a wince and a pained hiss as one of them grazed his knee slightly. “sh*t- sorry.” Wilbur quickly apologized, for such a smug man he wasn’t very good in these situations. They got the teen up finally, one person on each side, and a third person behind in case he fell or someone needed to switch out. They got to the corner of the pavement and waited for Phil to pick them up in the car that he rented specifically for the meetup.

When he did eventually get there [only making them wait 10 minutes that felt like an eternity.] he jumped out of the car, walked up to the group, and helped them get Ranboo into the car without hurting him more than he already was.

When they got back to the hotel they were staying at, Kristin ushered Ranboo into the bathroom to clean himself up. What they didn’t know was that he was squeamish with blood and couldn’t handle the sight. Ranboo sat in the bathroom and texted Charlie on his newly cracked phone,

‘hey, can you come in the bathroom to help me?’

‘Just give me a second.’ the reply came quickly, clearly the man was on his phone when Ranboo texted. Outside the room, he could hear a small knock which he replied with, “come in.” Charlie opened the door, slightly struggling to open it because of the plethora of items in his arms. With chaotic energy and absolute just…what was he doing? Putting the items on the counter, he went to Ranboo who was sitting on the closed toilet with blood dripping down his neck and his leg. Charlie sighed, “Man, you couldn’t have at least wiped it up a bit more?” Ranboo sighed, “I hate blood, hate the sight of it.” He shivered as blood trickled down his neck and tickled his skin on the way down. Charlie sighed and turned to the counter where there was a box of bandages, rubbing alcohol, and cotton swabs.

He then turned to the teen sitting on the toilet and cringed slightly, “This is going to hurt like a bitch, so try not to scream, you’ll scare the sh*t out of everyone.” Ranboo took a deep inhale and held his breath as Charlie applied the cotton swab on his knee which was soaked with rubbing alcohol. A pained hiss was heard as Charlie did his best to clean up the wound on Ranboo’s knee, every once and a while, he would have to hold down Ranboo’s leg to deeply clean it, which to be honest, was a bitch to clean.

After he was done with the knee, he got a wad of tissues and held it to Ranboo’s nose, which he took happily and applied pressure, Ranboo leaned on the back of the toilet, letting Charlie do what he will to his wounds because he definitely would not have been able to take good care of it as he did.

30 minutes later, Charlie made a sound of success and smiled to himself, he took the tissues from Ranboo after he said that his nose wasn’t bleeding anymore, threw them in the bin, and helped Ranboo stand up. He led the teen to the bed where he sat down with pure exhaustion in his system. Ranboo flopped back into the mattress and fell asleep in almost an instant.

This trip was going to be fun, Charlie thought to himself.

Chapter 31: Just hold out until we get home.

Chapter Text

Metal crashed into the building beside Tommy as he tried to focus on healing Thanatos as more things were thrown around them. Thanatos’ injuries were pretty brutal, he had a sword sticking out of his chest that Dream so graciously threw, and had severe burn wounds all up and down his body. Tommy know this would be hell to heal, so after sliding the sword out, he prepared himself as he put his hands on Jack and squeezed his eyes shut. The throbbing in his head never got any easier to feel, it felt like he had gone too far underwater and the pressure was trying to crush his head. Everything around him became muffled as his hands grew orange and hot, way too hot to be normal. It felt like forever until his hands became cold once again and he could open his eyes. His vision was swimming, he threw up in his own mouth and he felt terribly uneasy on his feet as he stumbled to sit next to Thanatos to wait for the man to wake up. When Thanatos eventually did, he made sure Tommy was okay enough to be on his own, and when Tommy confirmed he was, he left to join the fight again.

As he rested, [and the throbbing in his head never stopped] an odd sound made him peak open his eyes, as he did, the only thing he saw was what he would describe as a concrete spear probably crafted by The Captain, didn’t give him time to react as it was logged straight into his stomach and through the other side which also was stabbed through the wooden building behind him pinning him in one spot like a bug in one of those insect taxidermies. He was frozen in shock.

He’d just been impaled.

Oh f*ck.

OH f*ck.

Tommy started to panic because frankly, he wasn’t sure if anyone would be able to find him in time to take out the spear or honestly in time for him to recover from healing Thanatos and heal himself. It would be like the first time he’d met Siren, it took so much out of him and he was barely able to keep his eyes open. With the pain not yet setting but delirium deciding to make a guest appearance he fumbled for his cracked phone and called someone, he couldn’t tell what his phone said because his eyes were so far from focusing it looked like he was drunk. He held it to his ear and listened, trying to keep his breath under control.

It rang twice before someone answered.

“Hey mate, I-” Three was a grunt from the man on the other side of the phone and a small cough, “This isn’t the best time to be calling.” Tommy made a noise that sounded like a whine, he couldn’t muster any words in fear of the feeling of being stabbed, his breath caught in his throat making him choke on his words as he was finally able to put something out. “Help- I- I can’t feel anything…” Finally, the pain started to make itself known, in seconds he felt like he was on fire, he could feel the jagged edges against his skin and the inside of his flesh. He let out a staggered yell and sobbed for someone to help.

“Where are you?”

Wincing at any sudden or small movement Tommy looked for a street sign, “I- I don’t know, f*ck-” He moved too much and it tore more of his skin open, his breathing quickened as he so desperately wanted to get away and heal himself, but with all the blood pooling around his legs and soaking into his shirt he could hardly focus on anything. “Okay, Okay, I’m coming,” There was a yell from someone in the background as he heard Phil’s steps quicken into a jog then his wings flapped in the sky. “I see you.” The phone hung up as Phil landed next to the boy. He took a deep breath assessed the situation then decided what to do.

Crouching next to Tommy he held out a piece of cloth for him to bite on, “This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I need you to not make a lot of noise, I’m sorry.” Before Tommy could voice his concerns the spear was being pulled out of his stomach.

It felt like someone had completely torn his entire stomach out, sharp pains shot throughout his body as he screamed and bit onto the cloth as hard as he could. Tears flooded from his eyes and he thrashed around as a way to get away from the pain. When the spear was fully out of him, Phil wrapped his arms around the boy, spread his wings and shot into the sky, heading for the Cloudy Cafe since it was closest and he knew there would be a first-aid kit for him to help Tommy.

Tommy sturred in his arms as Phil flew as fast as he could to the Cafe. When they made it to the building he wasted no time by slamming the back door open [even though there were a few customers] and sat Tommy on the ground where he turned to the bathroom where the kit was hidden. The only person working there, Foolish he remembered Tommy saying, just watched him as he moved through the backrooms like he had been there a million times. [which he has.]

He got back to Tommy as soon as he found the box, threw it on the floor and jerked it open, he cringed as he pulled up Apollo’s shirt and saw a huge gaping hole where his stomach should have been. Apollo was drifting in and out of consciousness, his head was swaying and he was mumbling to himself more than anything else, Zephyrus took his out-of-it state and used it to his advantage. He brought gauze from the kit and pressed it to Tommy’s wound on both sides as best as possible. Faintly he could see an orange glow from inside the hole in his stomach, to try and help the process he cleaned the wound as best as he could and patched it up the best as he could as well.

A hour and a half passed with Phil soaking up blood in gauze and towels he ‘stole’ from the bathroom and finally the orange glow grew brighter. It was only a small trickle of light but it was enough for Phil to breathe a sigh of relief, and wrapped his son’s stomach with ace bandages and gauze once he deemed it good enough to help Tommy in healing.

Zephyrus sat next to Apollo watching him carefully as if his eyes were to stray away Tommy would disintegrate. It took Tommy quite a while before he woke up. When he did he blinked his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

“Oh thank the gods, I thought you might have died.” Phil chuckled, his voice still affected by the voice changer under his veil. Tommy groaned, “With how this feels, I wish I did.” Phil laughed as he cleaned up the rest of Tommy’s wounds, which were mostly just wiping away dried blood flakes. When he was done, and he threw the bloody clothes in the bin, he lifted Tommy up under his shoulder and lead him into the alleyway behind the Cafe. Phil joked as they walked “Y’know Wil’s going to have your head for this right?” Tommy glared at the man helping him and scoffed, “You wouldn’t dare tell him.” The older man laughed, Tommy didn’t like it, “You dickhe*d! You wouldn’t! He’d kill you for taking me away!” Still smiling, under his veil [Tommy could feel it nevertheless] he cleared his voice before speaking, “He’d rather me help you than keep you there, and I’m sure you’d come screaming at us about how we didn’t help you anyways.”

Phil wasn’t wrong, he’d most definitely start screaming at them about how they hadn’t come to rescue them, but he was also so thankful that Phil had even answered his call in the first place. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he never answered his phone. Swallowing the lump in his throat and pushing down the anxiety brewing in his chest he continued to banter with the blonde man before they ended up walking back to their vehicle in civilian clothes.

As soon as Tommy stepped foot into the house, he was engulfed in arms that held him tightly. Way too tight. “Oh, Tommy! Where were you!?” he could recognise Wilbur’s voice from ten miles away, but as annoyed as he was with the pain erupting from his lower torso he held tight onto his brother.

“Tommy?” Wilbur lifted Tommy’s chin to meet his eyes, “What happened?”

f*ck, how was he supposed to explain that he almost died a second time from blood loss? Instead of explaining, he whispered to Wilbur instead, “I want to sleep.” Wilbur exhaled, smiling to himself, more things he would have to pry from the boy, but for the time being he lead Tommy to his own room, let him lay on his bed while he ran to Tommy’s room to get him new clothes.

He made a mental note about the caked-on blood on his shirt and pants.

He returned to Tommy and set the clothing on the bed beside the teen. Tommy was staring into space, Wilbur put a hand on his shoulder to which Tommy aggressively flinched. “Toms, can you please tell me what happened?”

He really didn’t, he wanted to lay down next to Wilbur and listen to him play a song he made, he wanted nothing more than to just sleep and pretend as if nothing happened. He sighed, his eyes glossing over remembering what happened, the desperation he felt being pinned down like a f*cking bug, he pleaded to the gods that the pain would end and he could fall into the arms of sleep, but he wanted to see his brothers again, he wanted to see his family again.

He wanted to see Wilbur.

He said no words as he took the clothing Wilbur had brought for him into the bathroom and changed, threw his medic clothes in the laundry basket where Techno would surely have his work cut out for this one because he would need to sew the hole and try to pry off the blood stain. He huffed as he plopped down on the bed next to the brunette who looked at him with questioning and careful eyes. “Tommy?” Tommy looked up to meet cautious eyes with tired blue eyes. “I…” Tears streamed from his eyes and down his face, his lips quivered, and his hands shook. “I was trying to heal Jack and when I was finished, a…” He moved his hands in a motion trying to make sense of the object that stabbed through him, “Spear thing, just…” He made a gesture of something being stabbed into his stomach, he pulled up the shirt revealing a new semi-healed wound, it was still angry red and was most definitely very fragile.

Wilbur took in a sharp breath. sh*t, this is what happened and he wasn’t there to protect Tommy like he said he would. With cautious hands, loving, brotherly, kind, soft, he put a hand on the boy's shoulder and pulled him into a tight hug.

Warm, safe. Warm, safe, loving, brotherly, calm, safe, ran through the boy’s head.

Tommy relaxed into the arms and closed his eyes taking a much-needed deep breath. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me,” Wilbur pulled away lifting Tommy’s chin to meet his eyes, “I promise, I will be there every single time, I will not let you get hurt if I can help it.” A sob erupted from Tommy’s throat as he dove back into the hug, he nested his face in Wilbur’s chest taking in his smell, the warmth, the safety he felt with the man, and calmed. He was safe and he knew it.

They both fell asleep in the arms of each other, Wilbur protectively wrapped around his brother. His brother.

Chapter 32: Dance of Death

Chapter Text

Prince Wilbur, the oldest of the Royal siblings stood above it all. With all his glory, the sun shone down on him like a god wearing a crown of sunlight. His eyes slashed through the strongest of men, his skin sculpted by only the finest, his stance straight like a pillar holding a sacred bridge. Prince Theseus, the golden boy of it all, his eyes like foreign diamonds only wielded by the bravest and most respectable of nobles, his face carved from ice, his hair like gods weaved it from gold. Technoblade, the second oldest, above Theseus that is. His pale skin was like freshly fallen snow on a winter morning, his eyes were blood red like rubies, his hair white like the mountains no man would ever touch, silky to only those brave enough to feel, shiny like a million quartz crystals loosely hanging from his scalp. Emperor Philza, the all mighty, bright blonde hair just like his youngest son, emerald eyes just as piercing as his eldest, and skin just as delicate as his second eldest son. Empress Kristin, such a delicate flower, she moved as if she were swimming in water, she glided across the ballroom floor greeting the guests. No one saw her face for it was concealed under a black lace veil that hung from her iconic sun hat that sat upon her head like a crown. Every visitor watched as every step she took felt like they were watching a goddess in her realm, her dress trailing behind her, the dark black crystals glistening with the light.

Phil stood above them all with a chalice filled with the most exquisite of wine from their own orchids. He watched as many twirled around in their glorified ballgowns and suits filled to the brim with over-dramatic sequins and masquerade masks. Across the floor, dancing with a woman who had cotton candy pink hair was his eldest. He watched as they twirled around, hand in hand, going through the dances his most trusted tutors taught. With the end of the song, Wilbur bid his farewell to the woman and made his way to his father. Standing next to him, Wilbur was obviously taller than his father. “What a magnificent party you hosted my boy.” Phil took a swig of his wine and turned to his oldest. For his son being taller there was a clear hierarchy between the two, in all royal families the king comes first, the empress second and the children last. In this royal family's case, Kristin and Phil both came first, all decisions must be taken up with both of them, they were the same, had the same power, the same stance. His children came second.

Phil’s elegant green robe slid against the polished marble floor as he turned to Wilbur, the boy smiled slightly bowing, “It is my pleasure, your highness.” Phil, content with the words, smiled to himself turning back to the ballroom that was full of guests. “What do you make of your brother Theseus?” Phil grinned looking at the small boy who was tripping over a girl's dress as he tried to swoon her into a dance that failed miserably, Wilbur chuckled. “He is but a boy, I didn’t start my dance lessons until two years older than him,” He tried to continue until he heard a yell of someone in the crowd, viewing where he heard the shout, Theseus was on the floor holding his head.

The entire family rushed to the boy’s aid, Kristin immediately by his side, picking him up by the arm and held him to her chest. A crowd of people circled around the two as both older brothers and father ran to his side. As Wilbur and Technoblade pushed the crowd away and made room for mother and father to take the boy to the infirmary, Phil could hear Theseus mumble and slur his words about his head hurting and not being able to see properly.

In the safety of the nurse's station, Kristin placed her hat on the bed beside her son and with a look of confusion and sadness she tried to wake the prince who fell into a slumber.

She shook his shoulder. Nothing.

She called his name. Nothing.

She tried everything she could think of and nothing worked.

“PHIL!”

Every day was hell for them, every second that passed, all the silence that drowned the castle, there was no laughter, there was no sound of running feet against the dusty floor, there were no giggles of mischief to be heard anywhere. The entire kingdom felt his absence, they all felt how Emperor Philza’s eyes grew cold and distant, they felt how Empress Kristin became ill and fragile to the touch. They felt as Prince Wilbur’s anger grew into a singing blaze, they felt as Prince Technoblade fell into a still silence that left him grey and his eyes dull.

After a decade of what the locals called ‘The Frozen Era’ a war was declared on the Antarctic Empire. All troops were deployed to the borders for nationwide border security. AsKristin rested in the same room as her sleeping diamond, the captain of the royal guard was scribbling things down when Wilbur burst through the doors panting, his hair was a mess, his crown slipped to the side of his head, “They’re here!” Technoblade, captain of the guard, followed his brother to the nearest balcony and followed his gaze to an army of more than one thousand men. He could hear the drums thumping on like a beating heart. The land of Manburg finally came to take their land, they were finally here to take their place as the killers of the Antarctic Empire. Below, in the front of the troops, in black was King Jschlatt.

Children screamed as they were taken from their homes, and women shrieked as they were thrown from their husbands and left in the street. Men fought as they tried to protect their families and what little they had from the soldiers taking what they had. Bloodshed, murder, tears, slashed flesh, lifeless eyes, were all to see in the kingdom. Bystanders, who were mostly blinded by blood and fear coating their faces, watched as Black rode a horse into the village and to the palace. No one dared to touch the man as he walked the rest of the way to the palace doors, opening them with great force. He came to the throne room and bowed as he made eye contact with the emperor who knew he’d be arriving.

“Your Highness, you knew I’d be coming, yes?” Phil stood from his throne slowly walking down the beautiful marble stairs that were laced with gold and silver. “Your entrance to my kingdom made it hard not to, Schlatt.” He hissed back. The man in question chuckled at the king's antics, “If you saw me coming, you also know why I came, don’t you?” Philza sighed closing his eyes and opening them once again, he turned to a servant and waved his hand, they ran out of the room to fetch what the man wanted. Phil stepped down from his throne, up to Schlatt and put on a defensive front. “My servant will bring you what you want,” just as he said this, four people and the servant came back holding a closed chest, they put it down beside the king and the emperor and dismissed themselves from the room.

Jschlatt’s eyes glowed with anticipation, his eyes surveying the chest, he wanted inside, he wanted to break it open and shower himself in the gold that it held. Instead of what he so dearly wanted to do, he gave the king a smirk slightly showing off his gold tooth and mocked the emperor. “The great Emperor Philza, how are your wife and son’s health?” A low growl made its way through Phil’s throat as he narrowed his eyes, “My wife and son’s well-being is none of your concern Schlatt.” Schlatt put his hand on his chest like he was hurt by his words, “Emperor Philza, such hatred in your voice.” Not taking his words lightly, he bit back words of hatred and replaced them with carefully strung-together words. “Did you come here for the gold, or to taunt me?”

Jschlatt facing away from the emperor, pulled something from his cloak pocket and with a dark voice simply stated one thing, “My dear king, your reign over this kingdom has come to an end.” Just as he finished his sentence, the heavy doors to the throne room were shut and locked with a loud click, trapping both kings inside, together.

“What is the meaning of this!” The other man smiled, shushing Phil, “Oh come on! You didn’t think this day would come?” He walked around the emperor, wielding a sword of gold, engraved with rams and Celtic knots, “Did you not think that eventually, someone would come for your head?” The blade shined in the sunlight streaming in through the windows that held glass artwork of crows and the royal family. In that moment, Phil thought of what it would look like to see his own blood smeared across the blade, how red would look mixed with gold. How his children would find his body laying still on the shiny floor, how he would never see if Theseus woke up. And in that moment, he decided, he would fight until his last breath, he decided, he would not stop striking this man until either male was thrown to the floor and death greeted him with open arms.

Philza, no longer scared of death, embraced it with his soul, took his own blade from the wall near where he was standing and stood like a king once again. “Ooo~ getting brave aren’t we?” The man still taunted, he used words to his advantage, but could he really fight with a sword?

King Jchlatt made the first move, he lunged toward Phil, blade held straight out to his chest, Phil stepped out of the way, letting Schlatt fall over his own feet. “You got lucky.” Schlatts eyes grew dark, there was something evil behind them that he couldn’t pinpoint. But he did not fret, because he knew the man would fall eventually.

Gold clashed against steal, green against black, a king against a God. The king tripped over his feet, fell to the floor, picked himself back up, disregarded his own stances, ignored the blood seeping into the fabric of his clothing and went back to fighting.

When the God was done with the king, he was in shambles, on the floor, marking the marble with a beautiful red that poured from his skin. The silver, gold, and white that made up the floor was painted red which made a magnificent scenery. “Y-you,” He took a deep breath, spitting out blood from his mouth, holding onto his side where a deep gash was cut through him, with anger and spite, and pure evil dripping from his tone, he spit at the God. “f*ckER!”

One last time, he lunged at the God.

Phil made no face, no difference in his body language, as the king was shot dead with an arrow through the back of his head. Schlatt dropped to the floor with a thud, not moving a muscle. The room was still, quiet, and calm, but had a sense of victory flow through it. The birds outside chirped happily, the grass still swayed with the wind, the butterflies still fluttered their wings, and the flowers still grew from the earth. Behind where the king was standing, was a boy with bright golden hair, holding a crossbow. He was pale, fatigued, and shaking like a trembling lead, he dropped the weapon to the floor and with tears in his eyes, he ran forward screaming Phil’s name. “DAD! DAD, IT’S ME!”

His boy, his boy was awake. Phil snapped out of the daze and ran to his son, they clashed into each other, Phil sobbed into the boy's hair, Theseus held onto his father like his life depended on it, they cried and whispered to each other. Phil stumbled over his words, telling him everything. He told him everything. How he hated every second Theseus wasn’t with them, how he wished every night and day he would wake up and his son would be chaotically running through the palace halls, the pain he felt when he was told he couldn’t help him or his wife.

For Ten years Theseus had been asleep. Ten years without his ray of sunshine in his life. Ten years the one part of his heart was left untouched by his son that held them together. For ten years, he waited to hold his little boy again. And now, ten years later, his boy was back in his arms, and awake. Phil couldn’t describe how good it felt to hear Theseus’ voice again, the voice that he had once found annoying every once and a while, the voice that had not been heard since he called out for his family before death held him captive. Phil pulled away from the hug, holding the boy’s face in his hands.

“Y-your here! You’re awake!” Theseus sniffled, “Y-yeah, it’s me Dad! It’s Tommy!” Tears poured from his eyes again, blurring his vision, “Y-your real? You’re right here?” Tommy laughed through the tears, not caring how his voice sounded, not caring about the snot that ran down his nose, “Yeah! I’m here,” He held Phil’s hand on his chest to feel the thumping of his heart, “I’m right here!” A broken sob cut through Phil’s throat as he again held his boy close.

His boy. His boy was back home, and that's all he could ask for and more.

Since Theseus woke up, it was like the kingdom was thawing out. The kingdom was met with more friends than foes, the empress came back to good health, well enough for her to move around the castle without needing someone there constantly to make sure she wouldn’t fall over.

The kingdom was prosperous, it flourished with the finest of farms and gardens, it was known from land to land that it had built itself up from ruins and made itself known as the greatest kingdom to ever had been made.

Chapter 33: Lessons

Chapter Text

Tommy’s learned discipline. He’s learned to obey when he needs to and to fight when the time is right. If he doesn’t listen, or obey, or fight then he also know’s he will die. It has been very apparent since exile. Dream would come and go, try to get him to do things. That was where he was taught his first lesson.

Lesson one: Don’t talk back.

“Tommy, put all your things in the hole.” He tried to fight back, Dream stripped him of everything, all his items, all his hope and he still wanted more. “What!? Are you serious? You’ve taken everything from me!” Tommy stopped his foot on the ground, the first wrong move aside from talking back, “What more could you want from me? I’ve earned this!”

The first lesson, and first day ended with blood pooling on the ground and the boy in shambles. His hope and light in his eyes slowly fading.

Lesson two: Do what you’re told.

He had been mining since Dream took away and set his progress ablaze with TNT making him restart everything. He was fine. He was fine until he got a message on his communicator.

-Meet me on the surface-

He already knew who it was, who else would talk to him?

He met the man in front of his pathetic excuse of a tent and waited for Dream to talk. “I want you to put everything in the hole.” He gestured to the hole beside his tent, deep enough for TNT to be dropped down in. Tommy made no movement. He knew that if he talked back he would get hurt, the last time he did, he earned a large cut stretching from his top lip to just under his eye. He thought, maybe, if he did nothing, Dream would just give up and decide for tomorrow to bully him.

“Tommy.” Dream’s voice, muffled by the mask, dark and challenging. Tommy knew the authority Dream had over him. He was nothing more than a bird in a cage at the mercy of Dream to keep his promise of giving him the bare necessities to survive until he could go home.

Home…

“Tommy, what did I say?” Challenging, cold, bitter. Tommy shivered underneath the watchful eyes.

That day ended with is back basically broken, his spine was contorted, his wings that he usually kept hidden were plucked of his red feathers leaving the white ones to be stained crimson. He didn’t get up until the evening the next day. He didn’t feel like he could bring himself to.

Two lessons. Two simple lessons that he needed to learn. Two simple lessons he needed to learn for survival if he wanted to get home. These lessons turned out to be so hard to learn even with Dream’s help of constantly pounding it into his head. Or…his fist more like, but he was still trying to help him learn.

“Tommy!” Dream called from his tent. Tommy had eventually been able to make a small little fortress that aided him in security and safety, and Dream had been kind enough to even help him with it! The boy ran to his side smiling widely, his wings fluttering uncomfortably. “What's up big man?” Dream removed his mask, hanging it at his side with the straps tied around a loop in his pants. “How would you like to go see L’manburg for a little while?”

He could have sworn his heart burst. It felt like fireworks were setting off in his mind. Home. He was going home! “W-” He took a breath to calm himself from the excitement, “How long can I stay for? Can I see Tubbo! Wait- c-can we go see my house?” Dream put his hand over the teen’s mouth, clearly annoyed with all the questions. “You’re not staying for more than ten minutes. No, you cannot see Tubbo, and you can’t see your house either.” Tommy tried to protest, he needed some sense of normal and those were the only two things that would bring him any comfort, but Dream shut it down immediately. “Drop it.” there was no room for conversation.

They moved through the Nether, it was hot making Tommy’s cloths stick to his skin. His wings were slightly splayed out, for some type of air circulation that would cool them down. Dream stopped, Tommy ran into his back stumbling a bit before regaining his posture. “Wait here.” Tommy obeyed, he sat down on the bridge that was several feet above a ocean of lava that with one misstep he’d fall to his death. The sound of the portal caught Tommy’s attention, Dream stepped through, Tommy stood up. “I talked to Tubbo,” His heart did a flip in his chest, Tubbo still does think about him! “He doesn’t want you in the country just yet. A few more months probably.”

His heart dropped. His best friend didn’t want to see him. No one wanted to see him. He was forgotten, they didn’t want him there. The world, for a moment, turned duller. The colours weren’t as bright, he felt less alive than the first day of exile and he thought that was bad, but this was a new all time low. “N-no one wanted to see me? Was there anyone who wanted to come through to see me? Maybe Ranboo? Or Ghostbur?” Dream shook his head, almost solemnly.

“oh…”

Dream took him by the shoulder, and started to lead he way back to exile. The entire time, tommy looked off the edge and into the lava wondering if they would be upset he died and they never got to see him. “Tommy.” He knew what he was going to say, but he didn’t want to hear it. He stepped closer to the edge, wings longing to feel the wind blow through the feathers. A hand held his shoulder, tight, another held his arm, too tight. “It’s not your time to die.”

“It’s never my time.”

Days went on and it never got easier. The snow would nip at his nose, the pollen would make him sneeze, the rain would hit his skin, his knees would give out, Zombies would attack, Creepers would blow up, enderman would screech, and he would grow more tired as the hours passed.

It was night. The crickets sang their melodies, calling for others to join in. The cow’s would moo. The sheep would bah. The world was silent as Tommy built a tower. His final tower he would remind himself. He stood at the top looking down at the world around him, the portal, the christmas tree, his tent, the bell. So much he would leave behind. So much that reminded him of pain.

His wings became to weak to support him to fly. That was before Dream had cut them from his back. If he jumped…There would be nothing to embrace him to safety. His foot slowly creeped to the edge, his nerves getting to him. He crushed the letter in his hand, he wanted them to find him and hate themselves for not giving him a chance.

He closed his eyes and fell into the arms of the wind.

Dear people of L’manburg, I know I have messed up. You don’t have to remind me. I see your looks, the whispers. I know! Trust me I know. You all hate me and that’s okay, I can’t repair the damage that I have done, or take back what I have said to those I have hurt. But you no longer have to hate me. I have removed myself from this earth. Isn’t this what you all wanted? The boy that came from thinking only from the heart, who has caused chaos, who has caused death, and bloodshed, had finally taken his last breath. Thats a good thing right? If you find my body, please bury me next to Wilbur. I don’t care what you put on my grave stone, whatever it might say, I could care less. But please, as my final request. Put me next to Wilbur.

With love, and regret, Tommyinnit

Chapter 34: Touch

Chapter Text

A glass slammed against the wall next to the boy, his eye were blown wide, scared for his life. “DAMMIT TOM!”

His older brother was a kind man. He had taken him away from their parents because they had been cruel to them both and he had said their parents weren’t fit to raise either of them so he took over the roll as the father in the picture.

“Where is it? I set it down right here!” Tom’s older brother, Dream, he insisted on being called, paced around the room, flipping over the sofa cushions, opening and slamming cupboards and other things to look for something he had lost. Tom’s attention was brought back to reality when two harsh hands grabbed him by the face and lifted him off the couch to meet the other males green eyes. “Where the f*ck is it? It was right here with you! You must have taken it!”

When they had left, Dream had taken something from their father, something that was locked away in their closet that only Dream knew where the key to it was. When Tom had asked what he took, Dream had hit him and made him swear to never ask again. Years later, he still didn’t know. The most he knew was that it was a small locked box that Dream took with him everywhere he went.

There was no trust in their family

“N-no I didn’t why would I-” the boy was cut off by a hard blow to the face that left him on the ground, hazy and trying to hear what his brother was saying through the loud ringing in his ears.

Two years later, he would find that two officers would come to their apartment while Dream wasn’t home and take him away.

Deep down, he wanted to go home to his brother.

“Tom?” A head peaked through his door, one of the caretakers by the name of Puffy [as weird as it was]. The kid in question was laying on his bed scrolling through his phone, “It's Tommy.” Puffy sighed, “right, sorry. Well,Tommy There’s someone here who wants to meet you.” Tommy looked up from his phone, rolled his eyes and rolled over on his side with his back away from the woman, “Just tell ‘em to f*ck off or something…I dunno.”

She ended up with a few more bruises on her ribs and legs, and Tommy ended up in the meeting room face to face with a blonde man and a dark brown haired woman. “Mr and Mrs Watson, this is Tommy, why don’t you introduce yourself?” The woman bent down to meet his eyes and gave him the most comforting smile he’d ever seen in his life, “My name is Kristin, and this is my husband Phil. We have two other boys at home, Wilbur and Technoblade.”

Tommy shied away from the outstretched hand as a offer of a shake, and looked to Puffy for some sort of encouragement. Puffy gave a apologetic smile and explained, “He’s a bit shy, with… everything that has happened. He doesn’t trust people very easily.” With that, the woman, Kristin backed off and put her hand in her husbands. “So Tommy, how old are you?” The man sounded much different from what he’d expected. Which wasn’t too much since he just expected the man to sound like one of those intimidating father’s from TV shows he’d seen. “14.” Phil gave a soft smile, “Thats great! Wilbur is 16 and Techno is 17, you guys should get along well! But I should warn you, Wilbur has a slight temper issue, and Techno is a bit scary, but I told them to take it easy on you so they won’t scare you off.” Clearly the man was trying to joke, but it fell upon deaf ears. Tommy didn’t want to hear it. He would be out in a few months at most, that’s what it always has been like for him.

Ever since they took him away from his brother.

“Okay then! Tommy,” Puffy put a kind hand on his shoulder, after years of trying to get him to trust her that was the most physical touch he’d let anyone in the home do to him. “I’ll take the Watson’s to the other room and we’ll get everything set up. While we talk why don’t you get packed up and say goodbye to anyone you want?” Tommy nodded, scared to speak.

With that, the boy went back to his room, took out a duffle bag and started to stuff his belongings inside. All his games that went to his DS, his phone charger, headphones, clothing, blankets, books, drawing pads and pencils, and a small plush cow named henry. With everything packed up, he went back out to the front room to wait for the adults to return.

Kristin and Phil made small talk with each other after finding that Tommy didn’t want to talk at all as they walked to the car. Kristin instructed Tommy to climb in the back with his duffle bag.

The whole car ride Tommy’s skin ached to bring out his stuffed cow. Something he found when he was little, when he didn’t know what was going on, was that hugging his stuffed cow when he felt bad gave him the sense of safety, the only safety he had in his life. But when he had meetings, and when he had to go to another family, he couldn’t. They rode through the town and reached the end of it. Tommy wondered if they were lying to him and one of those killers that took kids to the middle of nowhere and killed them.

Kristin cleared her throat and looked in the mirror at Tommy, “We didn’t want to be too close to the town so we went on the outskirts, we’ve got a small farm with lots of animals which means we all have to do a few chores around, so I hope you don’t mind helping out a little bit.” Tommy didn’t say anything other than a hushed hum in response. “Do you have any favorite animals?” Phil looked in the rearview mirror at the boy, but the question was left unanswered.

The Watson’s lived in a nicely sized cottage, there was crops behind the house and a stable where pigs, cows and some horses lived. They introduced him to the animals which he found each of their kids had a horse to ride on, one named Carl which was Technoblades, and another named Sally which was Wilbur’s.

Inside the cottage small unlit lanterns were scattered around the countertops and tables for light, their front room was filled with houseplants that vined through the floorboards and climbed up the walls. It was like a fairy cottage you’d see in a story book. Kristin had left Phil to show Tommy around the house while she went to tend to the animals and feed them.

Tommy was stuck in his mind, in awe at the house. Phil stood by his side and chuckled at the kids expression. “Pretty nice huh?” Tommy nodded happily, he liked this house, hopefully he’d be able to stay for a while. “Well good thing you like it,” He put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Because we are hoping you can stay here.”

In Tommy’s mind, a simple hand on the shoulder was like getting a gun put to his head, he hated it unless it was Puffy. He moved before he could think about what he was doing. He flinched away from the touch, as he did he knocked his knee into a side table that had a vas of flowers that fell over with the force. It shattered against the floor, spilling all the water, glass slid against the floor and Tommy was left with trembling legs and hands. “Tommy do you-” “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to I swear!” He couldn’t hide the panic in his voice, he couldn’t think properly. He was brought back to the house he grew up in, hiding from his parents, hiding from his brother years later. The green eyes flickered in his mind, piercing through him.

It didn’t help that Phil had green eyes too.

“I s-swear I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry- I-” He couldn’t breath. Why couldn’t he breath!? He bent down and started to pile the glass shards in his hands, cutting into the skin but he ignored the pain and the blood dripping onto the floor. “Tommy-”

Wait f*ck- there was blood on the floor now…

He ignored all voices that were trying to talk to him and continued to pick up all glass shards and tried to soak up the blood with his sleeve which just more smeared it around. Phil couldn’t think of anything else to do other than hold him by the arms and stop the boy from hurting himself even more, “Tommy!” Phil shouted, which did make Tommy finally look him in the eyes.

“I-I-” “Tommy take deep breaths, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” The boy shook like a leaf in the wind, he was scared beyond belief. “Stop…” He tried to shake Phil’s hands off his arms. The touch felt like fire on his skin. “Let go…Please…I didn’t mean to…” He was quiet, a small voice, scared and unsure of who to trust. He was scared and Phil knew it, he’d seen it with his two other boys.

Phil let his grip loose slightly, “If I let go, do you promise not to do anything with your hands? Or run away?” Dazed Tommy nodded his head, he just wanted the man to stop touching him.

The touch burnt like fire, it was hot and it stung his skin. He hated it. He only knew the touch of fire that burnt his skin and left it red and purple.

Locking eyes with the boy, Phil guided him to the ground where he let go of his hands and backed up to give him room. Tommy’s eyes were wide, scared and panicked, his senses on high alert, Phil sat in front of him and started to pick up the broken pieces of glass and throw them away into a nearby trash can. After he was done, he crouched in front of Tommy again and held out his hands as a way of asking if he could see Tommy’s hands. Tommy put his hands in the others still dazed and not fully aware of what was happening.

There were small scratches and cuts and a larger and deeper one at the base of his thumb that was at least two inches long. Phil let out a sad sigh before standing up and walking to the bathroom where he got a first aid kit and bandaged from the kitchen medicine cabinet. He went back to Tommy and started to patch up his hand. In the end he had a bandage wrapped around his hand and small bandaids placed on the worse of the scratches. Tommy sat silent through it all.

A few hours later the front door swung open and a person came in with many boxes of books and a large coat that covered most of their features. They went to the table and put the boxes down with a large thud and a more than dramatic grunt in doing so. They removed their coat and put it on top of the boxes. He was wearing a pale yellow jumper with a black beanie that had a pig with a red crown sewn into it, black jeans and tennis shoes. He smiled, brushed off sweater and walked around the kitchen. Tommy watched him the entire time from the corner of the sofa.

He walked around, got a glass of water and didn’t question the broken glass in the trash can as he turned to go into the living room. Tommy and him met eyes, one confused and the other tired and worried. He took the glass away from his mouth, “Are you the kid mum said we are going to adopt?” he said pointing at Tommy. Tommy co*cked his head to the side in question, clearly confused by what he asked, “Are you…Technoblade? Mrs. Watson said she had two son’s.” The older boy choked on his water and started to cough as he set it down, “No! No, that's my brother, I’m Wilbur.” He walked over to the boy and held out his hand for a shake, “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Tommy looked from the outstretched hand back to his own, and felt awkward.

He held his hand close to his chest and muttered to himself, “I don’t do touch…” Wilbur looked hurt for a moment before covering it up and smiling, “That's okay, Techno doesn’t do touch either- or, not that much anyways.” Wilbur trailed off, not really paying attention to how Tommy got bored with what he was talking about, but eventually he saw that the boy was disinterested and stopped his rambling about how annoyed he was with a guy named Quackity that kept coming into the record and bookstore him and his brother worked at.

“Sorry, sometimes I don’t stop talking.” There was an awkward silence between the two, “Anyway… Techno should be home soon, he’s not a bad guy, just…intimidating at the most. See you at dinner!” With that, Wilbur took the boxes and disappeared upstairs. Tommy sat in silence, for minutes…maybe half an hour at least before Kristin came back wiping her hands on her pants and set her sunhat on the dining table and turned to Tommy. “Phil told me what happened, is your hand okay?” She walked over to the blond and asked to see his hand, which was met with a glare and him holding his hands closer to his chest. “...Don’t like touch? Techno doesn’t like it either, that can be something you two have in common.” She winked at him with a light smile before returning back into the kitchen where she prepared dinner for the family and Tommy.

Time passed quickly and fazed into nothingness. When he was brought to a new family, usually they were all nice to him, they prepared a good dinner, then they made him stay in his room because he wasn’t part of the real family he was pretending to be in. They usually casted him aside and- “Tommy!” Wilbur called from the top of the stairs pulling him away from his thoughts, the poisoning thoughts. Wilbur made a gesture for Tommy to follow him, and with reluctance he did. He followed Wilbur down the hallway to a smaller room of the other three that had a bed and all the basic necessities of a livable room.

“Mum said she didn’t want you to get into the room until it was finished, but I thought it’s better than you being stuck on the sofa and being uncomfortable.” He walked all the way in, looked around and said a small thanks to which Wilbur left with the door cracked.

The next day, he woke up to a massive thud in the hallway outside of ‘his’ bedroom and raced out of his room to see what happened. “Wil, you can’t just stand outside of his room.” There was a man- or…a kid? With long pink hair tied half up standing over Wilbur who was on the floor scrambling to get up when his brown eyes met Tommy’s piercing blue. “Oh!” Wilbur ran to Tommy’s side, not touching him not touching him?. “See! He’s awake! You woke him up Tech!” Tommy stood between the two, looking at brown eyes to the calm red, between the two brothers that seemed to have it out for each other.

“So…” The kid…he honestly couldn’t tell, he was short, but built. “You’re Tommy right?” Wilbur piped up, clearly not satisfied with whatever happened earlier that Tommy wasn’t there for. “Of course he is, who else would it be?” Wilbur deadpanned. “Yes Wil” he hissed silencing Wilbur from whatever he was going to say next, “But I wanted to ask him not you.” Wilbur huffed, turning on his heel and walking back to what he assumed was Wilbur’s bedroom.

“Sorry, Wil can be a bit of a hazard at times. He’s crazy…”

He held out his hand to Tommy. This family really likes handshakes. “I’m Technoblade. But knowing Wilbur, he probably warned you about me.” Tommy put on a smirk, maybe he could push this family into letting him go before they got anything out of it. “Yeah, he said you were a real sh*t person.” Technoblade put his hand back at his side and said nothing, “He did? What else did he say?” “Oh y’know, that you were crazy an’ I should watch out ‘cause you would take my soul or somethin’.” For the first time, someone in the family gave him a genuine confused smile and chuckled, “I am not crazy, Wil is insane and a menace to society.”

Tommy shrugged, “Sorry big man, he told me that first so thats what I’ll believe.” Technoblade let out a quiet sigh and rolled his eyes, “Sure kid.” He turned away from Tommy before quickly turning back suddenly remembering something, “Oh yeah, Phil said he wanted to get you some more clothes so we’re going to the shops today for a little bit.” Tommy nodded, “Okay…” He hated going to the shops…

Wilbur pulled on Phil’s coat he was wearing when the entered a clothing store. “Dad, I want to take Tommy. You all have terrible fashion sense and I’m the only one here that does.” From behind the lot, they heard Kristin clear her throat. Wilbur’s eyes widened, “Except for you mum. But the rest of you have terrible fashion sense.” He took Tommy away with a small gesture to follow him and both boys disappeared into the shop.

“What about this?” Wilbur held up a mustard yellow jumper that was far to big for him to wear. Tommy scrunched his nose up, “Sorry…not my style.” Wilbur shrugged and put it back continuing to look at the sweaters they had. In a separate isle bright red caught Tommy’s eye. As Tommy was walking to the isle he bumped into someone. He profusely apologized before looking up to meet eyes with whoever he had bothered.

Piercing green eyes froze him in one spot. On the mans face was a large pink scar that went across the bridge of his nose and through is eyebrow. He had dirty blonde hair and wore a lime green hoodie with a smile on the chest. “D-” “Tommy! There you are.” Wilbur ran to Tommy’s side before looking the man up and down. “And you are?” Wilbur questioned.

Tommy tried to intervene before Dream got too involved. “He’s no-” Dream cut him off, offering a kind smile to wilbur before introducing himself. “I’m Dream, Tom’s brother.” Wilbur and him shook hands. “So…Why was Tommy in the foster care system?” The question was so out of place that both Dream and Tommy were caught off guard, Dream stuttered for a minute before clearing his throat. “Tom is there because our parents were abusive and I couldn’t take care of him by myself.” Dream hissed. Wilbur looked him up and down before scowling slightly, “You seem to be getting along just fine.”

“Wilbur lets jus-” Dream turned to Tommy, putting an arm around his shoulders and hugged him. “It’s been so long Tom! How have you been?”

Wilbur and him exchanged a bit of words when Kristin called from the front of the store that they were leaving now, in a moment of panic Tommy tried to get Wilbur to follow his family so they could all leave. “Hold on,” Wilbur pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and scribbled something down and gave it to Dream. “Come for dinner tonight, we’d love to talk to one of Tommy’s family members.”

Tommy sat in the car in silence while the others talked amongst themselves. He was dreading dinner. He couldn’t think of anything worse to ruin his day than his ‘brother’ coming in and ruining something that could be nice for just a few months. Even just for a few months he could bask in the warmth of their smiles and words before they got annoyed. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to look at who it was. “We’re home.” Technoblade scooted out of the car after that and headed inside with Tommy trailing behind.

Later that night there was a knock at the door. Time froze for Tommy, every step that Phil took towards the door felt like thunder in a storm. Phil finally opened the door and revealed his ’brother’. Dream stepped into the house after giving Phil and Kristin a handshake as well as also giving them a gift of wine.

Tommy was sat on the sofa, next to Technoblade and Wilbur who was on his phone. “Hey Tom.” Dream came and sat next to him too f*cking close. Tommy looked down away from the eyes that cut through him, slash at his skin, burnt it to a crisp to leave it to peal and blister. He quietly muttered a small hello before going silent again.

“Dinner’s ready!” Phil called from the kitchen, they all got up, Tommy following close behind Technoblade since he saw him as the most fit to protect anyone else in the house. Tonight they would have steak, baked potatoes and pasta. Technoblade sat down, looking at Dream’s every move. Wilbur next, then Tommy who sat down at the farthest part of the table away from Dream. In the end, Dream wiggled his way to sitting right next to Tommy.

Kristin pipped up finally being done with the awkward silence. “So…Dream was it?” Dream hummed through a chunk of steak, “Can I ask why Tommy was in the foster care system?” He swallowed before talking, “Well, when I was little, our parents were abusive so I knew when Tom was born, I needed to get him away from there. So when I was old enough I ran ran away with him after being emancipated and we lived in a apartment before someone lied about me not being fit enough to raise my brother.” There was venom in his voice, he didn’t like the questions and Tommy knew it. Tommy knew that Dream only saw him as Tom a small child that couldn’t do anything for himself, his little brother. His property.

“I see…Well, how are you doing now?” something in the room turned slightly brighter, something had changed, “I’m doing good now, I’m just trying to get stable enough in all aspects to get Tom back.”

Tommy’s heart dropped. He wanted him back? After everything that he’s done? There was no way Tommy was going to let that happen, or even have a chance of happening. “Dr-Dream, I think-” “-No! Tom it’s okay, don’t worry, it’ll be better than last time. We can get you into a school you like and you won’t have to worry about anything anymore.” Dream smiled at him with something glimmering in his eyes. Something deadly, something that scared Tommy enough to stop talking then and there. “And, I think we should leave now. Just me and you, for a few hours at least. Just like old times?” Dream looked at Phil and Kristin sitting at the opposite end of where they were and asked for permission to take him for some ‘brotherly bonding’.

“I guess it’s fine as long as he comes back in a few hours.” No. “Just be safe and don’t do anything bad.” No no no no no no! They can’t allow this. How did they not see that he was a terrible person!? “Great! Thank you so much!” Dream went to stand up as Tommy got up from his chair quickly knocking it over in doing so. “I-” He was out of breath, “Tommy, it’s okay really, they won’t get mad at us for this, I promise.” Kristin said, “N-no, it’s not that it's-”

His breathing started to kick up, the memories of hiding away from the one person he was supposed to trust, the bruised, bloody noses, back eyes, the screams, the yelling, the burning of the hatred that his brother gave him all came back in full force. “Tom, your overreacting.” Dreams voice echoed in his brain,

“Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!”

“It didn’t hurt that much!”

“Boys don’t cry!”

Everything came back, he was a little kid again, his brother was mad and he needed to run away before he got hurt. In his delirium Tommy rushed out of the dinning room ignoring all the shouts and concerned questions, up to his room and slammed the door shut.

As Tommy ran, Dream watched the boy go, Wilbur went to stand up when a hand on his shoulder pushed him back down, “Don’t worry, I got him.” Dream left to the room Tommy went into, opened the door and shut it behind him.

He found Tommy on the floor in the closet with his head between his knee’s. “Tom.” The boy shot his head up, “You’re making me look bad, stop being a little bitch and let’s go.” “But they- They l-like me!” Dream snickered, wiping stray tears away from his cheek, pulling Tommy out roughly by his arm onto the ground outside of the closet and grabbed his chin make him look at him. ”No one likes you. No one is going to love you. This is all a game and all you’re useful for is to be a punching bag.” Tears started to fill his eyes, “Oh come one, you really didn’t think they actually like you, right?” He started to laugh as Tommy cried on the floor. “I mean, come on! That brown haired guy pays more attention to himself than anyone else, and that Technoblade person doesn’t give a sh*t about anyone at all!” He grasped Tommy’s shirt collar and lifted him up, “They don’t care about you. They won’t. I’m the only one that will ever care about you and you let them take you away from me.” Dream slammed Tommy to the ground, earning a loud thud and yelp from the boy, “You are mine.” He pressed Tommy’s head against the hardwood floor with his foot more, loving the sounds of the struggling and blood coming from the boy’s nose.

There was a knock at the door. “Tommy, is everything okay? We heard a thud.” It was Wilbur, for a fleeting moment he wanted to let Dream cover it up with some sneaky remark like they were having a great time talking and something got knocked over, or that someone tripped, but the overwhelming feeling of wanting to live, and be free overtook him as he yelled through the pushing of the shoe on his face and bloody nose. “Wilbur! No I’m no-” Dream took him from the floor and punched him in the face, bruising his nose badly. He’d forgotten how hard he could hit.

The door flung open almost flying off the hinges. Panicking Dream crouched over him and put on a solum face, “Tom! Are you okay?” Wilbur walked in, crouching beside Tommy helping Dream lift him up. It was clear that he didn’t fall over, but Wilbur hadn’t said anything.

Save me! Tommy wanted to scream, he wanted to scream and throw things and hurt Dream like he did to him so many times before. Wilbur did nothing else but sigh, Tommy’s eyes widened with fear. Was he just going to leave him here, with him?

“Tommy come with me, Dream stay here please, I’m just going to go get him some ice.” Dream nodded, turned to Tommy and whispered to him, “If you say anything, I will kill you.” Tommy struggled out a quiet shakey ‘okay’ and went with Wilbur into the bathroom where he pushed Tommy in and closed the door then locking it.

Wilbur rushed up to Tommy, ignoring the violent flinch in doing so and held his face with his hands. “What did he do to you? Has he always done this? Is this why they took you away from him?” The fear and worry in Wilbur’s brown eyes made Tommy feel safe, something about him made him feel like he was home and wasn’t going to be hurt around him. He wasn’t going to raise a hand to him, he wasn’t going to throw things at him, and he was safe with him. Tommy’s eyes flooded with tears as he sobbed into Wilbur’s chest spilling everything that happened to him inside the god forsaken house that Dream called home.

Wilbur held him close, reassuring him, telling him he would fix everything and that Dream wouldn’t hurt him ever again. Wilbur, still holding onto the boy talked into his fluffy blonde hair, “When we come out, stay next to me and I will explain everything to Mum and Dad. Okay?” Tommy nodded, to tired and emotionally drained to respond. Wilbur unlocked the door, held Tommy’s hand and walked to the dinning room where the family was impatiently waiting.

Phil was the first to ask a question, “What happened? Where’s Tommy?” Wilbur looked behind him at the blonde that was clenching his hand and the back of his sweater with a death grip shaking uncontrollably. “He’s right here. Actually, there is something we need to talk to you all about.” Wilbur walked around the table and sat down with Tommy glued to his side, looking down, not making a sound. “Dream needs to leave and never come back. He hurt Tommy and broke his nose. I’m assuming that he’s done this before since Tommy tried to get us away from him but…” Wilbur swallowed a lump in his throat for being to stupid to see the signs, “I didn’t listen to him.”

Suddenly Tommy started to panic again, his breathing quicker, hands shaking more, and pressed himself into Wilbur more, as if to hide completely. Dream came down that stairs to the dinning room with a look of worry, “Is he okay?” Technoblade stood up, crossing his arms blocking him from Tommy. “He’s fine. You need to leave.”

“Wh- But I just got here! Tom is my brother, you can’t just tell me to leave!” a chair squeaked as Phil stood next to Techno. “You need to leave right now, or I will call authorities.” It wasn’t a choice, it was a command. Dream scoffed stepping back slightly, “You all will get bored of him, and he will come crawling back to me. He is useless to you. f*cking weak. You’ll come back to me Tom and when you do, I’ll f*cking kill you.” That was a promise, and he knew it. Dream turned around, gathering his things, taking the wine he had given the Watsons and slammed the door on his way out.

When the door was closed Tommy practically crumbled onto the floor, he sat there taking in deep breaths, wiping tears from his face and trying to not think of the worst outcome. Wilbur was there through it all, asking him questions like what he could see and feel till eventually he was calm enough to stand up and go to the sofa where he was still glued to Wilbur’s side. Kristin had come over with water and paper towels to clean up the blood on his face and the promise of getting a restraining order against his brother the next day. After he was cleaned up, they all decided to watch a movie to take his mind off the events that happened.

For the first time in years, he loved the warmth of someones arm wrapped around him, and the feeling of another’s chest rise and fall, the beat of his heart, the soft blanket around his tired body. His eyes felt heavy as they put in the movie UP. He fell asleep listening to Wilbur’s heartbeat and the calming of his voice as he hummed the intro.

Chapter 35: Help

Chapter Text

If wilbur was honest. He would say he wasn’t the best hero. Not even in the top 30 he’d say. When he was brought into the hero committee he thought it had to have been a very big mistake. [even though his friend Quackity said otherwise.] He walked into the great hall, standing above him were several statues of the most known hero’s. He decided in the end to look at the floor, he felt as if he was being watched and they knew his faults.

He was 12 when he arrived. 13 when he started his training, 16 when he started his patrols, 17 when he officially became a hero.

In those years, he and Quackity had a falling out. “YOUR JUST SELFISH.” stuck in his mind like a tattoo, constantly there even when he tried to remove it. He eventually adopted the name Phantom, something Captian Puffy had picked out for him when the time came. He didn’t have the best powers. Not close to what Dream and The Warden had, but it was something he could use in battle. He liked to call it a siren voice Puffy advised him to name it something else after Dream had said something about it.

“The children don’t like you.”

“It’s best if you stay backstage, y’know how they all feel about you.”

“Sorry kid, nothin’ personal, they just like me more.”

He was always told to stay behind, or out of sight. The people didn’t like him because they said his power was only one of a villain. And he tried to show them otherwise. God he tried. He didn’t kill anyone, he made sure everyone else’s saftey was above his own, saved so many people's lives and still, “Today citizens reported the sight of Phantom in the nearby area, I am being told by local authorities to advise everyone to stay inside.” a woman on the new’s said.

But he wasn’t a safety hazard….

It wasn’t until he was fighting tooth and nail against the Blood God that it finally snapped into place why everyone feared him. He was just like the hero Angel. Arrogant, insecure, and unsure… But he’d been lost to a battle, one the city never liked to talk about. And Wilbur would not be lost to battle.

“Give up Phantom, you have no more strength left. I’ll make it quick and painless.” The Blood God said through breaths of exhaustion. Phatom shook his head, taking a breath, he wasn’t going to give up that easily. “f*ck you.” Was the last thing he was able to say before the Blood God pounded him into the ground to a pulp. He was bleeding out when Puffy finally came to collect him. She raised him from the ground, wipped the blood from his mouth and with a grim look said, “They wanna let you go…”

“Wilbur!” His head shot up from the counter he was lying on and met eyes with the person who called his name, it was just jack. He rubbed his eyes and face before responding, “yeah?” “you look like hell. Have you been sleeping?” He made a small bitter laugh, resting his head on his hand and played with the glass infront of him. “How much can someone sleep when they’ve been homeless?” Jack shook his head sadly, took the cup from Wilbur’s hand and shooed him out.

His head was fuzzy, props to the drink he decided to drown himself in that night. He stumbled down the streets to the one he had called his ‘home’ and flopped down on his makeshift bed in a tent he’d been able to steal. He curled in on himself, savoring the warmth he had while the buz was still kicked in even though he’d probably slept most of it off.

In the morning he would wake to a man shaking his shoulder. He grumbled in response, telling him to f*ck off, but wasn’t left alone as the shaking only continued and got more agressive. Wilbur snapped his eyes open, and punched the man in the face as a reflex. The man huddled over holding his nose, cursing to himself and at Wilbur. Wilbur stepped out from his tent to get a better look at the guy.

He had blonde hair pulled into a half up half down hairstyle, green coat with black pants and brown boots. Void black wings curled around him in a protective manner. Wilbur stood over him ready to fight but the man held up a hand. “Please- I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” His voice was something different, something more calm, comforting, fatherl- Nope, Wilbur was not going to do that to himself. “Then what the f*ck were you doing?” The man stood up all the way, still holding his bloody nose. “I saw you walking home last night and wanted to make sure you were okay…” and then more quietly, “You looked drunk.”

Wilbur puffed out his chest more, the scowl on his face only growing more, “Are you calling me an alcoholic?” The man profusely shook his head stumbling over his words. “No! I wasn’t! I promise. I just wanted to make sure you would wake up, it was really cold last night and isn’t the safest condition to sleep outside…” He looked behind Wilbur, “In a tent.” Wilbur huffed, “Well you made sure I was alive, good job!” He faked a smile, “Now can I go the f*ck back to sleep?” The man made a apologetic smile and held out his hand, “I’m Phil, I live right across the street on the second floor. If you need anything, knock on my door.” reluctantly he responded, “Wilbur.” he never took Phil’s hand.

Since that night, Phil had come back several times. Even with the constant cursing out that Wilbur tended to do since he wasn’t looking for anyone to treat him like a baby. Because he could handle himself, he still came back. Everyday.

“Hey mate!” Phil called from the end of the alleyway, he held up a plastic bag with a big smile that made Wilbur recoil. He hated people being too friendly to him. Wilbur rolled his eyes, rubbed the grogyness away and proceeded to meet Phil where he was standing.

They were face to face when Phil handed him the bag. “I got this for you so maybe you won’t think I’m so bad.” His voice was soft, and sincere, maybe he could trust him more than he thought. Phil bought him food and he hadn’t been hungry for the past week, so he’d been nicer to him. He questioned the man,“What is it?” Phil said nothing but gestured to the bag with a bright smile.

Inside the bag was various items of clothing. He pulled out a sweater that was thick and warm, other thick clothing that he knew he was going to use to keep warmth, and at the bottom was a huge thick as f*ck blanket that was soft and insulated. Wilbur was speachless, he didn’t know what to say. Wilbur looked to meet Phil’s green eyes, and opened his mouth to try and say something, but nothing came out. “It’s okay,” Phil smiled, “Just think of it as a early christmas gift.” He wanted to say something, so badly, but deep down he knew he needed this more than anything, and Phil had been so kind already. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling before he knew he was crying, it was uncontrollable, “I-” he took a deep breath to calm himself down wiping away stray tears, “This truly mean so much more than you think. Thank you, Phil.”

That night, he told himself he would be dammed if he had to knock on Phil’s door when he’d already done so much for him. He couldn’t ask for anything else, it was selfish if he did. But once night settled in, the temperatures dropped a significant amount he couldn’t help but long for Phil to come back and ask him if he was okay.

By midnight Wilbur decided that this wasn’t the way he wanted to go out. He was shivering, and nothing was helping, all the blankets, sweaters Phil had given him and his trench coat he stole hadn’t been enough to warm him and his fingers were starting to turn purple. He could barely feel his hands as he got up in a moment of desperation and walked [more ran] to the building Phil said he lived in and desperately pounded on the door.

Phil opened the door with tired eyes that blew wide and concerned upon seeing Wilbur’s state and rushed him inside. The rest was a blur for Wilbur, he could remember the sound of another voice, but couldn’t keep awake to tell what they were saying.

Darkness consumed him. His body was stif and cold, hard and empty. In the darkness a red light shined then opened up to a blood red forest. The feeling of pure dread filled his body enough to make him start running. What was he running from? He didn’t know. Behind him he could hear his name being called, the thing calling to him was gaining on him faster than he could run. Suddenly he fell down onto the leaf covered ground, something pinned his back to the ground, and all he could feel was fire, a blistering heat tearing through the skin. He cried for help but nothing came out, he was helpless and terrified grasping for anything, scratching at the ground, tears rushed down his face. Wilbur managed to look behind him to see what was tearing him up.

The Blood God stood over him with his boot crushing his spine, and with his sword between two hands plunged it into him.

Wilbur woke up with a gasp and sat up immediately. His breath was quick and uneven and his eyes were darting around an unfamiliar room he’d never been to. Confused and alert he tried to stand but his legs were trapped in something that caused him to fall onto the ground with a huge thud. He heard rushed footsteps coming from behind where he was sleeping and in his still half asleep state his flight or flight instincts took over and he shoved himself into a corner between the sofa and the television. Someone called out his name, “Wilbur?” He couldn’t quite hear them, maybe he was still in his dream. He pintched the skin on his arm until he felt a warm liquid pool around his fingers. He closed his eyes for a fleeting moment to gather himself, and when he opened them back up a man with pink hair was crouched in front of him.

Surprised and scared he went for a kick which the man stopped before it could even start. He held his leg in place and shouted for another person, “Phil, I found him.” A blonde man rushed to the others side crouching in front of Wilbur with a highly concerned look on his face. “Wilbur? What happened? Are you hurt?” Phil instinctively went to reach for Wilbur’s bloody arm to which was pulled away and held to his chest out of fear. Phil held up his hands and backed away, “We’re only here to help you and nothing else.” He held his hand out to Wilbur, “Can I check your arm to make sure you’re okay?” Shakenly he gave Phil his arm to look over.

A few moments past and all three people were sitting in the middle of the living room on the floor. The silence was broken when the pink haired man spoke. “Phil said you were sleeping in the alleyway by our apartment.” Wilbur shuddered thinking about how cold it was and how hopeless he felt being stuck inside that nightmare. He nodded silently, “How long have you been there?” He averted his eyes to the floor below him and spoke quietly and bitter, “I don’t have to explain myself to you…” One man sighed disapointed, “Listen we just want to help.” The pink man explained. “Phil told me about you and I think I know why you’re here.” He pulled out his phone and turned it on. He spent a few seconds scrolling through before he settled on a news article.

BREAKING NEWS: Rookie hero Phantom disappeared from the hero committee.

Citizens are overjoyed that the hero Phantom was let go today because of a violation of the hero code.

Wilbur felt a shiver go up his spine, he remembered that article very well, and replayed it in his head several times a day. He met eyes with the one holding the phone, “What about it?” The man sighed and scrolled more, “It says when Phantom was let go. 2025.” Red eyes met brown and Wilbur shrugged, he wasn’t sure where he was going with it. “His name is William Gould.” Still not getting it he raised his eyebrows, the man sighed in slight annoyance, “When a hero is let go, they usually have to change their name and identity. Phantom was let go in 2025 and you seem like you’d been here for about 2 or 3 years. And your name is Wilbur.” He waved his hands in a circular motion trying to get Wilbur to understand where he was going. And it finally clicked.

Wilbur tried to play it off like the guy was some crazy fan trying to make up theories. “There’s a lot of people with the same name, how could you even know if he came to this part of town? I could’ve just moved here when that happened without knowing. Plus everyone hates him, if someone knew who he is then I doubt they’d let him inside their home.” Silently Phil put his hand on Wilbur’s knee, “We know that you’re Phantom.”

He tried his dammed best, he never wanted people to figure that out, he wasn’t Phantom and Phantom wasn’t him. Not anymore at least. He’d left that life behind and wanted to start new without the hero attached to him. Wilbur chuckled in disbelief, “You can’t just assume the first guy named something similar to William is a ex-hero. That’s just absurd.”

The two kept interrogating him, asking him questions about things that only a hero would know, or small details about time spans. Eventually he got fed up, he was angry and wanted to leave that life behind and here these two people are, making him feel like he’s back at the hero tower being asked why he did what he did in a life threatening situation. “I think it’s time for me to leave.” Wilbur stood up heading for the door, picking his trench coat off the side of the sofa. Before he could reach the door the pink haired man stood in front of the door, “You’re not leaving before you answer our questions,” Wilbur cut in before he could finish, “You can’t just keep me here! You lot are insane, if you don’t let me leave we’ll have severe problems.”

“Wil-” Phil tried to plead with him, and he snapped, for the first time in years he used his Siren voice, ”Let me go.” Entranced in his voice they listened, stepping away from the entrance and staying still until it wore off.

Since that day they didn’t see Wilbur. He was no where to be found and no one knew who he was when they would ask around. Eventually they stopped looking for him, it was useless to try to find someone who doesn’t want to be found.

Technoblade worked at a bar in the east end of town, it was very popular so he never cared to remember any of the passbyer’s faces. As he entered the bar and started to serve drinks to customers a specific curly brown hair mess slumped over a table caught his attention. He turned to his coworker, “Schlatt cover me real quick, I think we have a blackout.” The horned man laughed and threw a couple sarcastic comments before taking over what Techno was doing.

He walked over to the person and shook their shoulder, the person stured in their drunken sleep curling their arms under their head and laying on their cheek. “Jus’ five ‘ore minutes.” His voice was thick with a british accent, severely slurred and completely unaware of where he was. Techno sighed patting the guy on his back, “Alright man, but you need to leave in about an hour ‘cause we close.” and with that he left him to sleep.

Two hours passed before Techno had to wake him again. Because the bar was like a club with flashing neon lights and dark walls, he never got a good look at his face. Still in the same position as two hours ago Techno shook his shoulder, “You gotta leave now, we’re closed.” The brunette moved a little bit before picking up his head, he rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. “‘Orry, ‘m leavin’.” Only when he stumbled up out of his chair did Techno see his face.

It was Wilbur but he looked far worse than the last time they saw eachother, his hair was a complete mess, he looked thinner, there were dark purple bags under his eyes and he was pale. “Wilbur?” Techno took his arm helping him to his feet. Wilbur laughed, “no.” was all he said, Techno questioned him further, “No? What do you mean by that?” Wilbur shook his head putting most of his weight on the other. “I’m a bad person, I did bad things.” He could hear his voice getting weary with tears. Techno sighed sadly, “Can I take you home? It’s not safe for you to be on your own right now.”

In the end Wilbur was in the passenger seat of Technoblades car driving to his apartment that was just a few blocks away from Phil’s. When they managed to get into the apartment and Wilbur situated on the couch with pillows and blankets [and a trash bin in case he vomits.] Techno called Phil.

The morning after Wilbur woke up with a throbbing migraine. Sitting on the sofa rubbing his temples trying to relive some of the pain the cushion next to him dipped. “I got you some water.” Wilbur opened his eyes to a glass of water being handed to him. And oh did he love it. The cold liquid ran down his throat to calm the burning in his neck, killing the dehydration he woke with. After downing the water he rubbed his face trying to remember what happened. He started with the most obvious question he should have asked as soon as he was awake. “Where the f*ck am I?” His accent was thick and slurred but the other person in the room could still understand what was said. “Your at my house, I took you home ‘cause you weren’t safe by yourself.” Wilbur looked beside him, and lo and behold the pink haired man from Phil’s house was sitting next to him. “f*ckin’ hell.” The man held out his hand, “We started off on bad terms so let’s restart. I’m Technoblade.”

The rest of that day was spent on Technoblades couch trying not to throw up all his insides and a piercing migraine that would not go away. He had his arm over his eyes when there was a knock on the door. Techno answered the door, exchanged a few hushed words with whoever it was and then closed the door. “Hey mate, how are you doing?” He shifted his arm to still shield his eyes from the light above him but enough to see who was talking. Phil was crouched in front of Wilbur, he was wearing a dark green hoodie, and black sweatpants and his hair was half up half down hairstyle. Wilbur groaned into his arm trying to suppress the pain that pinched the side of his head.

Phil laughed quietly then stood up walking elsewhere. He felt a hand on his shoulder a few moments later. Phil spoke with a quiet voice, “Take this, it might help a little.” Wilbur removed his arm letting the light blair into his eyes and whined. “C’mon, it’ll make you feel better.” In Phil’s hand was two small clear blue pills, He looked the man in the eyes scowling, “Are you drugging me?” Phil shook his head and held his hand toward Wilbur more. “Just some pain meds, it’ll help with the migraine. Wilbur sighed heavily, “Fine.” He took the pills and swallowed them without water then rolled with his back faceing the other two hiding his face in the blankets.

When the afternoon came Wilbur felt more guilty than anything else. The migraine and nausea was manageable but he couldn’t stay in Technoblades apartment just because he drank too much the night before. While the other two weren’t looking, Wilbur took his chance to slip out of the house undetected. Quietly he gathered his belongings, folded the blankets nicely on the sofa and slipped out the door with little to no sounds. While he was walking down the stair he heard a door slam open with a loud bang and two people calling to him. In response he ran down the stairs, skipping four at a time before his ankle gave out on him and he crashed to the concrete floor. He cursed under his breath holding his ankle in pain. “sh*t.” He tried to move it, just in case it was nothing more than a small sprain but hissed when a sharp stabbing pain shot up his leg.

Running footsteps stopped a few stairs away from him, he looked up. “Mate…” almost like a whine or a plead came from Phil, his black wings were puffed out. “Please let us help you.” He pleaded. Something in his voice calmed Wilbur, almost like someone was using his siren voice against him to calm him down. Wilbur bit back insults and settled with, “No.” “What do you mean no? We’re trying to help you!” Technoblade shouted. Wilbur scoffed, “I don’t need help. Especially from someone who practically kidnapped me.” Anger rose from the pinkette who in return scowled and yelled, “You weren’t safe by yourself! How could I just let you go?” “Are you serious?” Wilbur looked between the two, “I was drunk, I wasn’t sober. How could I have known you were someone to trust? You could have been some random ass person!” Technoblade opened his mouth to shout at the brunette until Phil put his hand on his chest and shook his head.

“I get where you’re coming from. I really do. I was in your situation before.” Phil sat down in front of Wilbur with legs crossed. “If you don’t want to tell us about your past, thats fine.” Techno tried to say something when Phil shook his head to silence the man. “But Wilbur,” something in the air changed, something familiar and soft, fatherly and…loving? “Please let us help you, that’s all I ask. You can stay with me for a while until you find a job somewhere to stay, if you want.”

No. f*ck no.

He tried to say something, something to tell them he was fine but all he could muster up was a small weary, “I can’t.” Phil scooted closer to him, “Yes you can. Just because someone told you that getting help was being weak, doesn’t mean it is.” Tears broke through his eyes, “No, I- I can’t.”

He closed his eyes and opened them up again. The room was different, almost hazy, he was sitting at a table and the other end was the top hero. “You could have handled that alone.” He picked at the skin around his fingernails, his anxiety crawling up his back. “I- I couldn’t get him to listen, I tried an-” The hero raised her hand silencing the boy, “You didn’t try hard enough. You skipped your training classes, ignored when we tried to give you advice and on top of that, you let Dream and The Warden get hurt!” She sighed, taking a breath, “Phantom, when you can handle a situation yourself, you cannot ask for help.”

All those years. He’d never been allowed to ask for help because they thought it’d be better for him to learn. Every time he’d been bleeding out on the ground, he would hear whispers of the people. “He’s not meant for this.”

“He should have never been accepted.”

“Such a waist.”

And no one believed him. No one took his side. He was alone and thats what he was used to. Why should he ask for help even when he knew he’d be in the hospital for weeks? Why would he ask for help when clearly a spear through his stomach wasn’t a thing to whine about? He never asked for help, so he never needed it. He would heal himself, take the spear out and apply pressure so he didn’t bleed out. He would stay in the hospital allowing himself to starve because he wasn’t going to ask for something to eat.

So why was this time different?

Why did he feel like his body was so heavy and weak. Why did this one blonde man make him want to cry on his shoulder and spill his guts?

He couldn’t register anything until he felt two hands on his shoulders. “-ilbur.” He blinked his eyes, “Wi-” everything was quiet, he felt frozen with fear, like he was stone. “Wilbur!” He was shaken and almost like he was asleep, he woke up.

His eyes focused back and two people were staring at him. Instead of Phil being infront of him Technoblade took his spot, he was kneeling over him with one hand on Wilbur’s chest and the other on his wrist. He was checking his pulse and stabalizing him so he didn’t fall over. “There you are.” He gave a soft smile, let his hands fall away from Wilbur’s body and sat cross legged. Technoblade took a deep breath, then spoke with a soft voice, “If you don’t ask for help, nothing will change, if you want to get better, you don’t have to do it yourself.” He layed his hand on Wilbur’s knee, “We’re here to help you, nothing else. Phantom or Wilbur, we’re here for just you.”

He felt exhaustion come over him like a wave of warm water, it was comforting and calm, he felt relieved that he was able to finally relax. He’d been on the run from his old life for so long it felt like if he stayed in one place it would catch up with him finally. He constantly looked over his shoulder, watching the darkness for any movement, listening to the breeze for any stray whispers. He was so paranoid, waking up in a cold sweat from nightmares, still being trapped in the mindset of run or die. The prickles on the back of his neck when someone would say a name that started with W, the sweat that dripped down his forehead when he would see any hero walking abou the city. He’d turn away, stopping anything he was doing and hide like his life depended on it.

Wilbur took a shaky breath, searching the red and green eyes for any lies. When he couldn’t find anything, he let his body go limp and shut his eyes.

“Fine.” He whispered.

Chapter 36: Artist

Chapter Text

Curse art Wilbur thought to himself as he sat on a cushion on the living room floor. Phil had decided that since Techno had taken Tommy to deal with the shopping and the gathering of things they needed around the house, they would spend time together doing ‘bonding’ stuff. Music played in the background on the TV, Phil looked up to check on Wilbur, the tip of his tongue was out of his mouth concentrating on whatever he was drawing. Phil smiled to himself and chuckled lightly, he looked down at his own drawing of a crow perched upon a weeping willow.

A few more minutes past before Phil set his own pencil down and picked up his sheet of paper checking it over before shrugging and dubbed as ‘good enough’. Wilbur who was still concentrated on his drawing didn’t notice when Phil looked over his shoulder. Wilbur wasn’t the artistic one in the family, that was more a Technoblade thing [he loved to paint]. On the paper was what looked like four people, one in green, another in yellow, one with pink hair and the smallest with yellow hair wearing red.

Phil’s wings puffed up as he tried to hold back a coo to his little boy. “Awwwwe, mate!” Wilbur looked behind him, his father’s eyes blown wide, his own wings tensed with the fact that Phil saw before he could finish it. “Is that us?” Wilbur’s face burned up turing red, his feathered ears fluffing up with embarrassment. He shrunk in on himself, “Yeah…It’s…It’s not good, but- but I thought-” Phil cut him off with a hug, he wrapped his wings protectively around him and his boy as he chirped and said small little things. “I love it Wil, it’s amazing as it is.”

Years later, Wilbur was eighteen now. He came down the hallway to Phil’s bedroom door, knocked on it lightly and only entered when he heard a small “come in.” from his father. He opened the door, light trickling in from the hallway light, Phil was sat as his desk, doing some work on his PC. He turned around in his chair, and smiled tiredly, “Hey mate, what's up?” Wilbur walked all the way in, and shut the door, he then placed himself on Phil’s bed, making himself comfortable, and shrugged. “I dunno, jus’ wanted to come see you.” Phil frowned, the only time Wilbur came into his room was when he was stressed or overwhelmed with something. “Do you want to talk about it?” Wilbur hummed, not very willing to talk about it.

Picking himself up off the chair, turning off the PC, Phil rested next to the brunette, and pulled him to lay halfway on his chest. Wilbur’s wings were small, something Phil always loved about the boy. The feathers were ones that resembled an owl, the small feathers were still mostly baby feathers since his wing’s never fully grew. Unlike Phil, his were smaller than the ‘average’ size, only roughly 3ft long, and Phil’s were 6ft. Since he was a boy he’d always been self conscious about it.

Phil ran his fingers through the feathers, preening him, and taking a mental note that they were not as well taken care of as they usually are. “So, what's wrong?” Wilbur took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he snuggled more into his father’s embrace, letting the feeling of his big crow wings wrap around the lot, consume him. “I’m just really tired.” Phil rested his chin on the brown locks, still going through his feathers. Phil started to hum a song, a song from when his boy’s were younger, before the wars became too much, before Wilbur pushed the button, before Tommy was murdered, before everything that came crashing down on them.

He started to sing, “I am a craftsman and you are my son,” The wind blew outside, like a whisper from an old friend, “a child I created cannot be unborn.” Wilbur let the sound of Phil’s heart beat and his voice lure him to a calming embrace, “feathers and wax make of promising wings.” Owl feathers fell beside the two as they were plucked from their places and moved into the right spots, “taunting the Gods is the way of all kings.” Wilbur hugged Phil closer, he wanted to be as close to his father as he could. He would even go as far as saying he would want to be under his skin and sleep there forever. The warmth from the arms wrapped around him, the soft hands combing through his fragile wings, the hum from his father’s chest, the low voice giving him a sense of euphoria that he could never get from anything else. “And what have I done? I tried to play God and I played with my son,” Phil smoothed out the feathers and retracted his hands to sit on the younger ones shoulders.

Wilbur snuggled farther into Phil’s chest, which honestly seemed almost impossible seeing how close they already were. “Are you feeling better?” Wilbur hummed in response, not wanting to take away from the moment they were in.

They abandoned words only to leave themselves in the sound of synced heart beats and calming rise and fall of their chests. The world called to them to sleep and they listened, something to restart their thoughts, something to reset their fears and worries. They fell into a mindless sleep only accompanied by the occasional light snore from Wilbur.

Chapter 37: Beautiful Boy

Chapter Text

“Dad!” Phil turned away from cooking dinner to his kid calling for him, the bouncing blonde boy ran up to him yanking his hand towards the door, “Calm down mate, what do you want to show me?” The boy yanked harder, grunting in doing so, “There’s a kid in a box!” Becoming worried, he followed his son once he decided the dinner was fine to be left alone for a few minutes.

He was dragged by his wrist to a clearing in the woods where like Tommy had said, was a cardboard box sitting in the grass. “He’s here! I think he’s sleeping.” Tommy put a finger to his lips, shushing his father as he guided him closer. Inside just like the boy had said, was a small boy, curled up in a light blue blanket hugging a bee plush. “Told you!” Tommy spoke too loudly, startling the boy from his sleep, he sat up in the box rubbing his eyes, still holding the stuffed bee close to him as well as the blanket. “W-where?” The boy wasn’t taught how to speak well, so Phil crouched down making himself as small as possible, “My name is Phil,” He pointed to the boy still clinging to his wrist, “This is Tommy.”

The little boy blinked registering what the man was saying, then gave a toothy smile pointing to himself, “I’m Toby!” Phil smiled, “Well hello Toby,” He searched around with his eyes for any sign of an adult or parents, “What are you doing out here?” Toby looked around, when he didn’t see anyone he seemed to recognize his eyes began to wet with fear. “I-I dunno.” Tommy removed himself from Phil's side to Toby’s, “Do you live nearby?” Tommy asked him. Toby held the bee closer to his face, seemingly to hide. “We live by water.”

Phil frowned hoping the kid wasn’t dropped off and abandoned, so he questioned him further, “Does the water look like a road?” He was inferring a river so he could slim down different areas. The boy nodded and Phil smiled at the kid. “Why don’t you come home with us so we can find your parents?” Toby looked from Phil to Tommy beside him who gave him reassurance, “We can play! My brother plays guitar so I can ask him to play you a song!” Toby’s face formed back into a happy gleam as he stood up from the box.

Phil watched the boy struggle to walk while holding his and Tommy’s hand through the forest, he ended up carrying Toby in his left arm and Tommy in his right.

The trio arrived back at a small farmhouse on the side of a mountain, Phil set Tommy down so he could open the door that creaked from being so old. “Wilbur we’re home!” Phil shouted into the house, shuffling was heard, then finally a pair of round glasses worn by Wilbur peeked out from the stairwell. Tommy squealed, running up to his older brother with his hands raised, Wilbur picked the boy up from under his arms, resting him on his hip and spinning around. Hearing the laughter of both boys made Phil’s heart swell with love.

Wilbur stopped spinning, bracing himself on a nearby wall because he was dizzy. “Wilby! Wilby!” Tommy was jumping up and down in his brother's arms, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Wilbur shook his head trying to get rid of the dizziness, “I have a new friend!” Tommy pointed to Toby in Phil's arms. Wilbur put his brother down and waved to Toby. “Hello! I’m Wilbur.”

Toby hugged the bee closer, also hiding his face in the crook of Phil’s neck. Phil gave a small grin, “This is Toby,” Phil nudged the boy, “Say hi mate!” Toby looked up from his hiding place and timidly waved. Wilbur chuckled in response, “It’s nice to meet you. Are you here to play with Toms?” The boy nodded still nervous, he clung on tighter to Phil’s cloak burying his face into his bee.

Hours passed, Phil did research, Wilbur helped by gathering more books and maps. While the children were playing in Tommy’s room Phil was hunched over his desk searching for a river.

“East?” Wilbur looked up from the map he was studying and made a confused sound. Phil picked up the paper and set it on top of the one Wilbur had and pointed to a small blue line. “The nearest river is east.” Wilbur squinted his eyes, “Didn’t the village there get burned down?” Phil hummed in confirmation, “How did he get all the way out here?” Phil ran a hand down his face with a sharp inhale. “I don’t know…” he picked himself away from the table Wilbur was sitting at and opened a book titled Villages in the Eastern Territory. “Apparently there hasn’t been anyone living there for decades now because of the dangerous woods.” Wilbur questioned further, “Then how the hell did he get out here?” Phil shrugged rubbing his temples, “I’m not sure, but tomorrow I want you to watch them so I can go there to look for his parents.”

Phil rode his horse to the village in search of parents of a lost child. As he neared the village smoke filled the sky in a dark grey smog. He could see ruined buildings and churches, rubble scattered the ground, shattered glass crunched underneath his boots. He called out, “Hello!” There was no response. Bodies scattered on the ground, women, men…children, crows and ravens picked at the rotten flesh salvaging what food they had. He ventured further into the small town peering through the broken windows and vacant doorways to which he found nothing. He came to one house that looked almost like a shack rather than a living space. He walked inside and called out one more time, “Hello!” His voice echoed off the bare walls that were stained with ash and char.

Walking down the small hallway he came to a room with a light yellow crib. He leaned over the railing, inside were small bee toys and a bumble bee pattern blanket with a small brown and black stain. “Blood.” He whispered to no one. Picking up the blanket, folding it up and shoving it into his bag he continued to search the house. He stepped down on the floor where a loud cracking startled him, he lifted his foot to see a dusty picture frame. Phil gathered the picture and brushed away the ash and dust.

The picture was of a man with dark brown hair tied in a bun and ram horns curled around his head, in his arms was a young boy with brown curly hair, a bee sweater under overalls and green eyes. He turned the picture around, on the back was names and a date scribbled with a black pen. Dad and Toby 06/15. Phil grimaced, This picture was taken two months ago, the blood on the blanket seemed recent enough for him to decide safely that Toby was in the forest for at least three days before he’d been found.

Wilbur was reading the two boys a bedtime story after bathing them and giving Toby some extra clothing Tommy had when he heard the sound of the door opening and closing. He glanced at the boys confirming both were asleep, slipped out from their arms and let them sleep on Tommy’s bed. He then made his way down the stairs and into the front room where Phil was standing rummaging through his travelling bag. “Did you find them?” Wilbur said from the stairs. Phil looked over his shoulder and shook his head regretfully, “No…he was the only one that got out safely.” Phil tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his lips trembled, he held his hand to his mouth swallowing the vomit in his mouth. He was standing, hunched over his bag when Wilbur came to his side and squeezed his hand that was clutch, nails digging into his palm.

“So what do we do now? He has no one.” Phil took his trembling hand from his mouth to hold Wilbur’s back and squeezed it three times. “He’ll have to stay with us, or if he has family anywhere.” He let out a stressed sigh, relaxing his shoulders, “Where is he?” Phil searched the front room for the small boy. “He’s upstairs sleeping with Tommy.”

Three months later Toby had been adopted into the family, and made Tommy’s best friend and brother.

He smoothed his suit, tucking his hair behind his ear and taking a deep inhale letting it out slowly. In the mirror he saw Tommy enter the room holding something then softly shut the door behind him. Tubbo turned around facing his friend, “I got you something.” Tommy held the box up to the teen gesturing to open it, Tubbo took the box removing the lid.

Inside were two bandanas, one green and the other red. “What is this?” Tommy picked up the red one from the box Tubbo was holding and began to explain, “When you become the president, because we all know you will.” He stood behind the goat hybrid, “You’ll have something to remember me by, ‘cuz I know you’ll be super f*ckin’ busy with president sh*t.” He wrapped the cloth around Tubbo's neck loosely and tied it behind his neck. He then stood in front of the teen holding his arms that were hanging at his side. “I’m so proud of you big man.” The two shared a hug before Tommy had to leave.

Tubbo stood on the sidelines, reading his note cards and practicing his speech. He looked up, Schlatt was standing on the podium with the same evil smirk he always had. Tubbo noticed how his ears would twitch when his hair would tickle them. Tubbo reached up to touch his own, the soft brown fur coated his fingers in a sense of calm. “Tubbs, you’re up next.” Fundy put his hand on his upper back, brushing dust off his suit coat, fixing his hair, and straightening the wrinkles. “You got this.” He smiled before disappearing into the darkness of the backstage.

Schlatt exited the stage walking past Tubbo shoving him with his shoulder and joking to his partner Quackity with the same poisonous smirk. “Good f*ckin’ luck goat boy.” He hissed.

Tubbo stepped onto the stage, being temporarily blinded by the lights. He stood behind the same podium Schlatt did moments before. He took a deep breath and spoke into the microphone. He spoke with care, delicate words danced in the air like a symphony of the angels, each syllable a chord that was strummed on harps and glorious violins. The people watched in anticipation as their minds melted with each word the teen said.

Hours later, after Tubbo and Schlatt both gave their speeches, the votes were in. Fundy flashed Tubbo a grim look while venturing to the stage where he would read out the winner of the election. Fundy tapped the microphone and cleared his throat, “The results are in. The new president of L’manburg is…” Everyone was silent with excitement as Fundy opened the envelope, he took a look, and frowned at the sight. “Schlatt.” He said with a low voice.

The people in the crowd stayed quiet, some leaving with anger, some with fear. “Now with the end of the elections, could the participants come onto stage?” Schlatt ran past Tubbo, fixing his tie before walking onto stage, walking across he waved to the people who felt obligated to cheer for their new president. Then it was Tubb’s turn, he timidly took a step out onto the floor standing next to Schlatt who had a dangerous look in his eyes. Fundy talked again, “We will now have a word from the president.”

Schlatt took the fox hybrid spot. “First I want to say thank you to everyone who voted for me, and a congratulations to Tubbo for running against me!” He held his hand out to Tubbo, “Can we get a cheer for this little man?” The crowd shared looks of concern until they erupted into a unified cheer. The horned man chuckled, silencing the group. “Now! My first decree as president will be a public execution.” immediately there was silence.

Schlatt looked to the side of the stage, “C’mon.” Technoblade emerged from the darkness holding a crossbow with a firework attached. The stage shook violently with the sound of a mechanism starting, under the stage floor rose a box like room. “Tubbo,” He grabbed the teen by the crook of his arm, “Y’know I’ve always valued what you had to say.” He shoved the confused and scared boy inside, blocking his pathway out. “But you haven’t been tellin’ me the whole truth now have you?” Tubbo stumbled over his words, “I-No I have! I’ve told you everything!” The goat man tisked shaking his head in disappointment, “You’ve been conspiring with Pogtopia. You’ve been telling’ them everything!” He shouted the last word, lunging himself towards the brunette, his hands on both sides of his exit. “No! I swear! I’m not a traitor!” Schlatt put his hands behind his back, putting on a serious face.

“Do you know how traitors are dealt with?” Jschlatt stepped to the side with Technoblade taking his place with the crossbow held up at Tubbo’s face. “They are killed.” A flicker in the man’s eyes made Tubbo’s heart drop, his heart was beating out of his chest, beads of sweat littered his forehead, his breathing uneven and quick. Schlatt punched Techno’s shoulder “What are you waiting for?” Technoblade hesitated, “Should you really do this?” Schlatt rolled his eyes with a huff and put his hand over Techno’s, “It’s easy, you just pull the trigger.” Technoblades eyes grew red glowing in the light.

He pulled the trigger.

Tubbo screamed in pain, he held his face and skin crying into the air, screaming and crying for help, reaching out for Technoblade who with a guilty expression turned his back and ran away. His clothing was burning into his skin, his horns cracked and one broke in half. He was curled up on the ground in agonizing pain, holding his arms, tearing at his hair, grappling at his skin, crawling for anyone. Black splotches clouded his vision as his eyes became dark and his hearing stopped. Flashes of a red and white shirt running to him, picking him up in arms and screaming muffled. He felt wet drops fall onto his face and run down, it stung and he recoiled. His body felt weak, so weak as the person cradled him in their arms. He felt something in his chest, his heart was slowing, his breathing so shallow and faded.

Tommy watched as the light in Tubbo’s eyes faded, the rise and fall of his chest stopped, the twitches of his fingers ended. He shook him, “C’mon Tubbs, wake up.” The boy never moved, his eyes half opened, Tommy placed his fingers against his wrist and neck checking for a pulse, when he couldn’t find one he desperately shook Tubbo’s face. “Tub- Tubbo, this isn’t f*ckin’ funny anymore!”

“No! No no no no! Tubbo wake the f*ck up!” Tears poured from his eyes, falling onto the burnt teen’s face, the blood on Tommy’s hands coated his own face when he called out for help, over all the fighting and distress he was hopeful that a healing potion would help.

Phil landed on the stage falling to his knees beside the two, his wings tensed seeing the sight but nevertheless pulled out a potion from his pocket. “Dad, is he-'' Tommy hiccupped with the tears and snot running down his face, unable to calm his breathing. Phil poured the glowing liquid into Tubbo’s mouth and waited.

Minutes that felt like years to the two blondes past and Phil rested his hand on Tommy’s that was laying on his friend's scorched chest. “Toms-'' Tommy smacked his fathers hand away, shouting in disbelief, tears rushing down his cheeks, “No! We- we need another! We have to keep trying!” He brought the lifeless body close to his chest, shielding him from danger, holding onto anything, hopeful that it was just a coma and he wasn’t gone.

Schlatt walked over to the three still with a smug look on his face. “He’s dead Tommy.” He sneered at the kid. Tommy looked up meeting sinful, evil eyes with his own anger and resentful ones. “YOU-” He screamed before standing up wielding his diamond sword, “YOU f*ckING KILLED HIM!” He swung at Schlatt that stumbled over his own feet falling to the ground causing Tommy to slash at his arm making a large wound that blood soaked into his clothing and dripped onto the floor. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU.” Tommy held the sword above his head ready to plunge it into when Phil stood in front of Schlatt.

“What are you doing!?” Tommy exclaimed with fury in his voice, “Toms, that's not going to help bring him back.” “What the f*ck do you mean!?” Phil held up his hands, “Just put the sword down.” through gritted teeth and venom lacing his words he shouted, “He killed Toby! How is that okay!? Are you just going to let him go? After everything he has done!” Tommy took a shallow breath, “He hurt your children and you haven’t done sh*t! You’re just going to let him go after what he f*ckin’ did!?”

Through the shouting, the name Toby stuck in Schlatt’s mind. The son he tried to protect several years ago was also named Toby, he had brown hair, goat horns ...green eyes…and loved bee’s.

It finally clicked.

Overcome with guilt and hatred of himself he quickly crawled over to the boy, picked him up and held him in his arms. Through the charred skin and blisters he unbuttoned the first three buttons of his dress shirt. Underneath was a pink scar. His heart dropped.

“Daddy!” A small boy ran into a house sobbing and scared, Schlatt came out from their shared room only to see his son’s shirt covered in blood. He rushed to the boy dropping in front of him, looking over his face and searching for where it came from. “Daddy! My chest hurts!” The little boy rubbed at his eyes continuing to sob while Schlatt removed his shirt. Underneath was a angry red gaping wound that was gushing blood. Panicked he picked up the boy, and ran to the closest medic.

Months passed and the wound was healed into a pink fragile scar.

Tears flooded from his own eyes, his hands fluttered over the burnt face, shaking and trembling with every touch, every time he would touch a large burn he would flinch. “Toby…” His voice was soft, he held the boy's face in his hands, cradling him. “I- '' words failed him, it was too late for apologies, it was too late years ago. He hunched over his son, holding him close to his chest, whispering apologies and I love you’s, telling the lifeless boy how sorry he was and he promised he would have never done that to him. “Toby-” He took a sharp inhale, “I’m so f*cking sorry-” He held the boys head up to his own touching foreheads together, “I’m so sorry.” He sobbed.

He hugged the lifeless body tight, trying to hold onto what could have been if only he knew sooner, if only he wasn’t so egotistical that he never noticed his own flesh and blood. ----------------------------------------

The spring morning chilled him to his bones, Tommy took a shuddered breath going back into the building fetching a heavier coat, and scarf. He came back outside, readjusting the scarf closer to his mouth for warmth. He walked to the edge of Snowchester where a graveyard was. Snow scattered the ground, covering the flowers that were sprouting and fighting their way from under the coldness. Tommy picked some cornflowers and daisies into a bundle and tied it together with green twine. Continuing farther into the graveyard he came to the top of a hill under a willow tree.

Tommy gave a soft smile laying the flower bundle on the headstone. “Hey Tubbs.” Tommy sat criss cross next to the grave leaning on it as he watched the bird dancing in the sky. “Schlatt’s been getting better,” He explained, “It’s been hard but he’s managing, and Phil and Techno are at peace, there’s been no wars for a while now.” he laid his head on the head stone imagining that it was his friend, “Fundy and Wilbur are good now. Niki started a bakery again, she makes bee pastries for you.” Tommy took a cloth from his pocket opening it to reveal bee cookies Niki had made and sat one next to the flowers. “She hopes you like it,” He took a bite talking with his mouth full, “But I told her you would, you love her baking.” Then with a chuckle and fond smile, “Everyone does.” Tommy’s blue eyes surveyed the sky watching the clouds blow across. “I hope your doin’ okay. We all miss you,” He touched the green bandana around his neck and lifted the compass with misty eyes. “Especially me…”

Tommy let out a puff clearing his throat while wrapping the other two cookies in the cloth placing it among the bundle of flowers. “It was nice seeing you,” he patted the head stone and smiled brightly, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah? Wilbur wants to meet up at Phil and Techno’s for some family sh*t.” He stood up stretching his arms up over his head, “I’ll see you there!”

Then Tommy ran off.

In the distance the willow tree seemed to sing a song, a melody flowing from its branches and swaying the leaves. A warm breeze seemed to hug Tommy as he jogged down the hill and back to the house. He smiled and let a tear fall.