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There's blood on my hands (When did I get surrounded by bones?)

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What I'm writing

1) In terms of romance, I will likely only be writing Dadza and Mumza. Please don't ask for romantic relationships.

 

2) No sexual NSFW either. Don't be weirdchamp. 


3) Any other trigger warnings, e.g. gore, panic attacks, etc, will be in the notes of chapters!

 

4) The prompts are all in order; synced with the chapter, chapter 2 is prompt 1, chapter 3 is prompt 2

 

5) Prompts will also be in the chapter notes

 

Happy reading!

Chapter list:

 

1) We're falling (You shined so bright and now you're gone) [Emeraldduo]

Prompt: All trussed up and still nowhere to go ["You have to let go."]

Summary: Philza and Technoblade are dangling off a cliff. Techno tells Phil to let go.

 

2) I am a monument to all your sins [Discduo]

Prompt: Talking is overrated [Choking]

Summary: Tommy can't breathe. Dream won't let him. No one is here to save him, in the prison.

 

3) For you, the world [Twinsduo]

Prompt: Sticks and stones may break my bones but... [“Who did this to you?"]

Summary: Technoblade and Wilbur are twins. Techno finds Wilbur bruised and bloody. It all goed downhill from there. Dream is here, too.

 

4) Broken trust (Not like he’ll even know) [Borealtrio] 

Prompt: TRUST FALL [Do you trust me?]

Summary: Ranboo can trust Techno and Phil. Right? (Villain emeraldduo)

 

5) Another world lost to the ashes

Prompt: I’VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER [betrayal]

Summary: It's superhero au, mixed with Canon. Dawn of the 16th, not quite, but Wilbur still dies :D

 

6) Touch-me-not [Crimeboysduo]

Prompt: Touch and go [touch-starved]

Summary: Tommy is a feral raccoon child living on the streets, and Wilbur just wants to be his brother

 

7) Count to five, I just wanna stay alive

Prompt: MY SPIDEY-SENSE IS TINGLING [helplessness]

Summary: Phil is going on a mining trip. What could possibly go wrong? (Everything, apparently, especially when you have claustrophobia)

 

8) I'm throwing up flowers, they're blue, and they mean I care so damn much about you.

Prompt: COUGHING UP A LUNG [exotic illness]

Summary: Wilbur leaves Tommy behind for Sally, and the boy starts throwing up blue flowers.

 

9) Do not stand at my grave and weep, for I am not there (I did not die)

Prompt: RUMORS OF MY DEATH HAVE BEEN GREATLY EXAGGERATED [presumed dead]

Summary: Sam deals with the aftermath that is Dream killing Tommy, and he deals again when Tommy is revealed to be alive.

 

10) Sometimes, life's a bitch, and you keep living

Prompt: OOPS, I DID IT AGAIN [hospital]

Summary: Tubbo gets blown up on a mission, and lands in the hospital. Benchtrio fluff ensues

 

11) To break down entirely

Prompt: JUST KEEP SWIMMING [drowning].

Summary: Ranboo gets dropped into the water like a bath bomb, lol

 

12) Fires guttering low (The tides are rising)

Prompt: IT’LL BE FUN, THEY SAID [made to watch | begging]

Summary: "Stop. I'll- I'll give you the disc." Tommy says desperately, shoving the disc forward. Dream tilts his head slowly, axe still half-buried into Tubbo's shield. 

For Tubbo. 

 

13) The coffee shop AU I never thought I would write

Prompt: THAT’S GONNA LEAVE A MARK [Burn]

Summary: Deaf Tommy works in an au, and has to deal with a Karen. It doesn't go well.

 

14) Two eldritch gods, but it’s the blob and the pig this time [Rivalsduo]

Prompt: UNDER PRESSURE [beaten]

Summary: Dream finds himself in a bit of a spot. Time to shed his human vassal, then. Or, basically modern AU. Also haha I accidentally wrote old gods rivalsduo ._.

 

15) Another superhero au (Ominous titles? Nah) [SBI]

Prompt: FEED A COLD, STARVE A FEVER [delirium]

Summary: Tommy gets a tad too cocky and is hurt by a villain. He is slightly out of it, but he's fine. SBI :D

 

16) Doomsday was what happened when everyone in a group project did their part (in hurting someone) and this essay I will 

Prompt: ON A NEED TO KNOW BASIS [recovery | aftermath]

Summary: Dream gets broken out of prison by Technoblade, and Phil helps take care of him. I did not mean to write doomsdaytrio but. Here we are.

 

17) Tea parties and playdates

Prompt: FIELD CARE 101 [dread]

Summary: Foolish invites Phil (and his three children) to a tea party with his own kids. God au

 

18) Not everything in life is perfect, but everything perfect is in life. [Endersmile]

Prompt: THE DOCTOR IS IN [doctor’s visit]

Summary: Dream adopts Ranboo, and soon learns the effects of the boy's previous foster family left on him.

 

19) I've got you (I'll protect you)

Prompt: JUST A SCRATCH [Stabbed]

Summary: The Captain(Sparklez) is Crumb's guard. And he takes that job seriously.

People attack. Jordan doesn't have a good time.

 

20) The anger in your heart warms you now, but will leave you cold in your grave.

Prompt: LOST AND FOUND [solitary confinement]

Summary: Dream contemplates life, in the prison.

 

21) Bullseye [Twinsduo]

Prompt: THAT’S WHERE THE BLOOD’S SUPPOSED TO BE [blood-matted hair]

Summary: Technoblade and Wilbur are gods. They participate in a war.

 

22) It was never yours

Prompt: THEY MADE ME DO IT [cursed | demon | obsession] (All three prompts!!)

Summary: Dream finds a strange mask in a cave, and stupidly puts it on. The Dreamon within it is delighted.

 

23) I’m ravaged (I need disaster relief) [SBI]

Prompt: YOU BREAK IT, YOU BUY IT [auction]

Summary: Tommy, a raccoon hybrid, is being sold in an auction. Lucky, Philza and Wilbur show up to save him. They end up adopting him, too

 

24) I didn't kill you before (But now I will)

Prompt: ONE DOWN TWO TO GO [revenge]

Summary: Dream escapes the prison. Tommy hunts him down and kills him.

 

25) You gotta do what you gotta do

Prompt: HIDE & SEEK [escape]

Summary: How many prison escapes am I going to fucking write  Technoblade doesn’t want to die to escape the prison. He doesn’t quite have a choice.

 

26)Look what you’ve done

Prompt: YOU WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP [fallen]

Summary: Wilbur was just out flying around. Then the Phantom is shot out of the air by hunters.

Or, Origin SMP, Wilbur’s backstory :D

 

27) Wings B gone!

Prompt: I’M FINE. I PROM… [collapse]

NOTE: This is an AU of the fic, Oh dear, can you see me? by findingkairos! The chapter will have key points that you won’t understand unless you read it! Take note of the tags, as it is a bit dark, but I 100/10 recommend it! <3 [You’ll only really need to read up to chapter 3]

Summary: The angel’s wings are within the old lord’s castle, seperated from it. Technoblade - not knowing this - blows up the castle, and subsequently the angel, as well.

 

28) :)

Prompt: IT’S NOT JUST IN YOUR HEAD [“Good. You’re finally awake.” | Panic]

Summary:

"You don't remember, Ranboo?" Dream coos, stepping forward and looming over Ranboo. 

"You broke me out of the prison. Now we're here." Dream says gleefully, fully aware of the terror flashing across Ranboo's face. 

"You're lying." The Enderman hybrid chokes out. "You're not real you're not real you're just the Voice this is all a dream-"

 

29) I get overwhelmedi

Prompt: ALL WORK AND NO PLAY [overworked]

Summary: Quackity overworks himself to the bone (a little literally) running his casino, and falls asleep after work at the bar Charlie Slimecicle is a dear who covers Quackity with a blanket.

 

30) Somebody I’m not

Prompt: DIGGING YOUR GRAVE [ghosts]

Summary: Ghostbur remembers more than they should, and really, it’s not fair, that they have to feel Alivebur’s pain again and again. At least they forget, though. [They/Them Ghostbur my adored]

 

31) Hush now (You were lost but now you’re found)

Prompt: HURT & COMFORT [trauma]

Summary: One time Tommy sat on his and Tubbo’s bench alone, after his death in the prison, and five times he didn’t. [Puffy | Ranboo | Sam | Wilbur | Tubbo]

Chapter Text

"You have to let go." 

 

That's what Technoblade tells Phil as they dangle, Phil with one hand digging into the cliff, one hand holding Technoblade, who swung slightly. Below, lay a drop into a ravine, no bottom in sight. Phil strains, trying to drag them both back up, but he can feel his grip slipping. 

 

"Like fuck I am." Phil snarls back, tightening his grip on Techno's hand. 

 

"You have to." Technoblade says, infinitely patient, even as Phil wants to scream. 

 

"No, no we don't, I can fly, we can glide down, maybe-" He's blabbering, the idea won't work and Techno fucking knows it. 

 

"We're too high-up, Phil. I'm too heavy. Your wings barely work for just you, not after the explosions." Techno says, resigned and just a bit fearful. 

 

Phil's wings flutter, tattered and barely healed, and he tastes gunpower on his tongue and hears explosions ringing in his ears and then he's cradling his son. And fucking hell, why was the universe taking another one from him? For someone who was called the Angel Of  Death, he sure didn't like death.

 

"We can't die like this. We can't." Phil struggles, clawing at the cliff, digging in so hard his fingers bled. They're slipping. They're going to fall, without a doubt. 

 

Phil knows this. But he'll be dammed if he lets go just to save himself. He'll fall with Techno. He refuses to let go of his world, his other half, his best friend. Because Phil is stubborn to a fault and loyal to the boot. 

 

"Phil- you're not going to die with me. You're going to let go, and fly away. You're going to live. For me." Technoblade tries again, just a little more desperate, and Phil falters. He loses his grip on the cliff. They fall. 

 

The wind rushes past them, stealing any words they could have and Phil is screaming, tucking his wings to dive after Technoblade, who’s reaching out at him, mouthing words. 

 

He manages to grab onto Technoblade, already in the ravine, and relief floods him, smothered by fear by the realisation that he's going to die. His wings snap out, trying and failing to slow their descent, already halfway down the ravine. 

 

And Technoblade smiles at him, before pushing him away with a mighty kick. 

 

Philza spins backwards, out of breath as he scrambles to straighten himself, wings flapping desperately as he looks back at where Technoblade was, and- 

 

There's a sickening crunch, blood splattering, and Philza vomits, right there, dozens of feet in the air. He can't even look at the body, he heard the sound before seeing, and he doesn't want to look as he heaves, pouring out the contents of his breakfast onto the ravine floor down below. A breakfast he had with Technoblade, just hours ago. 

 

He starts crying, turning his head away, and begins to slowly float down, stumbling and wavering from side to side, finally crumpling onto the stone floor. 

 

Techno- Techno was dead. And he was still alive. Phil sobs, stomach now empty, bloody fingers scratching at the stone floor. His light was gone. 

 

Phil is alone. He wants to die - he wants to kill himself and join Technoblade in the afterlife. But that would be too merciful. And Techno kicked him away for him to live. 

 

Phil needs to live for him. Maybe he's just a coward. Either way, he lives. Phil sits there for a long moment, until he blinks and the sun is setting and mobs begin to creep out. 

 

He rises to shaky feet, flapping his wings and starting to ascend, not once looking at the mangled body behind him. Not once looking at the corpse of his dead friend.

Chapter Text

Tommy can't breathe. It is a simple statement, a fact, something his brain latches to. 

 

There's a hand around his neck. The arm it belongs to is draped with a lime green sleeve. The arm leads to a man, and the man wears a maniac grin. 

 

Tommy can't breathe. Dream was choking him to death. He was going to die, suffocating, and no one but Dream would be there to see. 

 

All because he fucked up, because he killed the damn cat and he couldn't keep his mouth shut. 

 

Ironic, isn't it? The great Tommyinnit, lost for words, unable to speak, when his voice had led him to his demise. Dream was going to kill him. Tommy can't bring himself to panic anymore. Can barely understand what Dream is saying as black blurs his vision. 

 

He's in the prison. It has been about several seconds since Dream grabbed him by the throat with a bruising grip and slammed him against the obsidian wall. 

 

Dream relaxes his grip on him suddenly, and Tommy sucks in air on instinct, breathing sweet oxygen before Dream's hand tightens and he's left choking again, unable to breathe. 

 

"You're going to die, Tommy. You're going to die because you can't breathe. Simple." Dream says slowly, and Tommy's oxygen-deprived mind snags onto the words, and a new burst of panic has him struggling. 

 

"Say hello to Schlatt for me, won't you?" Dream purrs as black spots dance in Tommy's vision, his flailing slowing until he's limp again, as Dream's vice grip around his throat tightens even more, and Tommy's eyes roll back into his head and he dies. Expires. 


Dream releases the corpse, watching with nonchalance as the body flopped, head lolling. 

 

He walks off, grabbing a potato and sitting down in a corner, humming to himself. It was finally quiet. Peaceful. 

 

Dream bites into the potatoe, chewing on the hard chunks of food, and swallowing with a hum, glancing at the corpse. There was blood pooling, a small amount underneath the body. Maybe from when Dream slammed Tommy against the wall. 

 

He looks at the lava curtain, wondering when Sam would find out. What he would do when he found out Tommy was dead. Would he even care? No, he would. 

 

Dream leans his head against the obsidian wall, thinks of ancient spells, thinks of revival, thinks of ghosts and the after-life. 

 

His hand twitches, then stills. Not yet. Let Tommy have a taste of death, first. Let Dream have peace and quiet. Let them both rest, in their own ways. 

 

Dream closes dim emerald green eyes, smiles, and drifts off to the ticking of the clock hanging above Tommy's body.

Chapter Text

Technoblade isn't a particularly noticeable kid. He keeps to himself, turns in his homework, gets good grades, but usually stays in the library. 

 

His twin brother, Wilbur, on the other hand, is the embodiment of an extrovert. He talks to everyone, sings songs in front of the class, laughs with the cool crowd. He's well-liked, while Technoblade is practically invisible. 

 

Wilbur tried to get him to make friends; introducing them as twins, which brought a whole bunch of questions considering how different they looked, and poked at him to go socialize. Technoblade would rather die. 

 

So eventually Wilbur gave up, and let him be. But jokes on him, Technoblade got a friend without trying. 

 

Dream was mildly weird, but he was pretty alright and basically one of the cool cool kids. Who hung out with him an absurd amount, but Techno enjoyed his company, though he would never say it aloud. 

 

Anyways, Wilbur was the beloved twin. The happy one, the cheerful one, the one everyone get along with and charmed all who met him. 

 

He was now slumped on the floor, leaning against the wall, head bowed and beaten. 

 

Technoblade stares at him, unable to move before his books slip from his hands, darting forward and scrambling onto his knees, trying to see the extent of the damage. A split lip, tons of bruises, and Techno thinks he's going to be sick. 

 

"Wil? Wil, wake up, please?" Technoblade begs, hands curling as he stares at his beaten brother, rage starting to stir in his gut. 

 

"Techno...?" Wilbur slurs, twitching as he blinks, slowly and Techno is a flurry of worry again. 

 

"Who did this to you?" He asks, softly, gently, as he takes Wilbur's hands. The boy lifts his head, weighing his thoughts. 

 

"Bunch of boys two grades up. They...my guitar. They took it too." Wilbur mumbles, tears slipping down his cheeks rapidly. Techno's blood runs cold, and then boils. He cradles Wilbur's cheeks carefully, wiping his tears. 

 

"Let's get you to the nurse, yeah?" Techno tries for a smile and knows he fails, getting up and helping Wilbur to his feet. 

 

They're outside in the gardens, and no one else was around. Techno was only here to find a quiet spot to read, only to find his brother. He slings the boy's arm over his shoulder, and slowly they head to the nurse's office. Privately, he crafts a plan, watches as the nurse bandages Wilbur's wounds and they tell her that Wilbur had been attacked. Wilbur won't tell Techno what the boys look like, and he won't tell anyone by default, so they hit a dead end. Well, Techno's about to punch through that brick wall. 



"Dream." Technoblade slams his hands onto the desk, causing the boy to jump, tilting his head up to look at Techno, porcelain mask in place. 

 

"...yes?" Dream asks hesitantly, slightly nervous. 

 

"I need you to track someone for me." Techno states bluntly, and the fourteen year old cocks his head. 

 

"Let's not talk here." Dream decides, ushering Techno out of the classroom and away from watchful eyes. 

 

"Who, exactly, do you want me to track. And why me?" Dream  folds his arms. 

 

"Because you have connections, and you can snoop around reasonably and get the right info." Technoblade replies easily, hands curling into his pockets. It's a simple deduction of fact. 

 

"So are you going to help me or not, homeless teletubby?" He drawls, and Dream splutters, punching his arm.

 

"Fine. But I'm going to need details." 

 

"Group of boys who tend to be violent, would attack someone younger than them. Bullies, basically. Two grades above us. One of them might be carrying around a new guitar." Techno offers, and Dream's posture seems to shift to concern. 

 

"Bullies? Did something happen, Techno?" Dream asks, head tilting. Techno sighs, leaning in. 

 

"Wilbur got hurt by them. So I'm asking you now, for help to find them." Techno explains softly, and Dream's hands curl. 

 

"I'll help you under one condition." Dream lifts his mask slightly to reveal his mouth curled into a grin. "You let me beat them up too." 

 

"Who said anything about beating them up?" Techno asks, cocking  his head. "I don't want that on my record, you know." 

 

"I have my ways. Also, do you think people like them would admit they got beaten up by kids two years younger than them?" Dream scoffs, and Techno can't help but agree. 

 

"You seem awful confident." Technoblade notes. He knows Dream is good at parkour, not sure about fighting. 

 

"We'll win." Dream rocks back and forth on his feet. "Now let's head back to class before the bell rings. I'll talk to you once I find something." 

 

They head back to class, and Techno waits for half a week for the information. Dream approaches him with suspects. They spy on each one until Techno sees one of them carrying a guitar, Wilbur's guitar, laughing amongst themselves. 

 

Now, what happens next is simple. Techno introduces himself. Asks where they got the guitar. They tell him they beat up some kid around his age for it and to piss off before they do the same to him. 

 

Now, Techno is not a violent child. But for Wilbur? Anything. So he decks guitar-holding guy with a solid punch. 

 

Guy goes down, Techno kicks another one in the knees before they manage to recover. Dream jumps in, and holy heck, the kid's fast. Between them, they wipe out the group and Techno carefully picks up the guitar, inspecting it. It's not badly damaged, just some broken strings he knows Wilbur can replace. 

 

"Thanks, Dream." Techno nods to the boy, who was peering at the half-unconscious bodies on the floor. 

 

"Hm? No problem. Think of it as a favour." Dream laughs, waving him off. "Now shoo, gotta clean up this mess." 

 

Techno dips his head, running off to find Wilbur. 

 

"For you." Techno presents the guitar, a little worse for the wear but there. Wilbur freezes, staring at it before carefully taking it, glancing from it to Techno. 

 

"Thank you." His brother breathes, hugging the instrument close. 

 

"For you, the world." Techno answers easily, and they slot back in place, and everything is alright.

Chapter Text

Ranboo hums, walking along in the snow, ice crunching under his feet. He peers up when he can see Techno and Phil in techno’s cottage, chatting. He goes over, knocking lightly on the door and waiting. 

 

The door swings open, Phil grinning at him. 

 

“Heya, Ranboo! Good to see you!” Phil greets cheerfully, ushering him in. 

 

“I thought I could join for a quick chat. Nothing much to do today.” Ranboo greets, casting his eyes downwards.

 

“Ah yes, Ranboo, the richest person on the server, so rich he doesn’t need to grind for resources.” Techno drawls, a fond smile on his lips.

 

“I’m not that rich!’ Ranboo yelps, blushing slightly as his tail whips back and forth. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it buddy.'' Techno snorts, ignoring Ranboo’s protests. 

 

“Sooooooo, what were you guys talking about?’ Ranboo asks, taking a seat on the couch.

 

“Just planning the Syndicate’s next excursion.” Phil says dismissively. 

 

Ranboo tilts her head, wondering what it could be. They had already gone to Snowchester, and Techno had seemed to deem it alright. Phil hadn’t cared too much. Niki had seemed okay with it too, and obviously Ranboo didn’t want anything bad happening to it. Not when Tubbo and Micheal lived there.

 

“Where to?” He inquires, waiting for the answer. 

 

“I say it's time the Syndicate destroyed our first government. Snowchester is getting awfully bold.” Technoblade drawls, lips curling back to reveal sharp fangs. 

 

Ranboo’s blood runs cold, his happy mood dissolving. 

 

“W-what?!” Ranboo chokes out, confused. ‘But you cleared it! I thought you said it was fine!” 

 

“That was a cover, Ranboo. Didn’t want them to start preparing for our arrival. They have nukes, Ranboo. Tubbo built nukes. That’s exactly the kind of thing a government would use against its people. We need to get rid of it before it grows too big.” Technoblade huffs, explaining it like it barely mattered. Like this wasn't innocent lives he was talking about. 

 

“You don’t know that! Tubbo wouldn’t do something like that! You can’t destroy Snowchester!” Ranboo blurts out, agitated. 

 

“Calm down, Ranboo. What’s gotten into you?” Phil interjects, raising an eyebrow.

 

“You can’t destroy Snowchester. There are innocent lives there, all wanting to finally have a peaceful place to stay. Tubbo hasn't done anything!”

 

"And how will you prove that?" Technoblade snaps back, challenging him. Ranboo falls silent.

 

"Techno? I need to tell you something." Ranboo says finally, clearing his throat. It's okay. Phil knows, Phil kept it a secret, Phil would help him. 

 

"I'm married to Tubbo. And we have a kid. His name is Micheal and he is very sweet." Ranboo says and waits. Technoblade is silent, staring at him with a crimson gaze as Ranboo slowly starts to get more and more anxious. 

 

"Yeah, I know. Nice of you to finally tell me, though." And Technoblade grins, all sharp teeth and none of the fondness that had been there before, the kindness hidden under, and Ranboo is scared. 

 

"Phil here told me about it a while ago. He convinced me to wait, you know. For when you told me yourself." Technoblade continues, and Ranboo whips his head around to stare at the avian, astonished. 

 

"It was fun to watch you squirm, mate. As if I would keep a secret from Techno." Phil chuckles, dark amusement in his eyes. Ranboo feels betrayal and horror twist in his chest as he stumbles back. 

 

"I trusted you, Ranboo." Techno hisses, standing up and advancing on him. 

 

"It's- it's not what you think! Tubbo is a good person, he isn't part of the government or anything, he just wants to be happy, we just want to be happy!" Ranboo says desperately as his back hits the wall. He's taller than Technoblade, but shrinks under his gaze, anyway. 

 

"You lying snitch. You had fun, didn't you, spying on us? Tricking me? I let you in and this is what I get?" Techno hisses, one hand on his sword. 

 

"I never wanted to be part of your Syndicate! I didn't mean to eavesdrop, and I'm sorry, and I wouldn't have told anyone!" Ranboo shouts, hands reaching up to twist into his hair. 

 

"Well then you shouldn't have listened, then." Techno sneers, a water bucket drops into his hands and Ranboo has just enough time to realize what was happening before the water is splashed all over him. 

 

He screams, an Enderman screech as the water sears his skin, leaving red, raw skin that burns even more as the water drips down his body, having caught him right in the face. Ranboo claws at his face, faintly registering footsteps and murmuring before more water is dumped on him, and he blacks out. 

 




Ranboo startles, sitting upright with a gasp, shivers running down his spine. He- he was in Technoblade's cabin, on his couch, covered with a blanket. 

 

Ranboo flinches as phantom pains assault him, hands flying to his face. Smooth skin meets him and Ranboo- 

 

What was he doing? He had- he had come to see what Phil and Techno were doing, they had talked about the Syndicate? He can't quite remember how he got to this exact position. The two men should be able to fill him in though, they were always so understanding about his memory problems. 

 

Ranboo looks up at footsteps to see Philza approaching him with a surprised look on his face, also wary. 

 

"Hey, Ranboo. How are you?" Phil says slowly. 

 

"Uh, I'm fine? Can- can you tell me what happened? All I can remember is that we were talking about something Syndicate-related..." Ranboo trails off, rubbing his forehead. He doesn't notice the delighted grin spreading across Phil's face, quickly twisting into sympathy. 

 

"Ranboo, you passed out." Phil takes a seat next to him, wrapping an ebony wing around Ranboo's wiry frame. 

 

"We were discussing making some sort of accessories for the members, and then you keeled over. You really worried us, mate." Phil explains as Ranboo leans into the feathery warmth. 

 

"Sorry. I don't know why I passed out." Ranboo mumbles, feeling embarrassed. That was so weird. 

 

"You have nothing to apologize for." Phil refutes, and Ranboo hums. 

 

Water, the gleam of ruby red eyes, laughter-

 

Ranboo blinks, confused as he inhales shakily. 

 

"Where's Techno?" He inquires, looking around. 

 

"Just out on a trip. Nothing dangerous, promise." Phil assures, wing pulling him closer. 

 

"Really? Cause the dogs are gone, and-" 

 

"Do you trust me, Ranboo?" Phil cuts in, smiling at him. There's something off about it. 

 

"I-" Ranboo swallows. "Of course I do!" 

 

"Then don't worry about it." Phil states, a note of finality in his voice. Ranboo nods nervously, trying to ignore the weird feeling in his gut. 

 

Everything was fine. Right?

Chapter Text

Philza flies, tucking midnight black wings close to his body as he dives, listening to the information on his earpiece. 

 

"-Dream is on the tower, he isn't even moving, I'm going after him-" Tomny's voice comes through, cause Phil to sigh. 

 

"No, Tommy, we all agreed that only Techno would fight him." Phil reminds the boy, hanging in the sky for a moment to survey the city. 

 

"We need to find the damm bomb he placed. Placed by a traitor." Phil's gut churns at that. There was a spy among the heroes. Someone who was working with Dream. 

 

"I'm trying to find all the heroes; but you know some of them will be able to resist it." Wilbur warns, muffled panting heard from where he was likely running around. Wilbur's ability to control people with his voice was strong, yes, but on certain heroes it didn't work very well. 

 

Dream had told them of the traitor he had amongst them, listing things only a hero would know, inside jokes they had. Had laughed as they tried to figure out who it is. 

 

"Guys, I'm going to the Tower." Technoblade announces, the piglin hybrid likely heading to Dream's position, which was a prime vantage spot to see the city. Likely to watch it burn, just like Nero did, that sadistic bastard. 

 

Phil grits his teeth, ducking and weaving through buildings as his mind races, trying to figure out where Dream could have placed the bomb. Somewhere to cause the most destruction, but not obvious, and likely not capable of reaching the Tower. 

 

Dream couldn't teleport; his skills lay in combat and his words, along with a memory-related power. Technoblade was the only one who could match him in a fight, so they had delegated him to be the one to engage him in combat. 

 

But now Dream was spouting stuff about a major bomb, and had detonated a few minor bombs to show it. 

 

Phil growls, looking around. Where? Manberg, his mind whispers. Dream had always hated that place, had done everything to rip it out from the citizens' of L'manburg's hands. He would, wouldn't he? 

 

He presses his earpiece - they had limited the call to just them four, just the family, the Sleepy Bois Inc. 

 

"Tommy, is there anywhere in Manberg that Dream would have put the bomb?" He asks, hearing silence for a moment. 

 

"Uh- somewhere in L'manburg? We- we had a-" There's a yelp, and Phil listens anxiously as Tommy fought with some unknown enemy. 

 

"-orry bout that, fucking Punz showed up but he ran off somewhere- Yeah, we have a room! Where we were going to stack all the TNT and blow up Manberg. Do- do you think he could have put the bomb there?" Tommy questions nervously as Phil turns mid-air, heading for Manberg. 

 

"Entirely possible, a lot of damage could be caused by blowing it up. It's perfectly placed." Phil grits out, following Tommy's directions. He touches down in front of the doorway leading to the room where the button should be, freezing as he hears distressed muttering. He- he recognises that voice. 

 

"What are you doing." He states, trying to keep the tremble  out of his voice as he steps in to see one Wilbur Soot. 

 

The man whips his head around in shock, revealing a button on the wall behind him. Wilbur looks like shit, and Phil realizes that he hadn't had a chance to see his son properly in about two days. 

 

"Wilbur- whatever you're doing, you need to stop. Step away from that button, Wil. Please." Philza pleads, ignoring the shouts from Tommy and Techno, turning his earpiece off. Wilbur appears to shake off his shock, smiling sadly. 

 

"I've been here so many times, Phil. Dream gave me the TNT, the bomb, and- no one bothers to check up in here, Phil. No one ever knew." Wilbur smiles wryly, and it morphs into despair and anger. 

 

"SO MANY TIMES, PHIL!" He screams, hands twisting into his hand and yanking as Phil flinches back. 

 

"Wilbur- you'll be destroying so much- don't-" Phil reaches forward, freezing as Wilbur jerks back. 

 

"The King was right, Phil. Eret was right. It was never meant to be." Wilbur says softly, slamming his fist on the button. 

 

Phil lunges, yanking Wilbur close and shielding the man with his wings, screaming as the explosions burn them away. 

 

"Oh, Phil." Wilbur whispers once the ringing finally stops. "You should have left your bastard son before it was too late." 

 

Blood dribbles down Wilbur's chin as Phil's back burns and burns, his wings now glorified stumps as tears run down his cheeks. 

 

"Goodbye, Phil. Tell the others I love them." Wilbur says softly, the light fading from his eyes and slumping against Phil. 

 

He cradles his son close, burying his face into brown locks as the Angel of Death begins to wail.

Chapter Text

Tommy is a resourceful kid. A raccoon hybrid. He doesn’t need anyone. All he needs is his massive brain and food and stealing shiny shit that makes his brain sing in a good way. He doesn’t need anyone, not when all people do is hurt and kick and try to steal his things and-

 

Tommy doesn’t need anyone. That’s what he tells himself. 

 

That is, until Wilbur comes. 

 

Wilbur is human. Humans hate little hybrids like Tommy. But Wilbur is kind. 

 

Wilbur leaves food for him and goes away and doesn't shout and smiles at Tommy like he matters. And Tommy doesn't understand why Wilbur doesn't grab him and drag him kicking and screaming to the police. 

 

Tommy doesn't know why Wilbur doesn't put a knife to his neck and demand Tommy to hand over all the shiny things that he had hoarded. 

 

Instead Wilbur smiles and says hello, you gremlin child and sometimes he gives him shiny stuff and Tommy doesn't know what to do. Wilbur doesn't call Tommy an it, doesn't try to hurt him, doesn't seem to want anything. 

 

So of course, Tommy tries his best to figure out why Wilbur cares. He pushes and jabs and snarls and is rude. Until it finally happens. 

 

"Tommy- don't!" Wilbur screeches as Tommy runs away, cackling as he holds an emerald pendant, belonging to the man. 

 

"Whatcha going to do about it, Big Man?" He taunts, letting the necklace swing back and forth in his hand. Wilbur growls, and Tommy falters at the actual anger in the sound, unable to dodge when Wilbur lunges, prying his fingers apart roughly and snatching back the necklace, shoving him away. 

 

"Tommy, I have boundaries, and you have to learn to fucking respect them! I told you not to touch the necklace, you gremlin brat!" Wilbur shouts and Tommy flinches, pressing his back against the alley wall. 

 

"What is wrong with you these days? You keep messing with me, and it's really fucking irritating, Tommy!" Wilbur rants, and it's here. Tommy had finally fucked it up, had pushed off his last hope, and now Wilbur was going to hit him and then leave and he'll be all alone- 

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't hurt me, I'm sorry-" It curls up, flattening its ears and tucking its tail between its legs, a whine creeping up its throat. 

 

"I'm sorry, m'sorry, I didn't meant to please don't-" It sobs, hunching its shoulders and hopes that Wilbur would just leave, though that would be less than it deserved, it was a useless, selfish brat and nothing else.

 

"Wait- No, Tommy, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you where did you get that idea from?" Wilbur falls to his knees, scrambling to comfort him and curling a hand around Tommy's wrist. The touch is too hot and too cold and touch only brings hurt, so it yanks back, openly sobbing now. 

 

“Oh gods, I'm so sorry Tommy, please, listen to me, I'm sorry I shouted at you." Wilbur pleads, and there's no searing pain or bruises forming on Tommy's skin, and it dares to peek, seeing Wilbur's blurry but worried face staring at it. It doesn't make sense. Wilbur doesn't make sense. 

 

"Why don't you hurt me? Why don't you hate me?" It sniffles, scrubbing at its eyes as Wilbur softens. 

 

"Tommy, I won't ever hurt you. You're- you're like a brother to me. I care about you. I didn't mean to get so angry. I'm sorry." Wilbur emphasizes, and- 

 

Tommy wails, reaching out his arms and the touch will burn but it won't hurt, because it's Wilbur. Wilbur embraces him hesitantly, wrapping long limbs around Tommy's small frame. 

 

The raccoon hybrid sobs, curling up in Wilbur's hold. It's so warm, and the touch burns a bit, but it's good and Tommy hasn't had good touch in years. Hasn't been hugged since- 

 

Neon green, porcelain smiles- 

 

Tommy shudders, hiccuping as he presses closer to Wilbur. 

 

"Shhh, it's okay, Tommy. I got you." Wilbur whispers, patting Tommy's head, warmth in his voice. This is nice. And Tommy thinks that maybe he can try again. 

 

It's gonna be alright.

Chapter Text

Philza is on a mining trip. And everything is fine. Nothing itches. Nothing is bad. 

 

His instincts aren't screaming at him, his wings aren't twitching from not having enough space to spread them in the small, narrow cave. Nope, perfectly fine.

 

Why was he here again? Right, because they had run out of redstone. And no one else on the server had any to spare. 

 

And he really wanted to finish this building project he had started, but he needed redstone for it. So here he was now, in a natural cave and jumping at every mob sound that managed to pierce the solid walls. Fucking great. 

 

The Elytrian unfurls his wings, flinching when the tips smack into smooth stone, immediately withdrawing them. At times like this, he envys Tubbo, a bee, who could still fly along, no problem, and Ranboo, who could teleport out. 

 

Then again, probably no one else had that deep-rooted terror of enclosed spaces like Phil did. He was just different. 

 

Tommy was an avian; he couldn't fly like Philza, and his wings were also much smaller. 

 

Deep breaths, Philza Minecraft, He tells himself, grips his netherite pickaxe firmly. Just get the damm redstone, and get out. Back into the sunlight. Take off into the sky.  

 

Philza lets out a shaky breath, and goes back to mining. 

 

Of course, the universe hates him, and there's a cave-in. Right on top of him. 

 

Philza groans, having found himself in a little nook, and the stones on his back weren't too heavy. And his wings- 

 

Phil freezes. He can't- he can't feel his wings. He whips his head to one side, where he can see his wing buried under numerous rocks. There was blood starting to pool. 

 

Phil's heart leaps into his throat and he whimpers, twisting his body and screeching as the pain flares up. 

 

His breathing quickens; what if he never gets out? Will he be doomed to eventually suffocate in here? Or starve, or die of dehydration? 

 

Someone would find him, right? Someone would notice he was gone, go looking for him, but Philza was an idiot who flew off, far away from the mainland and the chances of being found were so fucking low. 

 

Phil is going to die in here, all alone, unable to move, his body beginning to ache already, pinned under the rocks. He can't do anything. He's utterly helpless. 

 

Philza chokes out a sob, and hopes he could die quickly, at least.

Chapter Text

Tommy heaves, spitting out bloody petal after bloody petal into the toilet bowl. 

 

He gags, blood dripping from his chin as he grips the rim of the toilet tightly, whimpering. Gods, this hurt. His throat was so raw he couldn't even drink water, and his body ached from kneeling over the toilet. He stares at the blue flowers floating around the toilet water, near intact and bloodied. They're blue. Wilbur's color.

 

Tommy's chest seizes up and he feels like he's going to throw up the dammed petals all over again. 

 

It hurts. Everything hurts. From the flowers growing in his lungs to the reason for them. 

 

Wilbur. His brother. Who no longer gave a single fuck about him, now that Sally was here. Sally the salmon, the mermaid, meh meh meh. Tommy was sick of listening to the man ramble about his girlfriend. And jealous. And wow, his thoughts were not unfounded. 

 

Sally whisked Wilbur away, out of Tommy's grasp even though Wilbur is his brother, he had know him first and it's not fair.  

 

Now Wilbur doesn't pay attention to him, always going about Sally, or writing some sappy song, and- 

 

Tommy feels alone. Neglected. It's stupid thing, he's not alone. Technoblade and Philza were still here for him.

 

But see, Tommy is spoilt. He was always Wilbur's favourite, his sunshine, his little brother, and Tommy had soaked up the attention because Wilbur was the real sun. Tommy was just his moon. 

 

And now Wilbur is gone, and Tommy is hacking up bloody petals. Hanahaki, it's called. When you love someone who doesn't love you back. Tommy's is the familial kind, which is a bit rarer, apparently. He had already experienced affection, had eaten it up greedily, and now it was gone. 

 

Tommy wipes his mouth, getting up and flushing the flowers down the drain.


Tommy watches Wilbur leave on a date. He coughed up a single flower, and stares at the mostly intact pale blue flower. There was barely any blood on this one. It was soft to the touch. Tommy places in the stream near their house, and watches it float along. 

 

That's how it goes. Wilbur leaves, Tommy coughs out flowers. He could tell someone. But he doesn't want to. Because it would be embarrassing and stupid and Wilbur would scoff and turn his back on him- 

 

Tommy thinks his heart will shatter from the rejection and kill him before the flowers do. The other option is surgery, and like fuck is he doing that. Because a world without caring about Wilbur isn't worth it. 

 

So Tommy spits out flowers at night and swallows them when he can and scrabbles for every scrap of affection possible. 


It all comes to a head where in a rare moment, Wilbur and Tommy are cuddling on the couch, watching a movie. And then the man's phone buzzes and Tommy can see it's Sally as Wilbur moves, away, and- 

 

Tommy doubles over, gasping for breath as he coughs and coughs, vaguely aware of shouting as petals stream out of Tommy's mouth, spilling across the carpet. 

 

Blue on red, he notes distantly, looked very interesting. He stops after a minute, blinking teary eyes as he looks up, pushing himself back up. Wilbur stares at him, horror-stricken. 

 

"Tommy- Tommy, what was that?" Wilbur says desperately,  gesturing to the blue petals on the floor. 

 

There were all sorts of blue flowers, Tommy knows. He threw up all sorts. It was mildly interesting, wondering what was going to the next flower. 

 

"It's nothing, Big Man! Lemme just clean this up, yeah-" Tommy croaks, jumping as Wilbut's hands snake around his wrists, brown eyes meeting blue, filled with panic. 

 

"Tommy, please?" And Tommy caves. 

 

"They're for you, alright! For stupid you! I'm throwing up flowers for you, because I miss my big brother!" Tommy spits, yanking back, but Wilbur holds fast. 

 

"Because you have a girlfriend now and you don't care about me-" Tommy sniffs, going slack in Wilbur's hold. 

 

"Oh, Tommy." Wilbur breathes, grip loosening. "I am so, so sorry." 

 

"You left me." Tommy whines. "You said you would be my big brother forever but you're gone. You don't care about me anymore and now everyday everything hurts." 

 

"I- I didn't mean to. I didn't realise- you were older, I thought you didn't care so much about your big brother, gods- I am so sorry, Tommy. The word means shit. But I am." Wilbur whispers, hugging him as Tommy sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks. They stay curled up, until Tommy pulls away slightly to look at Wilbur. 

 

"I don't forgive you." He says slowly, watching Wilbur flinch. "What you did was shitty. But...I will maybe, later." Wilbur looks relieved, a smile tugging on his lips. 

 

"Of course. Take however long you need. I will love you forever, my little sunshine." Wilbur, his big brother, assures, and Tommy thinks he can feel the flowers in his lungs withering away.

Chapter Text

It's day 16? 24? 31? 49? morning, and Sam is getting ready for his duties as Pandora Vault's Warden. 

 

He straps on his netherite armour, curling a clawed hand around his trident. He steps out of his house, patting Fran as he goes, beginning to walk to his workplace. 

 

Soon the looming obsidian building that is the prison comes into view, and Sam nods at today's guards as he passes. He finds his office, sitting down in his chair, trident vanishing into his inventory. And he tries not to break down. 

 

It has been three days since Tommyinnit died. Three days since Dream beat him to death. Three days since Sam failed. Three days, where Tommy's corpse lay to rot in the cell he died in, hidden from view by a curtain of lava. Stuck with his murderer. 

 

Sam sucks in a breath, rests his head in his hands. Tommy is dead. And it feels like no one fucking cares. A child had been beaten to death by the server's greatest villain, and everyone barely batted an eye. Tommy was dead. Why didn't they care? 

 

Sam strangles his sob, tangling his hands into his hair, resisting the urge to pull. He is the Warden. He cannot show weakness. He is the Warden. 

 

He is a person.

 

He left Tommy, who Dream despised, with the deranged man. He ignored the boy's shouts, pleas, to let him out, and now he paid the price. Tommy was beaten to death by Dream. Tommy is gone, forever, and Jack was already trying to take over his hotel. Sam Nook had failed to protect Tommy. The Warden might as well have killed him with his own two hands. 

 

Sam releases his grip on his hair, emotions shuttering off, and starts work. 

 

"Tommy." Sam breathes, hands twitching and resisting the urge to yank the boy into a hug. "You're- you're alive? But- how?" 

 

Tommy looks like a mess, clothes bloodied and eyebags hanging under dull blue eyes. 

 

"Dream revived me. I- I don't want to talk about it. Fuck off!" Tommy snarls, hands curling into fists as he shivers. There’s a handprint around his neck. Sam tries not to stare.

 

"Oh- of course. Anything you want, Tommy. It's just- I , was just worried. Sorry." Sam swallows. 

 

"You left me." Tommy whispers, and the words are so fucking broken Sam wants to shrivel up and die. 

 

See, Sam is a coward. One of the biggest ones you'll ever know. He built the fucking prison, and he left Tommy in it because of stupid protocols and- 

 

Sam's just making excuses. And he'll hate himself forever for it, but what good does it do for the people he hurt? 

 

"I- I did, Tommy. And I'm so, so sorry for it. I'm the Warden, and-" Sam chokes of, hands curling to his chest. His job was more important than someone he considered akin to a son. His job had been worth more than an innocent life. 

 

"I hate you. Sorry doesn't mean shit." Tommy says roughly, wrapping his arms around himself, and Sam wants to throw up at the purple black brusies peeking out from under the boy's sleeves. 

 

"I hate you." Tommy sobs, fingers digging into his arms. "You left me. I called for you, I called for help and you left me and Dream killed me and he brought me back and all he asked was  how death felt like." 

 

Sam's fingers twist together, a pit growing in his stomach. And Sam is a coward, the biggest you'll ever meet, and he wants Tommy to shut up, so he doesn't have to know all the shit that resulted from his betrayal, him abandoning Tommy. 

 

But he bites the inside of his cheek, copper filling his mouth as he lets Tommy spill his horrors and nightmares out. Because this is his fucking fault and this is the least he can do for Tommy. 

 

"I'm sorry. I know the word means nothing, nothing at fucking all, but sorry." Sam says finally, once Tommy is done. The boy looks at him, and Sam notes a white streak in his blonde hair, blank eyes raking their gaze over Sam's pitiful figure. 

 

Coward, the gaze seems to say, and Sam nearly recoils from them. 

 

Tommy turns on his heel, stalking away, and Sam finally crumples onto the ground, kneeling as he clutches at his chest, at where the shattered remains of his heart laid.

 

Chapter Text

Tubbo is thrown out of the building, explosions ringing in his ears as his mouth opens in a silent scream. Stupid, stupid, he hadn't paid attention, and the bomb had went off and he had barely dodged the blast zone, which would have resulted in instant death. 

 

 

The shockwave does knock him through the window, and Tubbo scrabbles at the glass embedded in his back. At the very least, he was only on the third floor, but the odds were still very much not in his favour. He hears someone - Tommy? - scream his name, before he blacks out before he even hits the fucking ground. 

 

 

 

The first thing Tubbo notes upon waking is a beeping noise. It's regular, sounding constantly and it takes several seconds for Tubbo to get his thoughts together. And then more time to make a list. 

 

 

1. Ow.

 

 

2. Beeping sound, heart moniter? 

 

 

3. Pain. 

 

 

4. He can't move. 

 

 

5. Did he mention his agony? Yes? Well, FUCK SHIT HURT WHERE WERE THE DRUGS? GIVE TUBBO HIS DRUGS

 

 

6. His drug dose was probably not strong enough. 

 

 

7. There's soft breathing in the room. 

 

Tubbo runs over the list, also noting that he was lying on a bed. Definitely a hospital. He idly wonders which one; the fancy hero one, or the nearest public hospital? 

 

 

Tubbo also appears to be heavily bandaged, he can barely twitch, though that motion also hurts, ow. He finally cracks open an eye, hissing at the light. He shuts it, hearing some shuffling and gasps, reopening it to find Ranboo peering worriedly at him. 

 

 

"Wake up, bitchboy." Tommy's voice floats in, and Tubbo blinks rapidly to take in the room. It was just Ranboo and Tommy. Good. He can't flip off Tommy with his wrapped-up hands, so he settles for sticking out his tongue. 

 

 

"How you feeling, Big Man?" Tommy softens, plopping down on the bed. 

 

 

"Like shit. Water." Tubbo croaks, Ranboo rushing to fulfill his request. The water is fantastic sliding down his throat. 

 

 

"Ranboo, my beloved." Tubbo whispers, causing the Enderman hybrid to smile fondly. 

 

 

"You were really banged up after that explosion. Phil managed to catch you though, or else.." Tommy trails off. Tubbo doesn't need more context. He's mummified enough already. 

 

 

"Well then! Do you need anything, Tubbo?" Ranboo straightens, tail flicking back and forth. 

 

 

"Yes, actually I would like some pudding." Tubbo says sweetly, and Tommy chokes. 

 

 

"Pudding? Wait-" Ranboo's eyes widen in horror as Tubbo cackles. 

 

 

"PUDDING DEEZ NUTS DOWN YOUR THROAT-" Tubbo screeches with Tommy, coughing as he jostles some organ. 

 

 

"I hate you. Both of you." Ranboo grumbles as Tommy wheezes. 

 

 

"You love us, Ranboob." Tommy snarks, and the Enderman hybrid rolls his eyes. 

 

 

 

 

The nurse peeks in later to find them all curled up next to each other.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Ranboo hates water. Very much. It burns, melting away his flesh until he bleeds, and then the water mixes and it gets even worse. 

 

He has the tear track scars to show for it, when he couldn't stop crying from the continued agony. 

 

On the good side, he doesn’t sweat, so he doesn't need baths. And he likes to keep himself well-groomed. So it's fine! There was no way Ranboo would be dumb enough to ever topple into a lake or something and dissolve like a bath bomb! 

 

He's going to be just fine. 


Ranboo wakes up. He blinks, staring for a moment, feeling the wind blow at him before everything snaps into place. That's obsidian under his feet. Clouds above him. Sam, the Warden, standing a few paces away, pointing a trident at him. 

 

"Ranboo. You are charged with treason for helping the prison escape." Sam recites mechanically, stepping forward. Ranboo blinks, confused as he takes a step back, and then another. 

 

"What- I don't understand? I didn't help Dream escape? I hate him, I don't even know how I got here!" Ranboo splutters, watching Sam advance as he backed away.

 

"I have footage. You were the last one with the prisoner before he escaped. Your penalty is death." Sam continues, and Ranboo stumbles as he hits the edge of the prison's roof, unable to continue any further. 

 

"Wait! I didn't do any of that, you have to believe me, Sam! I didn't!" Ranboo scrambles for an explanation, terror gripping him. He had sleepwalked. That was the only explanation. But would Sam believe him? Ranboo opens his mouth to speak, only to find a boot planted squarely in his chest, pushing him off the prison. 

 

Ranboo screams, the sound carried away by the wind and then he plunges into water. Ranboo thrashes as water soaks his skin and clothes, creating angry burns that just got worse and worse. 

 

He had landed mid-scream too, so water rushed into his mouth, down his throat, and it was just a never-ending cycle of pain and agony as he basically dissolved in the water. 

 

His flesh melted off, purple blood mixing with the water and Ranboo's last conscious thought is to wonder if Tubbo and Micheal were safe, before everything went black.

Chapter Text

"Stop. I'll- I'll give you the disc." Tommy says desperately, shoving the disc forward. Dream tilts his head slowly, axe still half-buried into Tubbo's shield. For Tubbo. 

 

 

"Good choice, Tommy." Dream says finally, yanking back his axe, tearing Tubbo's shield out of his grasp with a scream from the boy. 

 

 

"Tubbo-" Tommy scrambles forward as Dream takes the disc, crouching beside the boy. 

 

 

"This is quite touching, really, but let's get this over with. Dispose of all your weaponry and armor. Now. Give it to me." Dream drawls, crossbow in hand and pointed at Tubbo's head. They compile reluctantly, handing over their last means of defence. Dream's mask tips up, revealing a maniac grin as he steps forward. 

 

 

"Silly children." He coos, and shoots Tubbo in the shoulder. Tommy jerks as the crossbow bolt tears into the boy, screeching along with Tubbo. 

 

 

"What the fuck, what the fuck Dream-" Tommy swears as Tubbo crumples to the ground, clawing at the bolt stuck in his shoulder. Dream loads another bolt nonchalantly, without care. He shoots Tommy in the leg and the blonde crumples onto the floor, nails scrabbling at the ground. 

 

 

"WHAT THE SHIT, DREAM! STOP!" Tommy shouts, panic rising as blood begins to dribble down his leg. 

 

 

"You're so loud, Tommy." Dream groans as Tubbo huddles closer to Tommy with a whimper. 

 

 

"Finally, I can just get rid of you for fucking good." Dream tucks away the crossbow, a netherite sword dropping into his hands. 

 

 

The two boys scramble back, Tommy shielding Tubbo protectively with a snarl they all know has no real bite. Dream moves, his netherite boot slamming into Tommy's side with a sickening crunch, throwing him aside. Tommy gasps for breath, turning just in time to see Dream slide a sword into Tubbo's chest. 

 

 

"TUBBO!" Tommy stands with pure adrenaline, lunging for Dream and slamming into the man. 

 

 

"Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you I hate you I hate you-" Tommy repeats like a mantra, even as the Thorns on Dream's armor burn his arms, and then Dream tosses him aside without a care. 

 

"Do you know how long I've waited for this, Tommy?" Dream laughs, sword disappearing as Nightmare reappeared, swinging back and forth. Tommy whimpers, eyes darting to Tubbo's limp form, eyes staring sightlessly. 

 

 

"Goodbye, Tommy." Dream whispers, swinging his axe and the world goes dark.

 

 

Chapter Text

Tommy like his job at Dream's cafe. It had been hell getting the job, since he was deaf, but he had managed. 

 

Dream had decided that Tommy was good enough at making coffee to work here, and had already learned sign language himself. So he has a boss that can actually understand him. 

 

And his co-workers had all learned sign language one way or another, along with some regulars that dropped by when he was on-shift often. Technoblade learned it the fastest, show-off

 

Today was a slow day, though. Tubbo or Ranboo had called in a sick day, and Tommy was the only one on shift, so he had to take orders. 

 

Which wasn't bad, he could just have people gesture to the menu, and point to the price displayed on the register. 

 

But it was always kind of a pain, and there was the occassional customer who would not fucking cooperate, especially after Tommy seeing his 'I'm deaf' tag. Assholes.

 

He didn't exactly love it, but whatever. Most people usually were more understanding after seeing it. But holy fuck, there was a reason why he stayed behind the counter, and stared at the coffee machine waiting for whoever was at the register to shove an order into his face. 

 

That was preferable, because Tommy wasn't exactly the friendliest. Wilbur had said that if he talked as rude as he signed, then they would lose customers like crazy. 

 

Anyways. Back to the rude customer. Absolutely a Karen, blond hair, blue eyes, and was talking about something. 

 

Tommy can't lip read very well, but he managed to recognise a few keywords, about how he shouldn't be working here and shit. 

 

Gods, he wished someone was on shift with him. But Purpled had deemed the business slow enough for Tommy to man the register himself. 

 

And Tommy doesn't want to bother anyone, so he sucks it up and plasters on a smile. Finally the woman jabs a finger at her order, and Tommy almost cried when she sat down at one of the cafe's tables. And the cafe wasn't a fucking self-serve. 

 

So Tommy graciously carries the steaming cup of coffee, over to the woman. Karen snaps something at him, and Tommy just stares at her blankly, confused. His order wasn't wrong, but the woman had picked up the cup of coffee and was- shouting at him? What the fuck- 

 

Karen moves, and about half of the coffee spills on him, soaking his shirt and splashing onto his arm. 

 

Tommy thinks he makes a guttural noise, scrambling back as he shakes his arm, trying to get off the fucking coffee, holy shit his arm was red and hurt like hell- 

 

Karen looks shocked for a moment, before it disappears and she starts growling something. Tommy can't focus, his vision going blurry as his arm burned and burned, the places where the coffee soaked through his clothes also unnaturally warm, and he can't breathe- 

 

Someone appears infront of him, grabbing at his wrists, causing Tommy to jerk back, distantly noting that he had been scratching at his burnt arm, and blue eyes meet violet ones. 

 

"Tommy." Purpled mouths at him, and Tommy shakes for a moment before sucking in a breath. He's okay. It's fine, Purpled was here, Tommy doesn't focus on Karen behind him. Just takes in deep breaths. 

 

Purpled was staring at his arm in horror, glaring at Karen before shouting soundlessly, and Tommy thinks it might be a call for Dream. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Ugh his arm was all prickly and irritating and painful.

 

Dream strides in, wearing his trademark smilely mask as he surveys the scene, and Tommy assumes he says something to Purpled because the boy was ushering him to the breakroom.

 

Purpled guides him to the sink, turning on the tap and running the burnt part of his arm under warm water. Tommy sighs in relief as the pain lessened, becoming more bearable. 

 

He moves to sign, and then remembers one arm is out of commission. Great. At least it wasn't his dominant arm, he supposes. Several minutes later Dream walks back in, looking irritated. 

 

'She's banned. Make sure to tell the rest, Purple. Are you alright, Tommy?' Dream signs at them, and Tommy nods his head. 

 

Dream appears to grimace at the sight of his arm, signing for him to take the rest of the day off, and helping Tommy to wrap up his arm afterwards. 

 

Purpled was signing on and on about what a bitch the Karen was, and had agreed to take on Tommy's shift, kicking the boy out to go get some fucking rest. 

 

Tommy goes home feeling significantly better, just glad that there were people who cared about him.

Chapter Text

"I think I just activated a bomb." Technoblade notes, Dream's only warning before he is yeeted. 

 

 

Dream screeches as he's thrown a good dozen metres, slamming into a wall. He coughs up blood, the red liquid dripping from his mouth as he wonders which bones were the results of the multiple cracking sounds he heard once he hit the wall. Bombs. He hates them. 

 

 

Dream groans, slumping as he slides down, head bouncing against the concrete floor. Holy fuck, that hurt. 

 

 

Everything ached, and he was barely alive at this point. Well, his flesh vessel anyway. The downsides of shoving godly essence into a squishy, human body. You felt the pain too! Delightful! 

 

 

Dream hears footsteps, glancing up dazedly to see a bunch of guys approaching cautiously. 

 

 

"We got him!" One of them crows, before delivering a kick into Dream's stomach. Dream gasps, curling up instantly as the men round on him. Fuck, fuck where was Technoblade, he had gotten caught in the blast too, but he should be fine. Right? 

 

 

Dream hisses as blows are delivered, aiming at everywhere they could touch. Fuckkkkkk, at this rate he would have to wait until his vessel gave out. He couldn't focus through the pain. 

 

 

Dream reaches out, trying to drag himself away. Someone stomps on his hand, a cry ripping from Dream's throat as the bones are crushed. He whimpers, cradling it as best as he could as laughter rang in his ears, eyes sliding shut.

 

 

It opens its eyes. It's somewhat aware of the hits being delivered to its body. It is more focused on the brush of warmthsafetyworry from the Blood. 

 

 

It's fine, it assures. It was fine now. The Dreamer sits up, and with a flick of its hand throws the nearest human into the wall. 

 

 

It stands, taking stock. It twists its arm into the proper position, rolling its neck as it bends its shattered fingers back into place with cracking sounds. Its mask was fractured. It looks around, seeing the humans staring fearfully at it and smiles. 

 

 

The Dreamer lifts a hand, watching as neon green strings - visible only to it - appear on its fingers, connecting to the nearby men. It curls its hand into a fist and one keels over.

 

It hums, listening to the Void coo at the souls it would soon give them, and pulls, slicing one human's head off. 

 

 

It moves like a broken puppet, so utterly inhuman as blood dripped, the creaking of bones apparent as it kills the humans easily. The Dreamer hums and steps, and it is elsewhere, next to the Blood. 

 

 

The Blood glances at it with no eyes, made of stardust and darkness as he was. The Blood weaves a cloak of moonlight with the fabric of the universe, draping it over the Dreamer absentmindedly.

 

 

You do not look well, Dreamer. The Blood rumbles, looking around at the scattered corpses of humans he had also killed. 

 

 

"I think I'm doing great!" It chirps happily, and steps out of its human skin, curling back into dreams and clay and code. A shifting mass of numbers and green and porcelain. The Blood smiles with no mouth, constellations winking in and out of existence. 

 

 

When are you not, really? He huffs in amusement as the Dreamer giggles, the starlit cloak draped around its existence. 

 

 

"Can we go home, Techno?" It asks, darting around the mass of shadows and starlight. 

 

 

Whatever you want, Dream. Technoblade rumbles fondly, and the world tilts to the side and the Blood's form snaps into place, a skeleton forming as veins thread through it, flesh growing over it before Techno's usual piglin form is back in place, crown and royal garb on. 

 

 

"Gonna stay eldritch, Dre?" Techno tilts his head. 

 

 

The Dreamer hums the song of the stars, ducking into the cloak before carefully pulling a body through space and time, moulding it into its desired shape. Once it's done, it threads green cloth and crafts a new mask, and then curls into its new vessel. 

 

 

Dream blinks, curling and uncurling his hands as he shakes his head roughly. Tugs the now red cloak’s hood down over his eyes.

 

 

"Let's go." Dream grins, and the two friends stroll off, leaving behind a bloody trail.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Tommy bounces back and forth on his feet. 

 

"Fight me, bitch!" He screeches at his opponent, some criminal he couldn't remember the name of. The man growls, darting in and taking a swing at him. Tommy ducks, performing a roundhouse kick into the villain's side, grinning. 

 

"Is that all you got?" Tommy mocks, dancing back. 

 

"TOMMY! STOP PLAYING!!" Wilbur's voice rings out before he goes right back to singing his opponents into compliance. Dickhead. 

 

Tommy rolls his eyes, darting in to land a blow and knock the man out, when the world suddenly stops, a forcefield springing out around them. The villain grins, watching as Tommy froze mid-air, able to think but unable to move. 

 

"Who's the weak one now, huh?" The villain sneers, and Tommy feels a shiver go down his  spine as he tries to move to no avail, unable to even call out for help. 

 

"Head to sleep, boy." The man laughs, and slams his fist down on Tommy's head right as he unfreezes. 

 

Tommy smacks the side of his head onto the concrete floor, a  strangled cry ripping from his lungs as a sickening crunch sounded. Tommy lays there, in a complete daze as someone starts screaming, and then Wilbur is kneeling beside him, hands reaching but not touching him. 

 

"Oh my fucking god, are- are you there, Tommy?" Wilbur whispers, horrified. Why was he so horrified? Everything was great. 

 

Tommy was just lying down on the floor. Because he had a headache, as his head was pounding like a fucking bitch, and wow, his vision was going blurry. 

 

He blinks and sees red, noting that it was something dripping onto his eyelashes. Blood? Was it his own? 

 

"Tommy! Don't fucking close your eyes, Tommy. PHIL! PHIL TOMMY GOT HURT!" Wilbur swears, before turning around and shouting something. 

 

"I'm fine." Tommy slurs, trying to prove it by getting up, before a wave of pain makes him black out for a few seconds. 

 

"You are so not fine, mate." Phil's voice sounds, with a shaky quality. "Oh my god- what happened?" 

 

Tommy blinks sleepily, listening to Wilbur and Philza talk to each other. He wonders what they were talking about. There were two of them now. He thinks he's seeing rainbows too. 

 

"I have so many wives." Tommy sighs dreamily, completely bypassing his previous thought and Wilbur pauses to look at him incredulously. 

 

"No you fucking don't, child. Clearly your head wasn't hit hard enough." Wilbur scoffs, the worry contained in the words going unnoticed by Tommy. 

 

"Fuck you, I have so many wives." Tommy mumbles, eyes drooping again. 

 

"Tommy, if you fall asleep I will stab you." Wilbur growls, and he's being picked up, and a hand gently rests on the back of his head, not the part that was throbbing, though. 

 

"Wilbyyyyyy." Tommy whines as they begin to move. "The world's all blurry and shit." He's seeing so many stars. He tries to catch one, and fails. 

 

"Yes, yes. You're going to be alright, sunshine." Wilbur murmurs to him, and Tommy thinks he can hear Techno's trademark drawl at some point. 

 

"Big brother Wilbur's here." 

 

Tommy wakes up in a hospital. He blinks blearily, reaching up a hand to touch his head with a wince, feeling bandages under his fingers. 

 

Tommy looks around to see Wilbur slumped onto his bed, with Techno and Phil nearby asleep on chairs. Phil had a wing wrapped around Techno and Wilbur each, acting as a blanket. 

 

Tommy yawns, burrowing back into the bed and falling asleep to the soft breathing of his family.

Chapter Text

Technoblade trudges through the snow, seeing the lights of his cabin far away. In his arms was a bundled-up form, and you could see dirty blonde hair peeking out from one side. 

 

Techno carries Dream carefully, trying to be quick, having draped his cloak over the man to prevent him from freezing to death. 

 

Techno kicks open his door, shutting it behind him and is relieved to see Phil already waiting for him with several splash healing potions with him. 

 

Hd carefully lays out Dream on the couch, grimacing as he notes the bloodstains soaking through his already red cape. He unwraps the man and he scowls at the state of him. 

 

Black blue bruises littering patches of skin, some with cuts and puncture wounds, a cruelly carved ':]' onto Dream's neck, and- 

 

Phil is moving, dropping potion after potion of healing on Dream, pulling out a towel and soaking it in a nearby basin of water to start wiping at the dried blood and grime on the former prisoner's. 

 

"Get more pots." Phil instructs Techno, who moves automatically, glad to have something to do. 

 

Dream shifts uncomfortably, a whimper crawling out of his throat when Phil accidentally presses too hard on a bruise. 

 

"Fuck- sorry mate." Phil apologises, more wary now as Techno splashes more healing on Dream, watching the wounds start to heal, very slowly. Too slow. 

 

"Hey, Dream." He murmurs, crouching beside the man. Dream turns in the direction of his voice, cracking open blood-crusted eyelids and hissing at the light. 

 

"Techno?" Dream rasps out, voice about gone. 

 

"It's me." Techno chuckles, and the voices finally bubble over. 

 

Dream hurt 

 

Technosoft 

 

Rivals content 

 

...didn't we have that two chapters ago- 

 

Shut. Gapples Revenge? 

 

Fuck Dream looks like shit.  

 

Dream stares at Techno blankly for a moment, before his eyes slid shut again. Technoblade almost panics, but finds the man's pulse still steady. 

 

"Hey, Dream. Do you think you could eat some mashed gapples? You need them." Phil asks gently, having mostly cleaned Dream up. 

 

The clothes were lost causes. Techno needs to burn his couch after this. Dream opens his eyes again, now a dull green color as he glances at Phil. He nods, and Phil is walking off to the kitchen. 

 

"So." Techno starts, watching Dream stare into blank space, jumping as the man's gaze snaps to him. Mildly terrifying, but alright. 

 

"You're at my home now, I broke you out. I took Sam's canon life. I think most of the server knows about this by now." Techno explains. 

 

"...sorry for the trouble." Dream whispers, eyes snapping to the ground. 

 

"No need to be sorry about anything. This time, I hid Carl, Quackity can't get to him-" Techno cuts off as Dream flinches violently at the name, drawing back. 

 

You made the homeless blob scared 

 

Oh no it's the triggers 

 

In this house we do not utter Quackity's name in Dream's presence 

 

I will fight you 

 

He can't even hear us 

 

Is this a stan fight now this is my first time ._. 

 

*hands popcorn* doesn't usually happen in chat  

 

Techno shakes his head at the voices, turning  to Dream. 

 

"Hey- it's okay. He isn't here." Techno says slowly, watching Dream slowly relax. Phil sweeps back in, carrying a bowl filled with mashed up gapples. 

 

Dream tenses, but allows himself to be prompted into a sitting position so he could eat. Dream takes the bowl with shaky hands, carefully using the spoon provided to scoop some into his mouth. Dream closes his eyes in a sigh as the magic begins to set in. 

 

"Eat slowly." Phil advises as Techno watches warily. Dream finishes off the bowl, and Phil takes it wordlessly, leaving and coming back. There's a moment of silence as the three sit awkwardly in the silence. 

 

"Thank....you..." Dream breaks it, clearing his throat and coughing, causing Phil to start fussing over him. 

 

"Um, thanks for. Saving me." Dream mutters quietly, staring at his fingers. They had been shattered, in the prison. Stomped on under a heavy netherite boot, the sound of shears snipping- Dream's breath hitches, and he curls his hands into fists. 

 

"I owed you one." Techno shrugs, seemingly uncaring. 

 

"You're welcome to stay here, Dream." Phil cuts in, smiling warmly at Dream. 

 

"We'll protect you." Dream hesitates, nodding. 

 

"Okay." He says quietly. There's something wet on his cheeks. "Thanks." 

 

"Anytime, Dream." Technoblade smiles fondly, and Dream buries his face in his hands as sobs slip out from his mouth, and is grateful they do not comment.

Chapter Text

Phil walks through the temple, black wings brushing the floor as he hummed. He had been invited into a tea party, of all things, by a fellow god. Of death too, who went by Foolish. It was interesting, to say the least. 

 

Kristin had said he was more like a god of revival, but officially his domains were life and death. It was a weird thing. 

 

"PHILLLLLL, WILBUR'S BEING A BITCHHHHH!" Tommy screeches, startling Phil out of his thoughts, cause the angel to spin around. 

 

"I didn't do anything!" Wilbur shrieks, folding his arms with a hum. Technoblade was standing behind them, staring blankly and flicking an ear as the voices likely spoke to him. Gods, what did he do to deserve this?

 

Dadza pog 

 

Good way or bad way? 

 

He loves his little shits and you know it 

 

Shiny 

 

Totem god 

 

Tea party  

 

Chat chattered, a few crows flying over to perch on Philza. 

 

"Fuck off." Phil shooes the birds off as they caw. 

 

You push us away? You push the crows away? Jail. Jail for Dadza for a thousand years.  

 

"Can we just get to the tea party in one piece?" He begs, stomping off in the direction of the meeting place. He can hear his children trailing after him, soft arguing drifting to his ears. 

 

Phil sweeps into the courtyard, spotting the totem god and his two children sitting around a table laden with treats at a pavilion. 

 

"Foolish!" He calls, waving at the god. Foolish brightens, hurrying over to him. 

 

"Hello! It's good to see you, Phil." Foolish greets warmly, looking over to his kids. "And they are..?" 

 

"Technoblade. Blood godling." Technoblade murmurs, looking at the ground shyly. 

 

"I'm Wilbur! Godling of music!" Wilbur butts in, grinning winningly. "Are you a golden statue?" 

 

"Nice to meet you two. And yes, you could say I am, but I can move my body the same way you do." Phil watches as Foolish curls and uncurls his hand. 

 

"This is Foolish, god of life and death. Or totem, depending on which title you want to use." Phil introduces them, glancing at a hiding Tommy and shoving him forward. 

 

"Hey- what the fuck?" Tommy screeches, glaring at Phil who only smiles at him. 

 

"I'm Tommy. Demigod." The boy pouts, kicking at the ground. Foolish's smiles grows warmer, if possible, pulling it off somehow even with the shark teeth. 

 

"It's very nice to meet you, Tommy." The totem god says softly, and Tommy relaxes a little. The boy was still insecure about his demigod status compared to his godling brothers. He would ascend soon enough. 

 

"Now..." Foolish steps aside to reveal that his two kids had been hiding behind him this whole time. They looked similar, with golden skin and shark hoods, emeralds for eyes, teeth slowly sharpening. One was noticably smaller than the other, though, wearing a dress and had a flower tucking behind their ear. 

 

"Hello, mate!" Phil trills, waving at them. 

 

"This is my son, Foolish Junior, and my daughter, Finley." Foolish says proudly, patting their heads as the two wave excitedly back at Phil. 

 

"Now, why don't you kids have fun together?" Foolish suggests, nudging his children forward. 

 

"RACE YOU TO THAT TREE!" Tommy shouts, taking off and causing Foolish Jr and Finley to gasp, chasing him. Techno and Wilbur follow, the two older children content to chat. Phil watches them go with a fond smile, before turning to Foolish with a grin. 

 

"Tea or coffee?" The totem offers, leading Phil to the table. Philza peers at the many desserts, taking some cake for himseld with a pleased hum. 

 

"Tea, thank you." 

 

They settle in, chatting on and on about godhood, the duality of life and death, and how to raise children. 

 

Philza is halfway through a rant about Wilbur eating sand when a bloodcurdling scream echoes through the air. The content feeling in Phil's stomach drops into pure, heart-stopping dread as he shoots up, racing in the direction of Tommy's scream. 

 

It was him, Phil was sure, and the dread tasted sour on his tongue, rolling in his gut, and he turns a corner to see Tommy, teary-eyed and crumpled onto the floor. 

 

"Fuck- what happened?" Phil falls to his knees before Tommy. Demigods were much more fragile than godlings, being basically half-human. Tommy was just a kid Phil had happened to find, but he'll be damned if something ever happens to the boy. 

 

Phil notes the swelling on Tommy's ankle, some scratches on his limbs as well. Dread curled within him again, wondering how close Tommy could have been to death.

 

"He fell out of the tree." Technoblade speaks up, stepping forward. "I think he sprained his ankle." 

 

All the kids were here, watching wide-eyed. Foolish thunders into the corridor, quickly accessing the situation. 

 

"I can help." He offers Phil, crouching beside them. Right. God of life. Phil shifts, and Foolish takes Tommy's hand, the god closing his eyes. His hand glows golden, and Tommy's whispers cease as the pain scrunching up the boy's face eases, and Phil notes that his ankle was no longer swollen, the minor cuts healing over. Thank End. 

 

"Thank you so much." He swallows, grabbing hold of Foolish's arm gratefully. 

 

"It was just a bit of healing. No need to thank me." Foolish dismisses. 

 

"Don't be so reckless next time, okay?" Foolish chides Tommy, who nods, embarrassed. 

 

"Well, that was eventful. How about we eat properly, and then you guys can head home?" Foolish claps his hands together, standing up. 

 

"Probably for the best." Phil agrees, and the group heads back to the pavilion. And quietly, he adds Foolish's name to the list of gods he could trust. 

Chapter Text

Dream stares at the child. The child stares back, blinking red and green eyes. His skin colour was split perfectly between black and white, right down to the tip of his tufted tail, and was rather still. 

 

"Hello." Dream greets. "Um. I'm Dream." The child fidgets with his fingers, avoiding eye-contact. 

 

"I'm Ranboo." He murmurs, playing with his hands. 

 

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Ranboo." Dream smiles encouragingly. Why had he decided adoption was a good idea again? No idea, but Dream doesn't think he could have left once he saw the child tucked behind his social worker, eyes glued to the ground, shoulders hunched. 

 

"So. Your social worker said you have memory problems?" Dream clears his throat, wincing as Ranboo flinches slightly. 

 

"Yeah. I can remember them if I write them down in a book, though. I'll try my best to remember." Ranboo tugs at his pants, digging his fingers into the fabric. 

 

"Oh- that's good. But don't be afraid to ask, okay?" Dream says, holding out a hand to the  kid. Ranboo stares at it for a moment before taking it, staring expectantly. 

 

"How about we head to the hospital? Get you a check-up?" Dream suggests, gently tugging the boy along, outside and to the car. The Enderman hybrid nods, and the drive there is relatively peaceful. Dream had booked an appointment, so soon enough they were allowed in. 

 

"Hey, Puffy." Dream grins, waving at the sheep hybrid. 

 

"Hello, Dream." Puffy smiles warmly at him, before cooing at Ranboo, who had taken to hiding behind Dream. "Is this the kid?"

 

"Yeah, his name is Ranboo. Decided to get him a check-up." Dream pats the boy's head very carefully, and is relieved when the boy doesn't flinch but presses into the touch. Okay. Ranboo liked headpats. 

 

"Well, he seems like a sweetheart. Hello, Ranboo. Can you come here? I just need to give you a check-up." Puffy beckons the boy forward, and Dream nudges Ranboo along too, until he's seated on the chair next to Puffy. The woman check all his vitals, speaking softly and soothingly. 

 

Puffy goes to tug Ranboo's shirt up to listen to his heart, and the boy lets out a distressed vwooping sound, flinching away. 

 

"Ranboo? I need to listen to your heartbeat. Don't worry, it won't hurt." Puffy assures, withdrawing slightly with a furrowed brow. Ranboo frowns, glancing up at Dream before lifting his shirt up, and- 

 

Dream stumbles back, hand rising to his mouth, horrified. Ranboo's stomach is an utter mess of scars, ones that look like burns and they patterned his skin, some fading away and some barely healed, stretching up to his ribs. Guilt fills Dream when Ranboo looks away in shame, hurrying over. 

 

"I'm sorry." Ranboo mutters, and oh. 

 

"This is nothing to be sorry for." Puffy cuts in firmly, bless her stars, having steeled herself faster than Dream. 

 

"Who...did this to you, Ranboo?" The boy's hands curl up as he lets his shirt drop, and Dream crouches before him. 

 

"Hey. Hey, Ranboo." Dream whispers, reaching out to carefully cup the boy's cheek. 

 

"You're safe, okay? I swear it. I won't hurt you." Ranboo flicks his gaze to Dream's and looks away again, but leans into Dream's hand. 

 

"My old family..." Ranboo began. "Water burns me. So when I was bad they would..punish me." 

 

Dream sucks in a breath at the words, rage curling within his gut. Fuck. 

 

"What they did to you was wrong, Ranboo. It was utterly their fault. You don't have to say sorry." Dream sighs, filing the info away for later. 

 

"But-" Ranboo hiccups, on the verge of tears and fuck, Dream can see the scars of where tears had run down the boy's cheeks. Puffy passes him a hankerchief to dab away the tears before they spill. 

 

"I look ugly." Ranboo sniffles. "And I'm stupid, I can't remember anything and all I do is cause trouble." Hell, Dream didn't think it was possible for his heart to shatter this hard. He tugs Ranboo into a hug, lets the boy soak his shirt with his tears. 

 

"It's going to be alright. I'll keep you safe. No one's going to do that to you again on my watch, okay? You're fine. We'll get through this." Dream feels Ranboo nod into his shirt, and rubs soothing circles into his back. Puffy smiles at him, nodding approvingly. 

 

"Now, why don't we finish this up and we can go and get some pizza, hm?" Dream carefully untangles himself after several seconds, though Ranboo clings onto his hand like a lifeline. Ranboo nods, perking up at the mention of food. 

 

Dream stares at the small hand in his, and knows he'll never regret adopting Ranboo.

 

Chapter Text

The Captain strode through the street, tugging at the cloak fastened around his neck, and checking up on his passenger. 

 

Crumb sat astride his shoulders, pointing excitedly at various stalls as they passed, and Jordan gives in and buys whatever she wanted. It's not like he didn't have the funds.

 

They stroll through the market place, buying goods and trinkets and treats for Crumb. He was spoiling her, but he couldn't ever deny the kid. 

 

Jordan hums, smiling as the citizens waved at him as he passed. He kept the people safe and they appreciated that. 

 

It also helped that they adored Crumb. The kingdom's little princess. And it was Jordan's job to keep her safe. It was a job that he would never give up. Not in a million years. 

 

He sets Crumb down at her request, the girl tugging him towards the square, to the fountain. Jordan indulges her as always. 

 

His instinct flares, and he whirls, shoving Crumb behind him as his sword drops into hand, knocking the dagger aimed for them aside. A group of masked men stand before him, all equipped with various weapons. Jordan bristles, feeling Crumb shake behind him. 

 

"It'll be alright. I got you." He reassures her, and equips his shield. The first man attacks, swinging an axe that embedded itself deeply into Jordan's shield, and he sweeps the man's legs out from them easily, slamming the heel of his boot into their head. He should kill them, but he doesn't want Crumb to see it. Plus, they needed to be taken in for questioning. 

 

He darts forward, slashing at the nearest attacker, Crumb knowing enough to stay put. 

 

Everything was a blur, him slamming the hilt of his sword into the attacker's heads, someone slicing a cut into his arm, his cheek, and one of them had gapples, but he's the Captain. And he has someone to protect. 

 

Eventually Jordan's done, panting for air as he stumbles, discarding his ruined shield and stowing away his sword. That had been close. They kept trying to get to Crumb, dividing his attention. He turns around, limping to the frightened princess and side-stepping the first guy's body. 

 

"Hey, now." Jordan smiles as Crumb hugs him. "You're safe." 

 

And then something slides between the gaps in his armor and into his side. Jordan jerks as the dagger stabs him, spinning around in a hazy panic to see the very much not unconscious person the owner of the dagger. 

 

He's barely thinking as he stabs the man with his sword, crumbling to his knees after. He used all his healing potions in that battle, dammit- 

 

"Sparkles? Sparkles, you're hurt-" Crumb panics, hands hovering over Jordan's stab wound. 

 

"Hey- look at me." Jordan grits out, trying to ignore the white-hot pain. It wasn't fatal. Pulling it out would just make things worse. 

 

"I've got you. I'll protect you." He tries for a smile. It's more of a grimace. "I won't be leaving you yet." 

 

Crumb clings to him desperately, terror clear in her trembling form, and Jordan wishes she didn't have to see the blood soak through his shirt. 

 

"We're gonna get through this."  He continues, trying and failing to rise. "Yeah?" 

 

"Okay." Crumb sniffles. "Now, the potion seller's store is right there. You remember, yeah? Buy a regen pot from xem. You remember, right?" Jordan hands Crumb some gold. The nearby citizens had fled a while ago. 

 

Crumb nods, determined now, and runs off. With that the Captain slumps, wincing at every movement, and edges away from the unconscious masked men warily. The one he killed had already respawned somewhere, and he was a lot more nervous now. 

 

Jordan unbuckles his armor, lifting his shirt and grimaces at the sight of his wound. The dagger had sunk almost all the way up to the hilt, tilted slightly at an angle. Jordan is lucky it didn't hit a major organ. Just gotta get the regen pot, run home (with Crumb) and get some gapples into his system as well. 

 

He sits there, staring at the sky as blood drips ever so slowly out of his wound. What if Crumb had gotten lost? What if she has gotten kidnapped? What if- 

 

"Sparkles!" Crumb's voice  breaks through his thoughts, the girl running up to him with a regen potion in hand. 

 

"Thanks Crumb." He whispers, wrapping a hand around the dagger as he begins to drink the potion. He yanks the weapon out once he's done, grunting at the pain while the potion does its work, sealing up the wound and healing him. He sighs in relief. 

 

"You did good." He pats Crumb's head, who shakes before launching herself at him with a wail. 

 

"Oof- my ribs-" Jordan pats the girl's back, before getting up. 

 

"Let's head back to the castle, yeah?" He takes Crumb's hand, leading the sniffling girl back home. He'll live to see another day. 

 

The Captain would fight another day, and protect the princess he pledged his loyalty to.

Chapter Text

Dream deals with being alone in Pandora's Vault.

 

 

Dream listens to the lava sizzle, and pop. Over and over again. The cell was warm, not uncomfortably so, and Dream could lie at the very back of the cell and find the obsidian cool enough to sleep somewhat on. 

 

 

He taps his hands against the material, so black it was purple and so purple it was black. It was fairly quiet. 

 

 

Every sound that wasn't part of his everyday routine scratched at Dream's ears, and it nearly outweighed his desperation to see another person. Nearly. 

 

 

Dream rolls onto his side, still tapping on the obsidian. He's lonely. He's bored and uncomfortable and sick and tired and- 

 

 

Dream curls up, fingers digging into his flesh. He closes his eyes. 

 

 

Dream wakes up. He doesn't know what day it is. He lost count a while ago, with all the times he burned his clock. He can hear it now, ticking away. Slowly but surely. A soothing sound. 

 

 

Dream wonders idly how long before it turns irritating. Would he shatter it this time? Break the glass and watch the shards adorn his hands as blood dripped onto the floor? Or would he throw it into the lava, listen to it sizzle and hiss, a final cry as it melted away. And then Sam would storm in and lecture him about breaking his clock and give him a new one. 

 

 

Dream doesn't really pay attention when he does. He just basks in the attention of another person. 

 

 

Dream curls up his hand into a fist. Uncurls it. Does the motion again and this time digs his nails in, uncurling his hands to reveal red crescent marks on his palms. He flops down on the floor, spread out and shifting so the obsidian didn't dig into his spine. 

 

 

He looks up at the ceiling, finds crying obsidian and watches it. His gut rolls as the guardian screams again, the mining fatigue renewed and making him achingly slow. His muscles weak, movements sluggish, body lethargic even as his mind screamed to fucking move. 

 

Dream takes a deep breath. Exhales. He watches the crying obsidian, counting the seconds before it dripped. 

 

 

The lava sizzles. The clock ticks. The obsidian cries., Dream does not move.

 

 

Chapter Text

Technoblade swings his sword, watches the blade bite into a soldier's flesh. He ducks under another's swing, breaking their ribs for their trouble. 

 

He continues on, leaving carnage and death in his back. Not too far away, he can hear Wilbur sing, his melodious voice weaving it's way into the ranks of soldiers, forcing them to a stop. And they turn on each other, snarling and feral, tearing each other apart. Wilbur watches it all with a smirk, trotting over to him, grimacing at Techno's bloodstained clothes. 

 

"This is what happens when you pit a 100 soldiers against each other!" Wilbur says joyfully, gesturing to the fighting soldiers. 

 

"Pretty sure that's more than a hundred, Wilbur." Techno deadpans, inhaling the scent of iron as strength rewinds its way through his bones, the blood spilled replenishing his energy. He was the Blood God, after all, just like Wilbur was the god of silver tongues. Of sweet poison lies and golden honey smiles as he charms you off a cliff. And he never had to get his hands dirty. Convenient. 

 

"No need to ruin my fun, Techno." Wilbur drawls, waving a hand at the mass slaughter going on. 

 

"Yeah, yeah." Techno snorts, a crossbow dropping into his hand as he shoots a firework at a nearby squad of soldiers. Normally, they didn't participate in wars. They were gods, and gods do not simply meddle with human affairs. Dream did like to do that, though. 

 

But anyways, Wilbur said he wanted to experiment on the humans, since they were 'all going to die anyway', and Techno decided to come along since both armies were praying to him, and hey, it's fun to stretch his limbs for one. He hasn't participated in such a war in...centuries? He boosted soldiers occasionally, but that was it. 

 

Techno turns to ask Wilbur something when a crossbow bolt nails him right in the forehead. His head snaps back with a terrifying crack as he stumbles, before flopping onto the floor. That hurt. 

 

His hands reached up to probe at the offending projectile, his vision starting to go blurry as he hears Wilbur shouting something. His head pounded with an intensity, but it would be very embarrassing to lose like this to a human weapon.  

 

 

Technodone 

 

Technodead 

 

Blood For The Blood God 

 

He isn't in his final form, so 

 

Wee woo god done 

 

Just killed god, feeling good 

 

LMAO 

 

 

The voices chime in with unnecessary comments, before someone shoves his hands aside, wrapping their own around the bolt in Techno's head. A boot is planted squarely on his chest, and the person pulls, yanking the bolt out of his brain. 

 

Techno groans at the pain, propping himself up on his elbows as blood gushed from the wound, along with what might be brain matter. Ew. He blinks the blood out of his eyes, then remembers that the bolt went all the way through his head. Which meant.... 

 

Techno snarls when he feels blood begin to soak through his pink hair, irritated. The wound was taking way too long to close. 

 

"Hey, Techno. Can I get a thank you?" Wilbur waves at him, along with the offending crossbow bolt. 

 

"Didn't need the help." Technoblade deadpans, feeling his forehead to fill the hole fully closed, but the remains are not gone. 

 

"Gross, your hair's all bloody now." Wilbur makes a face. 

 

"I know, I know." Techno grumbles, picking through his now blood-matted hair. This was going to be a pain to wash out. 

 

"Let's go." He sighs, getting to his feet. 

 

"We have a war to finish."

Chapter Text

Dream runs through the cave, breathing in and out, boots pounding on the stone as he went deeper and deeper. You would think he was being chased, but Dream just enjoyed the adrenaline of thumping through the monster-infested cave, fighting them off. What did it matter? 

 

Death wasn't permanent, on this small world he had created for his enjoyment, for practice. To get stronger, faster, better. Training for his manhunts, to practice new things he heard from people. 

 

Dream swings his pickaxe, breaking down a vein of diamonds he found quickly, only to discover a strange room tucked behind it. There was no spawner - instead, a stand made of white stone eroding at the edges was in the middle of the room. On it was what appeared to be a porcelain mask, with two black dots and a curve on it, making a smiley face. 

 

Dream cocks his head, confused. The world seed had been a little strange, but he wasn't sure why there was a glitch like this. Strange. He steps forward, wary of traps as he picks up the mask. 

 

Black straps dangled from the back, and Dream feels drawn to it. Compelled. Slowly, carefully, he puts the mask on, strapping it around his head.


Hello. You are mine, now.

 

It settles, his cheeks brushing the inside just barely. It's cool to the touch, and fits comfortably. 



Dream curls and uncurls his hands, humming. It was nice to have on, for some reason. Dream decides it'll become part of his brand, just like his lime green hoodie. Yeah. 




Reaching. Reaching higher and higher, more power, be better, stronger. The thoughts swirl more insistently than usual, enflaming his competitiveness. 

 

Dream throws himself into training with a new fervor, determined to win. 

 

Power means everything. Power gives control. Control gives Dream safety, security, and he’ll give it back to his server.

 




Tommy is irritated. Tommy won't fucking shut up. He's an insult to Dream, annoying, but yet he pulls part of Dream's server away from him, towards Tommy. It irritates Dream. 

 

Power, his mind coos. Attachments.  

 

Dream blinks and suddenly there are green strings everywhere, curling around people and leading to each other, to places, to things. He glances at himself and blanches when he sees two green strings curled around his neck. What? 

 

They're the biggest threat if they're threatened. His mind whispers, and Dream follows the strings to see Sapnap and George. And they'll be a liability if they're ever threatened. People would take advantage of their friendship. 

 

Dream growls, then reels himself back in. Tommy and his discs. Tommy and his green strings leading to nearly everyone. The Queen on the board. All Dream needs to do is crush him, and the rest will be easy. Yeah. 

 

Dream curls his hand into a fist, and deep down wonders when he began to care so much about not being weak. 

 

Minemineminemyserveryouarenothing


 

The discs. Attachments. Cut them. Make new ones. Control them. Be the Puppeteer. 

 

Dream becomes obsessed with it, and kills people in his quest. One-by-one, they fall. He decapitates Tommy without a second thought, Nightmare severing through the meat and bone easily. He shoves a crown onto Eret's head, then takes it away just as fast. He watches as Tubbo is exploded to death, fireworks burning skin away to reveal bone and organs. 

 

Dream plays with his green strings, makes sure they never hurt him, that he's the one pulling them, stringing everyone along. He hurts Tommy. He decides that it would be better if he captured the Queen and made it his instead.

 

He forces him to put his things in the pit and he breaks Tommy down into nothing. Makes him believe Dream is his only friend. It horrifies him. But the horror is smoothed over and his mind croons, telling him they'll all be happy again, and the mask is cold against Dream's face. 

 

It's fine. 

 

It's fine, Dream tells himself, as arrows rip their way into his body, as swords bite into flesh and his friends turn away one by one. It's fine. It's going to be alright. It's fine as fire spreads up his body and he bites into a gapple, sugary gold and sour apple filling his mouth, it's fine. 

 

He'll be the one at the top, in the end. Dream will be in control, have all the power. He'll be the best. 

 




The Dreamon laughs. Easy. So easy. Its host had already been ambitious before the Dreamon cursed and inhabited his body. It just had to slowly erode unnecessary emotions, do away with things like guilt, mould its host to its liking. Its world. Its puppets. 

 

The Dreamon croons, pleased with its new playground. It was going to have so much fun.

Chapter Text

Tommy shrinks in on himself, back pressed to the cage bars, raccoon ears flat against his head, tail curled around his leg. He's being auctioned off. He had been careless, rummaging for food too close to the rich people, and then a bunch of weird men had shown up and kidnapped him. Said a raccoon hybrid like him would be difficult to sell, though.

 

Now he was in some underground market, shoved in a cage without food or water. Tommy had screamed at first, then began to cry. His hands were bleeding from repeated slams against the metal bars. They ached now, slowly scabbing over. 

 

Tommy sniffles, peeking to see the guards stomping around, collecting the hybrids for today's auction. They were picking him, soon. 

 

Tommy scowls. He'll annoy the fuck out of them until they don't want him. Yeah! He'll do that! Tommy brightens, flicking an ear. He combs through his striped tail, humming as he sucks in deep breaths. He flinches as the cage door slams open, someone stomping in. They pick Tommy up roughly by the scruff, who flails around weakly in the man's grip. 

 

"Stop it before I muzzle you." The man growls, and Tommy's jaw clicks shut. They begin handcuffing his wrists together, and checking on the collar they had put around Tommy's neck. He hates it, had broken a couple claws clawing at it. 

 

He tries not to squirm as he's yanked around by the chain connected to his cuffs, trotting after the man. He's led onto a stage, and he looks up to see at least a hundred people out there. His head spins at the sheer number, and he bolts, wanting out. 

 

Of course, the chain goes taut and Tommy's being yanked back, and this time the man delivers a harsh kick to his stomach. Tommy whimpers, a bruise already forming at the impact, curling up on himself. 

 

The man picks him up, and he goes limp as he holds him out to the crowd. The announcer was saying something, Tommy thinks. He's being auctioned off, like an item. Because that's all he is, isn't he? 

 

There's a loud booming sound. Tommy jerks, ears flattening at the sound and people are screaming as the man drops him. 

 

Tommy scrambles to his feet, looking around to see groups of armed men swarming into the hall, arresting the buyers one by one. The man curses behind him, and Tommy spins, chains rattling as he faces them. Tommy yelps as the man reaches for him again, and- 

 

The man is gone. 

 

Tommy blinks, and there's a resounding crash to his right. His head snaps in the direction to see a man with hair and eyes like his, black wings on his back as he points a sword at the man. 

 

"Wha-" Tommy gapes, racoon tail swishing back and forth in slight awe as Birdman knocks the guy out swiftly, turning around to face him. 

 

"Oh, hello, mate!" Birdman says warmly, waving at Tommy. "I'm Phil, I'm here to rescue you, okay?" 

 

Tommy swallows, looking around to see people fighting, the armed men winning, and he's fairly certain Phil is with them. Tommy flinches back when the winged man steps forward, causing him to pause. 

 

"PHIL! HURRY UP, OLD MAN!" Tommy jumps about a foot into the air at the shout, which came from an annoyed-looking brown-haired man, making his way towards them. 

 

"We need to get out all the people they captured..." The man trails off. "Why, hello there. I'm Wilbur." He coos. Tommy feels....warm, now. Safe. 

 

"I'm Tommy." He mumbles, wincing as his handcuffs dug into his skin. 

 

"How about we get those off?" Wilbur says gently, fishing out a black key, and Tommy offers his wrists without a second thought. 

 

Metal clangs onto the ground, and Tommy hesitates, tracing his collar. Wilbur looks angry; not at him, but seems to hate the collar and the chains. He debates it for a moment, before tilting his head up to let Wilbur remove the collar. It's mildly terrifying, letting the man so close to such a vulnerable area, but Tommy trusts him. His instincts coo, and his tail wags as Wilbur ruffles his hair once he's done. 

 

"I'm heading off now. Get the kid to safety." Phil pipes up, flying off suddenly, Tommy staring after him. 

 

"Let's get you out of here, alright?" Wilbur offers him a hand. 

 

"I'll have you know I'm a very Big Man and am not scared." Tommy begins, taking Wilbur's hand. 

 

"Are you, now?" Wilbur replies, amused as he begins leading him around. 

 

"Biggest Man ever. The great Tommyinnit." He puffs out his chest proudly, most of his fear draining away. 

 

"Whatever you say, gremlin child." Wilbur chuckles, and Tommy shrieks, outraged. They leave the place, hand-in-hand. 

 

Somehow, Wilbur thinks he wants Tommy as a brother, and Phil was Wilbur's dad, so now Phil was Tommy's dad. Tommy also has another brother, Technoblade. 

 

It's strange - he doesn't understand why they would want him. Nothing but a dirty little raccoon hybrid. 

 

But some days, curled up in the safety and warmth of his family's arms, Tommy says "I love you", listens to them say them back with a smile in their voice, and knows that the words ring true.

Chapter Text

Dream is out. Dream is out of the prison. It takes Tommy a while to process that. He ignores Tubbo and Ranboo panicking, eats some food when they practically shove it down his throat. He eats, sleeps, and plans. 

 

Tommy enchants his armor and weapons. Grinds for better materials. Stockpiles everything, carefully lays out a plan. He takes a few days to accomplish this, since he already had most of the shit beforehand. Then he sets off. 

 

Tommy travels, following leads the server had been gathering, and finally, because their fate had been written by cruel stars, he meets Dream. 

 

Tommy, the unwilling hero. Dream, the fallen villain. Puppet and puppeteer. 

 

Perhaps this was always how it was meant to be; Dream takes two of his canon lives, he takes two of the man's, and then Dream takes another in that godforsaken time Tommy spent in the prison. And now he's here to take Dream's life. 

 

No one would be able to resurrect Dream, because the knowledge would die with the man. 

 

An eye for a tooth had always seemed so unbalanced to Tommy. An eye was far more valuable, as you only had two. A life for a life was more balanced, from a neutral point of view. They exchanged prices, again and again. And now Tommy was going to make Dream regret ever killing him. 

 

"Hello, Tommy." Dream greets when he enters the clearing. Tommy is clad in netherite, while Dream has iron and a crude diamond sword, unenchanted. How far he had fallen. 

 

Tommy doesn't bother with a response, pulling his gleaming netherite sword out of his inventory, curling his hands tightly around the hilt. Dream doesn't bother with words, either, doesn't go on some stupid monolouge. It's just fighting. 

 

And Dream, once, was uncontested in PvP on the server, until Technoblade came along. Tommy was good, but not good enough, as evidenced the day he and Tubbo almost died during the final confrontation, the day Dream was placed in prison. 

 

Now, Dream is a shell of the man he was. Frail limbs from his food, eye bags under his dull green eyes, his arms trembling with every swing of his sword as they threw themselves into their final fight. 

 

Tommy ducks under a swing, lunging forward in an attempt to sink his sword in Dream's stomach. The man dodges it, wincing as it grazes his side, an iron axe dropping into his hands and slamming down. 

 

Tommy snarls as it wedges in his armor, but not deep enough. Tommy jerks back, bow and arrow in hand as he fires shot after shot. 

 

Dream dodges as best as he can, rolling and weaving through the arrows, striding through the few that hit. But he's weakening, faltering. Because Dream had been rotting away for a long time, in the prison. 

 

It's strange, how silent their fight was. No mocking taunts, no enraged screaming. Tommy lets himself sink into the battle, focusing on making every hit hurt. 

 

Crack. 

 

Dream's chestplate breaks, falling onto the ground in pieces under Tommy's pickaxe. Tommy kicks the man down, leveling his sword at Dream, breath coming out in gasps. 

 

He practically inhales a gapple, still watching Dream warily. Panic swirled in the man's eyes, his mouth opening and closing, his sword and axe strewn on the ground away from them. 

 

Dream looks like shit. All skin and bones, bloody prison clothes, hair long and greasy. And for a moment, Tommy pities him. And then it's gone, replaced with a sense of finality. 

 

"Fine." Dream laughs harshly, and Tommy flinches at the sound. "Kill me then, Tommy." 

 

Tommy tightens his grip on his sword, lowering the point and pressing it to where Dream's heart lain beneath. 

 

("Between the second and third ribs." Pink hair fills Tommy's vision, warm hands curling his own around the dagger placed in his hands. They leave, tapping at the mentioned spot. 

 

"Slide the blade in between, at an angle like this." Technoblade continues, tilting the hand holding the dagger, guiding it to the training dummy they had. 

 

"It'll reach the heart. Remember this, Tommy. At some point you'll make enemies, and they'll be much more than petty grudges." Technoblade says softly, a ruby red gaze dragging upwards to meet Tommy's sky blue eyes. 

 

"Protect yourself and don't die, okay?")  

 

Tommy sucks in a breath. In, out. His arm begins to tremble, shaking under the weight of Dream's gaze. He closes his eyes, and plunges the sword into Dream's chest. Just like Techno taught him. 

 

There's a choked gasp from Dream, nails scrabbling on the blade as Dream spits out blood. Tommy prys his eyelids apart what feels like an eternity when his communicator pings, staring at Dream's body. 

 

He breathes in. 

 

Out. 

 

Bodies don't disappear on their last life. 

 

Tommy pulls his sword out, dropping it back into his inventory as he stumbles back, too numb to feel much. Mostly relief. Tommy clutches his wrist, feeling his own heartbeat. He's alive. He fumbles, fishing out his communicator. 

 

Dream was slain by Tommyinnit. 

 

Dream was dead. Tommy was alive. He turns around slowly, towards the direction of home, of bees and alliums. Home. 

 

He's free.

Chapter Text

It's almost laughably easy, how Dream and Technoblade escape the prison. They drag the chest over to put in the small hole filled with water, and then boost each other up to break the bed. Then came the hardest part. 

 

Technoblade didn't want to die. He doesn't want to step into the lava and go through agony before waking up at spawn. He doesn't get hurt very often, not so majorly, anyway. He doesn't want to die. Even if it's not a canon death. 

 

"Techno." Dream's already at the lava wall, ready to go through. And Techno- 

 

Techno has seen the man dive into the lava out of nowhere for no reason, before respawning and dissolving into muttering and tears. It had been unsettling, to say the least. Techno wants to wait. Wants to stay and wait until Philza snaps the trapdoor down It's been a month, where is he- and he's teleported back home. Where he could get his armor and weapons and security and it'll be alright. 

 

"Techno. We have to go." Dream repeats, offering a hand. 

 

Shoving yourself into lava is quick. Mostly. You'll push yourself into it halfway most of the time before something gave way and you respawned. 

 

Technoblade swallows, and steps through. It's agony. 

 

That's all Technoblade can process as the lava eats away at his flesh, melting his bones and he thinks he screams just before the lava hits something that kills him. 

 

Technoblade gasps for breath, scrambling to his feet to see that they're at spawn. Dream is already trotting over to a nearby tree, breaking it. It would be a while before Sam realised they hadn't respawned back in their cell. 

 

Technoblade breathes in, taking a moment to process the very painful death he experienced to escape the prison, and joins Dream in gathering materials. He's more fit than Dream was, after all. 

 

After several minutes an Enderpearl smashes onto the ground near them, and Philza appears, a bright grin on his face. 

 

"Heya mates!" Phil calls, brandishing extra armor and weapons. "Let's run before Sam gets here, eh?" 

 

Techno holds back his accusations first, at Phil not shutting the damn stasis chamber earlier, but for now he settles for hugging the man. They're free. 

 

And it was time to tear the prison down to the ground

Chapter Text

Wilbur soars through the air, giggling in delight as he twists and turns, blue to gray wings flapping with it. The young Phantom glides along, relishing in the afternoon sun. 

 

He enjoys his nightly flights, the cold air gracing his cheeks. He's so free like this. And then something tears into his wings. 

 

Wilbur screams, falling as what he assumes to be an arrow rips through his left wing, sending him tumbling towards the ground. He lands heavily, one hand he had thrown out to brace for his fall snapping like a twig, his head slamming onto the dirt ground. 

 

Wilbur whimpers, screeching as he tries to draw his bleeding wing close, twisting his head to look at it. It looks horrible, a chunk of it ripped off by the arrow. Wilbur stumbles to his feet, every part of him screaming at him, after his fall from the sky. Falling was never fun, but it was worse knowing what were likely hunters had done it. 

 

He could hear shouts behind him, and urges himself on, feet thumping on the ground. Wilbur is twelve years old, and he has never been more terrified. He feels like he'll fall any damn second, praying that someone who wasn't going to hurt him finds him, and- 

 

Another arrow rips into his other wing. Wilbur falls. This time, he doesn't get up, agony wracking his two ruined wings. 

 

The last thing he registers is Philza landing in the clearing he had fallen in, relief flooding his body before he passed out. 




Wilbur wakes up to soft murmurs. He cracks open an eyelid, blinking sluggishly to find Philza staring worriedly at him. 

 

"Oh, thank god, you're okay." The Elytrian sighs in relief, black wings rustling as he begins checking Wilbur over. 

 

"Dad?" He slurs, eyelids drooping. He shifts, and pain shoots up both his wings. Wilbur flinches back, twisting his head to one side to find his heavily bandaged wing. Just twitching them brings immense pain. But....they looked so small. 

 

Wilbur's wings were bigger than this. His mind flashes to when his wing had been torn, barely hanging on. But- it was fine, right? Philza had potions, medicine- 

 

Not enough, not fast enough . His mind whispers traitorously, and a whine crawls up his throat. 

 

"Dad- dad, how are my wings?" Wilbur asks desperately, and the way Phil tenses, shoulders slumping as he stares sadly at Wilbur is all he needs. Wilbur folds in on himself, fingers curling into fists as pain continues to pulse in his body. 

 

"I'm sorry, Wil." Phil whispers softly. "You'll never fly again." And with that, Wilbur's heart cracks into two. 

 

("Hey, Wilbur, why can't you fly? You're a Phantom, right? Where are your wings?" 



".....Shut up, Tommy.")

Chapter Text

One of the first things the Blood God does, upon acquiring the angel from the old lord, is to begin an expedition. The Blood God's soldiers clear the old lord's castle - the angel’s possessions returned to it - and begin filling it up with TNT. 

 

The angel flutters wings that aren't on it's back, and are instead cast in stone within a secret compartment in the old lord's office. The Blood God most definitely knows; otherwise, the angel would be faulty. A weapon without its blade. Damaged goods. 

 

It could still do well, without its wings, but it aches for black feathers and a comforting weight on its back, and- 

 

Weapons do not want. 

 

The angel can feel every press of a feather against its stone prison. It should not complain; it belonged to the old lord, and he had had every right to take the angel's wings. So the angel watches as the soldiers pack its previous owner’s castle with TNT, the scent of gunpowder filling the air. 

 

"Soon, this place will be gone." Technoblade, his new lord, says, standing next to it. The angel stood at attention, feet shoulder-width apart and in parade rest, eyes glued to the castle. 

 

"We'll blow this place up." Lord Technoblade mutters, shaking his head and turning as a soldier calls for him, holding a controller. 

 

"The preparations are ready." Litneuant Sneeg says, jogging up to them. The lord takes the controller, and turns to the angel. 

 

"Take this." He says, impossibly soft, and the angel does as commanded. "You can blow up this place. You deserve it." 

 

Lord Technoblade dips his head, and the angel stiffens. Blow up the castle. 

 

Blow up the castle, and the wings that were locked away within. This was a test. For the angel to prove its loyalty, to prove that it would do whatever the Blood God commanded. 

 

It deserved this. Because it had captured and helped torture Sneeg, had killed hundreds more men, and had attempted to kill the Blood God himself. This was its punishment. But if it loses its wings, it will become damaged goods, a faulty weapon. 

 

But it is oathsworn to Lord Technoblade, and it cannot disobey an order.

 

So it presses the button, and the castle explodes. There's a moment of silence. The soldiers had not placed TNT close enough to instantly reach the angel's wings. And then it does. 

 

It collapses onto the floor, head thunking onto the dirt ground as it keens, unable to throttle the pathetic noise. 

 

The angel had fallen, it wasn't being graceful, wasn't being perfect, and the Blood God would see how weak his weapon was. But this is its punishment. 

 

The old lord had like knowing the punishments hurt, so maybe Lord Technoblade was the same. Maybe as the Blood God, the lord did not mind the scream that ripped out of the angel's throat. 

 

It crumpled to its knees, forehead pressed to the dirt as it clawed at its back, tears beginning to roll down its cheeks. 

 

There’s shouting around it; warm hands, too warm, grabbing at its wrists and prying them away. The touch burns and it tries to jerk away as a soft voice speaks urgently to it, dripping with silver and the chiming of bells. 

 

The angel whines, its feathers burned to ashes, never to return, and its soul shatters, with no star thread to keep it together. 

 

The angel's eyes slide shut, and falls into the Void's embrace, the universe carrying it gently away from the world as it whispers sweet starsong and love to the little lost soul.

Chapter Text

Ranboo blinks blearily, realising he was lying on something hard. He groans, sleepily pushing himself into a sitting position. Had he been enderwalking again? 

 

 

"Good. You're finally awake." Ranboo freezes at the voice, slowly lifting his head to see Dream. No- that couldn't be Dream. Dream was in prison, forever and ever. He can't- 

 

 

Ranboo scrambles backwards, chest heaving as his back slams into the wall, and he looks around to see that he appears to be in a cabin of some kind. 

 

 

"What's with you? C'mon, we have things to do." Dream huffs, still dressed in his orange prison garb, but his mask was on, a smiley face painted on. Ranboo twists his hands together, sucking in a breath as he tries to force the panic down. 

 

 

"Why- why are we here? Why are you out of the prison?" He demands, forcing more confidence into the words than he had. Dream pauses, tilting his head and chuckling. It's an unnerving sound, mocking and  disbelieving. 

 

 

"You don't remember, Ranboo?" Dream coos, stepping forward and looming over Ranboo. 

 

 

"You broke me out of the prison. Now we're here." Dream says gleefully, fully aware of the terror flashing across Ranboo's face. 

 

 

"You're lying." The Enderman hybrid chokes out. "You're not real you're not real you're just the Voice this is all a dream-" 

 

 

He drops his head into his hands, fingers curling into his hair. He was going to wake up and Tubbo and Micheal would be there and everything would be fine- 

 

 

Ranboo yelps as Dream yanks his hands away, keeping a tight grip on his wrists. 

 

 

"Does this feel fake to you?" Dream mocks, slamming Ranboo's arm onto the wooden floor. Long, dirty and cracked nails dig into his skin, drawing blood.

 

 

Ranboo screeches, jerking back and out of the man's grip, whimpering as he presses himself back. 

 

 

"Oh, Ranboo." Dream laughs darkly, pulling out vials of water. "This is going to be so much fun." 

 

 

:)

 

 

Chapter Text

Quackity is working. A lot. Running a casino isn't very easy when you only have a few employees. 

 

Fundy runs the kitchen, Purpled serves tables, Sam does security, Foolish is the bartender and is also a dealer. He's got a few goons working, but he can't trust them with important things. 

 

And Charlie isn't......very good for customer service. Also his general slime status isn't very hygienic, either. In short, the guy is basically just good entertainment. 

 

He's ridiculously weird, but the customers find him hilarious. At least he also stabs whoever Quackity tells him to, so also a guard! But still, it's fucking hard. 

 

There's paperwork, dealing with bitchy guests, making sure everything goes smoothly, checking on their profits. The House always wins, eventually, and some people aren't fond of that. 

 

Quackity can feel the tiredness seeping into his bones. He ignores the others' advice, speeding through the night to make sure everything tomorrow will be okay, even as his single eye burns and his fingers ache. 

 

Everyone tells him he's overworking himself, but fuck, he can't bring himself to rest. It'll just be a fitful slumber of pickaxes and phantom pains, anyway. His eye socket throbs. 

 

Quackity reaches up, tracing the scar making its way down his face. He blinks tiredly, feeling the scar pulse as he runs his finger down it. It still hurts. Every fucking day. It's not so bad, but it's pretty much constant. Annoying. He hates it. 

 

Quackity stumbles through day after day, hyped up on caffeine and pure adrenaline. He can't stop. 

 

Not when he misjudges the distance and trips, falling flat on his face with a crunch. Not when he's downing potions of swiftness and strength, not when he's writing until his hands have sores, until they’re rubbed raw, bleeding. 

 

(He takes a break then; don’t want to get blood all over his documents.)


Everything hurts. He slumps over the bar one day, after closing time. Everyone - except Charlie, the guy had a hole in the ground in the back rooms for him to 'goop' in - it would be nice to just take a short nap. Quackity lets his head drop into folded arms, eyes closing shut. Just a few minutes. 

 


 

Charlie hums to himself, wandering the empty casino, looking for Quackity. He makes his way to the main area, only to see the man slumped over at the bar. 

 

"Quackity from Las Nevadas is sleeping." Charlie mutters, remembering how Foolish had been fretting about Quackity not sleeping. He considers the scene for a moment, before trotting off, and returning with a blanket. 

 

"Dap me up." Charlie whispers softly as he yeets the blanket over Quackity's sleeping form, and very gently bumps his fist against the man's shoulder. 

 

He hops onto a barstool as well, swinging his legs back and forth, content, then pausing when Quackity stirs. 

 

"...Karl?" Quackity mumbles, his single eye cracking open and staring into nowhere.

"A sleepily mumbling Quackity! How rare!" Charlie whispers excitedly, letting his head rest in his arms as he peers at the half-asleep Quackity.

 

“Thanks..." Quackity closes his eyes (only one, technically.) Charlie deflates momentarily, before wandering behind the bar, moving aside a crate to reveal the hole that Foolish had installed just for him. 

 

"Good night, Quackity from Las Nevadas." Charlie waves at the sleeping Quackity, before slinking into the hole to goop until light shined into the casino from the windows, and the rest of his friends came and Quackity woke up.

Chapter Text

Ghostbur isn't Alivebur. They knows this. He's different, and Ghostbur knows they can never quite replace him. They wrap their arms around their arms, curling in on themselves as they hovered slightly above the ground. 

 

 

Ghostbur and Alivebur aren't the same person. A lot of people know that. Some of them use them as a better substitute. Because they hadn't been the one to hurt them. Ghostbur is the better Wilbur. He's the kinder one, the one who didn't hurt them all. 

 

 

They remember things. They have a book full of the little memories. People don't like that they remember Phil killing Alivebur, don't like them mentioning it. But Ghostbur remembers. Because while they aren't Alivebur, they certainly had some of his memories. 

 

 

Everyday, Ghostbur remembers the slide of a diamond sword into their chest, slick with blood as their father cradles their body. Blood drips out of their mouth as tears run down their mouth, but they don't burn them. 

 

 

Ghostbur only remembers happy things, forgets the bad ones. Only the memory of Phil killing Alivebur was an exception. That's something everyone knew. They don't know that Ghostbur feels the ache of the scar everyday, how they smear blue onto it and try to relieve some of the pain. 

 

 

It's not fair. They aren't Alivebur. Why do they have his pain? Ghostbur sinks into the snow, hunched over themselves as they stare blankly. 

 

 

Some days, Ghostbur remembers more. They remember the scent of gunpowder, red explosives and explosions ringing in their ears. Burns covering them, fingers - the one on the button - seared off completely. 

 

 

They remember shouting. They remember fear and a sense of finality. They remember pain. And then they forget all over again, and Ghostbur is left grasping at something they can't remember. 

 

 

Their breath hitches, fingers digging into their pale yellow sweater as tears drip down their cheeks, eating away at them. Blue drips from their hands, staining his clothes and sure to leave midnight blue stains. Ghostbur whimpers, pressing their forehead to the soft snow, their scar pulsing with pain, hands trembling and ears ringing with phantom explosions

 

 

It hurts, and it's not fair, because they aren't Alivebur, they're Ghostbur, and yet here they are, crumpled in pain outside Technoblade's cabin. Ghostbur whines, curling up tighter and tighter into a ball as the pain just wouldn't stop- 

 

 

"Ghostbur?" They pause, uncurling and looking around, confused. 

 

 

"Oh, hello, Philza." They smile upon spotting the winged man. 

 

 

"Hey, mate. Um, what were you doing just now? All curled up?" Philza asks nervously, eyeing Ghostbur. 

 

 

"What are you talking about? I don't remember that." Ghostbur tilts their head, drifting across the ground and up Technoblade's stairs. 

 

 

"Are you here to visit Technoblade, Phil? So am I!" They say cheerfully, and Phil swallows. 

 

 

"Yeah." He says finally. "Let's go together."

 

 

Chapter Text

 

Tommy hums, swinging his legs back and forth as he sits on the bench, playing with his fingers. He had just gotten out of prison, after- 

 

Blood all over the floor there's a pounding in his head laughter 

 

Tommy blanks. Twists his fingers together, curls and uncurls them one-by-one. Benches are lonely when you don't have someone to share it with.

 

 

"Hello, Tommy." The boy startles at Puffy's voice, the sheep hybrid sitting down next to him on the bench. The sun was setting. 

 

"How are you?" She asks, all kind eyes and warm smiles. And something stirs within Tommy, but- 

 

"I'm...." Tommy begins, trailing off. 

 

I'm good (Liar.)

 

I'm fine, none of your fucking business! (Rude, this is why everyone fucking leaves you.) 

 

I'm not fine. (You're going to get pitied.)

 

I'm dying. (You aren’t. You don’t need their help)

 

"I'm...just living by the day." Tommy says finally, looking at the setting sun, away from Puffy, not seeing her frown. 

 

"Well, if you ever need help, you know what to do. Okay?" Puffy says gently, hand hovering on his shoulder and Tommy doesn't know if he wants the contact. 

 

"Mhm." He says simply, and keeps staring at the dying sun.

 

3

 

"What do you want, Boob Boy." Tommy snarls, glaring at Ranboo. 

 

"Just wanted to..." Ranboo scratched his cheek. "Hang out?" 

 

"Why does that sound like a fucking question?" Tommy snaps at him, but scoots along on the bench. Ranboo brightens, nervously sitting down as they descend into silence. 

 

"So." Tommy begins evenly. "How are you and Tubbo doing, huh? Being married and shit." 

 

"Oh! We're doing great, it's awesome." Ranboo replies happily, his tail waving back and forth. Tommy scoffs. Bitch. 

 

"I don't like you. You're a wrongun." Tommy jabs a finger at Ranboo. "But if you fucking hurt Tubbo, I will pull out your intestines and strangle you with them." Ranboo blinks, before nodding. 

 

"Feel free to do that if I ever hurt Tubbo." Ranboo says softly, and ugh. Why was he so weak and shit? Tommy remembers, when he had burned down George's house with the boy, snd then Dream had gotten mad, and then- 

 

Tommy sucks in a breath. No. Not now. The two sit together silently, the memory of a purple allium weaving around them. 

 

 

Tommy looks up as Sam approaches, for once clad in gold armor, instead of netherite. Tommy was getting sick of the man's Warden outfit. 

 

"Hey, Sam." He greets, and goes back to staring at the grassy ground. "Tommy." Sam starts, impossibly soft as he sits down next to Tommy on the bench. He hates it. 

 

"Are you...doing okay?" 

 

"And what if I said no, huh, Sam?" Tommy snarls, fingers curling into fists as he glares, feeling a prick of satisfication when Sam flinches. Good. 

 

"Then...." Sam swallows. "I will do my best to help." 

 

Tommy takes in a breath. Lets out another one. He would have stalked off, before this. Before he started talking to Ranboo, before he started visiting Puffy for therapy. 

 

"You left me." Tommy spits out. "You left me in the prison, with Dream, and he killed me and-" His breath hitches. 

 

"YOU LEFT ME IN THERE TO DIE!" Tommy screams, scrambling to his feet. "I called for you and you didn't come and now I have fucking nightmares and scars and I can still feel every hit, Sam, I still-" Tommy crumbles, pitching forward, only for Sam to catch him and pull him into a hug. 

 

Tommy wails, melting into the warm touch as he tries to forget. Tries to forget black blue bruises blooming on his skin, blood spilling out of his mouth, pain all over, a hand in his hair dragging him around- 

 

Tommy sucks in a breath. Exhales it out forcefully. This- this was normal. Puffy said it was perfectly fine and he- he needed to cope with his trauma healthily, and stop running from it. He needs to face it and punch it. 

 

"I'm sorry, Tommy." Sam's voice cracks. "I'm so, so sorry." The man hugs Tommy tightly, and he allows himself the safe and warm touch. Just this once. 

 

5

 

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Tommy freezes, hand on the back of the bench. 

 

Wilbur was here. Standing on the cliff, staring at the horizon. And it's wrong, and it dredges up memories of Ghostbur but more Wilbur standing here, placing an almost corporeal hand on his shoulder and whispering two words Tommy will never forget. 

 

("I'm proud.") 

 

This- Wilbur, the revived Wilbur, standing here feels wrong. Almost tainting the memory. 

 

"It's been so long." Wilbur muses, plopping down on the bench, beckoning Tommy over. Tommy obeys quietly, twisting and pulling his fingers. 

 

"....So tell me, Tommy." Wilbur turns to look at him. "How was your day?" 

 

And Tommy steels himself, lets the words pour off his tongue and basks in the moment, where Wilbur looks wholly at him and doesn't brush off his words as nonsense.

 

6

 

"Tubbo." Tommy states, staring as his childhood best friend. His brother. His Tubbo. 

 

"Tommy." Tubbo says back, and sits down on the bench. And Tommy pretends, for just one moment, that they're young again, untouched by the wars and pain and death and regret. Then it slips away, nothing but a memory. 

 

"We haven't talked much, huh." Tubbo says, leaning back. 

 

"No shit." Tommy snorts, fokding his arms nervously. It's weird, now. This tension between them. They can't really go back. Because Tubbo moved on without Tommy, even if he never stopped missing him. And Tommy is a selfish brat who wants Tubbo to stay, because change killed this server, sinking its roots in and twisting. Tommy doesn't want Tubbo to go. 

 

"I'm sorry." Tommy blurts out, startling Tubbo. "I'm sorry for being a dick about you and Ranboo's marriage, he isn't that bad - don't tell him that - my point is that you're my Tubbo. But you are a person. Not a pawn. Not an object. Just- just like me. You get to choose who you want to be friends with." Tubbo stares at him, surprised, before smiling a little. 

 

"We've changed, haven't we?" Tubbo flexes his fingers, the glint of a wedding band on one of them. 

 

"Yeah." Tommy agrees quietly. 

 

"Well, I didn't have it as bad as you. You got...killed by Dream, and then there was exile, and-" Tubbo freezes as Tommy grabs him by the shoulders, fury in sky blue eyes, brighter than ever. 

 

"Don't fucking do that." Tommy growls. "Don't- don't compare our trauma. You went through shit. Lots of it. You dealt with it, and I'm not going to ask how, or how well, but you still went through stuff. And as far as I'm concerned, it's as bad as mine " 

 

"But it isn't!" Tubbo protests. "What Dream did to you-" 

 

"Technoblade blew you up. Schlatt was a fucking bitch." Tommy snapd back, before slumping forward, resting his head on Tubbo's shoulder. 

 

"Are we seriously fighting about the severity of our trauma?" Tommy grumbles, and Tubbo laughs. 

 

"You still going to see Puffy for therapy?" Tommy lifts his head, squinting at Tubbo.

 

"I have!" Tubbo insists. "Yesterday's session dredged up some stuff- I've been working on accepting it." 

 

"Good." Tommy releases Tubbo, humming and looking back out at the world. "We're doing better, aren't we, Tubbo?" Tommy asks softly. "Mhm." Tubbo replies, a smile curling on his lips as Tommy grins back.

 

“I think everything’s going to be alright.” Tommy says after a long moment, and Tubbo leans his head on his shoulder.


.

.

.

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"Can we sing Life By The Sea?" 



"YES!"