Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy had been in exile for a month now, at least. He had stopped keeping track days ago. But he knew this much because beforehand he scratched the days into the bark of the logs that surrounded the hut Ghostbur had built in their first couple of days on the Ender-damned beach. He had a few visitors in his first few days of exile, but it had been at least two weeks since anyone other than Dream had showed up. Ghostbur had vanished after a week and a half into his exile, on the same day as his failed beach party. Ranboo only left him little messages when he got the chance, which was not often. And Tommy had only seen Tubbo once, in a sickly hallucination where his own mind decided to betray him.

But Dream, Dream was his friend. Right?

He must be. He was the only one that bothered to visit. Sometimes he would bring gifts, like food or tools that he let him keep for the day. And after blowing up his other tools and armor he let him run about with his trident on occasion, or help him with the ‘chores’ in the land of his exile. One time they even sat in Ghostbur’s hut and Dream taught him how to play chess. That was a good night, with no punishments, just laughter and cheap tricks.

Sure, it sucked that his items were taken away, but he was being taught a lesson, it was for his own benefit. And that little flicker of disobedience, defiance, that would refuse to bow to Dream still lived on. That little flicker in him persuaded him to hide away some items from Dream’s all-seeing eyes. It’s what kept him alive on the darker days where he wanted nothing more but to slip into sleep and never wake up.

It was also that little flicker that was going to get him killed.

Ears ringing, burns tingling, and tears streaming, Tommy stared at the remains of what used to be Logstedshire. Dream stood besides him, still holding the flint and steel that he had used to blow up the place, his home. Dream put a hand on his shoulder and Tommy had to force himself to refrain from flinching.

“You needed to be taught a lesson Tommy,” Dream was saying. “You can’t disobey me without getting punished for it.”

“I’m sorry Dream,” Tommy pleaded, ignoring the way his body ached and ignoring the voice that screamed for him to run away. “I’m sorry, I really am, please don’t leave me alone. Please don’t leave.”

If Tommy could see underneath Dream’s mask he’d be seeing the green-eyed man smiling down at him with a look of satisfaction. Instead, Tommy watched and felt as Dream lifted a hand to caress his cheek, swiping a thumb against it, probably cleaning up ash that had stuck to his skin. Tommy was still, not daring to move an inch and reawaken Dream’s wrath once more.

“You’re covered in burns,” Dream remarked, stating the obvious truth. He reached into the pouch at his side, pulling out two potions. Tommy eyed them warily, but also hopefully. His whole body ached, and the exposed burns and cuts on his skin burned. “You can have these,” Dream said, handing him the potions. Tommy uncorked them carefully, not bothering to check the colors of the contents before pouring them down his throat. He trusted Dream. Dream was his friend. Dream was his savior. Dream was his punisher. But Dream wouldn’t leave Tommy hurt for too long, not if he was in danger of dying. He gagged at the taste of magic and blazepower, feeling a little sick to his stomach. Dream wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him to his tent, the poor thing looking worse for wear after all the explosions.

“Get some rest Tommy,” Dream said sweetly, almost too sweetly. Tommy didn’t care though, this side of Dream was the good Dream. The nice Dream that gave him gifts and bandaged his wounds. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

Tommy blinked, his eyelids and body feeling heavy. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t bring himself to form words. It felt as if he was walking through honey and his world blurred in and out of focus. He felt his body get lowered to the ground, and whimpered when he felt the warm arms that used to hold him up leave. He listened to the murmurs coming from Dream, unable to decipher what he was saying. He had half a mind to wonder what those potions were, but his brain was too clouded to truly care. Before he knew it, his eyes were closing and darkness fell.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

It was cold. Tommy whimpered and curled into himself. He could hear birds, and oddly enough, the sound of waves crashing against the shore. As far as he knew, he didn’t live next to the ocean. He lived in the cottage on the outskirts of the forest in the plains biome where he lived with his dad and brothers. This was wrong, something was wrong.

Tommy hesitantly pulled himself up, rubbing at one of his eyes as he blinked away the sleepiness. He studied his surroundings. He was in a ratted white, or gray, tent that had a few chests sitting across from him. He was wearing clothes that were much too big for him, and while he enjoyed going to sleep in baggy shirts he knew he didn’t own any clothes like this. He was lucky enough to find some other clothes in the chests, even if they were still too big, they were better than nothing. Tommy was just happy that he had found a belt to hold up his pants, otherwise they would’ve probably fallen off.

After dressing himself, Tommy peaked out of the tent, looking at the landscape around him. There was a beautiful sparkling ocean, the only nice thing about this place. Everything else was blown to pieces, ash still settling in the grass and unearthed rock lying haphazardly around the explosion pits. Tommy lifted up one of his feet to see the ash covering the bottom of his feet, staining them black. He fake gagging, thinking about how his dad would force him into a bath as soon as he got home. Phil always was super insistent about staying clean and while he didn’t mind it half of the time it sure did get annoying.

He’d just have to find his dad first, once he figured out where he was.

“Tommy?”

Startled by a voice he didn’t recognize, Tommy spun around and looked up to see a tall man with a really stupid mask staring down at him. The mask covered his whole face, and the stupid smiley face drawn on it made Tommy cringe. The man was dressed in a horribly bright green sweatshirt and had a belt with potions and a sword hanging on it. On his back he could see an axe and crossbow and Tommy couldn’t stop himself from stepping away from the dangerous looking stranger. He didn’t seem very friendly. These were the type of men that his dad warned him about, telling him to run from and get him right away when they approached him.

“Who’s askin’?” Tommy asked the man, alarm bells going off in his head. “How’d you know my name?”

“Your dad sent me to get you,” the tall green stupid man said. Tommy looked the man up and down and shook his head.

“No he didn’t,” Tommy said defiantly, crossing his arms. “My dad doesn’t know anyone like you.”

The masked man shifted on his feet and took a step closer. The confidence and power in his pose made Tommy nervous. He froze instead of taking another step backward when the man got closer.

“Oh c’mon Tommy, just let me take you home,” the man said, resting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. The alarm bells rang loudly in his head and the younger boy snapped, promptly taking the man’s arm and biting down on his wrist as hard as he could. The man yelped and Tommy couldn’t help but feel proud of himself when he broke the man’s skin before he managed to pull away. As the man clutched his wrist Tommy took the chance to kick him as hard as he could in the shin, before he punched him in his dick and took off running. He was glad that the advice Wilbur had given him had come in handy, even though he thought he’d never have to use it.

The man doubled over and groaned in pain, shouting and cursing at Tommy as he ran away, only making the boy laugh as he ran into the dark oak forest across the long plain. He didn’t know where his dad was, or his brothers, but he bet they were worried sick. And something in his gut told him that the green man was bad news.

Tommy didn’t stop running, not until he got to the snowy forest. He remembers the stories his brother told him about men with frostbite, and when he looked down at his disheveled self he couldn’t help but think about all the ways the cold could kill him. So he climbed up in a tree and waited. Surely his dad was searching for him, his brothers too. They wouldn’t leave him.

Night fell and Tommy shivered. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he felt as if he was dying from the cold. He was tired, he felt sick to his stomach, and worse of all his family still hadn’t come for him.

To make matters worse there was a mob shooting at him, having found him sitting only a few feet up in the tree.

Tommy was doing everything an eight-year old could to keep the Ender-damned thing away. He threw back the arrows it shot at him, along with branches he’d ripped off the tree. But the mob persisted, and when one arrow came dangerously close Tommy couldn’t help but let out a terrible scream.

He screamed and he sobbed and he kicked when something grabbed his ankle and pulled him from the tree.

“Let me go you stupid green fuck!” Tommy shouted, thinking that the green man from earlier had come to take him away again.

“Ender, kid settle down!”

Tommy stopped kicking. He knew that voice, even if it sounded a bit deeper than he remembered. He froze and looked up into the face, or well mask, or his supposed kidnapper.

And there he was, in all his glory. With the golden crown that rested atop long pink locks and the pig skull mask that looked down at him, hiding warm brown eyes. Strapped to his hip by his side hung a sword in its sheath, and in his hand he held a very fancy looking axe that he didn’t remember his brother owning.

Technoblade.

“Technoblade!” Tommy shouted happily before throwing his arms around his brother, only reaching the tall boy’s waist, which felt wrong but also right. “Oh my Ender I had the worst day ever. I think I was kidnapped, and there was this really stupid looking bitch with an even stupider mask. I was at ‘dis place and there was ‘dis ocean, which was kinda pretty, but everything else was blown up! The fucking weird green guy said he was gonna take me to dad and I thought ‘oh hell no’ ‘cause the guy looked like a creep, I’m telling you he was a wrong’un, so I punched him in the balls just like how Wilbur taught me how too and then I ran. I’ve been up in that tree like all day and I’m so hungry and my butt and legs hurt from sitting like all day, not to mention ’m super cold and ’m hungry.”

“Uh, what?”

Tommy noticed that his brother wasn’t hugging him back, and he frowned before stepping backward. His brother was practically frozen in place, staring at him, his axe still in hand.

“What?” he asked, crossing his arms. “That’s all you’re gonna say? I was kidnapped and now I’m starving!”

“Tommy?” Techno asked, looking more than confused.

“Who else?” Tommy said with a huff. “Say, did you get taller?”

“Tommy, shut up for a moment, please,” Techno said as he ran a hand over the top of his hair. He looked worried, more worried than that time he watched Wilbur fall out of a tree and break his arm, or the time when he found Tommy after he went missing for nearly the whole day because he got lost in the forest.

“Is everything alright big man?” Tommy asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“NO!” Techno shouted, making Tommy flinch backwards. “TOMMY YOU LOST AT LEAST A FOOT OF YOUR HEIGHT AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO HATE ME!”

“Hey!” Tommy exclaimed, crossing his arms. “I did not shrink! I’m tall for my age!”

“Tommy you are literally like four and a half feet tall right now,” Techno said. “You’re supposed to be about six feet tall. How is that tall for your age?”

“Excuse you, I’m four feet and eight inches,” Tommy said in a sassy tone, shifting on his feet and standing taller. “And I’m a growing boy. I haven’t hit puberty yet.”

“Tommy you’re sixteen,” Techno deadpanned. Tommy blinked, and then burst out laughing.

“No, I’m not?” he said through a wheeze, although it was more of a question than an answer. “You alright big man? ‘Cause other than Wilbur you're the only other sixteen year old I know.”

“Tommy, I’m twenty-four,” Techno said, in the same deadpan monotone voice as before.

“I think you’re del-uuuu-sion-al,” Tommy sang, drawing out and over pronouncing the word ‘delusional.’

“You know what, just follow me,” Techno said with an exasperated sigh, before walking off into the trees. Tommy glanced down at his bare feet and the snow on the ground before running after his brother. He tugged on his cape, trying to ignore the weirdness of this fact because the cape was blue and not red, and trying to get Techno’s attention.

“Techno, Technoooo,” Tommy whined. “Techie please stop you’re walking too fast.”

“Walk faster Tommy!” Techno snapped. Tommy came to a halt and blinked back tears.

“M’ feet hurt,” he said, biting back the sob that was building up in his throat. He didn’t want to cry again, not in front of his big brother. He was supposed to be a big man, but he was tired, and hungry, and he was starting to lose feeling in his feet after being outside in the snow for so long. “I don’t have any shoes.”

Techno’s head whipped around and for the first time he got a good look at his brother’s ratty appearance. There was soot and ash all over his skin and it turned his usually well kept blond hair a dirty gray-blond instead. His clothes were hanging off him, shorts coming past his knees and sleeves nearly to his elbows. He wasn’t wearing any shoes and his clothes did not do him any good for this weather.

“Why didn’t you tell me before,” he said, his voice softer than all the previous times he had spoken. “C’mere.”

Tommy practically ran into the arms of his brother. Techno swung his cape off of his shoulders and fastened it around Tommy’s neck, even though it was much too big for a boy his size. Then he sighed and turned around, crouching down and motioning for Tommy to climb onto his back. Tommy eyed him warily for a moment before quickly climbing on. Techno put his arms under the boy’s legs as Tommy wrapped his arms around his neck, carrying him piggy-back style.

“Where’re we goin’?” Tommy asked.

“Home,” Techno responded. “My home, that is.”

“Is it warm?” Tommy asked. Techno nodded.

“Yes, and it’s away from everyone else,” he replied.

“‘Das good, right?” Tommy said, exhaustion from the day’s events finally weighing down on him. “‘Cause I didn’t like that green guy that found me ‘dis morning.”

“Green guy?” Techno asked, side stepping a fallen log as he walked. Tommy yawned.

“Yeah, he was a wrong’un,” he said sleepily. “I was in ‘dis tent thing, and everything outside was blown up. Kinda scary, but I ran away and found you!”

Techno muttered to himself but Tommy was too tired to care. In the warmth of his brother’s arms and cape, with the gentle rhythm of his steps, Tommy felt like he was being rocked to sleep. Like how Phil used to rock him to sleep when he was littler. It was comforting and Tommy couldn’t stop his body from relaxing into his brother’s, letting his head rest on Techno’s shoulder and letting his arms hand loosely around Techno’s neck.

“Tommy you have to hold on or you’ll slide off,” Techno said. Tommy hummed and gripped his arms just a little bit tighter so he wouldn’t slide off. Techno huffed and got a better grip of his legs, determined to keep his brother upright. “Don’t worry, it’ll only take us another few minutes to get back home.”

“Will Da and Wilby be there?” Tommy asked quietly. His brother fell silent and Tommy blinked tiredly.

“You’ll see them eventually.”

That was good enough for Tommy and the two brothers fell silent as they walked across the cold icy forests and plains to get to Techno’s house. Tommy barely registered the fact that they had arrived at Techno’s home until he was enveloped in warm air and set down on a couch. Tommy curled into himself, pulling Techno’s cape tighter around him as let himself drift off to sleep.

He didn’t catch the way his brother stared at him with confused and worried eyes, wondering what had happened to the boy he used to call his brother.

Chapter Text

Tommy pulled the shirt over his head, watching as it fell well past his waist and knees. The sleeves were too long and despite the higher collar on the shirt you could still see Tommy’s collarbone and shoulders poking out of the fabric. Techno just pinched the bridge of his nose when Tommy started whacking at the air with his sleeve, a grin plastered on his face as he smiled at the silliness of the situation.

“You’re gonna need new clothes,” Techno said, mostly thinking aloud to himself. Tommy just rolled his eyes.

“No duh,” Tommy said. “It doesn’t take a genius to know that.”

It had been an hour or so since Tommy had woken up. The first thing he did was eat the food Techno had given to him. He was so exhausted from the events of yesterday that he didn’t even hear his brother moving about in his kitchen as he prepared food. He was grateful to have something in his stomach, being absolutely starving after not eating anything yesterday.

The second thing he did was take a bath, at Techno’s insistence. Tommy had protested but the boy was covered head to toe in dirt and ash so he didn’t have a valid argument. Techno had to change the water in his bath two times because of all the dirt that had washed off of him. It was nasty and even if he hated the feeling of his wet hair clinging to his neck Tommy was glad he took a bath in the end.

After taking a bath it was clear that Tommy couldn’t wear the clothes he was wearing yesterday. They were just too dirty, let alone ragged. So Techno spent the next fifteen minutes searching for something that could fit the boy, coming back with what Tommy thinks was one of Phil’s shirts, along with clean underwear and socks. They were all too big, I mean Phil was a good foot taller than Tommy, Techno even taller. So Techno wasted no time in retrieving his sewing kit after having watched Tommy play with his too long sleeves. He seemed to be more than ready to alter some of his old clothes so Tommy could wear them.

But for now, he would have to wear a shirt that looked like a dress on him. The worst part was that he had no pants, everything just being too big. Tommy didn’t mind as much as he thought he would, but it was a little awkward. He looked rather silly, with socks almost coming up to his knees and a shirt that fell past them.

“I still can’t get over the fact that you shrunk,” Techno said as he cut up one of his shirts, other articles of soon-to-be-altered clothing laying out on the kitchen table in front of him with his sewing kit. Tommy sat in the seat across from his brother and frowned.

“I told you that I didn’t shrink ,” he said, trying to convince his brother. “If anything you grew even taller!”

Techno paused in his mending to look at his brother. The skull mask had been discarded, resting on the mantle above the fireplace on the other side of the room for the time being. Warm brown eyes looked into sky blue ones, neither looking away. Tommy didn't know how to feel when Techno looked away first.

“Last night you said that you think that you’re what, eight?” Techno asked. Tommy nodded vigorously. Techno bit his lip, tusks poking at his skin. “Tommy, what’s the last thing that you remember?”

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but found himself faltering. What was the last thing that he remembered? He knew that he should be living on the cottage farm with his family. Wilbur was making songs and Techno was supposed to be doing training for his upcoming tournament, the first one that was more than a few days' travel away from home. And Phil was thinking about traveling again soon, now that his boys could take care of themselves on their own.

But was that all recent? Did Techno already go to his tournament? Did Wilbur finish his latest song? Was Phil already traveling? Was it supposed to be spring or summer? It felt too cold to be either of those seasons, even being up north in this icy biome. And he could have sworn that his eighth birthday was only a few months ago.

“I- I dunno,” Tommy answered honestly. “My brain is all messed up ‘nd shit. It’s all fuzzy and smushed together.”

“Do you know the date?” Techno asked him. Tommy shook his head. “Well, if I remember correctly, it’s what, the twenty-seventh of December?”

“I MISSED CHRISTMAS?!” Tommy shouted, jumping in his seat and slapping his hands on the table, knocking over a spool of thread. “That’s so unfair!”

“You’ll survive,” Techno said calmly. “If you find something around the house that you want, just keep it or something. As long as it’s not a weapon or something edible, including potions. You don’t need to be getting into that stuff, especially when you say that you're, um, eight.”

Tommy immediately jumped to his feet and ran to rummage through his brother’s chests, or at least the ones he could reach and unlock. Techno just sighed and continued to alter his old clothes for Tommy. The two spent the next couple of hours in silence, with the occasional shout when Tommy would knock something over that was not meant to be knocked over.

Close to the time Tommy assumed would be a good time for lunch he found something in one of Techno’s chests that he wanted to keep. A turtle helmet, with shiny Unbreaking III and Respiration III and Mending enchants. He took it into his hands and smiled at the shiny helmet. He slammed the lid to the chest shut before he ran back to his brother.

The sewing stuff was still out on the table, but Techno was standing in the kitchen, slicing up some bread, chicken, and apples for lunch.

“Techie!” Tommy exclaimed happily as he ran up to his brother. “I want to keep this!”

He held up the turtle helmet for his brother to see, grinning brightly at him. Techno blinked and shook his head as he smiled.

“Yeah, that won’t get you killed so I don’t see why not,” he said as he made himself and Tommy a plate of food. “It should do the opposite actually, good choice.”

Techno brought their plates to the table, carefully moving aside some of the clothes so they didn’t get food on them. Tommy smiled as he put the blocky turtle helmet on his head before climbing onto a seat and bringing one of the plates closer to him.

“One more thing Tommy,” Techno said, opening one of the chests that Tommy couldn’t reach. One glimpse instead and Tommy could see the riches that laid in the chest. He bounced in his seat when Techno pulled out something from the chest and set it on the table in front of him.

“You like discs, right?” Techno said. “You can have this one. Knowing me I probably have another copy lying around in a chest, collecting dust.”

The disc had a light blue ring around the middle, and even though Tommy couldn’t remember what disc it was he still picked it up and clutched it tightly to his chest.

“I can keep it, really?” he asked, looking at his brother with wide eyes. Techno nodded and smiled to himself when he watched Tommy get up and cross the room to open his enderchest. Tommy’s jaw dropped when he saw the contents inside.

“Oh my Ender,” he said excitedly. “When did I get all of these discs?”

He laughed to himself as he pulled out all the discs lying in his enderchest. He ignored the books and pictures that laid in there as well, not recognizing any of the items. He shuffled through each disc, disappointed when he couldn't find Cat or Mellohi , two of his favorite discs. Oh well, he’d just have to collect them some other time, or force Techno to do it for him.

As he carefully sat the discs in a neat stack in his enderchest, Tommy spotted a shiny circular object that he didn’t recognize. He curiously pulled it out of the pile of books and pictures, holding the object in his hands.

It was a compass. The red needle was mostly still, every now and then moving slightly to the side, facing south opposed to north. Tommy inspected the shiny compass, finding a weird engraving on the side of it. Your Tubbo it read. Confused he turned to his brother, who was watching him with a curious look.

“Who the fuck is Tubbo?” Tommy asked.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

It had been a few days since Tommy had arrived at Techno’s house after running from the seaside plain with the exploded land and the green man that was there. He had fixed clothes now, shirts altered to be tunics and leggings cut and adjusted so they were actual pants. Techno had even given him a cape of his own, a much more comfortable size. It didn’t stop him from stealing his brother’s cape every now and then, taking it to snuggled up on the couch before Techno carried him to the room Tommy now called his own.

It was strange, living out here all alone. Tommy would have been used to it if it weren’t for the lack of his dad and Wilbur. Whenever Tommy would ask Techno about them he’d brush his questions away. He wondered why.

He asked him other questions of course. Asked him why he wore blue instead of red. (Apparently it was for the winter aesthetic and something called the Antarctic Empire). He asked Techno about the green guy, wondering if he knew him or was gonna beat him up for kidnapping him. (Techno didn’t like talking about the green man, and would brush off the questions just like how he brushed off the ones about the rest of their family). He asked if he knew about the Tubbo person. (Techno didn’t like talking about the Tubbo person either, and he never even bothered to confirm that it was a person. Maybe it was a dog, or a building. Either way, it was something of his that Techno didn’t want to talk about). He also asked Techno about the fact that he was eight and Techno was now twenty-four. (For that, there was no answer. Tommy didn’t like to admit that this scared him a bit. Was he in the future? Would he come across another Tommy? Or did someone rewrite his code? His dad said that people with rewritten code had better chances of getting Voided when they died. The Void wasn’t something you were supposed to be afraid of, but everyone was.)

He’d just have to get more answers later.

But now they stood together as Techno collected scutes or whatever from the turtle farm he had supposedly built with their dad. They had already checked on the honey farm with the bees, and Tommy had finished the indoor chores that Techno made him do. After this task they were going to go to the village that was a couple miles away. Tommy wondered if he was going to get to ride on Carl, Techno’s horse. He was a nice horse and Tommy liked to feed him carrots, even though Techno said that doing so would make the horse go soft. Techno was stupid though. Carl was as soft as Bob the cow, and both of them loved Tommy.

As Techno stepped back from his farm and handed off the scutes to Tommy he looked up into the sky, squinting slightly. Maybe his hybrid ears picked up the sound of something that Tommy couldn’t hear. Stupid human genetics or whatever they were called.

“Let’s go back to the house Tommy,” Techno said, climbing up the small hill that protected the pond the turtles lived in. Tommy scampered after him, clutching the damp bag of scute to his chest as he followed his brother. They walked up to the house and Tommy stared in confusion when he saw a black bird sitting quietly on the railing of Techno’s porch. Techno seemed distressed as he walked up to the bird.

“Why’s there a bird?” Tommy asked, climbing up the stairs after Techno.

“It’s a raven,” Techno said with a frown. “Phil sends me messages with them. Usually urgent messages.”

“Why not use a communicator?” Tommy asked.

“Comms can be hacked and taken away,” Techno explained. “The only way for people to get a hand on messages like these is if they shot the bird out of the sky. And for that they’d have to know it’s a messenger bird.”

Tommy watched with curious eyes as Techno untied a small piece of paper from the raven’s leg, unrolling the message. Even with the mask on his face, Tommy could see his face fall and turn whiter than it was before. His hands shook slightly and he crumpled the paper in his fist.

“We have to get inside,” Techno said in a rush. His voice sounded deeper than usual and he practically dragged Tommy inside, despite his protests. Techno left the small piece of paper on the table as he began to pull things from his chests and charge up his brewing stands. Tommy watched with nervous and confused eyes as his brother ran around the house, preparing for something that he couldn’t understand. His eyes fell on the abandoned piece of paper on the kitchen table. His feet were moving across the floor before he could even register what he was doing. Tommy’s curious hands grabbed the slip of paper and he lifted it up to read the message.

They know where you are. They’re coming for you. Prepare yourself and stay safe. - Phil

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand what’s going on!”

Tommy sat on the couch as he watched his brother move quickly around the room, arms hanging off the back of the couch as he leaned his chest on the cushions. Techno was barely managing to stay still for more than a minute. He was pulling out different weapons and setting them on the kitchen table before he left them as he went to pull out potion ingredients to brew different potions. Then he would keep fixing the straps of his already perfectly strapped on armor as he glanced out the window nervously. All he was met with was afternoon sun and glistening snow.

“You don’t need to understand Tommy, you need to stay safe,” Techno replied coolly, his gaze once again focused on a point out the window.

“But who’s coming after you!?” Tommy asked, begging for answers. “Are they dangerous? When are they coming? Is Dad okay, Wilbur? Are you going to be okay?”

“Tommy do I look like I know the answers to all your questions?” Techno snapped, turning on his younger brother. Tommy flinched back and for a second instead of Techno he saw the green man with his crude mask, smiling down at him viciously. He wondered why, he only met the green man once. But something inside him felt crushed and Tommy sat down on the back on his legs, looking away from his brother.

“‘M sorry,” Tommy said, hugging his arms around himself. Techno sighed and looked back out the window one last time before approaching Tommy, sitting on the arm of the couch beside his brother.

“I’m not mad at you, I’m just worried,” Techno said, reaching out to ruffle Tommy’s hair. “If someone, anyone, approaches you that’s not me or Phil, then you don’t say a thing , about your name, age, or where you came from or why you are staying with me.”

“Why?” Tommy asked, watching his brother pull back his hand, longing to feel the comforting and affectionate touch again.

“Tommy, do you remember the story of Achilles?” Techno asked. Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“Is that the story about the guy who had to do these challenges cause this god lady didn’t like him?” Tommy asked.

“What, no. That’s Hercules,” Techno said with a light shake of his head, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Anyway, Achilles was a strong warrior, nearly invincible and invulnerable to all injuries. For all but one thing. On the back of his heel was a spot that no matter the injury he could perish to. That’s how he died.”

“What’s this gotta do with me?” Tommy asked, still confused.

“Tommy, you, and Phil and Wilbur, you are my Achilles’ heel,” Techno said. “I’m a strong powerful warrior that never dies, but when it comes to my family, I’m vulnerable. My enemies won’t hesitate to use that against me, exploiting my weakness.”

“I’m your weakness?” Tommy asked. Techno nodded in confirmation. Not really knowing what to do with this information Tommy watched as his brother went back to preparing for the small war he seemed to think that would come upon him.

Techno said they were a day’s worth of traveling away from where Phil was. Tommy didn’t know how long it took for the raven to fly, so he had no idea how much time he had to wait for someone to appear out of the forest, looking for Techno. Potions bubbled and Tommy was a little worried, because he knew it took a few minutes to an hour to get a potion perfect. He didn’t doubt his brother’s skills, even in his haste, but with the amount of potions he was brewing he wondered if he could complete them on time. He wished he knew more, that he could help.

He ignored the voice inside himself that told him he could if he just remembered.

But remember what?

He shook his head and started to watch from the windows of the upstairs bedroom, Techno’s room opposed to his room and the bathroom on the main floor, to look for signs of people coming. Techno was busy downstairs and Tommy wanted to feel useful. He wouldn’t sit by while his brother readied for battle.

Hours went by, afternoon changed to night, and the sun was rising by the time Tommy finally spotted something in the forest. Techno found him half asleep the night before and told him to sleep. Both of them doubted that Techno’s enemies would attack in the night, but there were no guarantees. Tommy slept and he hoped Techno did too. But now there was no time for sleep in these early hours of the morning. It was around the time Tommy would usually wake, when he saw four figures step out of the forest. He assumed Techno saw them too, because he could hear his loud footsteps begin to pace around the room below him.

Stepping down the ladder, Tommy found Techno re-fastening the straps of his armor across his chest, legs, arms, and elsewhere. He put on his skull mask and crown, and tightened his belt of potions around his waist. His sword was already buckled at his side, a crossbow and quiver of arrows on his back. Tommy knew his brother was a warrior, but he could only remember sixteen-year-old Techno. The older brother who always came back from his tournaments victorious, but not with battle scars. Something over the years had obviously changed. Tommy wondered if Techno was always built for war, he seemed well within his element.

“Tommy, I didn’t have the time to brew you an invisibility potion, so stay out of sight, alright?” Techno said, glancing down at his younger brother.

“What?” Tommy complained. “I want to watch you kick those fuckers asses!”

“I swear to Ender there is not another child in existence with a mouth dirtier than yours,” Techno said with a smile. He ruffled the hair on his brother’s head, chuckling when Tommy hissed at him. “Stay safe, no matter what happens.”

Then Tommy watched him open the door, cold air seeping into the cabin, before he stepped out onto the porch, weapons at the ready. After he closed the door behind him Tommy quickly ran and grabbed his cape, pulling it on, before he ran back to the window. He carefully pulled up the window to peer through the closed shutters that he could barely see through, but he could hear through.

There were four guys standing on Techno’s front lawn, having emerged from the forest. There was a guy, taller than two of his companions but not anywhere near the height of the forth guy. He had ginger hair and fox ears poking through a black hat he was wearing. His fox tail swept aside some snow and he was wearing an apron covered in blood.

The two shorter guys were similar. A guy with a beanie hat that looked nothing like Wilbur’s was standing in the front, arguing with Techno. He shouted words that meant nothing to Tommy, but obviously meant something to Techno, judging by the way he stood still, poised and ready to draw his sword. Beside the beanie guy stood a boy that was around the same height as him, with dark brown hair. Both of them wore bloodied aprons, the brown-haired boy wearing one over a fancy looking suit that looked out of place.

The last guy was super tall and had blotchy white and black skin that reminded Tommy of a cow, even though this guy was obviously not a hybrid of one. He looked nervous and wasn’t wearing a bloodied apron like his companions, just a suit, and he looked very out of his element.

Tommy’s face went white when he saw Techno draw his sword. He immediately went on the offence and lunged at the fox man. Potions laid shattered in the snow and Techno looked terrifying as he attacked. The fox man parried his attacks, and weakly tried to fight back. He was quickly backed up by the boys in the suits. Tommy couldn’t stop himself from poking the shutter open slightly as he watched Techno fight.

As his eyes scanned the mayhem he froze when he saw the beanie guy look towards the house. Tommy ducked quickly, hoping the guy with the beanie hadn’t noticed him. He quickly looked for a hiding spot, just in case. He remembered the barrel that sat near the door and underneath the other window. He ran over to it tossing out the shoes that laid in the bottom of it. They wouldn’t look too out of place if they were by the front door anyway. Then he crawled inside, ignoring the way it felt like the barrel was crushing him, as he held his breath.

Footsteps from outside came closer, too light to be Techno’s. Tommy held his breath and slapped a hand over his mouth. He prayed to the sky gods Wilbur liked to go on about, thinking about prayers that he hoped any gods, even the ones from Techno’s stories, would answer.

With his awful luck his prayers went unanswered when he heard the door to the house open and footsteps came closer.

“Where are you kid?” a young voice asked, sounding mischievous and sinister. “Don’t think I didn’t see you, idiot.”

Tommy tried to control his breathing, but he couldn’t help the scream that ripped from his throat when the lid to the barrel he sat in was lifted off, the beanie man grinning down at him. He grabbed Tommy by his hair and wrenched him from the barrel. Tommy screamed and sobbed.

“Ender, shut the fuck up kid, Techno will hear you!” the beanie guy said, muttering something else in his strange language. Tommy wanted to yell ‘ that’s the point’ but didn’t get the chance when the beanie guy pulled out a piece of cloth from his pocket, tying it around his mouth, successfully gagging him. Tommy thrashed about but the eight-year-old couldn’t do much against a guy that could overpower him. His hands were forcefully tied behind his back and Tommy was dragged out of the house, tears streaming down his face. If only he had listened to Techno and hidden himself from the start! Fuck his defiance!

“Techno, Technoblade stop!” the beanie guy shouted, shoving Tommy to the ground and holding a dagger to his throat. “You’re gonna stop fighting and drop your weapons.”

The brown-haired boy’s eyes went wide when he saw Tommy sitting in the snow with a dagger to his throat, nearly dropping the axe that was in his hands.

“Quackity!?” he shouted, forgetting Techno for a moment. His companions went still and Techno slowed when he saw his enemies stop fighting. Tommy whimpered when he watched Techno turn, going still when he saw Tommy.

“Hey, hey now,” Techno said quickly, taking a step towards him. “Quackity let’s talk about this. He’s just a kid, put away the knife.”

“Gone soft for a kid?” the beanie guy, Quackity, laughed. “Here I thought your own sword was called the Orphan Obliterator .” His hand in Tommy’s hair gripped tighter and the knife didn’t leave his throat. Tommy felt more tears stream down his cheeks. It hurt, the hand was nothing like the comforting hand that ran through his hair when Techno wanted to show some affection.

“He’s not an orphan,” Techno said. “He’s staying with me until I find his parents for him.”

“That’s a load of bullshit and we both know that Technoblade,” Quackity growled. “I don’t care who the kid is to you, but I swear to Ender if you don’t drop your weapons and empty your pockets right now , I will slit the kid’s throat.”

Techno froze in his tracks, watching Quackity with a careful eye. For a second, everything was quiet. Tommy was frozen still with shock. Techno’s enemies, the three guys who barely looked old enough to be fighting in a battle like this, were also still. Even the raven that Phil had sent yesterday was quiet, watching from its perch on the railing. Quackity’s hand in his hair gripped tighter as he pressed the blade closer to Tommy’s throat, making him whimper when he felt it dig into his skin. Techno stared at the two of them, pausing before he sheathed his sword and held up his hands in surrender.

“Just leave the kid be,” Techno said. “I don’t know how many lives he has.”

“Hand over your weapons Techno, armor too,” Quackity ordered. Tommy watched helplessly as Techno unbuckled his sword belt, letting it fall into the snow. Next came the potions belt, then the crossbow, then the quiver of arrow. He unstrapped his chestplate and let the glowing metal fall to the ground. He carefully took off his arm guards and leg guards, letting them join the pile of other items building up in the snow. 

“Is that everything?” Quackity asked. Techno groaned and flicked his wrist, a knife sliding out and falling to the snow. Quackity stared at him for another few moments before he spoke up again. “Mask and crown as well Techno.” Techno growled but begrudgingly dropped the crown into the snow, the mask following shortly. He took a step back and the tall boy in the suit approached carefully before he took Techno’s items into his arms and ran back. Techno growled at him, some of his piglin traits coming through when he saw his possessions taken away.

“Alright Techno, for the crimes against L’Manburg you’re being taken back for a trial,” the brown-haired boy said, approaching Techno carefully. In his hands he held up a pair of iron handcuffs. Techno hesitated for a moment before holding up his hands in front of him, letting the boy cuff him.

“Just let the kid go,” Techno said, sounding defeated. Quackity smirked and the dagger was pulled away from Tommy’s neck, but the hand in his hair didn’t leave.

“No, we’re taking him with us too,” Quackity said. “To make sure you don’t pull any tricks along the way.”

“I won’t,” Techno swore but Quackity wouldn’t listen. He sharply dragged Tommy to his feet, the hand not leaving his hair. He glared at the brown-haired boy who sheepishly beckoned for Techno to follow him. Behind them trailed the fox man and the tall boy.

Tommy stumbled through the snow, hating the way that he was basically dragged along. He was glad he had pulled on his cape, otherwise he would have froze by now. He could barely keep up with his captors. He was jealous of the way Techno could still hold himself up regally, standing tall above everyone, except the tall boy. It just made Tommy feel small the way he was dragged along. He couldn’t even curse at his captors, because of the stupid gag.

Eventually they reached an icy shore where multiple small rowboats sat in the sand. The brown-haired boy pointed to one that Techno climbed into. Tommy was dragged into one with Quackity, and was seated down harshly on the wooden planks. He whimpered and hated the way that Techno snapped his head to look at him. The rest of his captors got in the last boat, and suddenly they were rowing across the ocean.

“You do know it would have been quicker to travel through the Nether,” Techno commented, staring out into the seemingly endless sea. The brown-haired boy huffed as he rowed, ignoring Techno. “Am I gonna get a lawyer at this trial Mr. President?”

Tommy was surprised to hear the brown-haired boy reply instead of Quackity, the guy who had pulled all the shots up until this point.

“No, you’re not,” the boy said harshly. “You’re already guilty of your crimes.”

“It’s still a trial, guilty or not,” Techno replied coolly. The boy huffed and went back to ignoring him.

“And you are very guilty,” Quackity said smugly.

Tommy decided that he did not like the man with the beanie.

He also cursed himself for being Techno’s Achilles’ heel.

Chapter Text

It was evening when they reached L’Manburg. The winter sun had long since set and lanterns were lit on the docks that they pulled to shore next to. Tommy was hauled from the boat, this time escorted by the fox man. Quackity walked next to the young president as the two of them directed Techno and himself into the town called L’Manburg.

L’Manburg was pretty, with its wooden boardwalks, floating lanterns, and cute houses. But something about the town unsettled Tommy. Maybe it was the faint smell of gunpowder that hung in the air, or the concerning fact that nearly the entire town was built on stilts atop a crater that seemed to have been turned into a lake. Either way, the most unsettling thing about the town was the giant redstone mechanism that stood tall in one of the town’s communal boardwalk courts, wood and redstone stretching into the sky, an anvil hanging dangerously at the top.

Techno paused when he saw the mechanism. Quackity only got him to move when he held a sword to his back, threatening to run him through if he didn’t keep walking. With the president at his side the two L’Manburg leaders shoved Techno into the iron cage beneath the anvil.

“I’m guessing you lied about the trial part,” Techno said dryly. “Too bad, I could have paid a lawyer vast sums of money.”

“Shut the fuck up Technoblade,” Quackity growled. “You get no lawyer. You get no trial. You’re here to pay for the crimes you committed against L’Manburg.”

“By executing a helpless man?” a new voice asked.

Tommy turned and looked up to where the voice had come from. Standing on a balcony, with no railings, was Philza. Dad . He had his arms crossed and his wings fluttered on his back, his disappointment evident. There was an iron cuff around his ankle, glowing with enchantments, and Tommy wondered if it bound him to his house since he made no move to swoop in and rescue them. Phil looked over the crowd, staring at each L’Manburg citizen with a look of disgust. He looked worried for Techno, and when his eye’s met Tommy’s, he froze, looking back to Techno. Techno just shook his head and Phil stayed quiet.

“Maybe Techno should have thought twice about executing me then!” the young brown-haired president shouted back at Phil. “I was more helpless than him!”

“You’re forgetting who ordered the execution,” Phil said. “Don’t shoot the messenger Tubbo, or in this case, the executioner. It’s the person who ordered the act that you should be blaming.”

The president, Tubbo, (Tubbo?) looked away from Phil, almost looking guilty as he crossed his arms and took a step back. Quackity was glaring up at the older man as the rest of the L’Manburg citizens were quiet. Tommy could feel nervousness coming off of the fox man who held onto his bound hands behind his back.

“Techno needs to learn that there are consequences to his actions!” Quackity shouted. “We can’t let him get away with blowing up L’Manburg!”

“Wilbur blew up L’Manburg,” Techno said. “I spawned two withers.”

“You do realize how dangerous withers are, right Techno?” the fox man spoke up for the first time. “Even with milk withering scars don’t fade quickly.”

Tommy blinked, looking up at the fox man. For the first time he noticed the thin black-grey scars that crawled up the back of his neck, hidden by his hair and hat, not to mention the collar of his jacket. It wasn’t noticeable unless someone pointed it out.

But this didn’t make sense. Why would Wilbur blow up L’Manburg? Sure, Tommy knew nothing about the land, its citizens, or its history, but it was someone’s home. Why would he take that away? Why would Techno spawn withers in someone’s home? Why would he execute Tubbo? Is that why he didn’t like to talk about him?

Tommy had too many questions and he was starting to feel light headed from the sudden flood of information. He was also hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything today, feeling too sick to his stomach to eat anything that morning. And he wasn’t offered any food on their trip across the ocean, even when they paused to take a break. Tommy couldn’t even remember the last time he had a glass of water, the meaningless but necessary task getting lost in the memories of today.

“And I think you’re all a bunch of hypocrites,” another new voice joined in.

As the fox man turned Tommy was dragged along, and he looked up to see a man standing up on one of the seats in the audience. His blue eyes shone and he shook platinum blond hair out of his eyes, his white hood slipping back slightly. In his hand he held a stick of TNT, and in the other he held a trident. His armor looked as strong as Techno’s, the black metal glinting in the lantern light and the purple shine of enchants glowing softly.

“Punz?” Tubbo said aloud, sounding very confused. It didn’t take long for Tommy to figure out that this man was not a friend of L’Manburg and it’s citizens.

“Sorry about this Mr. President,” Punz said in a way that made it sound like he wasn’t sorry at all, which was probably true. He lit the stick of TNT and threw it towards the fox man that held onto Tommy. The fox man yelped and dragged Tommy away from the dangerous explosive. Tommy shrieked through his gag when it went off, the loud explosive making his ears ring momentarily and leaving a hole in the planks of the L’Manburg boardwalk.

Punz jumped into action, swapping the trident for a sword as he threw another piece of TNT down. The tall boy in the suit jumped away this time before chasing after Punz. Techno laughed as he watched the citizens of L’Manburg scramble to catch the blond man who was throwing TNT around like it was candy on Halloween. At one point the fox man let go of Tommy, tying his bound wrists to the arm of one of the benches that faced towards the redstone mechanism.

“You know what, fuck this!” Quackity snapped, running towards the mechanism as his companions chased Punz around. “Punz can’t stop me from getting what I want. I won’t be satisfied until your blood stains the planks of L’Manburg red, Technoblade!”

Tommy screamed through the flimsy drool soaked cloth on his face when he watched Quackity lunge for the lever on the redstone mechanism. Phil shouted something from his perch, wings flaring out, and Techno hunched into himself, something golden glinting in the lantern-light for a moment before it disappeared.

The lever flicked down.

The TNT rained down.

The anvil fell down.

Tommy wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to unsee the sight before him. One moment he was looking into Techno’s scared eyes (Techno wasn’t scared, he wasn’t allowed to be scared, big brothers weren’t scared they were strong, why wasn’t Techno being strong?). The next he was met with the sight of an anvil sunk into a crushed body, blood sprayed across the spruce planks of L’Manburg’s execution court.

Phil screamed and Tommy thinks he was screaming too. His throat hurt so bad and he couldn’t stop crying. He was thrashing on the ground from where he sat, desperate to get to his brother. Technoblade never dies, he never dies, so why wasn’t he getting up?

Then the anvil was toppled over, and a bloodied figure was crawling out from underneath it. Gold and green stained hands clutched the iron bars of the cage as they pulled their body up. Brown eyes looked red and bloodstained pink hair hung loose as the heaving bloodied body of Technoblade stood atop the anvil that had crushed him to death. He looked away from the madness and his eye’s met Tommy’s going soft for a moment before flashing red with anger once more.

Tommy wasn’t sure how his hands got free, but once they did he was on his feet and running to his brother. Techno wasted no time grabbing Tommy and throwing him over his shoulder as he ran away from L’Manburg, escaping through a small hole that opened up to a tunnel. They ran and Tommy choked back sobs as he felt himself be set on the ground once more. He pulled the gag off his face and hiccupped as he huddled into himself.

Techno was rummaging through some chests, picking out abandoned items in his haste. Iron armor was fastened around his body and Techno didn’t even pause to check his wounds. He just downed a pink potion, looking slightly more refreshed. From one of the chests he pulled out an enchanted pickaxe, the netherite tool shimmering in the dark that felt like it was choking Tommy as he panicked.

“Technoblade!” came a voice from down the tunnel. “Come back here you fucking bitch!”

Tommy choked and Techno stood up tall, standing protectively in front of his brother as Quackity rounded the corner, a maniacal smile on his face, and an axe gripped in his hand.

“Quackity,” Techno said in a mock greeting. He gripped his pickaxe tighter and Tommy scrambled back, wanting nothing more than to run away from Quackity, who looked like a madman with the way he was grinning and holding that axe. Something about his mad smile was all too familiar, and Tommy couldn't understand why.

“Technoblade,” Quackity replied in the same mockingly vile tone. “I did not put all this time and effort into executing you, just for you to live .”

“You really thought that you could defeat me , Quackity? Haven’t you heard my favorite catchphrase?” Techno asked, a smile creeping onto his face. “ Technoblade never dies .”

When he lunged for Quackity, pickaxe swinging, Tommy couldn’t recognize anything about his brother as the man before him swung at their attacker. In the week they had spent together in his house in the tundra, Tommy found out quickly that Techno was a different person than before. But there were still some recognizable traits. Techno would barely take the time to cut up his food before he brought it to his mouth. He still knew his mythologies as well as he knew how to swing a sword. He was still a neat freak, often spending time cleaning up Tommy’s messes. He would still crack a smile at Tommy’s silly words, stupid jokes, or curses. He was possessive about his items and stashed away gold.

But this man, the one grinning while blood stained his skin and dampened his clothes, begging for the cries that came out of his enemies mouths, this man was unrecognizable.

Tommy didn’t like what he saw.

“ I’m going to kill you Technoblade! ” Quackity shouted, even as blood poured from his cut skin. Techno just grinned down at the shorter man.

“ I have a pickaxe, and I’m going to put it through your teeth! ” Techno shouted with no remorse.

Not even a second later Quackity’s head was impaled with the pickaxe, knocking out his teeth, as his body fell to the floor. Tommy blinked and his vision spun as he watched Techno yank the tool-turned-weapon out of the body that was already starting to slowly disappear as it prepared for respawn. He turned back to his brother, eyes red and blood sprayed across his face. Tommy felt his face go pale as he doubled over, vomited, and then promptly passed out.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Tommy sat in the bathtub, silent and unmoving. Techno sat in the corner of the bathroom on a stool, his head in his hands. His long hair had fallen over his shoulders and shielded his face. Neither of the boys were talking. Neither wanted to speak.

While Tommy was sitting in the bath, surrounded by soap and dirty water that washed away the smell of gunpowder, sea spray, blood, and vomit, Techno looked as if he had taken a bath of his own. A bath of blood and gold.

Techno’s whole arms, both skin and the cotton fabric of his shirt sleeves, were stained gold. His hands were completely stained, with green flecks mixed in on the palms of his hands, if Tommy remembered correctly. Other than the gold he was completely drenched in blood. Not even an inch of him was spared. His hair looked more red than pink, his white shirt had been stained through, and even the soles of his shoes had left trails of bloody footprints in the house. He hadn’t even bothered to take his shoes off, even though they had gotten home a little while ago. Looking at him made Tommy feel sick to his stomach, and the need to vomit never really went away. It didn’t help that everything smelled like blood as well.

The water in the tub was going cold. Tommy shivered and swirled a hand in it, watching as the grime from his skin floated away. It was gross. He studied his hands, his fingers looking like prunes. He bunched them into fists and submerged them in the water once again.

“I’m sorry.”

Tommy looked up. Techno slowly lifted his head out of his hands, staring at him with eyes that had returned to their normal shade of brown, opposed to the angry and greedy red from earlier. Tommy blinked, not daring to speak, as he stared at his brother.

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” Techno went on. “Me dyin’. Me killin’ Quackity. No kid should have to see that.”

“I’m sorry too,” Tommy said, staring down at the sudsy water. “It’s my fault for not hiding right away.”

“No,” Techno agrued. “You’re not allowed to blame yourself for this.”

“But it is my fault!” Tommy exclaimed angrily, slamming his fists into the water, not caring if it flowed over the edge. “I didn’t listen to you like you asked! I got you killed!”

“Tommy,” Techno said in a soothing tone. “It’s my fault for thinkin’ you’d listen to me. It’s my fault for not findin’ you a hidin’ place beforehand and ensurin’ your safety before I went to go fight. And you didn’t get me killed, L’Manburg did.”

“But, but,” Tommy tried to argue, hiccupping when he felt tears prick at his eyes. “I’m your stupid Achilles’ heel, and I got you hurt.”

“You may be my Achilles’ heel, but it’s my job to protect you,” Techno said softly. “And I failed. And I will learn from my mistakes.”

Tommy hiccupped and shivered again, the cold water lapping at his skin. Techno stood and moved to sit on the floor next to the tub. He reached out and ran a gold stained hand through Tommy’s hair. Tommy couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch, not like he would have stopped himself anyway. It was soothing, oh so soothing, and nothing like the harsh grip of Quackity’s hand in his hair from earlier today. Tommy didn’t realize he was crying again until Techno shushed him and hummed softly.

“No one will hurt you again,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Promise?” Tommy squeaked. Techno smiled and nodded his head.

“Promise.”

It took them a little while to be productive once again. The two boys wanted nothing more than to forget the events of the day and go to sleep. Eventually Techno got up and drained the tub before leaving the room. Tommy sat in it as it refilled itself while Techno was in the other room, probably trying to wash some of the blood and gold off of his skin. When he returned Tommy was still in the bath, running a washcloth over his skin, wiping away any remnants of the terrible acts from earlier. Techno’s hands were mostly free of blood and gold, and he had changed his clothes. He was going to still need a bath after Tommy was done, that was for sure.

Tommy watched him with a hesitant eye before he decided to speak up.

“Can you, uh,” he said, hesitating again. Techno looked at him softly and Tommy swallowed. “Can you wash my hair?”

Techno nodded and kneeled besides the tub. Tommy’s hair was already wet so Techno just poured some soap on his hands before he ran them through Tommy’s hair, carefully pulling at knots while he massaged Tommy’s scalp.

“Phil used to do this, didn’t he?”

Tommy nodded, swirling his hand in the bathtub’s water while Techno washed his hair. Techno was humming softly, a comforting tune that Tommy couldn’t place.

“Your hair’s getting long,” Techno commented. “It’s curly, but when it’s wet it’s nearly down to your shoulders.”

“I don’t want to cut it,” Tommy blurted, even though Techno never even brought it up. Techno’s hands paused for a moment, before they untangled themselves from Tommy’s hair. Tommy looked over and watched as Techno grabbed the bucket of warm water they had beside the tub, smiling to himself.

“That’s fine,” Techno said, the soft smile still lingering on his face. “We don’t need to cut it.”

Tommy smiled at him before shrieking when Techno dumped the water over his head. Techno laughed as he spluttered, only laughing louder when Tommy cursed at him and splashed him with water.

It felt nice, doing something so playful and domestic after they were taken hostage and one of them was executed.

It helped him forget about all the bad things that happened that day.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Tubbo didn’t know what to do.

Logstedshire was gone. Completely destroyed. Utterly obliterated. Synonym synonym.

When he first stepped through the portal he saw open fields of tall grass, gently bending in the breeze as the moon shone overhead. It looked lovely, and reminded Tubbo of a time before he was president, before the wars. Back when him and Tommy were young and carefree and spent the days together without having to care about completing a job or someone sneaking up on them with malicious intent.

He blinked and then he saw the craters, and his cheerful mood dissipated almost immediately. The craters had scattered rocks around them and the smell of gunpowder hung faintly in the air. These were holes too uniform to be caused by a creeper. Not to mention that there were dozens of them, spread across the landscape. And when Tubbo looked to the side he realized that he had come through a new portal, the old one barely managing to hold itself up, the obsidian frame collapsing on one side.

Just past the broken portal was a tent, stained with soot and ocean spray. Holes were scattered across the fabric, and part of it was torn completely off, exposing the inside of the tent. It looked worse for wear and there was no sign of its occupant.

Tubbo gulped and took a few steps forward, feeling anxious and exposed. There were no lights lit, nothing to keep mobs away or to shine a light on them as they appeared through the trees. The moon did a pretty decent job of lighting up the place, but it still looked desolate, abandoned.

As he turned around he was met with the sparkling water of the ocean, the only thing strong enough to compete with the smell of gunpowder. There was a beach where chairs and an old blanket lay scattered about, like someone had thrown it together in a hurry. Or tried to take it down. Along the shore was another tent, lying flat on the ground, probably knocked over by the ocean tide.

Down the path there was a wooden wall, more than half of it blown out, wood laying on the ground as it began to rot. That was where the largest crater was. A couple of half-blown up chests and barrels near the least blown up side of the wall had things spilling out of them, cobblestone, wood, some now useless tools. Exposed rock and ore was unearthed, and more rock was tossed aside at the edge of the crater, blown up into the air during the blast only to fall back to the earth.

“Surely, surely not,” Tubbo said to himself as he approached the edge of the crater. The blast was old, and most of the ash had been washed away. While it still stunk of gunpowder the scent was fading, there was no doubt about that. Tubbo wondered how long ago this blast had happened.

He stood still as the moon disappeared behind clouds. He didn’t move even when rain began to fall from the sky. He didn’t shiver when his clothes became drenched with water and his hair clung to his forehead and neck.

He wondered where Tommy had gone. He wondered if Tommy had survived. He wondered what had happened to the boy that he used to call his best friend.

Chapter Text

Techno was building a barn. Or well, he built a barn, he had just finished up the last few details when Tommy decided to approach him. It was early morning and Tommy side stepped around the chickens that were wandering around on the barn floor. Techno was bringing things in and out of the barn but for now he was inside, picking apart a hay bale as he tossed hay into one of the few stalls he’d created.

It had been a couple of days since their ‘kidnapping.’ That’s what Tommy liked to call it. Techno said it was more of a hostage situation since they were threatened out of their home and taken away before going free. Tommy didn’t get the difference, and honestly, he didn’t care either.

“What’s the barn for?” Tommy asked as he watched Techno toss some hay into one of the stalls.

“Carl,” Techno replied easily. “And Bob. I’ve been meaning to get her some companions. Plus now I know that the chickens can roam free without freezin’ to death. Their coup’s attached to the barn.” He pointed to the other side of the barn, Tommy only glancing over for a second before his eyes went back to watch his brother. “And I left another horse back at Pogtopia, I’ve been meaning to bring him over for a while now, just didn’t have anywhere to put him.”

“What’s Pogtopia?” Tommy asked, kicking at some of the dirt and hay on the ground, careful not to send his shoe flying. There were some limitations to living out in the middle of the icy tundra, and even though Techno managed to trade some emeralds with a villager to get Tommy some shoes, they still didn’t fit perfectly. But on the bright side there was plenty of room for him to wear multiple pairs of socks if he took the time to put them on, keeping his feet warmer.

Techno paused, and Tommy broke free from his thoughts to watch his brother’s reaction to his question. Tommy watched him carefully as he went back to tossing hay in another stall. He frowned and stopped kicking at the ground, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“It’s not important,” Techno said, all but ignoring Tommy. “Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it my ass . Yeah right, that was just pure bullshit. Techno always did this when he talked about something that happened during the past eight years he couldn’t remember. Like when he asked about Wilbur, or Tubbo, or L’Manburg. When he asked about anything, really, that wasn’t along the lines of ‘do we have any good snacks’ or something stupid like that.

It was something important and it pissed him off that Techno didn’t trust him with information that he should already have. It wasn’t his fault that he lost eight years of memory (and apparently over a foot of height). He wasn’t a fragile kid, especially if he was supposed to be sixteen. Sixteen year olds weren’t kids. And if he could handle watching his brother get murdered he could handle whatever happened in ‘Pogtopia’ or whatever.

Tommy just had to ignore the fact that every time he saw Techno out of the corner of his eye, or every time he saw him in his dreams, he was drenched in blood, body broken and bruised, with golden hands gripping that pickaxe.

It was just his mind playing tricks on him, it wasn’t real he knew that. It didn’t mean that it didn’t frighten him, making him wake up at random times in the night, or jump as he saw Techno approach out of the corner of his eye.

“If you’re gonna get more animals, can I get a dog?” Tommy asked, deciding to ignore the fact that Techno had brushed off conversation about Pogtopia.

Techno chuckled, brushing dirt and hay off his hands, turning to smile at his brother.

“Sure, we can build a hound army,” Techno answered. Tommy rolled his eyes, a playful smile on his face.

“As long as I get a dog and get to name it.”

“As long as you don’t name it L’Dog or Pog Dog then I don’t see the problem,” Techno replied. “It can sleep in the barn.”

“ L’Dog is a la’stupid name,” Tommy said with a grin. Techno laughed, throwing his head back and his ponytail swinging slightly as he wheezed ever so slightly.

“Don’t tell that to Wilbur,” Techno joked, walking over and ruffling Tommy’s hair as he walked past him. “That’s something that he’d name a dog.”

“That’s why Wilbur is stupid,” Tommy chirped as he followed Techno out of the barn, a bounce in his step as he chatted with his brother.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

It was mid afternoon when the two brothers heard a knock on their front door. Tommy looked up from the book he was reading (not that it was that interesting anyway) and Techno set down the armor he was fixing up. He grabbed his pickaxe, which he had named Toothpick , and rested it on his shoulder as he went to open the door. 

On the front porch stood the tall boy from a few days ago, suit as sharp as ever and a tiny gold crown peeking out of the locks of his black and white hair.

“What do you want,” Techno growled. The boy shifted nervously on his feet, looking down at his shoes, fiddling with his hands.

“Uh, Philza, he uh asked me to uh, escort Ghostbur to your house,” the boy stuttered. “He was afraid um, afraid that he’d get lost on his way here.”

“So, where’s Ghostbur?” Techno asked, gripping the handle of his axe tighter. Tommy watched cautiously from the couch as the tall boy sighed and pointed towards the area where Techno had built his barn.

“He saw the barn and got excited,” the boy explained. “He had to leave his sheep in L’Manburg.”

“So, you’ve done your job, now leave,” Techno said, brandishing his pickaxe. The boy gulped.

“I wanted to apologize and I came by to give you something actually,” the boy said quickly, before Techno could shoo him away. “But I need access to an enderchest.”

Techno eyed him warily, not letting go of his grip on the pickaxe. The boy lifted his hands in surrender, and despite the cold he looked as if he was sweating because of how nervous he was.

“I promise I won’t hurt you, or the kid,” the boy said, glancing at Tommy before his eyes flicked back to stare at the pickaxe in Techno’s hand. “I, Ranboo, swear it.”

“Just let him in Techno,” Tommy said, his curiosity piquing. “It’s cold outside and he doesn’t even have a proper coat.”

The boy, Ranboo he said, smiled weakly at Tommy. “I’m actually immune to temperature.”

“How’s that?” Techno said, stepping to the side to let Ranboo duck into the house, barely fitting under the doorframe. He watched him carefully, looking the boy up and down to see if the boy would go back on his promise.

“Enderman genetics,” Ranboo said, sounding nervous. “My uh, kin, we can naturally be found in all dimensions. So the cold, it’s, familiar , almost. Reminds me of a home I can’t remember.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. Now that he was closer he could observe Ranboo better. The tall boy, even though he sometimes walked around hunched slightly, was definitely taller than your average human. Not quite as tall as an Enderman, but tall. He also had two different colored eyes, one green and one red, both shining with unhuman vibrancy. Patches of his skin were the same shade of black as an Enderman’s, and the other half was a pasty white. His limbs were lanky and long, and even wearing his gloves you could tell that his fingers were longer than natural, almost claw-like.

“So, you said you had something for me, Ranboo ?” Techno mentioned. The boy’s eyes widened and he stood up straighter, nodding his head.

“Yeah, yeah I do!” he said. He walked over to the enderchest near Tommy, Techno watching him carefully, never loosening his grip on his pickaxe. As Ranboo rummaged through his enderchest he began to talk.

“Sorry about the whole, uh, Butcher Army thing,” Ranboo said, beginning to ramble as he sorted the items in his enderchest. “I think it was Quackity’s idea, with Tubbo’s approval, and I sure as heck didn’t want to come along. They dragged me along anyway, cause I’m their ‘minutes man’ and I heard all the plans in their meeting so they didn’t want me telling anyone about their plans.”

“Butcher Army?” Techno repeated. Ranboo nodded and pulled something from his enderchest, lifting it up to present to Techno.

“Yeah, they trusted me with keeping some of your stuff,” Ranoo said. “But I felt really bad about keeping this because I know how annoying hybrid traits can be.”

In Ranboo’s hand was Techno’s golden crown, the blue, red, and green gems still shining bright in the light. The gold was just as well kept as before, looking freshly polished as well. Techno stared at it for a moment before he slowly reached out and took it from Ranboo’s hand, inspecting it carefully. Then he set it on his head, not bothering to straighten it, just letting the familiar weight comfort him.

“Got anything else of mine?” Techno asked. Ranboo nodded and pulled out the skull mask as well, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he held it out.

“I’ll probably get in trouble for giving this back as stuff, but I can just pretend I lost it or misplaced it and forgot where I put it,” Ranboo said. “Memory loss sucks but there’s the occasional bright side to it.”

“I got memory loss too,” Tommy blurted. Ranboo blinked in surprise and Techno, now holding onto his skull mask, stared sharply at Tommy. Tommy grinned sheepishly and sunk into the couch cushions. “It’s just fuzzy,” he said. “Just missed a couple months or something.”

“Oh,” Ranboo said, fiddling with his fingers. “I got random short term memory loss. Except that I can’t remember anything before coming into this world.”

“I hope you get your memories back,” Tommy said. Ranboo offered him a small smile.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Ranboo said, sounding sad. “Even if I don’t believe it. I hope you get yours back as well.”

Techno shifted on his feet and Ranboo stood, shutting the lid of his enderchest closed. He took a step back, inching closer to the door, as Techno watched him.

“It’s time for you to leave, isn’t it?” Techno said.

“Yeah, probably,” Ranboo replied. Techno swung his pickaxe down and off his shoulder, making the tall boy jump.

“Aw, he can’t stay around for a little longer?” Tommy pouted, having enjoyed the tall boy’s company so far. He was easy to talk to and something about him seemed familiar. Maybe it was just because of how friendly and kind he was.

Techno just turned to Tommy and shook his head, fixing him with a glare before he turned back to Ranboo. Tommy glared at Techno’s back, crossing his arms and slumping into the couch.

“I don’t want to see you back here,” Techno threatened, giving his pickaxe a swing. “I’m probably less likely to kill you on sight, but if you pose any ill intentions towards me and my companions then I won’t hesitate to cut you down. Understand?”

Ranboo nodded frantically and all but ran to the front door. He paused for a moment, resting his hand on the handle of the door. He turned back to look at Techno.

“I almost forgot, but Ghostbur’s got your armor in his enderchest,” Ranboo said. “I couldn’t fit it in mine. And you didn’t hear this from me.”

Techno smiled, making Ranboo relax just slightly. “Thanks. Now go home. There’s a nether portal west of here if you want to use that to get home. Just don’t tell anyone where you came from.”

Ranboo nodded in thanks and opened the door, all but running down the steps and off into the tundra. Techno watched him disappear into the distance and Tommy watched him stand in the doorway, frowning at his brother from where he sat on the couch.

“Why couldn’t he stay longer?” Tommy asked. “He was kind.”

Techno leaned in the doorway, arms crossed and pickaxe hanging loosely from his hand. His eyes didn’t leave the direction from where he watched Ranboo disappear into the distance. He was silent for a few moments, and Tommy shivered on the couch, waiting for an answer.

“Kindness is one of the greatest ways to manipulate someone if played out correctly,” Techno said quietly.

Tommy fell silent.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Techno was off to go retrieve Ghostbur. Tommy had no idea who Ghostbur was, but if they were an actual ghost he definitely had a lot of questions for them. He wanted to go with Techno to find them but he told him to stay inside, since night had fallen.

With dinner staying warm on the stove and Tommy’s book abandoned on the couch Tommy had decided to practice his new hobby. With Techno always running out of things to keep him busy he had decided to sit him down and teach him how to fix up the spare clothing he had, handing over his sewing kit to the boy. Techno was a hoarder, but not when it came to things like clothing. So when he showed Tommy the patterns and taught him how to properly weave the needle in and out of the fabric Tommy hyper-fixated on the task. He still remembers the surprised look on Techno’s face when he watched him sew.

‘It’s like you’ve known how to do this the entire time,’ he had said.

Tommy did have to admit that it felt like the chore was made for him. His nimble fingers had no trouble with the fabric, and the patterns were easy to copy. Before Techno knew it he had a new shirt to wear. It wasn’t perfect, by no means, but it was a start. Now Tommy was working on creating more clothing. It was easier than trading with villagers, because nothing seemed to fit the boy for Techno. Tommy was too skinny and Techno was too tall and well built for the villager’s clothing.

Not to mention that this entire time Tommy had been wearing socks that came up to his knees, almost. Socks didn’t seem too difficult to make, and while he was focusing on fixing the tears in one of Techno’s capes he was thinking about how he would make himself some nice socks after his current project.

After nearly an hour of Techno being gone and Tommy waiting for him to come back so they could eat (because Techno didn’t like when he messed with the stove, and he wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the pot on it safely) Tommy finally heard the sound of footsteps coming up the porch stairs. Techno’s footsteps. But there were two voices talking.

The door rattled and Tommy sat up in his seat as he watched Techno open the door and let himself in. Behind him followed a strange figure, who hovered slightly off the ground, chatting loudly even though Techno didn’t seem to be listening.

The figure had ash grey skin that was slightly translucent. They cast no shadow and light seemed to just flow through them. Everything about them was grey. They had curly dark grey hair, dark grey pants, grey skin, but hollow white eyes. The only colorful thing about them was the bright yellow sweater that Tommy recognized all too easily. When their eyes landed on Tommy they floated closer, greeting him happily and not noticing the way Tommy seemed frozen in his seat.

“Oh Tommy! You live with Techno now!” the grey figure said happily, his voice echoing slightly. “Now all three of us brothers are together again!”

Tommy shook in his seat, petrified, before he let out an awful scream as he stared at the hollow ghostly figure of his older brother, Wilbur.

Chapter Text

Techno knows he’s not a good brother. But as a twenty-four year old who’s spent the past year fighting in a war either alongside or against his own family, he could care less. Why bother to fix a mirror with broken pieces when you could get a new one instead?

(He knows how fucked up that analogy is. He tries not to care.)

(He cares.)

It started eight years ago. His tournaments were popping off and he quickly found himself traveling for weeks on end away from home to compete in larger tournaments against more renowned fighters. Phil didn’t quite trust him to go off on his own so he always went with him when they crossed worlds. They’d leave Wilbur home with Tommy. Phil thought Techno’s sixteen-year old twin would be more than capable of watching the eight-year old boy. Techno had no opinion on the matter. In those days his brain was only full of strategies and plans, the voices calling for blood.

(He still had voices that whispered for the comforting embraces of his brothers and the home he left behind.)

At eighteen he left home completely, wishing his ten-year old brother and twin the best, along with his father. He trusted them with Phil, he was their dad after all, he could watch them when Techno was away. His wanderlust and thirst for blood were no longer being pleased with just the tournaments any longer. But the idea of new journeys in new worlds, plans of conquests and plunders, made the voices sing. Who was Techno to ignore them?

Plus, no matter where he was in the universe, knowing that the little cottage in his home world would always stand was enough to comfort him. The cottage that was sandwiched between the vast meadow and flourishing forest. The cottage with the large potato garden and cherry trees planted along the path. The cottage where smoke was always coming out of the chimney and a fire was always in the hearth. The cottage where the sound of guitar strings being plucked was accompanied by the laughter of a child. The cottage that housed the family he loved dearly. The cottage he called home.

He sent letters home, at first. He never stayed in one place long enough to wait for a letter in response. His urge to explore was too strong, even though he wanted to hear from his family.

Techno can’t quite remember when it started, but one day he stopped sending letters. And by the time he actually managed to stay in one place long enough he had moved on from feeling super attached to his family. If they couldn’t bother to even try to contact him by now, then why should he bother?

(Some of the voices tell him that he’s being unfair. In what world would your twin who’s spent the last couple of years practically raising his little brother on his own find the time to try and search for the brother that’s been away from home for so long? He still cares, he just doesn’t have it in him to travel through the universe to search for the brother that left him behind.)

At one point he runs into Phil. It’s been three or four years since he’s left home and the twenty-one year old and his father barely recognized one another. Phil looks good, still looking as young as he was when Techno left. Techno himself has finally grown out of the gangly teenager he was, looking more well built. Built like a warrior.

Techno learns that his father hasn’t been home in years (he had trouble concealing his confused emotions when he sees that his father seems surprised at this fact, like he hadn’t even noticed. He’s always had trouble keeping track of time.) They stick together for a couple weeks, participating in a couple of tournaments and going on a couple of hunting expeditions before parting ways. Techno tells Phil to say hello to his brothers. His father gives him a guilty look and says he will.

(Phil doesn’t say hello to them. He never told Techno that the last time he returned home, just a couple weeks before he ran into Techno, that he found the little cottage to be deserted, a year or two’s worth of dust collecting in all the rooms. Techno catches the guilty look but does not comment on it. He can’t bring himself to care.)

(He cares, he really does. He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want to admit that he abandoned his family in the pursuit of his own selfish desires.)

(His family is full of selfish people. Phil who forgets the time when out on his adventures. Techno who would abandon his family to quiet the voices in his head and search for his next big conquest. Wilbur who pursues the path of glory and leadership all in order to make a name for himself in a family where he’s easily overshadowed. And Tommy, who only ever wanted his family and friends to stick together despite their conflicts and differences.)

Techno hears from one of his employers about the DreamSMP. A world that a powerful human built with his own hands with help from his friends. A world where hybrids were not discriminated against, but welcomed, as long as the owner of the world deemed them worthy of entry. Some people got free entry, while others had to ask and prove themselves to gain access.

Techno is mildly interested, seeing the owner of the world, Dream, and himself crossed paths years ago in a highly renowned tournament. He even remembers the way a messenger hunted him down to give him Dream’s invitation of the world. But he hides the invitation away and eventually forgets.

Until he learns that his brothers are currently living in that world, and were in trouble.

Despite the fact that he hasn’t bothered to contact them in over four years he feels compelled to go to them now. When he enters the world he tells Dream to fuck off before going to find his brothers. He settles into the underground ravine Tommy named Pogtopia and observes his family as he prepares for war.

He doesn’t recognize Wilbur. He thinks if he had shown up just a few months beforehand then he would have recognized the passionate president that fought in a war in order to build a home for his brother. But this Wilbur is much different from the cheery eyed smiling boy who loved to play songs for his family and the people in the town square.

It hurts to watch Wilbur deteriorate in front of his eyes. He’s seen madness before, he’s come across many mad men and watched them go mad before his eyes. He doesn’t know how to fix it and probably never will, but watching Wilbur spiral hurts. Still, he does nothing to stop Wilbur’s descent into madness.

(That’s a lie. For the first time in years Techno finds himself caring for someone other than himself. Small gestures, like the railings on the stairs that Wilbur eventually tears down, the resources he spends days gathering, the hours he puts into the potato farm to insure his family has at least the bare minimum to survive, the gunpowder he farms to build weapons that he swears he’ll never turn on his already mentally ill brother.)

If Wilbur was unrecognizable then Tommy was entirely different. Wilbur’s still passionate, just about the wrong thing. But Tommy, the spitfire that was the ten-year old boy from years ago, was gone. Gone and replaced with a boy that lost too much and clung to the fragments that he had left. Gone, or at the very least hidden away, because he was forced to grow up too fast.

Tommy’s still fire, crude words, and recklessness. But he’s also lost, silenced, and hesitant from being pushed down. This boy has seen battlefields and sights that no boy should have to see. He’s a soldier first, then a brother, and lastly a child.

(When Techno first arrives he does not realize that Tommy is only fifteen. His sixteenth birthday is spent in that ravine. Wilbur calls him a man for the first time that day, earning a smile from their younger brother. Techno doesn’t see a man, he sees a boy who has lost his childhood innocence and true happiness. He makes no move to give back Tommy the childhood he deserves, instead joining his twin in his path for vengeance and destruction.)

(This is one of his many mistakes.)

When Techno’s firework rocket rips through the chest of Tommy’s best friend, effectively killing the boy (and ironically the two men that ordered the boy’s death) Techno officially loses the title of ‘brother.’

Logically, it makes sense. He should have lost that title years ago. But Tommy still had faith that his stronger older brother, now a figure of legends across the universe. Tommy had believed that he would save that day, effectively saving the family he had left behind. Because he was supposed to care, because they were family.

It hurt Techno to come to the truth of the fact that he had more fun cutting down Wilbur’s enemies then he had playing cards with Tommy in order to distract him from the anxious rambles of their madman of a brother. He was no longer a part of this family, proven by the fact that Tommy had turned his back on him and tried to save Wilbur from himself. But by then it was too late.

Their family was broken into pieces. Their family had begun to break apart the day Techno left home. When Phil followed soon after he created a crack, and when Wilbur finally followed in his twin’s and father’s footsteps that day he had declared himself the villain, he succeeded in finally shattering the illusion that they were still a family. Tommy was the one that held the shattered remains of their family close, not caring if the jagged ends cut into his palms and chest as he held them close. Not caring if he was hurt by the fact that his family was lost, because he could not - would not - accept it.

When the sixteenth came around the voices took control. The scent of blood was too strong in the air for Techno to get a grip of his own consciousness and body. He hardly remembers cutting down their enemies, watching explosions tear up the earth. Or the way that he pointed his crossbow of rockets at Tommy’s friend, the way he told his brother to die, the way he fought with the hellish creatures he spawned instead of against them.

Phil, who had apparently shown up mid-battle in time to stab Wilbur through the heart after he blew up the nation he brought into existence, filled in the gaps of his foggy memory later. Techno didn’t regret any of his actions. Government was one of the reasons Wilbur had corrupted. Government was one of the reasons why Tommy didn’t smile freely anymore.

(Techno knew both of those things were also partially his fault.)

After losing control of himself Techno vowed to stay away from the action for a while. He didn’t want to entirely leave this realm, no. He couldn’t stray too far from his family after being gone for so long. Phil was staying and Tommy was still here. He couldn’t leave, not yet.

So he exiled himself from all lands that had been touched by the other inhabitants of the world. He built himself a little home in the snow, the cold making his mind just a little clearer. He wasn’t going to get involved, not unless Phil was in danger.

He had already lost his brothers.

He wasn’t going to lose his father as well.

(And even when Tommy was exiled and when L’Manburg started to crumble again, this time from the inside, Techno stood by and did nothing.)

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Techno hates to admit that he forgot what his youngest brother looked like when he was little. Maybe he’s being too hard on himself, but a good older brother would be able to recognize their brother anywhere anytime, right? It was a part of being a good family.

(But he was the one that gave up family months ago.)

But when Techno found the blond haired and blue eyed boy stuck in a tree screaming as a skeleton shot at him, all he could think was ‘dear Ender, what villager allowed this brat to go out so late at night?’

And when that brat of a child yelled at him, clung to him, called him Techie , Techno realized he made a big mistake.

Ender, the kid was not dressed for the heavy snowy winds of the north. He had a ratted shirt that hung on his thin body, shorts that were barely held up by the belt that was too big for his tiny waist, and when the kid pointed out that he didn’t even have shoes , Techno was sure he died a little inside. Not to mention the fact that the clothes were closer to rags than actual clothing.

While it hurt his dignity to carry the boy on his back, piggy-back style of all things, Techno couldn’t deny the fact that the voices were pleased when they saw him carefully tend to the boy.

He was less than pleased with the fact that the voices were louder than usual, and more, clingy , more worried .

(Techno couldn’t remember the last time the voices called for him to save a life instead of taking one. He wasn’t sure if they had ever asked that of him.)

Eight-year old Tommy, as he soon found out, was nothing like sixteen-year old Tommy. Techno thought at first that maybe Tommy had shrunk. That theory was quickly shot down when Tommy laughed in his face at the idea of him being eight years older than his appearance suggested. That and all his memories of the past eight years had vanished along with over a foot of his height.

Techno remembers the way he tucked the boy into bed that first night, spending too long looking at the small figure on his couch. While the expression on his face was neutral, inside he was mourning the loss of his childhood memories. He never got to watch the boy grow up completely, and memories of Tommy from when he was little were tainted and too faded to be completely clear. But now, here was the boy that for the past couple of years had only known war and terror. All of that was completely forgotten, for the time being, as Tommy’s eight-year old conscious took control. Techno wasn’t sure how to fix this. He didn’t fix things, he destroyed them.

He didn’t want to be responsible for any more of Tommy’s mental destruction.

Time had passed. It had been nearly two weeks since Tommy’s initial arrival at Techno’s place. He wanted nothing more than to call Phil and hope he could fix everything, but the man’s comm was probably confiscated considering that he was under house arrest and being watched constantly. Damn all of L’Manburg to hell.

Except maybe for Ranboo. He had given back some of Techno’s things after the failed execution.

Cloak over his shoulders and snow crunching under his feet, Techno went to retrieve Ghostbur from his barn. It had been a while since he had seen the ghost of his brother, having only encountered the ghost a few times before. It still startled him, seeing this smiling face of his twin. The twin that had gone mad in that ravine and died to his father’s blade.

(The voices mourned for the brother they lost. They still loved Ghostbur, but like Techno, they knew that this fragment would never truly be their twin. No one could replace Wilbur.)

He found Ghostbur in the barn next to one of the horse's stalls, petting Carl’s head in a curious way, hollowed white eyes open in surprise and awe as he cooed at the animal. Techno almost felt betrayed by the way his warhorse butted his head into Ghostbur’s palm.

“Ghostbur,” Techno greeted his brother. The ghost looked up and grinned happily before half skipping, half floating, over to his brother.

“Techno!” he chirped happily. “I love your horse! And your cow, and the twenty-three chickens. I counted them all! Can I name one? I’m great with names, I named Friend after all. I love Friend, he’s blue and a sheep and he’s just wonderful.”

Techno rolled his eyes as the ghost began to ramble, happily talking about what he assumed was the sheep Ranboo mentioned a while ago. He lets the ghost rant, feeling comforted by his brother’s voice, despite the echo that tainted it. 

“Want to come inside Ghostbur?” he asked. “It’s only goin’ to get colder out, the sun’s setting.”

“I can’t feel the cold!” Ghostbur happily informed his older brother as he followed behind him. “But the snow melts me. Not like water does, but it feels tingly.”

Techno shakes his head and a soft smile tugs on the ends of his lips as he listens to his brother. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he can see the brother that had soft white-pink skin and warm brown eyes and rich brown curls that fell into his eyes. But then the gray returned, sapping nearly all the life out of him.

Ghostbur did not shut up even as they crossed the snow covered lawn that spanned out behind Techno’s house. Not as they climbed up the stairs to his front porch. Not as Techno opened the door and let them inside.

But Ghostbur did go quiet, just for a moment, when his eyes landed on Tommy, white eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh Tommy! You live with Techno now!” Ghostbur chirped as he clapped his hands together. “Now all three of us brothers are together again!”

And when Tommy screamed his lungs out to the point of exhaustion where he paused out on the floor, Techno realized he forgot something very important.

He never told his little brother that Wilbur was dead.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Since discovering that their younger brother had reversed eight years in age Ghostbur had yet to leave the boy’s side. Techno had explained everything to him (at least everything he knew) after he picked up the boy off the floor and tucked him into bed in the room that used to belong to Phil. He had hoped Tommy would have woken up after he passed out, but if anything he seemed to fall into a deeper sleep after being tucked into bed, blankets and pillows swallowing up his small body. Techno suspected for a while now that there were things wrong with the boy. While his scars were gone, the way he couldn’t stomach a full meal and frequently woke up from nightmares set off red flags in Techno’s mind. Maybe Ghostbur knew this too, and that’s why he refused to leave the boy’s side. That or he was just worried in general.

Techno was just about to turn in for the night when he heard whimpering coming from Tommy’s room. He hesitated for a moment before hovering outside of Tommy’s door, looking through the half open door. Ghostbur was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, holding Tommy in his arms, hushing the boy.

“Wilby?” the boy asked, slurring his words together as tears streamed down his face.

“I’m here Toms, go back to sleep,” Ghostbur responded.

“When I close my eyes I’m back in the dark room,” Tommy cried. “You’re bleeding, and you won’t wake up. Don’t go away Wilby. I don’t want the evil men to get me too.”

“I’m not going anywhere Toms,” Ghostbur said softly. “I’m right here. Your big brother Wilby is right here.”

Techno leaned in the doorway as he watched Ghostbur comfort Tommy back into sleep. His fingers ran through the young boy’s curly hair, massaging his scalp as he rested back into the pillows, blue eyes closing as sleep came over him again. Both of the twins were silent for a while before Ghostbur turned to look at Techno leaning in the doorway.

Brown eyes stared up at him.

“Why did we drag children into war?” Wilbur whispered, tears stinging his face. “Why are children paying the price for our sins?”

Techno stared at his dead twin, for once seeing more than the leftover fragment of Wilbur.

“We sowed the seeds of war yet they are watering the fields with their blood,” Wilbur cried. “I used him. I manipulated him. I lost sight of my goal of caring for him. What have I done?”

Techno looked down at the sleeping face of his baby brother, tears swelling up in his eyes. This was the boy he had abandoned years ago. This was the boy that he had turned on in favor of chaos. This was the brother that he told to die like a hero.

This was the boy, that on a day long forgotten, he had sworn to always protect.

“I don’t know Wilbur,” Techno said softly. “I don’t know.”

(And for once in his life, the voices had nothing to say.)

Chapter Text

Tommy’s not immune to nightmares. He had nightmares often. Ones where his family would leave him behind like his mother did when he was a toddler, too young to understand what was happening. Ones where bugs would crawl over his skin and the earth would swallow him whole, suffocating him slowly. Ones where he wandered, lost, in a place his brothers and father couldn’t reach - where he’d be alone forever.

But he didn’t use to have nightmares like this.

In every dream he’s had before, he’s in his own body or can see himself. In these dreams he’s in someone else's body. He’s too tall, his hands are too calloused, and he is wearing clothes that do not belong to him. Clothes he never imagined himself wearing. Other dreams had a sense of impossibility, a lack of reality. These ones felt too uncannily familiar, too real , to be nightmares.

The first dream, nightmare, whatever, was blurry. Arrows were falling from the sky, one landing too close for comfort. People around him were shouting. He was confused, but his body felt determined. Someone stepped close to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see the stern face of Wilbur. He felt both relieved and worried to see the face of his elder brother. But Wilbur left his side, walking forward to talk to a figure that was dressed in neon green. Wilbur said something to them and he felt his body move forward to stand behind him.

Tommy was watching as the man pulled out a piece of TnT. The words he were saying were lost to him as he watched the TnT ignite. Then the ground was erupting under his feet. He was falling, falling, falling. Water flooded his senses and his vision faded to black. Panicked, he tried to pull himself up but couldn’t stop sinking.

Water poured out of his ears, and slowly his senses came back to him. Loud footsteps were the first thing he heard, then the sound of hushed whispers. He was still damp, he could feel wet clothes clinging to his skin - which felt strange for a dream.

Then he was walking out of the darkness that previously blinded him. He was in a dark hallway. A tall figure stood in front of him, turning around once to smile at him. Their sunglasses hid their eyes and it made Tommy feel worried, just for a second, before that same determination came back. Determination that felt right, but to the Tommy trapped in this stranger’s body, it felt wrong.

(But it felt like a part of him, and the rightness and wrongness felt as if it was going to tear him apart.)

They entered a room. It was felt small with the amount of people occupying it, and the closeness of the walls felt like it was going to crush him, making it hard to breathe. Someone ran past him to look into a chest, the person feeling vaguely familiar and at the same time not seeming to fit into any of his memories. Tommy’s vision didn’t settle on them too long, too busy taking in the room, eyes resting on a chest with his name before looking at the other people in the small room. Wilbur is there, talking to the tall person with sunglasses. But Tommy’s eyes are on the button sitting in the middle of the room. He goes to press it, but is beaten to the action by the sunglasses person.

The words “it was never meant to be”  flowed in and out of his ears as the wall collapsed and four figures stepped out, weapons at the ready. The person with the sunglasses stands still, unharmed, in the middle of the room. Tommy's - or well the stranger's - companions fell to the ground beside him as he stood still, shocked. Fear and panic surged through him but Tommy can’t get this body he’s borrowing to move. The smell of blood was overwhelming and Tommy watched helplessly as Wilbur fell to the floor, a sword having just pierced through his chest. His limp body laid still in a pool of blood that was rapidly expanding. His blank eyes stared at Tommy as he turned to run.

But he’s too late. A grinning mask looks down at him and something cuts through his chest. He gasped and choked, but no air came into his lungs. He gripped his chest and his vision spun, and maybe he was falling and maybe time was at a still. He couldn’t see and everything was swirling.

It spun and spun and Wilbur is in front of him, hands on his shoulders as he stares him dead in the eyes.

“I want you to do what your heart tells you to Tommy,” Wilbur was saying. He doesn’t understand but he’s also determined. This feels wrong . He’s not supposed to be here, not supposed to have a bow in his hands, not supposed to have a life on the line. Whose body is this, what life did he live, why is he in so much danger all the time?

His body works against his mind and Tommy can do nothing when it turns around. A bow is in his hand, an arrow in the other. He’s staring down the green, masked man in front of him. He can do nothing as he raises his bow at the man in front of him. His arrow flies.

He doesn’t even get to see where it lands before pain tore through his body, just as intense as the time he was in that dark room. He’s falling again, water flooding again, and he’s drowning again. He tried to swim up, tried to breath, but nothing was working.

He sunk further, and the darkness swallowed him whole.

Then he’s gasping for air, coming to in a dark room. This doesn’t feel as dangerous as all of the previous nightmares, but the off feeling does not go away as he chokes for air. At least he’s in control of his own body this time, and is actually in his own body.

He’s in the clothes he fell asleep in, forgetting how he had passed out when he saw that- that thing , which looked like his brother. White shirt, brown pants, socks and shoes pulled over his feet. He’s wearing the light blue sweater that Techno gave him as well. The familiarity of these things are the only comforting things in this strange place.

The walls of this place were pitch black, void of color or substance. He only knows that it’s a room because he can run a hand along a wall and find a corner. It was so strange, not being able to see any walls but being able to bump into them. He stumbled and tried to catch his breath, as he leaned against one of the walls. Tommy kept one hand on the wall as he followed it, not knowing what else to do.

It was strange, when he came upon the wall that wasn’t quite a wall, not like the others at least. It was like walking upon a mirror, or glass, where a wall should be. House of mirrors type of shit. But you couldn’t see the barrier at all, you could only feel it. 

And on the other side, was a boy.

He was wearing a tattered white shirt with red sleeves. His undershirt looked like it used to be white, but was more dirted, turning it a tan-yellow color. He only had one shoe and his pants were cut short around the ankles, like the fabric had been torn off. A compass hung around his neck on a chain, the red needle spinning endlessly. Dirty blond hair fell in front of the boy’s dirt and soot stained face. Like the rest of his skin, he looked ashy and dirty. His eyes were closed, and he was leaning against a nonexistent wall in the black void on his side, head tilted up at a very slight angle. He was older than himself, maybe as old as Ranboo, or Tubbo guy.

Tommy couldn’t stop himself from shivering at the sight of the boy. He felt so familiar, but he had never seen this boy before in his life. He knew this. But something was telling him that the answer was on the tip of his tongue.

(Remember, remember, remember, his brain shouts at him, but it's too quiet for him to hear.)

He put a hand up to the barrier, testing to see if he could pass through it. Instead, the barrier shocked him, and he hissed slightly at the sore feeling in his fingers. He stepped back, looking away from the older boy, putting his sore fingers in his mouth.

When he looked back at the boy, grey-blue eyes were staring directly at him. Hollow, grey-blue eyes. Eyes so full of sadness and pain that they forgot any other emotion existed. This boy lacked all emotion but his eyes were so hollow and devoid of feeling that it unsettled Tommy greatly.

He couldn’t help but shriek,  jumping away and stepping further back from the barrier. The boy on the other side got up slowly, stumbling to his feet as he approached the barrier between them. He was so skinny, just skin and bones, and struggled to make it very far without collapsing and stumbling over his own feet. Like Tommy did, he touched the barrier and hissed, or at least Tommy assumed he hissed. He couldn’t actually hear the boy. He couldn’t hear anything coming from the boy’s side of this strange place.

To his surprise, despite the pain Tommy felt earlier and knew that the boy on the other side had experienced, the boy pounded on the barrier between them. Tommy stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. He didn’t know who this boy was, he didn’t know why he wanted to break through the barrier. The boy got more and more desperate as he pounded on the invisible barrier, shouting at Tommy even though he couldn’t hear a word he was saying. His hollow grey-blue eyes flashed with anger as the boy shouted and banged on the barrier between them, desperate to get through.

“I can’t hear you!” Tommy shouted at the boy. “Stop it stop it! You’re frightening me!”

The boy paused for a moment, staring wildly at him, eyes wide. He stared and it made Tommy shiver as the boy looked him up and down, hands clenching in fists at his side. Tommy blinked back, baring his teeth at the boy behind the barrier. This only seemed to confuse the boy, as he tilted his head to the side. He banged it against the barrier, continuing to slam another fist into the wall between them, trying to break through. He was so desperate to get through, and Tommy didn’t know why, didn’t understand this boy’s goal. All he knew that it frightened him and he wanted nothing more than for the boy to stop. Yet he continued to try and break the barrier.

Tommy didn’t stay in this strange dream long enough to see if he was successful.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Waking up was a mistake. Because now a tired Tommy was sitting at the table in the kitchen, watching as Techno cooked them breakfast. Normally, this would seem like a good thing.

Except for the fact that his dead brother sat across from him, smiling, while he stained his fingers with blue dye.

Tommy was not in a good mood. He had woken up more than once in the night because of dreams he couldn’t remember. And when he was tired, he was cranky. Snappier and whinier, bordering between being an asshole and a needy child. He was trying to behave (for the most part) but his stupid dead brother was not helping.

“Techno tells me that you’re little again!” Wilbur - or well, Ghostbur as he preferred to be called - chirped at him. (Ghostbur was such a stupid name, Tommy hated it.) But Ghostbur just fiddled with the blue dye in his hands, not seeming to notice how it was staining his fingers and the cuffs of his bright yellow sweater. “He says you’re eight. That’s silly, because you’re sixteen! But you are small enough to be eight again.”

“I’m not fucking small,” Tommy snapped. “Bitch,” he added on for good measure. Ghostbur just hummed in indifference as he watched Techno set down a plate of food in front of Tommy, setting another one down in front of the spare seat for himself. Ghosts didn’t need food apparently. Too bad for Ghostbur, he guessed.

“Please get along, you two,” Techno said with a sigh. “I do have things to do today, y’know.”

“Nothing’s more important than Tommy Craft,” Tommy said as he stabbed the eggs of his plate, watching the yolk leak out of the center. He grumbled under his breath. He didn’t like runny eggs, never had. But food was food and he was hungry. He didn’t feel like bitching about it anyway, he could find other ways to annoy everyone else later.

Lost in his thoughts about plans to annoy his siblings, Tommy didn’t realize how quiet it was until he looked up into the shocked faces of his confused brothers.

“What?” he blurted, nearly spitting out of the food in his mouth.

“You haven’t called yourself Tommy Craft in years,” Ghostbur said, his echoey voice sounding confused, shocked. Techno nodded in confirmation.

“You call yourself Tommy Innit, amongst other things,” Techno added.

“But Tommy Craft is my name?” Tommy said, sounding uncertain of himself. He dipped his toast into the yolk of his eggs and brought the food to his mouth.

“Well, you haven’t been Tommy Craft in a while,” Ghostbur said confidently. “When we left home I became Wilbur Soot! And you were Tommy Soot for a little while, but you told me that it was a dumb name, so you picked a new one for yourself!”

“Why would we pick new names?” Tommy asked. His stomach rolled and he picked at the food left on his plate. He didn’t really feel like eating any more. “Craft’s a special name cause it’s Dad’s name, yeah?”

“But we didn’t want to be associated with him anymore!” Ghostbur sounded a little too cheerful when he said that, and Techno shot him a dark look. The ghost barely spared him a glance, his hollow white eyes were focused on Tommy alone. “Cause Dad’s an asshole, or at least he can be sometimes.”

“Kinda rude to Dadza,” Tommy grumbled under his breath. “I don’t understand any of this.”

He slammed his utensils on the table and pushed his food away. He frowned and crossed his arms, slouching in his seat.

“Everything this wrong!” he exclaimed. “Wilby’s not supposed to be dead. Techno’s not supposed to be living on his own. And Dad’s not supposed to be trapped in L’Man-whatever.”

“L’Manburg,” Ghostbur corrected easily. Tommy bit back a retort. Techno sighed.

“Tommy, I know things are confusin’, but the sooner you accept things as they are the easier things will be,” he said, pushing Tommy’s plate closer to him again. Tommy pushed it away again and Techno watched him with a sad look in his eye. Ghostbur nodded along, only seeming half invested in the conversation and not paying attention to the battle Tommy and Techno were having with their eyes as Techno looked like he was about to beg him to finish his half-eaten breakfast. Tommy wanted to stab both of them.

Things were so unfair. He woke up this morning expecting last night to be a dream. But instead he had another meltdown before breakfast as Techno explained that during the past eight years Wilbur not only lost one, but all three of his lives. All bloody three of them. And apparently he lost one as well, maybe more? Double unfair.

Then he had to introduce himself to the ghost, had to watch the ghost of his brother float around him and tease him for being short. Had to survive the hugs he gave him as he wrapped his phantom arms around him, even though they nearly passed through him. Had to live with the way that every time he looked at his oldest brother he’d see grey skin and white eyes.

What hurt the most is this was the Wilbur he remembered, more or less. This was the Wilbur that would chase him through the summer fields and call him a gremlin. The one that would rant about his songs and talk about the friends he made in the nearby village. The brother who would yell at him every time he asked about the girl he was talking to and would grab him by the ankles and drag him around the house when he was being a prick.

Whatever Wilbur had existed in the past eight years he didn’t know. But this ghost of Wilbur looked like his Wilbur, and somewhat acted like him too. Teenage Wilbur sang him songs and danced with him and taught him how to read and write his letters and numbers. Sure, this ghost of Wilbur was a little taller and had more memories, but the uncanny similarities between current and past Wilbur were too much for him.

“I don’t want to accept things,” Tommy said, and he hated the way his eyes stung, tears threatening to spill out. “I want things to go back to how they used to be. Where people didn’t try to kill me and you guys and Dad ‘cause of something you won’t tell me .”

His two older brothers stared at him silently, giving him pitying looks. He hated that, he didn’t want their pity. He wanted to go back to the cottage on the edge of the forest and the meadow with his family and pretend none of this happened. Or maybe his stupid self could grow up again so he could understand what was going on because no one was telling him anything! It was all just so, so frustrating.

It felt like frustration was the only thing he felt these days and it was a too familiar emotion for the usually carefree and troublesome boy.

“Tommy I can’t tell you that things are gonna go back to normal, your normal,” Techno began. “‘Cause they’re not. That’s the simple truth. But what we can do is try to find out what happened to you so we can fix it.”

“What, Tommy’s shrinking problem?” Ghostbur asked. Tommy was too upset to tease or curse at him like he normally would for getting the facts wrong.

Techno pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh and nodded in confirmation at his twin, not bothering to start a meaningless argument with him. “Yeah, that.”

“So what do we do then?” Tommy asked, sitting up straighter in his seat, but keeping his arms crossed.

“Simple,” Techno replied. “We rescue Phil and work from there.”

Ghostbur let out a surprised - but happy - gasp and immediately began to ramble on about Phil. Tommy drowned out his voice and Techno’s, sinking back into his chair.

Dad, they were going to rescue Dad. He smiled softly to himself as he flexed his fingers in his lap. Something akin to hope grew in his chest as he watched his brothers talk about the promise of bringing their father home.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Philza watched with a blank expression as he stared through the slightly tinted glass of his home. Newly replaced glass, he can’t help but remember and grumble about. Through the glass he watched Ranboo walk Wil- Ghostbur’s pet sheep around.

It’s raining outside. Rain pattered against the roof and the windows and Phil is glad he took the time to do some repairs before the rainstorm hit. The stupid L’Manburgians broke so many things during their little tour, or well invasion , of his home. Maybe he is a salty old man, but he’s still upset about it.

He has nothing to do in this house. He can sew and mend things, add some enchantments to his tools, but all under the watchful eye from someone of the L’Manburg cabinet - or Ranboo. He spends most of his time digging his basement, partially for the resources and partially to kill time, and the other half of his time staring out the window or sitting on the ledge he can walk out on upstairs.

Ranboo makes for good company and entertainment. The boy isn’t a part of the cabinet, and is only called away to meetings on occasion. And since Ghostbur all but disappeared days ago, the boy has taken up the task of caring for Friend, the abnormally bright blue sheep. He watched the hybrid boy through the window as he held Friend’s leash while it nibbled on some grass.

The poor kid is decked out in rain gear. He holds a black umbrella over his head and is dressed in a black rain jacket with white accents, along with wearing waterproof covers over his already waterproofed and armored shoes. And he still wears his armor under all the gear, also waterproof, so he won’t get wet. Phil doesn’t exactly blame him for wearing his armor all the time, even if it goes against the rules. L’Manburg has a lot of enemies, and it’s not the safest place, so Phil can understand and relate to him in those fields. Plus, he knows why the boy wears his armor constantly in the first place.

Phil still remembers the first time when it rained in L’Manburg when the boy ran into the first house he saw - his by chance. Poor kid was practically soaked through already, having been caught in the rain by accident and not having as much gear as he does now. He still remembers the way he dried the boy, helped wrap up his sparse wounds to keep the scarring at a minimum, and listened to the boy explain how some of his Enderman genetics work.

Since then, they talked regularly, almost on a daily basis. Part of the reason is because the L’Manburg cabinet leaves Ranboo with the task of watching him during his house arrest when the rest of them cannot. But Phil can tell the boy feels bad about his house arrest, since every time he comes over he brings him something. Whether it’s a physical gift or a story, Phil stashes them all away with a smile. It reminds him of simpler times in a cottage sandwiched between a forest and a meadow, with barn animals and large gardens and lawns and fields where laughter could be heard on the daily, and where children whisper their little secrets to one another during late nights huddled up in their room. Simpler times.

Now things were different, very different, and not in a good way.

Phil let out a sigh and his wings ruffled every so slightly as he turned away from the window, finally acknowledging the person who was sitting on the other side of the room. Tubbo had been with him for most of the day. He was more silent than usual. Normally, he’d try to have a conversation, lively banter or silly jokes, trying to get him to smile or talk back to him despite their mild hatred for one another. Phil did a pretty good job of ignoring him most of the time, but today had been easier than usual. The child president probably hadn’t said more than a few words to him all day. He had been sitting in the chair at his table all day, head either resting on the table or looking out the window. Phil didn’t want to ask what was wrong, not when the boy president was his enemy, but his fatherly instincts won over in the end.

“Is everything alright mate?” he asked, turning to face the boy. Tubbo only blinked in response before getting to his feet. Phil watched as he walked over, leaned against the wall, and slid down to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his legs and shrunk into himself, the already small boy only getting smaller. 

“Tubbo?” Phil asked again, crouching beside the boy, now sort of worried for the kid. Tubbo looked up with red rimmed eyes and hiccupped once. Phil blinked in surprise, he hadn’t realized how upset the boy was.

“Am I a bad president Phil?” Tubbo asked, avoiding the question and catching the man off guard. Phil was silent for a moment before he decided to sit beside Tubbo on the floor. He stretched his legs out and was careful not to crush his wings against the wall as he leaned back.

“I don’t think you’re a bad president,” Phil started, choosing his words wisely. “I think you’re- misguided.”

“What do you mean?” Tubbo asked, clutching his legs tighter.

“A boy your age should not be in this position.” Phil pointed out the obvious. “You’re only seventeen. Hell, anyone in this world isn’t a prime choice. And as a child, it’s easier to make mistakes and be swayed to one side because of a threat or another situation.”

“So you’re saying I’m easily manipulated?” Tubbo asked, a dark edge to his voice. Phil sighed and couldn’t help but shrug his shoulders.

“Maybe, I would not be surprised,” he admitted. “I don’t know what happens in your cabinet meetings. Hell, I don’t know what is going on most of the time because I’m holed up in this house!”

Tubbo hummed to himself and relaxed slightly.

“I think I’m a bad president,” he confessed, his voice low. “I never wanted to be president, both me and Tommy,” he choked slightly when he said Tommy’s name, before carrying on. “We wanted Wilbur to be president again. But he had to go and die ‘cause he was crazy, leaving me in charge. And I wasn’t even his first choice, he gave the presidency to Tommy, and he pawned it back to Wilbur before Wilbur handed it off to me!”

“Wilbur made a lot of mistakes,” Phil said. Tubbo sighed.

“Probably not as many as me,” Tubbo said. “Since when did L’Manburg use children as pawns in war?”

Phil knew he was talking about that blond boy from days ago and the way Quackity had used him as a hostage and pawn during Techno’s failed execution. But he could only think about the way Techno described both Tubbo and Tommy’s positions during the Manburg-Pogtopia war and even before that. He could only think of Ranboo and the way he was dragged into the Butcher Army business without consent. He could only think of the way Quackity, Fundy, and Dream looked at Tubbo when he walked around L’Manburg, president of a nation he had little to no power over.

“I’ve made so many mistakes,” Tubbo hiccupped, tears sliding down his cheeks. He rubbed harshly at his eyes as he began to cry. “I abandoned Tommy and now he’s gone.”

Phil stilled, his wings going stiff. He watched Tubbo as he started to sob and dread began to build in his stomach. He didn’t want to think about the implications of Tubbo’s words. Gone, but how? In what way? Like he left exile, or something else?

He let Tubbo cry and when he ran out of tears he let the boy slip into sleep. He got up and grabbed a blanket and pillow for the boy, letting him sleep on the floor. He went back to the window, looking over the rain-soaked L’Manburg.

Ranboo was long gone and Friend was tied to a post on one of L’Manburg’s lawns next to the lake underneath the boardwalks. A bird watched him closely, sitting atop a fence on the same boardwalk the redstone executioner was built atop. Phil didn’t have to look long at the bird to realize that it was the messenger raven he had sent to Techno ages ago.

He popped open his window and let the bird fly into his home, shutting it after the bird was safely inside. The bird hopped onto the table, shaking out it’s wet wings, before letting Phil approach it and take the rain soaked message that was tied around it’s leg. It was still legible, and the message itself sparked hope in the avian’s chest. There was no signature, but Phil didn’t need a signature to know who it was from.

Stay safe. I’m coming to save you soon.

Chapter Text

Techno left at noon, after making sure Tommy would be fine on his own, had food to eat for the day, and making Ghostbur promise him that he’d keep an eye on Tommy. Then he took his supplies and left. Techno said if he departed that afternoon he might be back sometime late that night, possibly the next morning.

Tommy was not happy. He did not want to be stuck at the cabin with a ghost , but no matter how much he begged, Techno would not allow him to tag along. In the back of his mind, he could understand his reasoning. Their last interaction with L’Manburg was not a good one, Techno almost died and Tommy had been tossed around like a rag doll, but that didn’t stop him from clinging to his brother in the hours before he left.

And when he finally did leave, Tommy was stuck at home with nothing to do, only having his older brother with him, who was also dealing with his own memory problems.

But as much as Tommy hated to admit it, Ghostbur did have some good ideas.

The ghost of his older brother was currently pressing his face against the glass of the window, hands also touching the window, with his feet and legs hovering in the air as behind him. His eyes and mouth were open wide in awe as he stared out over the snowy landscape. He was entranced with the view out the window, and with the snow that occasionally would swirl around when a breeze came by. It was sunny outside, making it a perfect day to go for a walk or take Carl for a ride, things that Techno would suggest. Tommy had different ideas of what to do on a sunny snowy day, but right now he wasn’t really in the mood.

“Tommy Tommy!” Ghostbur called to his brother, who was currently watching him from across the room with a disgruntled expression on his face. “The snow is so pretty! Want to go outside?”

Ghostbur turned to face him, grinning widely, and Tommy stared blankly at him.

“It’s cold though,” Tommy said, crossing his arms, saying nothing more to back up his sorry excuse to get out of following his brother around all day.

But it was, indeed, very cold outside, colder than the other winters he had lived through. Tommy could remember the winter days back home, at their cottage, where snow would cover the ground for a few months out of the year. It would bury their garden and cover the trees, and Tommy would watch as his brothers and dad cleared away the snow on their paths so they could get to the barn easier. That, or annoy them until they gave him attention so they would build a snow fort.

Sometimes they would spend their days outside, grinning under the shining sun or giggling as snow fell from the sky. Phil would come to collect his boys, helping them onto their horses, so they could travel to the village and shop together for Christmas. Wilbur and Techno would hold his hands as they skated on the lake, laughing whenever he fell onto his butt. It was all in good fun anyway. Phil would glide gracefully across the ice, using his wings to balance himself, and sometimes he’d even skate over and scoop Tommy off of his feet and swing them in circles across the ice. Sometimes he’d get so dizzy that he felt nauseous, but he didn’t enjoy spinning around at a slower pace.

When they weren’t outside they’d spend their days inside. Techno would read him stories about different myths, always changing which Greek character he thought could be compared to members of their family. Wilbur would tell him stories about the Sky Gods and the challenges they would have people compete in, or play guitar into late hours of the night. Phil would tell him stories about Glitches and the Void, or journeys he went on in the past. Tommy didn’t believe most of the stories his family told him, but they didn’t fail to interest him. Especially on nights curled up in blankets by the fireplace with mugs of hot chocolate sitting on the living room table. Those were the best nights, snuggled up with his family, knowing that they would always be there for him.

But apparently those days were long gone.

“Come on Tommy, let’s go outside!” Ghostbur all but begged, floating in the air around his brother. Tommy blinked, pushing away memories of the past, even if they didn’t feel like they had happened years ago.

“Fineee,” Tommy whined, getting up off the couch. “Just stop fucking annoying me already.”

“Nope!” Ghostbur chirped in response. Typical older brother move.

The worst thing about going outside when living in the tundra was the amount of clothes he was forced to wear. Techno was usually overbearing about it, and without him here, Ghostbur was here in his place, encouraging him to wear five pairs of socks so his toes didn’t freeze. More likely to overheat wearing five pairs of socks Tommy decided. Yet Ghostbur wouldn’t hesitate to hand him more clothes to put on to keep him warm. He really couldn’t escape his brothers, and one of them was fucking dead.

So Tommy pulled on his extra sweater, tugged on like three pairs of socks (he still didn’t have shoes that fit), and a hat that he was pretty sure belonged to Wilbur at some point in his life. Last, but not least, he tied his light blue cape around his shoulders. Ghostbur frowned when Tommy opened the door and walked out onto the porch, running down the steps and kicking at the snow.

“You don’t have any gloves Tommy,” he said, closing the door before following him into the snow on Techno’s front lawn.

“Don’t need ‘em!” Tommy insisted, picking up some snow and molding it in his hands. He threw the snow at Ghostbur, watching as it burned a hole through his middle. “Whoops.”

“I forgot that you didn’t know that I melt in the snow, and water,” Ghostbur said, poking at the part of himself that was slowly beginning to stitch itself back together. Tommy watched with a disgusted look on his face that only eight-year-olds could master and get away with.

“You’re so fucking weird.” Tommy went back to making a snowball, deciding he’d roll it up into a snowman instead. Ghostbur floated above the snow, probably trying to avoid melting again.

“You gonna fucking help?” Tommy asked, stopping for a moment to rub his hands together and warm them back up. It had been like five minutes and they were already going numb.

“You really should get some gloves, and maybe a proper jacket,” Ghostbur commented. “And what are you doing?”

“Building a snowman!” Tommy replied, feeling a little cheery despite the breeze nipping at his cheeks and the snow that was making him lose feeling in his fingers. “And I don’t even have gloves, couldn’t find any that fit.”

He went back to rolling up his snowman’s bottom using snow from the lawn. Even after rolling it multiple times he didn’t uncover any grass. There had to be at least a foot of snow on the ground. Maybe more, considering that it snowed all the time and it was an arctic tundra.

“I can’t touch the snow, I’ll melt,” Ghostbur said, experimentally poking a finger in the snow only for it to melt and fade away. Gross.

“Go collect some sticks then,” Tommy said, gesturing towards the forest. He rolled the snow some more before it got too heavy to push around, a telltale sign to move on to building the middle part. “The snowman needs arms. Then we can see if Techno has a spare carrot and some rocks we can make a face with.”

“Okay!” Ghostbur exclaimed and went running, speed-floating (?), off into the forest. Tommy sighed with relief. Finally, some time away from that stupid ghost.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves his brother. He just preferred when he was alive. When he could hug him without risking passing right through him or could pull a prank of him without him melting, of all things.

Maybe it’s stupid of him to wish for things that had been gone longer than he ever imagined. Apparently their family had fallen apart years ago. Phil always used to joke that he was the glue that held them together, so maybe something he did was the reason why they were so split apart now.

Worst thing is, Tommy never used to hold this much hate and doubt for himself before. It felt like a second nature to think these things to himself. He can’t recall when he started to feel like this, started feeling that no matter what he did it would never be enough.

Tommy just wants to feel like a kid again, but that seems to be something that the world had taken from him too.

He goes back to rolling up his snowman. He struggled to get the middle part on top of the bottom part, but in the end he ended up with a snowman that was only slightly leaning to the side. Satisfied, he started rolling up the head, finishing that part rather quickly. The snowman ends up being a little taller than him with a noticeable lean in one direction, but he doesn’t mind. It’ll just be more fun to kick over on some later date. He finishes it off by rounding it a bit more and adding some extra snow to the part where the snowballs were stacked atop each other, so it had less of a chance falling over. Hopefully mobs weren’t stupid enough to attack it either, he’d hate to see his hard work go to waste just overnight.

Tommy brings his numb hands up to his face and breaths on them. He really does need a pair of gloves, and he’s not sure of how capable his sewing skills are at making something that complex. And a proper jacket would be nice, the villagers would not budge on giving away one of their winter coats, so he’d probably end up having to make do with some strange creation of his own.

Still rubbing his hands together to try and warm them up, Tommy looked over at the forest just in time to watch Ghostbur emerge from the trees with a small pile of sticks in hand. It had been a little while since he had gone off, and Tommy was a little glad to see him return, even if he’d never voice that out loud.

“I got the sticks!” Ghostbur said cheerfully as he floated over.

“Awesome!” Tommy said, taking them from him. He shuffled through the dozen or so sticks Ghostbur collected, taking his time to decide which would look best for the snowman.

“Oh Tommy, I saw one of your friends in the woods!” Ghostbur said as he examined his snowman. Tommy just hummed in response, more focused on his snowman at the moment.

“Did you now?” Tommy said sarcastically, seeing that he had no friends in this world. Even in his home world, he only really had his brothers and dad.

“Yeah, I saw Dream!” Ghostbur replied. “Your friend from our vacation! Remember?”

“Who?” Tommy said, glancing up at his brother. Something about that name made him nervous, and he couldn’t stop dread from building up in his gut. Ghostbur paused and looked back at him for a second, confusion written all over his face, until he laughed and broke the tension between them. (Tommy still felt tense, something about that name disturbed, and he could not explain why.)

“Oh silly me, of course you don’t remember,” Ghostbur chuckled. “But Dream’s your friend. He wears a silly mask with a smile on it, it’s quite stupid, but he’s nice.”

Tommy stilled at the mention of the smiley face mask. There was only one person in this world he had met with a mask like that. His kidnapper.

“Oh no no no no,” Tommy said quickly, abandoning the sticks and the snowman and looking up at Ghostbur again. “Did this Dream fellow see you?”

Ghostbur shook his head. “No, I’m very sneaky.”

“We have to go, we have to hide!” Tommy all but shrieked. Ghostbur just tilted his head in confusion.

“But what about the snowman?” he asked, looking sad, but Tommy disregarded his concerns. The only thing on his mind was getting away . Dream cannot find him under any circumstances. His internal instincts were on overdrive right now, and the mantra of ‘run, hide, escape, get away’ would not stop repeating in his head. So Tommy didn’t stop himself from grabbing Ghostbur by the wrist and pulling him back up into Techno’s cabin.

Once inside he shed some of his extra layers and started searching for a place to hide. The barrel he had hid in last time was not an option, he would not be confined to that small space again. But it did make for a good place to hide some of his clothing he shed. He pulled off his hat, cape, sweater, and boots and shoved them in the barrel before looking for a place to hide.

“Are we playing hide and seek?” Ghostbur asked. Tommy took a moment to glare at him.

“Yeah sure, except we fucking die if we’re found,” Tommy snapped. Ghostbur stilled.

“Oh, um- I’m not sure if I like this game,” Ghostbur said, fiddling with his fingers.

“Just help me hide stupid!” Tommy said and ran into his room. There weren’t many places to hide, but Tommy’s overfull wardrobe seemed like a good place. Inside there weren’t a lot of traces of him, instead the wardrobe was full of older clothing that belonged to Phil. He ran over to it and threw it open, tucking himself into the corner. It wasn’t a great help to his claustrophobia, but it was better than the barrel. He’d never sit in there again if he had to.

Ghostubr came into the room moments later. Tommy was about to close the door of the wardrobe but he beckoned his brother to come and hide with him. He wasn’t sure what Dream would do if he found Ghostbur. He’d likely give them both away. Ghostbur obliged and scooted to the space across from Tommy, only for his brother to crawl into his lap as soon as he was settled.

“Here,” Ghostbur said, before Tommy shushed him. Ghostbur just shuffled from behind him, and an arm with a glass bottle appeared in front of him. A potion.

“I can turn invisible already,” Ghostbur explained when he took the bottle from his hands. “This is for you.”

Tommy didn’t hesitate to uncork the bottle and down the potion before tucking the bottle away into a pocket of one of the robes hanging in the closet. It’d take a minute for the potion to take effect, but after that, he’d have around fifteen minutes or so of time where the potion would grant him invisibility.

And perfect timing too, because Tommy heard the front door of the cabin open not long after, and footsteps that he couldn’t recognize entered the cabin. He slapped a hand over his mouth as his breathing sped up, and Ghostbur’s invisible arms wrapped around him, holding him closer to his chest. It was comforting, the only comforting thing about this terrifying moment. Because the walls were closing in on him, and the clothes in the closet were scratching at his skin, and it sounded like the footsteps were coming closer.

“Tommy?” came a haunting call from the other room. Tommy choked and he was pretty sure he was crying he was so overwhelmed. Why did that voice make him want to flee and run towards it at the same time?

“Tommy, come out. You’ve been gone for too long. Don’t you miss your big brother Dream?”

Tommy was shaking. Ghostbur buried his face in his brother’s hair and together they both held their breath.

“Come on Tommy, I know you’re missing some memories, but surely you remember me?”

He didn’t, but something in his mind told him that they had a more complicated past then their one meeting that Tommy could remember.

“Now Tommy, I don’t know what lies your false family told you, but don’t you want to come home. Your real home? With your brother and sister?”

Tommy can’t remember his old home. Faintly he remembers a woman with blond hair not unlike his own, covering him in a blanket in an alley before rushing away. He’s pretty sure that the woman was his mother, but the memory is too faint. He’s not even sure of his real birthday or age. Phil guessed that he was four, and decided that the day he brought him home that spring afternoon would be his new birthday. Since then he’d spent nearly five years (well, longer than that apparently) with his family.

But surely, surely he doesn’t have a brother or sister. Surely Dream can’t be his birth brother. Surely his family intentionally abandoned him, not making a mistake like Dream was implying.

“Tommy.” There it was again. The call that sounded frustrated, concerned, and controlling all in one. It made Tommy sink further back into Ghostbur’s embrace. Oddly enough, instead of smelling stuffy clothing, the scent of gunpowder and ash grew more apparent. The same smell as that beach that one day he found he had been kidnapped before reuniting with Techno.

The footsteps grew closer and the door to the room opened, creaking softly as the light footsteps drew near. Tommy was pretty sure he stopped breathing, and even Ghostbur raised a hand to cover his mouth as he struggled to stay silent and not spiral into a panic.

The footsteps stopped outside of the wardrobe and the two brothers stayed deathly silent. When the doors opened, revealing Dream, Tommy almost jumped out of his skin. Dream’s mask was staring right at him, and in his hands he held his shiny netherite axe. He held it up, and Tommy blinked, realizing what he was about to do.

The axe came swinging down. The sound of splintering wood pierced Tommy’s ears and Ghostbur’s arms were wrapped so tightly around him that he couldn’t breath.

“Guess Tommy’s out of the house right now,” Dream said, mostly to himself, yanking the axe that had missed Tommy by just an inch out of the back of the wardrobe. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you little brother.”

Then Dream left, leaving the doors open behind him, only bothering to close the front door. Night was falling, and he probably didn’t want to leave too much evidence of his being here behind.

Tommy finally relaxed after his invisibility wore off, minutes after Dream had left. He turned to look behind him, discovering that the place where Dream’s axe had come arcing down was also the same place where Ghostbur was sitting. The axe had gone straight through him, missing Tommy by just a little. The now visible Ghostbur looked worried, and Tommy couldn’t help but feel the same.

“Let’s never play hide and seek again,” Ghostbur said, his voice just above a whisper. Tommy could only nod in response, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

He’s not going to sleep well tonight.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Tommy doesn’t sleep in his room that night. He can’t stand the thought of having to look at that wardrobe out of the corner of his eye that night, or knowing that it was in the room with him. He feels vulnerable all tucked up into bed, feels like a sitting duck waiting for footsteps to come down the hall and for a man in a neon-green sweatshirt and crude smiley mask to steal him from his bed.

He doesn’t eat that night either. The thought of putting food in his mouth and having to swallow it makes him feel sick. He already feels sick, and has felt sick as soon as he heard that Dream was coming for him. Ghostbur begged him to eat, but after he refused a certain number of times he gave up.

It's weird, how in the span of a few minutes the embrace from your ghost brother goes from revolting to possibly the most comforting thing in the world. Tommy clung to Ghostbur for the rest of the day, not feeling safe without having the presence of his brother near. And when he eventually went up to Techno’s room in the attic to sleep, he made sure that Ghostbur followed. The ghost doesn’t sleep, but Tommy felt better knowing that he was nearby and would watch over him while he rested.

Plus, Techno’s bed is comfortable. Pelts and furs, as well as blankets and pillows, fill up the bed, engulfing Tommy. His room is more well lived in than Phil’s, or the room that he called his, downstairs. Up here there's a few chests filled with more personal items. Some bookshelves are tucked under the space where the ceiling hangs low, novels that hold some personal meaning to Techno, Tommy assumes, considering they aren’t with the rest downstairs. And the dresser and nightstand have Techno’s stuff in them as well. His hairbrush and abundance of ribbons and hair-ties. Clothes of all sorts as well as other cloth Techno keeps. 

Tommy can’t stop himself from pulling one of his brother’s big shirts over his head to sleep in. It’s one of the ones that fell past his knees and even when buttoned up all the way it still exposed his collarbone. He crawled into bed feeling a little safer, and listened to Ghostbur hum as he fell asleep.

Some point, during the night or early morning, Tommy woke up to the familiar sound of the front door opening. He goes still in his bed, but relaxed when he heard Techno and Phil’s familiar voices talking downstairs. They’re quiet, their footsteps lighter than usual. Well, Phil’s had always been light, it’s Techno that’s walking with more caution in his step. Ghostbur is sitting beside the ladder, across from Tommy in Techno’s bed, listening to them talking. He looked up once to see Tommy staring at him sleepily, and he waved and smiled at his younger brother. Tommy’s too tired to care about what Ghostbur is doing or listening to, the day’s events making him feel exhausted.

When Techno climbed up the ladder Tommy looked through half-lidded eyes at his brother. Techno is staring at him, looking both confused and slightly amused. A hand ruffled his hair and Tommy closed his eyes, curling into the blankets.

Techno joins him in the bed not too long later, wrapping his arms around his younger brother, and tucking in close to him.

“Is there a reason why you’re sleeping in my bed Tommy?” Techno asked, his voice soft and quiet, just a comforting whisper in his ear. “You nearly gave me a heart attack when I discovered you weren’t in your room.”

“Missed you,” Tommy mumbled, “safe.” That’s all Tommy said as he curled closer into Techno’s chest. His older brother chuckled but held him tight.

And Tommy felt safe.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Dream curled his hand into a fist as he left the Overworld through the new Logsted-whatever-the-fuck portal that somebody had made. Probably Ranboo, that was the only person other than himself who made an effort to visit Tommy. And still , it wasn’t enough for the selfish child. Fuck, sometimes he doesn’t know why he doesn’t just get rid of the kid.

Something inside him just tells him that he is important. That he’s the only one that should have control over the kid. That Tommy has to be his and his alone. No one else gets Tommy. Not Tubbo, not Wilbur, not Phil, not anyone. No one. And since eliminating everyone else would be too much of a problem, Dream would instead mold Tommy into the perfect little follower instead.

Little did everyone on the server know, but Dream knew more about them than they realized. He deeply researched everyone before he let them join the world. That’s why more often than not, invitations to the world were sent out personally, rather than people asking to be let in and having that wish granted.

He knew Technoblade had a history of war, hunting, and violence in general, but in his home world he used to be a simple farmer with his family.

He knew that Karl was friends with a rich man in their home world and that through the tournament he helped to host ages ago they had gotten the chance to meet before Karl went back to his obscure challenges before Dream decided to extend the invite to his world.

He knew that Tubbo, Wilbur, and Tommy had been traveling together for a long time, and he offered them a place to stay, knowing that two out of the three of them had very powerful connections if they bothered to reach out to them.

He knew almost everything about everyone on this server.

And he knew how to manipulate this to make himself more powerful.

What he didn’t expect for people to get in the way. Like how Techno-fucking-blade just had to bring his plans to a halt.

The Craft family had fallen apart ages ago. It was really Dream’s fault that he had underestimated how close their bond used to be. He didn’t expect Tommy to go full feral mode and run away from him before he had even gotten the chance to mold him into the perfect tool.

So he was now trying a different approach. Instead of promises of bringing him back to the family he grew up with, Dream was going to create a family for Tommy to believe in. Ages ago, when his brat of a sister snuck into the world without him knowing at first, they had met. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince Tommy that he had a sister. And hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard to convince him that he had a brother, a ‘real’ brother as well.

The hard part would be getting him away from Technoblade and then convincing Tommy that whatever family he was born into had mistakenly given him up. The thing about little kids, is that they're always curious about the people that had abandoned them. Dream knew this well, because his sister had always asked about the parents that had left them behind in this cruel universe. So giving Tommy fake knowledge about his birth family and convincing him that he was his brother, and that he just wanted to care for him, shouldn’t be the hardest thing in the world. He could even bring in his sister as proof, telling her that she had a new brother would make her happier than ever. She was probably lonely, stuck in whatever world he left her in.

Then, once Tommy had believed in his false reality for long enough, he’d bring the boy back to his normal age. According to his sources, the lies he would have fed him would stick with him. It would be perfect, was going to be perfect.

That’s why when Dream was searching through Techno’s house he kept calling himself Tommy’s brother. He wasn’t stupid, he saw that flash of yellow in the woods that could only belong to Ghostbur. He knew that Tommy was either hiding in that house or hiding somewhere nearby. He knew that he was with Techno, that's why he made Punz bother the L'Manburg citizens that day of Techno supposed execution. So filling Tommy's head with lies this early would make things easier for himself in the long run. He just had to get away with it.

Finally, Dream will have pulled off his idea of a perfect world. Sure it had required some sacrifices and some warfare, but it was going to pay off in the end. Once they were all a big happy family, things were going to be perfect. He could bring his sister back into the world and show her what he had done, show her the family that he had built and made perfect for them.

L’Manburg, attachments, expendable friendships, they all meant nothing to him in the end. Friendships could be rebuilt once Dream had fixed everything else. Attachments would get in his way and they weren’t even necessary in the first place. And L’Manburg was never supposed to have been founded in the first place, so the sooner it was gone the better. It was just going to take some time, unfortunately.

But when it was done, Dream could finally rest, knowing that his ideals for perfection had been achieved.

Dream just had to pull it off first.

And that meant getting Tommy away from his family, and finally fixing the boy that had brought nothing but trouble to his vision of a perfect world.

Which was going to require some backup.

Dream thought of the pile of useless diamonds sitting in his enderchest. It was time to pay Punz a visit. He had another job for him.

A smile split across the face of the deranged man as he set out to kick his plan back into motion.

Chapter Text

Sun poured in through the window and Tommy couldn’t help but curl into himself. It’s warm in this bed, and the mattress is more comfortable than he remembered. And there’s a lot more pillows and blankets to keep him warm and safe. For someone living in the tundra it’s hard to believe that he felt a little overheated underneath all the fabric engulfing him.

It took Tommy a moment too long to realize that he was still in Techno’s room, tucked into his bed. Techno is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Ghostbur. But he can hear their voices coming up through the floor from downstairs. It sounded like they were in the kitchen, and absentmindedly, Tommy remembered that he only ate a meal and half yesterday. He’s practically starving, and while he didn't really want to get up, his stomach pleaded otherwise.

Getting out of bed is hard. He had trouble sleeping until Techno went to bed with him. And he had no idea what time they came home yesterday, or this morning. But judging from the way the light was being cast in the room he could guess that it was around noon. Tommy reluctantly got out of bed, still dressed in the too-big shirt he wore to sleep, and decided to head downstairs.

It took him no time at all to climb down the ladder, even in his still sleepy state. Across the room in the tiny kitchen and at the kitchen table stood Techno, Phil, and Ghostbur. Phil and Techno were talking with one another, and it was Ghostbur who was the one to notice him first.

“Oh Tommy you sleepyhead!” he said excitedly. “Your hair looks so fluffy!”

“Shut up,” Tommy said, rubbing his eye and blinking away sleep. Techno turned to look at him, Phil turning a moment after him.

“Took you long enough to wake up,” Techno said with a faint smile on his face. “Come eat something, Ghostbur said you hardly ate anything yesterday.”

He was already setting a plate at the table and Tommy crossed the room to stand next to his usual seat. Phil was frozen, and his mouth was hanging open slightly. He watched Tommy with a shocked expression.

“Hi Dad,” Tommy said before shoving the piece of toast on his plate in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed a bit before tugging on Phil’s jacket. He let his arms wrap around his dad and leaned into him.

“What the fuck,” Phil said, hesitating a moment before his arms wrapped around Tommy. Tommy was the one to pull away, going to sit in his seat. He wanted to eat more anyway, one slice of toast was not enough to satisfy his hunger.

He watched Phil’s expression change, a million thoughts going through his head at once. It took Tommy a moment to clock that, once again, Techno forgot to mention important information regarding his family members.

“You didn’t tell him?” Tommy turned to Techno who also looked surprised, when he really shouldn’t have been.

“I told him that you were staying with me,” Techno said with a sigh. “I thought he connected the pieces himself.”

“I didn’t connect shit!” Phil exclaimed. “You broke into my house in the middle of the night, of course I couldn’t exactly remember and think about every detail! We were trying to fucking escape!”

“Techno’s stupid,” Tommy said, reaching across the table to steal the toast off of Techno’s plate. “He forgot to tell me about Ghostbur and I fucking passed out ‘cause of that.”

“Should- should you even be swearing at your age?” Phil hesitated to ask, stumbling over his words as he still took in the sight of his youngest child with an expression of shock on his face.

“Can’t stop me from doing shit,” Tommy said with a mischievous smirk. Ghostbur nodded, agreeing with him. Tommy couldn’t help but smile at the ghost of his brother who he was quickly warming up to. He guessed that all it took to bond was one traumatic experience. Phil just watched the exchange between the two of them with a look of disbelief on his face. He joined them at the table, still looking like he was having trouble processing all of this. It was quite funny, watching his dad look so confused. At least he didn’t give him a heart attack or anything by surprising him, so that’s a good thing.

“So what did you do yesterday Tommy?” Techno asked, sliding a plate of apple slices over to his brother. “Ghostbur said you played hide and seek, and I saw the snowman in the front yard.”

Tommy’s happy mood quickly fell. His food in front of him looked less appetizing and he turned to Ghostbur in order to ignore the gross feeling of dread in his stomach.

“You only told him about that?” he asked, wishing he could kick his ghost brother for not telling Techno about the accident himself. “And you hated hide and seek!”

Ghostbur just shrugged his shoulder, hovering beside him.

“I can’t really remember yesterday,” he said honestly. “I just know you went to bed sad and slept in Techno’s bed instead of your own.”

“I’m never sleeping in my room again,” Tommy said darkly. Techno rolled his eyes. Tommy wanted to yell at him for not grasping the true horror of the situation, but he can’t blame his brother for thinking that he's being dramatic. It’s honestly something that he would do.

“Okay, that’s fine, it’s technically Phil’s room anyway,” Techno said. “And I needed to build an extension for the house anyway, either you or Phil would need the room.”

“Is there a reason why you don’t want to stay in my room anymore?” Phil asked, sounding both genuinely concerned and curious.

Tommy shuddered at the thoughts of yesterday. He could still remember the way he had panicked in the wardrobe, trying not to expose himself to the stalker hunting him. He could still feel the air around the netherite axe passing behind him, barely missing him as it lodged itself in the wood behind him. He remembered the voice of Dream calling to him, calling him his ‘brother’ as he tried to coerce him out of his hiding place. He took in a shaky breath, trying to shake away the disturbing memories of the events of yesterday.

“I had one of those breathing attacks Wilbur used to get,” Tommy said. He poked at his food and tried to ignore the way his dad and Techno exchanged a concerned look.

“A panic attack?” Phil asked. Both Tommy and Ghostbur nodded in confirmation. Tommy basically had one of those, he couldn’t control his breaths and he was definitely panicking the whole time Dream was searching for him.

“Yeah, Dream broke into the house and went looking for me,” Tommy said, his voice low. “Fucking creep tried to kidnap me again, probably.”

Silence fell over the table and Tommy didn’t dare look up from his plate of food that was quickly going cold. He could feel the nervousness coming from Ghostbur, the anger coming from Techno, and confusion coming from Phil.

“What?”

Techno’s threatening voice made Tommy flinch and he sunk into his seat. He knew Techno wasn’t mad at him, at least he probably wasn’t, but Tommy didn’t like the tone of his voice. It felt wrong coming from the brother who would only use that threatening tone Wilbur had pushed his teasing a little too far, or when he was having trouble with the voices, or when the village kids were picking on his siblings when they were young. This, however, felt different. It made a tiny part of Tommy want to quiver in fear, even though he knows that Techno wouldn’t hurt him. Right?

“Dream was here?” Phil asked, his gaze flicking back and forth between his sons. “Why?”

“Tommy, you said when you woke up the day you were reversed, that a guy with a green hoodie and smiley mask was with you, right?” Techno asked him, ignoring Phil. Tommy nodded quickly in response and flinched again when Techno growled. “So there’s a possibility that Dream was the one to reverse you.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, playing with his fingers in his lap. “He’s a proper wrong’un so I’d believe it.”

“It makes sense,” Phil added. “As the creator of the world, Dream’s the only one powerful enough to alter someone’s code.”

Techno nodded in response and Tommy made the effort to bite into one of the apple slices in front of them while he listened to them converse.

Tommy didn’t understand a lot about the world creation process, nor did he understand a lot about code. He knew that code was like a database of memories and it was also your personality as well. Code was what made a person special, unique. Wilbur used to like calling it a fancy way of describing someone’s soul. From what he knew powerful people with lots of Energy and experience with magic could directly alter someone’s code. It was extremely dangerous and there were a lot of risks to it, messing with someone’s literal soul. Phil said it could risk their three lives and up the chances of them getting Voided instead of respawning when they lost a life. Or you could end up with the Hardcore Curse like Phil, reduced to one life from birth until the end of your life. People who had been altered too much, had problematic code, or were cursed, they were all called Glitches.

“Am I a Glitch then?” Tommy asked, suddenly very concerned. Phil took a hard look at him before shaking his head.

“As a Glitched player I can remove that from the equation,” Phil said. “I can sense your code, and while it’s been meddled with, you’re not Glitched.”

Tommy heaved a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to be Glitched. Phil was Glitched, and Ghostbur probably was too, considering he had no idea ghosts could exist after their third life was taken. They were supposed to go to rest in the Void.

“This whole realm is built with shady magic,” Techno grumbled. “Dream is powerful, no doubt about that, but this world feels more off than others. I think everyone could agree. We’re trapped here, and no one can get in or out without permission from Dream directly.”

“The world is practically a Glitch in and of itself,” Phil added. “All realms are tied to the universe, but this one feels more detached. It’s dangerous, and we just have to hope that it doesn’t collapse before someone gets Dream to fix it.”

“I can’t understand a single word that you are saying,” Tommy complained. “What the fuck are we talking about?”

Both of them waved him off, and Tommy grumbled to himself. At least he wasn’t the only one that looked lost, Ghostbur didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the conversation at hand. And he thought they were talking about Dream and his attempt at kidnapping him, not codes and Glitches.

That and he kinda wanted the attention. He had nearly been kidnapped yesterday and had only gotten maybe three hugs after that experience. Criminal offense, not giving Tommy hugs when he clearly needs them. Not to mention that he doesn’t feel so good. Talking about all this world stuff that he didn’t understand, along with Dream (who the thought of made his breath catch and a feeling that he couldn’t place build up in his stomach), really wasn’t helping this sick feeling.

Tommy only tuned back into the conversation when he heard Phil bring up potions. He’s not sure why this grabs his attention, but it does. Ignoring the other half of the food still left on his plate Tommy lazily watched Phil and Techno as they continued to talk.

“The easiest way to tamper with a person’s code is when they’re close to death,” Phil was saying. Tommy watched Techno nod, and he couldn’t help but gag on the taste developing in his mouth and the headache that was forming. All a part of the sick feeling that came in minutes ago, but it was rapidly getting worse.

“Tommy was on his last life, anything else would be too risky, so potions makes a lot of sense,” Techno added. Phil said something back to him but Tommy is too focused on trying not to vomit than to listen to their conversation. It’s only words like ‘potion’ and ‘code’ and ‘Dream’ that he hears, each one making the taste in his mouth grow even more awful and his headache feel worse. He blinked and had trouble sitting upright as he began to slump in his seat, his vision getting blurry for a moment as he willed himself to stay upright.

Why does his head hurt so much?

Why does the taste in his mouth make him feel like he needs to vomit?

Why does he feel like he’s about to pass out?

“Dad?” Tommy managed to slur out, reaching a hand out towards his father. He missed completely and nearly fell out of his seat, his vision swimming. “I don’- I don’t feel so good.”

He heard shouts but the only thing he really caught onto was the fact that the floor was getting closer, and the pain in his head reached a peak, making him cry out before his vision went black.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Punz has never liked the idea of picking sides. He’s never freely chosen a side, his decision has always been swayed by the promise of favors or precious materials like netherite, diamonds, and gold. He’s a mercenary, has been and always will be, in or outside of Dream’s world.

But Punz is not heartless, no matter what people say about him or what actions paint him in a bad light.

He knew better than anyone that the work he does is dirty. Theft, property damage, unintentional or intentional harm, even murder, it’s dirty work that most people would not want the blame for. Punz is one of the few that will freely take the blame if the price is right.

That’s why he joined Dream in the first war against L’Manburg, back in the days of their revolution.

Dream paid well. Most of the gear that he has in this world was created from the materials that Dream paid him for his aid in the fight against L’Manburg. It’s good gear, he had spent countless hours on the details and enchantments of his armor and weapons. He tried not to think about how he earned it by threatening an adult with too big dreams, a teenager that just wanted his father to be proud of him, and two teenagers desperate to be a part of something. Tried not to think about how their blood made him a rich man.

He’s not the only one to feel guilt about it. He knows that the Pet War (a stupid skirmish really) was Sapnap’s way of letting out anger that he couldn’t let out on Dream. Even after that, Sapnap does not willingly get involved in any more fights without reasoning. Especially if it involved threatening the children in the world.

George vowed to never get involved again, after the revolution and the election. He admitted to Punz that the bodies of the L’Manburg founders in that blackstone room haunted his dreams. He even admitted that the reason he never showed up after the election to do his job as vice-vice president, or whatever the fuck his job was, was because he didn’t want to get involved in another war and have more blood on his hands.

Punz can’t help but think that the reason that George all but disappeared after Tommy’s exile was because he blamed himself for it, and because he didn’t have it in him to stand up to his oldest friend.

Not everyone was meant for the life that he leads. Not everyone can deal with the guilt of blood and death on their conscience and their hands. It takes someone resilient and someone indifferent to most emotions to deal with it all.

But, despite the blood on his hands and the enemies that he’s made, and despite all the things that happened to Punz during his time on this server, he can’t help but think that the strangest thing that has happened to his is the way he finds himself caring for the boy with violet eyes and a bright purple sweatshirt.

Punz has always had a soft spot for kids. The kids on this server reminded him a little too much of himself. They have all in one way or another have hit rock bottom and searched for ways to climb back up. They stumbled and fell on their way up, but still, they won’t let their slip ups stop them from getting what they want.

It’s why he found himself brushing off Tommy’s insults, helping Tubbo with his pets and telling him to get some rest when he’s overworking himself, and even guiding Ranboo, someone he’s had little to no interaction with, back to L’Manburg when the Enderman hybrid finds himself lost.

But he cared for Purpled the most.

Him and the kid were neighbors at one point, before Purpled tore down his house and disappeared from the world. He knew that Purpled came from the center world, Hypixel, and was a frequent player in their tournaments despite his young age. Dream probably caught eye of him and sent him a world invite, and Purpled, not ever having a home like that before, took him up on his offer.

Honestly, Punz still has no idea how he got attached to the kid.

Maybe it’s because out of all the kids in this world, Purpled reminded him of himself the most, and still was so very different from him that they should not be comparable. Purpled was a wannabe player and winner in the Hypixel tournaments, except Punz failed where Purpled succeeded. He was also kind, and while it upset him that everyone stole from him, he didn’t go hunting down the people that did. He was protective of the dogs he’s brought into his home, but he was still kind to everyone he’s crossed paths with.

A long time ago, Punz was like that.

But war and death and greed change people.

Punz didn’t want to see the violet-eyed boy with a kind soul change. He didn’t want the boy who snuck into his house to feed his dogs when he forgets to become hardened and sharpened because of wars and fighting. He didn’t want the kid who he stargazed with atop his home to lose everything he’s gained even though he’s put in the hard honest work to achieve it. He didn’t want the one person in this world to suddenly see him as a villain, when he’s seen him as something of a hero. He didn’t want Purpled to rot and decay and deteriorate in the way everyone in this world as in one way or another.

So Punz can’t help but want to protect Purpled from that.

It’s well known that once you're in the lands of the SMP, you’re not allowed to leave. It’s been like this for so long now that members of the world can’t remember a time where they were freely allowed to come and go. Alyssa was one of the only lucky ones to get out before Dream closed the world. Punz wondered if Callahan had a way out as well, because he goes missing for the longest periods of time before coming back for a couple days here and there.

But everyone else was trapped here.

And once they figured this out, it was obviously upsetting. People were dragged onto sides, into wars, and forced to stay in this world despite the fact that they might have family, friends, and other responsibilities in their home worlds.

It’s clearly a distressing thing for Purpled. The boy confessed it to him one day, during one of the peaceful interludes between fighting. This was back during the L’Manburg war for revolution, before the TnT and Final Control Room plot. None of the fighting they had done so far was meant to be fatal, but as the war stretched on for months Punz could tell how upset Dream was getting, and L’Manburg was probably a part of his reasoning to close the world. No one in, and no one out, without permission from Dream himself.

And Purpled, a kid in a neutral party of his own, was caught up in the middle of it.

When Purpled told him of the friends he left behind in Hypixel, about the way he can’t even send them a message assuring them that he’s okay, Punz feels angry for the first time in a long while. Angry at Dream for trapping him, for forcing people to stay in this world. Angry that they can’t even communicate with people outside of the world.

The next time he saw Dream he asked him how much of a price it would be to pay for someone to have free reign to come and go from the server as they pleased. He remembered the way Dream asked why and who wanted this power, as well as why he cared. Dream also told him that it would take a hefty amount out of his paycheck, and he would also have to swear his loyalty to Dream first before anyone else. An expensive and daring thing to do, because to swear undying loyalty to Dream meant Punz would be making a lot of enemies, but for Purpled Punz figured it was worth it.

Punz agreed, signing away his own freedom for Purpled’s. In his eyes it was a fair trade. In the eyes of the violet-eyed boy it was unfair, but he’s grateful for it anyway.

For a month, Purpled disappeared from the SMP. Punz felt his heart grow heavy with longing and grief, wanting to see the boy again. But at the same time he’s relieved that there is one less person around for Dream to manipulate. One less child to get dragged into a war.

Purpled’s visits to the SMP are never the same. Sometimes he stayed for a month, sometimes he only stayed for a couple of days. But every time he came back he made the time to see Punz, even after he found out about the Final Control Room, the plot to destroy L’Manburg and his involvement in it, and the way he was all but Dream’s personal mercenary.

That’s what Punz liked about this kid. He didn’t see people for their titles or their mistakes, he saw them for the person they are. And even though Punz actively wears a mask of indifference around the boy to try and hide his feelings for him, both of them know how they care for each other.

Punz wouldn’t go as far to call them brothers, not even friends or allies, but they cared for each other in one way or another. It’s a strange relationship, but one that Punz welcomed. It’s not like he has friends anyway.

As much as Punz loved Purpled’s company whenever trouble was brewing and everyone was restless he sent him home. He told him to go back to Hypixel and wait a couple days or weeks until he messaged him about it being safe to come back. Purpled can at least text him across worlds, so they at least have that form of communication. Sometimes their conversations are the only things that keep Punz from going insane or becoming Dream’s mindless puppet. Purpled is the only one that actually cared for him, saw him as a person and not a mercenary.

And Punz knew what Dream was trying to do, kind of. He can only guess. But He saw the way that Dream was manipulating everyone, but Punz is one man against a self-proclaimed god whom he is sworn to. He can do nothing about it, and only watched as he dirtied his own hands by helping Dream.

But Dream crossed a line when he asked for Purpled’s help in a war.

Purpled has always been a part of his own neutral party. He was his own side, just himself, a rare thing for this world. Punz could see the longing rolling off of Purpled, the urge to be a part of something bigger, but he always told him that it wasn’t worth it.

It wasn’t, really. War was not worth the trauma and loss that came with it.

Everyone was present on the server on the days of the election. Punz believed that a part of L’Manburg’s fall was because they overlooked the fact that Dream would force the entirety of the SMP to vote in their election, even if they weren’t a part of the country. It was no surprise that the votes were nearly tied, but it is a surprise that Schlatt and Quackity win, only to exile Tommy and Wilbur.

Suddenly everyone started choosing sides and L’Manburg began to fall. Punz kept his eyes on Purpled, keeping him out of harm's way whenever he could.

Then the festival came, and Punz had to watch as Purpled is ordered by a man that he doesn’t follow to hunt down and kill Tommy after the execution of his best friend, Tubbo. He had to watch another kid get pulled into a world that even adults struggled to survive in. He was more than relieved that Tommy got away and is even more relieved that Purpled is not blamed for letting the other teenager get away with a few scratches. Tommy managed to safely run back into the arms of his deranged brother, the anarchist, and the best friend who now had the same number of lives that he did.

Purpled disappeared for a little while after that but on the day that Dream said that they were fighting by Schlatt’s side the boy reentered the world. It only takes one direct message and the promise of having a purpose in this world to get the violet-eyed boy on Dream’s side. It’s just another plot in Dream’s big scheme, getting the boy on his side, and it made Punz sick. Punz had to watch as Dream handed that black shield with the crossed red mark on it, labeling Purpled as an enemy of Pogtopia. Punz doesn’t consider the boy an ally to Manburg, he's just another innocent being manipulated and turned into a pawn for war.

That’s why when he saw Purpled throw away the shield mid-battle and run to swing his sword alongside Tommy and Tubbo, his heart did a flip and his mind cheered. The kid even mangaged to take down a fucking wither alongside a couple of others after Techno spawned them in. It's a mighty feat for a kid his age, and Punz wanted to feel proud. But the ache in his heart only worsened.

After Manburg, or L’manburg’s second decimation that almost took the lives of many, Punz found himself patching up Purpled after the battle. They are not enemies, even if they were opposite sides near the end of the battle. It didn’t matter to them anyway. They are loyal only to themselves, even if they are contracted by others, it’s just in their nature as loners.

He made the kid down nearly a gallon of milk to get rid of the wither effect that nearly killed him. Purpled’s got wither scars, thin little lines that stain his skin black, around most of his forearms as well as his chest and shoulders because of how he had to get rid of his purple hoodie from where it caught on flame. Punz quietly patched the kid up, not even saying a thing when the kid hissed as he applied antiseptic to his wounds. Another potion of healing and regeneration and he considered his job as good as it was going to get. It wasn’t pretty, but Purpled wasn’t going to die. He’d just have nasty wither scars on his arms and chest for the rest of his life.

“Tomorrow,” Punz remembered saying to the kid. “You’re going to go back home, to Hypixel, and you’re not going to come back.”

“What?” Purpled had said back to him. “No way, no. I’m not leaving you.”

Punz remembered the way he met the violet eyes of the boy in front of him, his own ice-blue eyes staring coldly at him.

“I don’t care,” he had said. “Dream is going to find out you switched sides, and he’s not going to be happy. He doesn't take too kindly to traitors.”

This is true. He was nearby when he heard of Eret’s title of king being revoked. Apparently George was king now, something he didn’t expect but is not surprised about either. George is another one of Dream’s puppets, one of the few that will willingly listen to Dream as well. He doesn’t know what Dream would do to a kid with no power, no purpose, and no true allies. Nothing good, that’s for sure.

“I can’t just leave ,” Purpled had insisted. “Not after everything that just happened.”

“No.” Punz had refused to back down. “You’re going to leave. Take at least a few months break before you even consider coming back. It’s not safe.”

“Not safe? NOT SAFE?” Purpled had shouted. “Yeah it’s not fucking safe! But I don’t see anyone stopping Tommy and Tubbo from throwing themselves into harm's way. What makes me so important, huh?”

“Because,” Punz had replied. “I’m selfish.”

That had shut the boy up.

“I’m selfish,” Punz had continued, repeating what he said. “I’m a mercenary, it’s in my nature. I want things beyond my dreams that I’m willing to do the dirtiest work to live like the richest man. But I’m not heartless.”

He’s not, he’s really not. He may be cold and inconsiderate. He may have sold himself to Dream and become Dream’s person handyman, but he still cared. He still had a heart. And right now, his biggest concern was Purpled.

“I don’t want you to end up like Tommy and Tubbo,” Purpled had said to the boy, the only person he really cared about. “I don’t want you to willingly throw yourself into danger because of whatever cause you want to join. It’s bullshit, you’re a kid and you’re going to be a kid, you deserve it. It’s too late for Tommy and Tubbo but it's not too late for you, not if I can help it. So you’re going to get out of this fucking death trap before it’s too late. I can’t save everyone, but I can save you .”

Dream’s world was a death trap. To outsiders it looked like the promise of a family, comradery that you can’t find in most worlds if you’re not born into it. But on the inside the world was full of greedy dreamers who were all under Dream’s rule despite what they told themselves. They were caged birds, allowed to move freely but not actually having any freedom at all. It was a life that no one would truly want.

Punz knew this best and did his best to explain this to the violet-eyed boy he cared for. The kid just listened to his words with an emotionless expression, not meeting Punz’s eyes.

Purpled was gone before the sun had risen the next day. Punz couldn’t say he was happy to see him go, but he was happy that he had freed one kid from this hell. He can’t save everyone, but he can save him. And to the mercenary, that was more than enough.

(It’s only at a later date that he found out that Purpled snuck back into the world for a day without him knowing. He didn’t visit like he usually did, instead purposely avoiding everyone. But he did visit, he learned as much from a half-starved Tubbo whom he helped back to L’Manburg one day. Apparently the entire country was mostly surviving off of the potato farm that Purpled had started, concerned for the people without homes and food because of what had been lost during the explosions. It gives Punz hope that there is still good left in this world, and he’ll do his damn fucking best to make sure that the one good thing that happened to him stayed safe.)

Now Punz found it more than strange that Dream came up to him after their latest stunt. It took no genius to know that Dream was the one to make him go after the L’Manburg cabinet and citizens at Techno’s failed execution. But Punz did think that it was strange that Dream came to him after it’s only been a couple of weeks.

The creator of the realm waltzed right into his tower that he called home. He saw him come through the gate of the blackstone wall he built around his property. Like always, he forgoed walking along the path, instead cutting straight through the grass of the perfectly kept lawn. Punz met him at the bottom floor of the tower, crossing his arms as Dream came up to him.

“New job?” he asked, already knowing Dream’s answer.

“That kid,” Dream said, nodding and getting straight to the point. “I want him back.”

Punz blinked in response. There’s only one kid that Dream could really be talking about. Tubbo’s already tied up in Dream’s puppet string, Ranboo too. Tommy is off in exile and no one has heard from him in what has to be two months now, maybe three, but either way he’s Dream’s puppet as well. And Purpled hadn’t been in this world in ages, which continued to please Punz even if he missed the kid. At least he can still message the kid.

So Dream must be talking about that kid, that child , that he saw at Techno’s execution. Another child swept into a political war, another puppet for Dream to control, another kid who was about to lose his childhood.

Punz’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t say anything, not yet, instead giving Dream time to explain. Dream took the silence as bait, not bothering Punz with even a glance as he fixed the fingerless gloves on his hands. They’re new, Punz can’t help but notice. He wondered what Dream did that damaged the others to a point that he needed to get new ones. He also didn’t want to know, despite his own curiosity.

“The kid is my brother,” Dream said so nonchalantly, like he wasn’t talking about the same kid that was literally dragged around as a pawn. He’s acting like he didn’t really care about the kid, which was strange. It didn’t make sense, considering that Dream cared about his family, his sister, more than he let on about. That girl meant the world to him, so Dream talking about this kid so carelessly made Punz uneasy.

But he’s not here to ask questions. That’s not his job. He listened to his orders, he carried them out, then he got paid. That’s the contract between them. Loyalty for someone else’s freedom.

“I want you to bring him back to me,” Dream explained. “Techno currently has custody of him, but when him and Phil aren’t around, getting past Ghostbur to grab the kid shouldn’t be difficult.”

“Okay,” Punz said carefully, still watching Dream with a careful eye. “So what’s my payment?”

Dream tilted his head every so slightly to the side, his version of glancing at someone out of the corner of his eye.

“I have some diamonds,” he said. “I’ll spare you a few.”

“That’s it?” Punz asked, trying not to grit his teeth. He can easily go diamond mining, it’s not like it’s difficult. He has all the time in the world to make himself a richer man without taking Dream’s money.

But that’s not how their contracts work.

“You’re keeping Purpled off the server,” Dream said, his voice getting deeper. Threatening as well. “I can easily drag him back here. Don’t get greedy Punz.”

Punz stiffened, and cursed himself for showing weakness like that in front of Dream. But Dream doesn’t pay any attention to the flinch at the mention of Purpled.

“I want the kid,” he said. “You have a week, two at the very latest. I expect the kid at the Community House at midnight. I’ll be there every night until you have him. Message me if you have any more questions.”

And with that Dream walked out of his tower, stepping on the weeds on his lawn, leaving Punz alone with his thoughts.

He didn’t want to kidnap a kid. He’s never wanted to get involved with kids after the disaster of the Final Control Room. That was the first time his weapon was swung somewhere fatal, purposefully, and Punz still is haunted by the bodies that slowly turned to dust as they respawned for the first time.

He didn’t want to get involved in this, whatever it was. That kid is not Dream’s brother. He doesn’t know who he is, and he doesn’t really care either, but he’s concerned for him. Why in the world would Dream want a kid that can’t be older than ten under his thumb? He’s just a kid.

That’s what scared Punz the most. Every Ender-damned kid in this server has been manipulated by Dream in one way or another. Now ordering Punz to play a prime role in the manipulation of another minor made Punz’s stomach roll.

But he didn't ask questions. He followed his orders, he let himself be Dream’s puppet. His name is on a contract in Dream’s enderchest, reminding him of their deal. 

He’s dug his grave and he has to lie in it.

So Punz checked his supplies, sharpened his sword, and prepared to kidnap a kid from fucking Technoblade of all people. Dream has ordered him to do so and he has to follow.

If not for his own sake, but for Purpled’s.

Because if he can save at least one kid from Dream, then he can die a happy man, and will let himself be dragged to whatever hell exists after death.

Chapter Text

Tommy was dreaming again. Once again it felt like he was in a stranger’s body, unaware that it was his own. Once again these dreams felt too vivid and life-like to be considered dreams. Once again his mind was trying to get him to remember without explicitly stating it.

Not like he would know that.

This vision began with Tommy appearing out of the dark, once again trapped inside of the stranger’s body. The stranger was walking through a forest, carrying something in his arms and turning to look over his shoulder every couple of minutes. There was no one behind him. Still, the paranoia did not go away and continued to plague him on his midnight excursion. All alone, the stranger carefully maneuvered through the forest as he followed a path that only he knew, ducking under trees and stepping over the shrubs that covered the forest floor.

Eventually they came to a stop in front of a small hill, right in front of a gap that looked like it was hand-dug into the side of the hill. Even with items in their hands they managed to shove their body through the tight gap in the dirt hillside and were greeted with the sight of a dug out room on the other side. This room also looked like it was dug out by humans hands. The stranger’s eyes don’t even spare a glance over the room as they make their way to the back, ducking their head as they begin to descend down twisting stone stairs that lead into the dark. A minute passed by before the stairs opened up to reveal an underground ravine with scaffolding-like platforms and stairs that crisscrossed over the top to form elaborate bridges and stairs to safely guide visitors to the bottom. They nearly slipped down said stairs because of a puddle that had formed on the steps, water dripping from somewhere unknown in this strange underground cavern, but they ended up safely at the bottom of the ravine.

The ravine itself was decorated in dim torchlight. Faintly, you could hear the moans of zombies and rattling bones of skeletons, but the monsters didn’t wander towards the light. The stranger is safe, barely, and paid no attention to the sound of monsters and dripping sound of water falling to puddles on the ground. They shoved their way past stalagmites that have formed on the ground that have not yet been cleared away from the path that this stranger has dug out in the ravine. In the end they come to a stop in front of another room that has been dug out by human hands.

The stranger ducked underneath the rock doorway, stepping into the room that had been carved into the side of the bottom of the ravine. A navy-blue revolutionary coat laid crumpled in a pile in the corner, a black triangle hat that shared the same style of coat resting atop it, alongside a pair of familiar circular glasses. On the other side of the room there was a small crate with a few items inside it, blankets and food by the looks of it from the quick glance that the stranger took, allowing Tommy to process this new information he’s receiving. But that’s not what caught the stranger and Tommy’s attention.

On a makeshift pallet of wood and wool laid Wilbur. A blanket covered up Wilbur’s bottom half, but socked feet stuck out from the end, the ratty blanket clearly not doing a good job of covering him up and keeping him warm in his sickly-looking state. Wilbur wasn't wearing a shirt, but bandages covered most of his torso and his right shoulder. They were bloodstained and obviously needed to be changed and treated, and even Tommy could see this with the little medical knowledge he had. Wilbur’s face was blank as he slept and the man’s hair was drenched with sweat and maybe even some blood. What concerned Tommy the most was the way Wilbur looked so pale that he resembled a corpse, and that he didn’t even move or stir in his sleep at the sound of the stranger approaching his side.

The stranger kneeled on the dirt and rock floor of the room and quickly worked to change Wilbur’s bandages. He whispered words to the man, ones that Tommy couldn’t hear or wasn’t not comprehending in this strange dream. They sounded comforting and hopeful, yet full of desperation and fear.

It felt wrong, to see his older brother look so sickly and so close to death on this makeshift bed. It could barely be called a bed, but Tommy supposed it counted since it was made of wood and wool. Still, it’s not like that’s what mattered, because in this ravine that was not fit to house humans who needed sunlight and fresh air Wilbur was clearly dying. It was just him and this stranger.

Alone.

Once they completed their task of caring for Wilbur the stranger dipped their head and put it in their hands. Darkness swallowed Tommy’s vision for a few dizzying moments before he was looking back up.

His surroundings had changed. This time he was seated atop a horse whose bones rattled as it’s skeleton frame broke through the trees. A small clearing came into focus, some old ruins and scattered saplings of trees were the only thing that suggested that humans had disturbed this land. That and the imposing figure of Technoblade who stood rigidly tall in the center of the clearing, gazing off into the woods. He only looked away and back towards the stranger as the sound of hooves alerted him of their presence.

The horse came to a stop right in front of Techno. His expression was covered by his pig skull mask, but his posture relaxed every so slightly as he seemed to recognize the person who approached him. A hand reached out to him, Tommy’s — no — the stranger’s hand, and Techno took it, allowing himself to be hauled up onto the horse behind the stranger. Not a second later the skeleton horse was galloping back into the woods in the direction the stranger had come from, without a word of explanation. There wasn’t a need, something was wrong and Techno was here to help. That much was clear.

Tommy’s vision shifted again, changing from passing trees to the somewhat familiar rocks of the underground once again.

Upon closer inspection it became clear that they were leading Techno down the stairs of the damp and dim ravine, lighting the way with a lantern in their hands. This vision didn’t show how they got there nor where they abandoned the horse, so it must not have been of much importance. Especially since they were descending the tricky stairs so quickly.

Once they reached the bottom of the ravine they headed straight to the room where Wilbur had been resting, the room which Tommy had been led to in one of the last visions. The stranger slipped past the stalagmites, Techno shuffling around them with more difficulty, but they weren’t much of a hassle. Walking towards the light leaking from the dug out room the stranger paused by the doorway to wait for Techno, lantern hanging limping in their hand. Together they entered the room silently, both freezing as soon as they set foot into the room. Upon entering and looking at the bed on which Wilbur used to lay, all that was left of him was an empty bed with a rumpled blanket, white particles floating innocently in the air above the bed.

The stranger’s vision, and in turn Tommy’s vision, blurred and shifted. They resisted the urge to scream as an overwhelming influx of visions hit them, swarming in their brain like bees around a hive.

Particles.

Ashy particles that fell from a light cigarette that Wilbur lifted to his lips, breathing in and out smoke like it was his only lifeline, a deranged smile splitting across his face as he turned to face Tommy.

Particles of dust and dirt that rained from the top of the ravine, clogging his lungs and making it hard to breath as he desperately raced after Wilbur upon hearing a new voice coming from the exit at the top of the ravine, one that invoked a primal fear in him as he chased after his mentally ill brother.

Firework particles that exploded out of a crossbow that was in the hands of a supposed ally, followed by the particles of another life lost, one that the stranger held close to him.

White ethereal particles that captured the feeling of being close to death as Technoblade stood over them with bloodied fists and loose pink hair, eyes red and full of bloodlust staring at them like a predator would stare down his prey in its final moments.

Particles of ash and gunpowder as they rained from a sky that had turned grey, a land full of history blown into oblivion as three madmen laughed at the sight of the destruction, leaving him dizzy and confused and full of sorrow, fear, and anguish.

Sandy particles that flew into their face as they fell into the sand on a beach that was hauntingly familiar, the mocking laugh of a familiar villain filling their ears as a kick was delivered to their side.

Particles of a potion that exploded at his feet as the masked figure of Dream stared down at him, raising a hand only for it to come back down and strike him making his vision begin to spin out of control again.

Then, much like the smack to the face that had been delivered in the last vision, the visions came to a sudden halt. Reality shifted again as Tommy teetered off balance and felt like he was being flipped upside down only to come right back, sitting up straight with his eyes greeted by the sight of a disheveled boy who was uncannily familiar.

He was back in the void room.

He didn’t know why he knew this, why he knew the boy, or why this place felt familiar. The feeling of knowing the unknown in a strange instinctual way made Tommy shiver as he huddled into himself.

The boy was staring at him. They were still separated by the invisible wall that neither of them could get through. Tommy lifted a hand to touch the barrier, the shock hurting less this time. He didn’t know what that could possibly mean, but he didn’t think about it for too long. Instead he wrapped his arms around his legs and hugged them close to his chest. The boy across from him was sitting with his legs criss-crossed, posture hunched in a way that made him look smaller and more helpless, more hopeless and tired.

It was a sad sight. Tommy didn’t know what to think about it. So he decided not to dwell on it since it made him uncomfortable.

He honestly didn’t know what to think about any of this. The visions, the boy, the reason why he was having these dreams that he would eventually forget before he was thrown back into this dreamscape and remembered the previous visions. It made his head ache, which was weird, because wasn’t he inside his own head? How would that work? He didn’t know, that also hurt to think about. Instead he pushed aside his thoughts and stared at the boy. There wasn’t much else to do anyway.

For a long time the two stared at one another, neither of them daring to speak. Not that they could hear each other anyway. Maybe this reminder was what prompted Tommy to finally speak up.

“These dreams — the visions — are too real. You’re too real,” Tommy said to the boy, unaware that the boy was watching him with a close gaze, his blue-grey eyes flicking to his lips and reading the words that fell from his mouth. Or at least he was trying too.

“All of this is too real!” Tommy cried, clutching his legs tighter. He stared at the boy, studying him more closely. His eyes were dull but if they were any brighter they could be the same shade as his. His hair was dirty but with a good wash it could be the same blond as his. His clothes were familiar, much like the ones he woke up in all those weeks ago when he first ran from Dream. He even had the same scar on his ankle from that one time Tommy lied about having a cut on his ankle to avoid his dad’s over protective measures of healing only to get an infection and have the wound scar over when it healed.

This boy was too familiar because this boy looked just like him.

Tommy’s mouth fell open and he began to feel sick to his stomach as his head began to ache even more.

“Oh my Ender,” he breathed out, the boy looking up at him, eyes still flicking to his lips to read what they were saying. “You’re me, aren't you?”

The boy’s eyes flicked up to meet his for a second before nodding. Tommy stared at him with horrified confusion before another terrible thought dawned on him. Those visions — those dreams — they weren’t dreams at all. They were memories .

“Ender, what happened to me?” Tommy whispered before his vision faded away into nothing, once again leaving behind the figure of his future self in this cage of a dreamscape.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Tommy woke back up in the real world with a pounding headache and the feeling of a loss he couldn’t place overwhelming him. He was forgetting something, he was sure of it, but his head hurt too much for him to really care about whatever he was forgetting. He groaned as he lifted an arm to cover his eyes, the light feeling too sensitive when he had just woken up combined with the pain in his skull. He whined and curled into the blanket that was covering him, pulling his legs up to his chest. The sound of him whimpering as he woke up must have alerted his family because familiar footsteps approached him within seconds.

“Tommy? You awake?”

“Dada?” Tommy whined, cracking open his eyes ever so slightly. Phil was crouched beside him and while Tommy wanted to reach out to him he really didn’t want to leave his cocoon of warmth. Instead he blinked wearily, taking in his surroundings. They were in the living room area of Techno’s house, and Tommy could feel the back of the couch behind him. One of the pillows was tucked under his head, the others missing from the couch entirely.

“Hi mate,” Phil said with a warm smile on his face. He lifted a hand to brush some hair out of Tommy’s face, cooing softly at him when he whined again. His head hurt a lot. Faintly, he could recall the way he fell out of his seat. He probably hit his head when he collapsed to the floor.

“He’s awake?”

Techno. He walked over to them and Tommy felt the couch dip at the end, and even though he had his legs pulled up to his chest he could still feel how much the couch sunk under his older brother’s weight. Techno just had the perks of being an absolute giant.

“Tommy? Are you alright?”

Grey curls fell into Tommy’s line of sight as he blinked. Ghostbur’s hollow white eyes were staring down at him and he looked sad when Phil told him to give Tommy some space. The ghost retreated from Tommy’s line of sight, but he could hear Ghostbur humming quietly to himself as he hovered near the couch.

“‘M oka’,” Tommy murmured. “‘M head hurts.”

A hand ran through his hair for a moment before leaving. It was probably Phil, considering he stood up and mentioned something about getting a tonic or potion for his head. Tommy shifted and sat up just a bit to look up at Techno, who was staring at him worriedly. Tommy pulled his blanket over his head and shifted again as he shuffled underneath the blanket to crawl out the other side and rest in Techno’s lap, laying his head against Techno’s chest. It took a moment for Techno’s arms to hesitantly, but carefully and comfortably, wrap around him and reciprocate the gesture. Tommy might have just imagined it but his headache seemed to clear a little with the warm, comforting feeling of Techno’s embrace making him feel safer.

“Hey kid,” Techno said softly, resting his chin atop Tommy’s unruly curls on his head. “Gave us quite a scare when you tumbled out of your seat.”

“S’rry,” Tommy mumbled into his chest as he nuzzled closer. Techno only hummed in response, the closeness of the rumbling noise making Tommy hum in return as he smiled softly.

Phil returned a moment later, handing him a glass of water with some sort of medicine in it for Tommy to drink. Even though he was reluctant to sit up he did so at the persistence of the other three in the room. He gulped down the gross medicinal water quickly before handing it back to Phil, not wanting to let go of Techno when he felt warm and safe in his arms. And to his luck Techno’s arms quickly wrapped back around him as he returned to snuggling his older brother.

“Tommy, do you understand what happened to you, or why it happened?” Phil asked as he took a seat in Techno’s armchair. Tommy, who had been watching Ghostbur with half-lidded eyes as he rearranged the books on the bookshelf in some color coordinated order, looked over at his father and shook his head. Phil just sighed and readjusted his posture in his seat, being mindful of his wings.

“That’s expected, and I don’t want you to worry about it,” Phil said. “Me and Techno can and will do all the worrying for you.”

They sure did a lot of worrying. That was good, it should be their job. Tommy didn’t like to half to worry, he liked the days where he used to be carefree. Something about ‘ignorance is bliss’ was a phrase that he could agree with. He’s not sure where he heard that phrase (probably from Wilbur if he had to guess) but it’s pretty true for the situation now.

Tommy really wishes he could forget all of this and go back home .

(But he is home, right?)

That or his sixteen year old consciousness could finally wake up and take control so he didn’t have to deal with all of this.

(He can’t, he’s trapped, and he doesn’t know what’s going on.)

Unfortunately, he did not have that luxury, and had to deal with his future self’s problems as if they were his own.

At least he has his family here to help him.

“Tommy?”

Tommy hummed in response, blinking away the sleepiness that danced at the edge of his mind. His headache was slowly going away but he still felt tired. Maybe the adrenaline rush from yesterday with Dream was finally catching up to him. Combined with the restless night full of nightmares he couldn’t remember, but knew were keeping him up, was a recipe for disaster when you were an eight-year-old boy who wasn’t getting enough sleep.

“Tommy? It’s noon, if you don’t want to be up all night you should wake up.”

“‘M awake,” Tommy insisted, even though his sleepy state begged to differ.

He protested when Techno shuffled him off of his lap, and again when his traitorous brother stole his blanket. He pouted and made grabby hands towards Techno but didn’t put up a fight. Phil was chuckling to himself as he watched and even Ghostbur smiled at the sight of Tommy glowering at a smirking Technoblade.

“I don’t like you,” he spat out. Techno just laughed.

“Come on Toms!” Ghostbur said, floating over to his younger brother. “You can hang out with me! We don’t need Techno!”

The ghost grinned and Tommy grabbed his wrist, ignoring how his fingers half phased through Ghostbur’s translucent limb.

“You’re my favorite brother now,” Tommy declared as he dragged Ghostbur from the room. If Techno and Phil were going to tease him in this state then he didn’t want to be around them. Well, that wasn’t really true, but he didn’t want to be treated like a baby all day if he was going to be hanging around them.

Too bad when he made the decision to go outside Phil spent a solid fifteen minutes making sure he had enough clothes to keep him warm before even letting him set a foot outside onto the front porch and into the snow.

Stupid over-protective family.

(He wouldn’t have it any other way, seeing how quickly things seem to change in this broken, selfish world.)

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Techno watched from the window as Tommy and Ghostbur played in the snow. They spent some time kicking over the snowman they built yesterday, Tommy spending an awfully long and almost concerning amount of time beating the snowman with a stick before he had to take some deep breaths when he was done. After that he just flopped over into the snow, lying still for a minute. Now, after beating the snowman and rolling in the snow, Tommy and Ghostbur appeared to be on their way around the house to check on the animals in the barn. Tommy knew where the turtles were as well, and if they decided to venture as far as the turtle pond Techno hoped they’d be alright on their own.

It was confusing and frustrating, having one brother reversed to his eight-year-old self and the other being a ghost. Techno didn’t know what to make of it most of the time. He also tried not to bother with such thoughts and emotions as well. But this was not one of those times.

Ghostbur was- well he was Ghostbur to put it simply. He wasn’t Wilbur from Pogtopia or Wilbur from their time back at the cottage near the forest and the meadow, he was something that was neither of those things. Yet he held onto Wilbur’s happy memories as if they were his own. Maybe he was a fragment of Wilbur, that’s the closest he could come to actually being Wilbur . Ghostbur also appeared to be a vessel for Wilbur, because Techno knows he did not hallucinate seeing Ghostbur with brown eyes crying over Tommy’s strange fate all those days ago.

Maybe Wilbur was still buried somewhere deep inside him. Maybe he was a vessel. Or maybe he was simply a fragment of Wilbur, left behind in the midst of chaos and destruction as his corrupted soul departed from this world.

Techno wouldn’t know.

(The voices don’t know either. Usually they have information that should be beyond them that they shared with Techno, and he never knew where they learned such things. This is one of the rare times where they have no information on Wilbur’s ghostly counterpart.)

Then there’s Tommy. If he thought Wilbur being a friendly amnesic ghost was complicated, then Tommy’s situation belonged on a whole new level. He was reversed eight years into the past, physically and mentally, and now was showing signs of something more threatening.

Tommy wasn’t Glitched. Not yet anyway. But as a Glitch himself, having a father who was a Glitch, and Ghostbur being something sort of similar to a Glitch, Techno could see the signs. 

Phil could as well.

(Even the voices could see it, and Techno could almost argue that they were more worried for the boy than he was. Almost .)

“You’re worried,” Phil remarked as he walked up to Techno beside the window, just in time to see Tommy and Ghostbur disappear around the bee’s habitat as they headed off behind the house towards the barn. Tommy was probably off to pay Bob a visit, and Ghostbur was probably going to give each of his chickens a name and grow unreasonably attached to them.

“How could I not be?” Techno replied, crossing his arms. “My brother is becoming a Glitch, slowly but surely. On top of that I don’t know what Dream wants with him, nor do I know what L’Manburg’s future intentions are with him and us . So of course I’m worried.”

Phil hummed and his wings bristled on his back. He was just as worried and nervous for Tommy as well. Not many people could read Phil’s wings like he could, so most would take a look at his emotionless face and think he’s in control of his emotion and overall was staying calm. Techno knew better than that. He knew his father well, despite the years they had spent apart from one another, and one thing he knows for certain is that a father’s love and care for his children never goes away, no matter how far they grow apart from one another.

(A brother’s love never quite goes away either, the voices remind him. For if Phil could still care for the boys he abandoned, then Techno could too. It was quite obvious to them that Techno still cared. He can’t hide anything from the voices, even if he tried.)

“We have to do something,” Techno said, turning away from the window as he began to pace the room. “We can’t let Tommy become a Glitch. I don’t want to condemn him to a life like ours.”

They don’t talk about the origin of their Glitches often. Most don’t even know that they are Glitched. Techno tended to keep information about the voices in his head on a low, along with information on his ability to respawn. He’s never died before, and while respawning with Totems is supposed to be instantaneous, your soul still checks into the Void while your body takes the time to heal. Techno’s never experienced that, and he’s not sure what that means, if it makes him immortal or incapable of visiting the Void. Either way, he’s certain of the fact that the Void will not yet welcome him, because the Totem from the execution is not the first Totem he’s used.

(The voices don’t know if he’s immortal either. Their whispers about the Void are often too distorted for Techno to make clear. The Void continued to stay unknown.)

Phil, on the other hand, has more of a well known Glitch. The Hardcore Curse they call it. One life and one life only, Totems being the only thing that could give you that second chance. Techno’s not for certain, since he’s never approached his father about the rumors, but there is word that those who have Hardcore Curse can only meet their end when greeted with the killing hand of others or facing off with the natural elements. Meaning that Phil was immortal, age being the one cause of death that he was truly immune too. Maybe it’s just a part of Phil’s Glitch, maybe it’s a lesser known fact about the Hardcore Curse, but either way Techno knows that there is no way that Phil is a man in his thirties, who Techno in the nearly two decades he’s known the man has not seen him age at all. There’s no way that Phil could walk the worlds with knowledge beyond his years and any of those from the past few generations without being immortal.

(The voices seem to agree with his theory on this one.)

Then there’s Wilbur, who didn’t become a Glitch until his death, likely Dream’s doing even if he didn't know it. Since this world was so detached from the other worlds in the universe the Void and the afterlife were also more detached. Something happened during the time of Wilbur’s final death that caused his soul to split, leaving behind a ghost where there should be nothing at all.

Techno’s not sure what fate he would have preferred for Wilbur’s soul.

(The voices have no preference either. Some wish for his twin’s true soul to return. Others are happy whenever Ghostbur is around. All in all the voices are conflicted when it comes to discussing the fate of his brother’s soul.)

There was really nothing wrong with being a Glitch. And while there seemed to be many pros to being a Glitch that were unique to each individual (some including longer lifespans, enhanced magical abilities, as well as other things) there were still the cons that they had to deal with. Backlash from others in the universe that saw them as nothing more than servants of the Void, Glitched respawns that left behind physical and mental impairments, as well as many other things, most of which Techno didn’t fully know or understand.

There would be nothing wrong with the fact if Tommy happened to become a Glitch after they cleared this whole thing up.

But Techno didn’t want to think of the aftermath and life Tommy would be forced to deal with if he did.

(The voices, while they loved Tommy, did not want him to have to deal with the repercussions of being a Glitch either.)

“How much time?” Techno asked, his pacing coming to a stop as he looked back at Phil. Phil turned away from the window, raising an eyebrow.

“What was that?” he asked as he carefully eyed his son. 

“How much time do we have,” Techno repeated, “until Tommy becomes a Glitch?”

Phil looked back out the window, wings sagging as he crossed his arms and let his face go blank.

“Honestly?” Phil said with a hint of sadness in his voice, not looking back to meet Techno’s eyes. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling that there’s not much time left. The sooner we reverse him back to being sixteen, the better.”

Techno glanced back at the window, looking at Phil’s eyes in the reflection of the glass, before he turned away. He needed a plan, that was one thing that he could do that he knew that he was good at and could do well.

If he was going to help Tommy, that meant having to deal with Dream. Dealing with Dream meant that he had to be prepared. Being prepared meant that he needed more than a Ender-damned pickaxe to fight his enemies with.

Looks like his battle with L’Manburg wasn’t quite over yet.

(And the voices cheered as they called for blood.)

Chapter Text

Quackity learned a long time ago that power was the only way to get ahead in the world, especially this one in particular.

Wilbur once had power. He was the president of L’Manburg and had men at his side that would willingly follow him to the ends of the earth. He got his power through violence and bloodshed and carefully chosen words. In the end he got too greedy, and it led to his demise. And Quackity was no fool, and from what he had seen of Wilbur before and after the Pogtopia-Manburg war he had seen a leader that commanded his men, power dripping from and through his fingers as he fought for his country. He was a leader, a president, a general, and the person that commanded the power that Pogtopia managed to hold onto.

Schlatt once had power. He stole it from Wilbur and commanded it like a born leader and dictator. He didn’t have people that loved him, no. He had people that loathed him, but were too afraid to speak up and fight against him. And he wasn’t blind to this fact, Schlatt used it to his advantage as he ruled Manburg with an iron fist while he had the power to do so. Schlatt’s downfall was his inability to see how power was slipping from his fingers as the members of his country slowly trickled away. He was powerful, but not powerful enough. He died a powerless man, surrounded by the people who hated him and who he in turn hated.

Technoblade had power. He was one of the most well known warriors around the universe. He had toppled governments and champions alike, always coming out on the top. He was showered in riches and wasn’t afraid to flex them. Power radiated from his being and the people around him, as well as Technoblade himself, knew this like it was a born fact. It was in the way he held himself, knowing that he could walk into a room and confidently say he was the most powerful person in the room at all times. He was one of the most powerful people that Quackity had ever come into contact with.

Dream had power. He was the creator of the realm, and he built it with his bare hands with the power that his soul could command. He had people who loved him and people who feared him. He had the power of magic at his fingertips and the power of richness and skill as well. He was easily the most powerful person on the server, next to Technoblade. And everyone knew that they were under Dream’s thumb and power, that they couldn’t stand up to him and defeat him even if they tried. That’s how powerful Dream was. So powerful that everyone knew that even if they tried to fight back it would be futile.

Quackity wanted to be like them. He wanted power, he wanted glory, he wanted to be feared and to be loved and to not be seen as weak. And he didn’t matter the cost at which he would achieve these things.

Maybe this is why he wasn’t upset with himself for manipulating Tubbo as soon as Tommy was exiled from L’Manburg. The poor kid should have never been placed in a position of power like he was now; the stress of running a country was too much for a traumatized kid like him. Quackity wasn’t afraid to put ideas in his head, to persuade him into making decisions that he wanted for L'Manburg, or to do things that would benefit himself without Tubbo knowing. L’Manburg was a beautiful country with potential, but if it was doomed to fail, it was doomed to fail. Quackity was just going to make sure he reaped as much power, riches, and self benefits from the country while it was still standing. And he had a feeling that L’Manburg would not stay standing for much longer. Call it a gut instinct. So he made other plans behind everyone’s back, a backup plan for when L’Manburg eventually fell. A plan that would put him on the top and leave the citizens of L’Manburg under his rule.

It would all be worth it in the end. The blueprints and poker chips in the drawer in his office proved that point. Whatever power he had here would never be enough in the eyes of others. L’Manburg never had power, not really, so Quackity was going to take what he could before leaving this place in the dust when he was done with it. And no one was going to get in his way.

That’s probably one of the reasons why he was in this meeting right now.

L’Manburg didn’t have a White House anymore. Quackity wasn’t even sure if Tubbo had a house. Ever since Philza escaped he was pretty sure that the young president had been living in his house. Before that he’d find Tubbo in his own house, hear Fundy talk about how he found Tubbo passed out in his house, or even in places like Ranboo’s house or Purpled’s hut next to the potato farm. And he had seen the young president come out of Tommy’s dirt house in the early hours of the morning before making his way into L’Manburg.

So that’s the unofficial story of how Quackity’s underground bunker and headquarters for the Butcher Army became the official meeting room for the L’Manburg cabinet. Oh yeah, and for the minutes man that they had ‘hired’ to record down their meeting sessions. The Enderman kid kinda freaked the fuck out of Quackity sometimes, but he’d willingly let the kid do his dirty work so he didn’t have to.

“So the plan with Techno failed,” Fundy grumbled once they had all settled around the table, unofficially calling the meeting into order. Almost everything about L’Manburg was unofficial. That’s how horrible Tubbo was at running the place. “And now Phil’s gone too. Who knows what they’re up to.”

It had been a while since Techno’s ‘execution’ and the loss of one of Quackity’s lives. Since then Philza had escaped his house arrest with Technoblade in the night a few days ago. Both of the wanted criminals were out in a tundra somewhere, plotting who knows what while they kept an eye on that mystery kid and probably Ghostbur, considering that nobody had seen the ghost for a while.

“So what if the plan with Techno failed,” Tubbo said with a sigh. “Clearly going after the Blade was foolish. Dream should really be our target.”

“Why do you say that?” Quackity asked, twirling a poker chip between his fingers. He was curious to know Tubbo’s reasoning behind why they shifted their focus to Dream. Quackity didn’t like the man, sure, but his feud with Techno was more personal and they had already had ground against the man. The weapons hidden in L’Manburg proved that point, so Quackity figured that they would take down him first. Plus if they could take down one self-proclaimed god then what’s another? So why shift their focus now?

“Dream is probably in kahoots with Technoblade,” Tubbo reasoned. “Think about it. Why was Punz there on the day of the execution? Everyone knows that he only takes jobs from Dream ‘cause he pays the best.”

“I mean, fair,” Fundy agreed, leaning back in his seat. “But why take on Dream now?”

“Dream is the creator of the world,” Tubbo said. “He’s the most powerful person in the world. Everything bad that has happened was his fault. The L’Manburg Revolution, the Pogtopia and Manburg war, L’Manburg getting blown up, Tommy getting exiled. See what I mean?”

“Yeah, but what makes you think that we can take him?” Quackity asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched the young president carefully. “We couldn’t even get Technoblade.”

Tubbo grinded his teeth. Unlike his cabinet he was standing, pacing back and forth in front of the table every now and then. Now he stood still, hands on the table that clenched into fists, as he stood up straighter and looked Quackity in the eyes, 

“The problem there is that we tried to overpower Techno using the element of surprise, and we were foolish to think that he didn’t have a plan for getting out of the situation we put him in,” Tubbo said. “So this time, we trap Dream.”

“You’re saying we outsmart him,” Fundy said, rolling his eyes. “He’s Dream . Good luck with that.”

“Yeah, but we make it less obvious,” Tubbo said. “We distract him with something else, like — I dunno — a celebration or something. Then, when he least expects it, we trap him and take his lives.”

“Wait,” Quackity said, sitting up in his seat, realizing something. “You’re saying we pull a festival two-point-oh on him?”

Tubbo flinched at the word ‘festival’ but nodded, putting his hands behind his back as he stood up straight, as still as a statue. Quackity just grinned. Fundy looked less optimistic. The Enderman kid looked up once from his book, glancing around the room, before scribbling something else in his minutes book. Quackity couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually doing his job or not.

“I’m thinking we put on a celebration for the whole server,” Tubbo explained. “We even invite some of Dream’s old friends we don’t see that often these days. Say we try and — I dunno — thank Dream for creating the world and offer him a gift, luring him into a trap that he can’t escape.”

“Sounds difficult,” Fundy said. “You’re sure that this can work?”

Tubbo sighed. “Dream’s been, for lack of a better word, nice these days. He’s even followed some of L’Manburg’s rules. If we can get him to at least agree with the no armor rule that day then we’re good.”

“Say that he doesn’t,” Quackity said. “Then what happens?”

“We’re fucked,” Tubbo said bluntly. “But it’s worth a shot. If he doesn't agree on the day of the celebration, our plans will have to be thrown out the window and we party I guess. If he does comply, then we overpower and kill him.”

“It’s risky,” Fundy said. “And needs a lot more work.”

“But it's worth it,” Quackity argued, giving Fundy a pointed look before turning back to Tubbo. “I agree with Tubbo. I don’t like the green motherfucker, so if we have the chance to kick him in the balls like this then I say we take it.”

“So when do we have the festival?” Fundy asked.

“Say a week from now, a week and a half,” Quackity said. “That gives us time to set up decorations and send invites.”

“So it’s a plan?” Tubbo asked. Fundy and Quackity nodded. It was a plan.

They adjourned their meeting soon after that, all leaving to do their separate duties or activities. Later Quackity found himself sitting back in the seat in his office in his house. From out the window he could see the sign for El Rapids, his ‘Mexican L’Manburg,’ that he made out of spite when Tubbo wasn’t falling for his tricks one day. The whole country was a shoddy joke, but him and his friends had a good time building dirt hills and doing drugs and drinking that day. It was one of the last days that he could remember having a genuinely good time.

He wanted that all the time. He wanted a place he could feel safe and empowered in. A place where he could have a good time but was the top boss. The one people took orders from, the one that pulled all the shots, the one with the power. The one people looked up to, the one people feared, the one people loved.

Quackity brushed his fingertips gently across the blueprints laid across his desk. He took a hit from his joint, sighing as he released the smoke from his mouth, relaxing into his seat. The poker chip laid on his desk, the blocky smiling face on it smiling up at him. He smiled back.

Soon. Things would come together soon. He’d get all the power he could out of L’Manburg, taking it for his own. Then he’d build a place of his own where he’d be respected, loved, and feared. A place of his own for the people he cared for. A place where he pulled the shots and where he’d be the most powerful one out there.

One day, one day soon.

Another hit. Another release of breath. Another relaxing smile. Another plot. Another play for power. Another day in the life of a vice president in a world that fought tooth and nail for power to survive.

Soon he’d be the top dog. Soon he’d have the power he so desperately craved for. Soon he would bow to no one.

No one.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

“A festival, really?”

Ranboo bounced slightly on the balls of his feet and smiled down at Dream. Dream was cool. He wore a mask so Ranboo didn’t have the worry about eye contact with him whenever they passed by each other. His sweatshirt was also a really similar color to one of his eyes, which strangely pleased him. His one eye was a pretty rare color of green. He didn’t even like the shade of green that much; it was just another sign of how ‘rare’ he was, a fact that he didn’t like thinking about. Maybe that’s why seeing Dream wearing his bright green sweatshirt was pleasing, because suddenly there was something in common between the two of them, even if it was something so miniscule.

Anyway, he was supposed to be responding now.

“Yeah, a festival!” Ranboo said happily. “Everyone’s invited! Well, not Tommy cause he’s not allowed which sucks, but everyone else can come if they want to!”

Dream tilted his head to the side, inspecting the invitation in his hands. It was a pretty simple piece of paper that held the location, date, and time of the event, plus a reminder of how they expected guests to be polite and courteous of the country’s rules. Him and Tubbo had written them all up the day before. They even doodled on a few of them because they got bored and tired of their task that Quackity had given to them. Ranboo made sure to give Dream one that didn’t have any doodles on it because Quackity said they were supposed to be ‘professional’ and ‘doodles were not professional Ranboo, stop ruining the invitations and get back to work.’ Ranboo thinks that doodles can be professional if they want to. Quackity was a silly duck after all.

“They’re really throwing a festival, even after seeing how the first one went.” Dream scoffed, snorting quietly under his breath as he shook his head. Either way he slipped the invitation in the pocket of his sweatshirt. Ranboo’s smile grew wider. Mission accomplished.

“Well I don’t know about any other festivals,” Ranboo said honestly. “Either I never heard about them or forgot about them.”

Ranboo was sure if Dream wasn’t wearing a mask that he’d see a quizzical look fall over his face. Something about the sudden silence and stillness between them gave that away.

“Forgot?” Dream repeated, sounding confused. Ranboo fiddled with his fingers and nodded shyly.

“Yeah, I forget things pretty easily,” he admitted. “Sometimes a whole day will go by and I’ll forget everything! That’s why I write it all down in my books.”

“Sounds- unfortunate,” Dream said slowly. If Ranboo knew any better he’d think that Dream was lost in thought. There was no good way of telling though. Dream’s body language didn’t give himself away and his mask covered up his face so he couldn’t try and read his expressions when he couldn’t see them. Maybe this was a part of the reason why everyone was afraid of Dream, or said they didn’t like Dream.

Dream seemed okay to Ranboo. Sure he wasn’t great, he exiled his first friend he made in this world like the week they first met, so that sucked. Apparently he did a lot of bad stuff in the past, but no one liked talking about it. And if they did talk about it they described it with vague details or didn’t talk around Ranboo. So the worst that Ranboo had seen from Dream was some mild threatening and some yelling, nothing more than that. Compared to the yelling Quackity did around L’Manburg it didn’t really make Dream out to be the worst of the worst like everyone was convinced that he was.

So it was safe to say that Ranboo had no idea what to make of Dream. This was their first time interacting after all. Ranboo was delivering the invitations when he happened across Dream in the Community House. The opportunity was too perfect to pass up, especially considering that no one else would want to deliver Dream’s invitation. And a formal invitation is, well, more formal than one sent over a communicator. Ranboo didn’t have to think about his decision for too long before he approached the shorter man with a small smile on his face, determination in his steps, and an invitation in his hands. And look where that got him! He was successful!

“Hey, Ranboo was it?”

Dream’s voice breaks Ranboo out of his thoughts, and he blinked, his eyes refocusing on Dream’s mask. He smiled again at the man.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked cheerfully. Dream’s body relaxed slightly and his air of confidence grew stronger.

“Is anyone around L’Manburg right now?” he asked. “It's been a while, I wouldn’t mind having a tour before the festival.”

Ranboo perked up. He knew L’Manburg like the back of his hand. He even woke up sleep-walking around the place sometimes, and he never got hurt around L'Manburg and could always find his way back home even if he was disoriented. At least if he was in the borders of L’Manburg, outside the borders of the country was a gamble.

“Yeah, everyone else is out on business, I can show you around, I’m sure they don’t mind,” Ranboo said, letting out a low Enderman-like chirp. Dream walked over to the Community House doorway on the path that led to L’Manburg, sunlight leaking through the doorway. He paused by the doorway and looked back at Ranboo.

“Well, lead the way Ranboo,” he said, swinging out a hand. Ranboo hopped on his feet and quickly went to Dream’s side as he walked beside him—

—he walked back into L’Manburg. It was dark out and the stars were shining overhead. Ranboo hummed to himself as he wandered back to his house. He paused for a moment to check on Friend, the blue sheep still relaxing in the small patch of grass near the L’Manpond as he started calling it. Ranboo smiled at the sheep, thinking fondly of Ghostbur, before letting himself into his house.

Getting ready for bed was a simple routine. After removing his armor and changing his clothes into something more comfortable for sleeping, he would feed his pets, make sure there was one lantern lit downstairs and one lit upstairs, before he’d take out his memory books and record anything last things he needed to write down before snuggling into his blankets and sleeping. Problem was, when he opened the chest with his books, one of them was missing.

“That’s strange,” Ranboo muttered to himself. He never misplaced his books, afraid he’d forget where he put them and lose them. They were always in the same spot, unless he had to move them, but then he would make sure to remember the new spot, writing the fact down in his books. And more concerningly, the missing book was his special extra-secret memory book as well. The one that didn’t have daily events recorded in it, but things that were meant for his eyes only. Like his friends list, the memory of his meeting with Techno and the mystery boy, and other things he didn’t want everyone else to see. So why would it have been moved from this chest? Did he bring it downstairs? Unlikely, but it still could have happened. He needed to check anyway, worry eating away at his insides.

Ranboo quickly stood to look through all his other chests. His book wasn’t upstairs. Even in his disorganized mess he could tell that the book wasn’t here. He would have seen it and would have recognized the worn cover of the leather bound book with the words Do Not Read scratched onto the front. He moved to check downstairs, continuing his search.

Breathing heavily Ranboo began to worry as he went through the process of going through all of his chests again, this time downstairs. It wasn’t here. Why wasn’t it here? It had to be here. Close to hyperventilating from breathing so fast because of how stressed he was, Ranboo carefully picked Enderchest — his pet cat — up off of a chest with shaking hands before he opened it. He scoured through the contents of the chest, pushing aside building materials and other useless items that meant nothing to him in this moment. Prime he was so disorganized, maybe he should do something about that. No, silly Ranboo, focus on finding your book you duck. Pushing aside a bundle of feathers Ranboo blinked and finally relaxed when he saw what he uncovered. He nearly collapsed when he sighed heavily with relief when the familiar cover of Do Not Read IV looked back up at him.

But why wasn’t it upstairs?

He opened the book.

A smiley face looked back at him.

The book fell from his hands and thumped on the floor.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Quackity knocked on the iron door. He was tempted to just waltz right in, there was a button right next to the door that would make it really easy, but there was no doubt that the owner of the house would hear if he opened the door and would immediately have a sword pointed at his throat. That was not the impression he wanted to make, especially in an important moment like this. So the vice president opted to wait, knocking on the door every now and then as he waited for the owner of the house to show up.

Finally, after nearly fifteen minutes of waiting, the door swung open. Quackity grinned up at the person holding the door open. Punz scowled down at him.

“What do you want Quackity?” Punz asked with a sigh. “I’m busy.”

“I want to talk business,” Quackity said, flashing an emerald at Punz, catching the blond’s eyes. The mercenary just raised an eyebrow but moved out of the doorway, letting the vice president into his home.

“I see you remodeled the place,” Quackity said, looking around the house. It was pretty bare, with a storage room tucked off to the side, a door leading out to the other half of Punz’s property, and two couches with a coffee table between them, a deck of cards and a chessboard laying atop the small wooden table.

“Yeah, Dream pays well, so I spent the time remodeling after I collected the supplies I needed,” Punz admitted, glancing around the blackstone and stone room. “Don’t use the house as much anymore, as you can probably tell.”

“I don’t see why you would when you have that fancy tower of yours,” Quackity said, looking out the window at the tower that was at the bottom of Punz’s property. “So why kept the house all neat?”

“The bees still live here,” Punz pointed at the stairs leading up to the second floor, and the entrance to the small dome built on the side of his house. “I check up on the few that are still alive every now and then.”

Quackity nodded, not really interested in hearing about Punz’s domestic life. Not when he wanted to talk business. He took a seat on one of the couches, looking at the delicate chess set on the coffee table. He picked up one of the pieces and twirled it in his hands, aware of the fact that Punz was staring at him with his arms crossed and a bored expression on his face.

“What do you want Quackity?” Punz asked, repeating the same question he asked earlier as he walked closer to his small seating area, continuing to stand as he watched Quackity carefully. No doubt trying to read his intentions and figure out why he was here.

“You’re up to something, you and Dream,” Quackity said, getting straight to the point. “I want to know what it is.”

“That’s confidential,” Punz said without missing a beat. Quackity scoffed.

“Yeah no shit,” he said with a smirk. “Why do you think I brought money with me? Anything can be bought if it’s the right price, Punz. You of all people should know this.”

The mercenary stared at him carefully before he took the seat opposite of him, crossing his legs over one another. He may have not had his sword by his side, but Quackity could see the dagger sheaths strapped to his legs. He had no doubt that Punz was covered head to toe with weapons. Not that he needed them. A mercenary only capable of using weapons wasn’t useful enough. No, they needed to be skilled in many things, not just knowing how to handle a weapon.

But Quackity wasn't here to fight.

“You’re planning something,” Quackity said, setting the chess piece back down on the board. He turned it a couple of times, smiling to himself. “That’s pretty obvious, considering that I’ve seen you more in the past couple of weeks than I have in the past few months.”

“Dream wants a job done,” Punz said. “It requires more intel than the average job.”

“So what’s the job?” Quackity asked. He looked up at Punz who twisted his lips into a frown, staying silent. That was expected. Disappointing, but expected. He didn’t expect the mercenary to just spill out his secrets. That was bad for business and Quackity knew that.

“Personally, I think it has something to do with that one mystery kid,” Quackity said. “Sure, Dream and Technoblade have gotten along but they’ve never been allies. So why save him the day of the execution? Sure, getting on Technoblade’s good side is something anyone would want, but I think the fact that the kid was there has to do with it.”

Punz stayed silent. He didn’t confirm nor deny Quackity’s assumptions. So Quackity pulled out half a stack of emeralds and laid them on the table, some of the gems spilling for the pouch he secured them in. He knew that Punz did a lot of villager trading, and emeralds were essential for anything that required dealing with the villagers. The mercenary looked at the gems with caution and greed but remained silent.

“It makes me think of that girl, what was her name, Drista?” Quackity continued. “The only person powerful enough to break through the world wards and get a spawn crystal to transport her here, without Dream figuring out until later. They’re siblings or something, right? So now another kid shows up, with blond hair just like Dream and Drista, appearing out of the blue with the attention of both Dream and Techno on him. Pretty suspicious, don’t you think?”

He sets another pouch of emeralds on the table. Now there’s a stack sitting there in front of the mercenary. Punz finally takes the bait.

“Dream claims that they’re related,” he said slowly, being careful with his words. “He said that Techno’s holding the kid hostage so he doesn’t have to pay back his debts to Dream.”

“So what does Dream want you to do about it?” Quackity prompted. Punz shifted in his seat, looking at the pile of gems before him. He’s obviously wary about giving away the details of his job that Dream gave him, but a stack of emeralds has gotten him this far. Quackity isn’t going to back down now. He put a quarter of a stack of diamonds on the small coffee table, adding to the bribery pile. The mercenary opened his mouth.

“I’m supposed to kidnap the kid and return him to Dream,” Punz said. “I have until the end of the week.”

Quackity raised his eyebrows. “The date of L’Manburg’s festival?”

Punz nodded. “The date of the festival.”

Quackity leaned back in his seat. He wished he had his poker chip so he could roll it between his fingers as he thought about what to say to Punz. He needed to buy the mercenary off, and he was already depleting a large part of his stash just to get information out of him. Admitting his plans was one thing, but crossing Dream was something on a whole other level. Quackity didn’t blame Punz for being hesitant to go behind Dream’s back even for just giving away information. It was risky. Nothing got by Dream, or it at least seemed like it.

“I want the kid,” Quackity said, leaning forward and staring right into Punz’s pale blue eyes. The mercenary’s eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow.

“Quackity I can’t do that,” he said with a shake of his head. “Do what you can with the information I gave you, but I’m not doing anything else.”

Quackity just smiled.

“Everyone has a price, Punz. I just have to find yours.”

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Ranboo stood ankle deep in ocean water, dressed in his sleep clothes with none of his amour and not even one of his memory book to help him out. His ankles burned, still submerged in water as he took in his surroundings. It stung, it stung really badly, but he seemed frozen in place as he stared over the water. Overhead the moon and the stars shine down on the ocean water, their reflections dancing atop the ocean waves. In the far distance he can see lights from where he assumed L’Manburg laid over the water but he’s not sure. 

How did he get here?

The water lapped at his ankles. He should probably get out of the water before he collapsed and was unable to walk. He didn’t feel like crawling back to L’Manburg. Down the bank there was a boat, so he could row himself home at the very least. It would still be exhausting considering how much pain he’s in right now. Finally, after being frozen in place for minutes, he managed to turn himself around and walk out of the water. He collapsed into the sandy shore as soon as he got out of the water, but at least he was out. His ankles still hurt really badly, but at least it didn’t feel like he was standing in a bath of poison anymore.

What was he doing here?

Ranboo couldn't remember. Ironic. He almost laughed at himself but he’s too tired to even do that. Instead he rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes, shielding his face from the night sky. Strange, his hands smell like gunpowder.

Why do they smell like gunpowder?

He’s beyond confused. He’s tired, he’s in pain, and he’s all but lost. He had no idea how he got here and he doesn't have any materials on him. Not even his memory book. He doesn't think he sleep-walked out here. He only sleep-walked around places he’s been to before and he’s never been here- not that he would remember anyway, seeing how he can't remember how he even got here. But there were enough people that stayed up all night to catch him and bring him back home if they caught him sleep-walking.

When did he get here?

Tired, the enderman hybrid let himself relax into the sand. He could figure out that mystery later. He would get himself back home and try to figure out what he forgot—

—Ranboo forgot what he was doing. He was dressed in his armor and his suit, and he could feel the outline of his memory book in his inside pocket. He was in his house, in L’Manburg, staring at his hands. He smelled like gunpowder. He stared at the window, looking at the sun that was overhead.

How did he get here?

Chapter Text

It had been over a week since Tommy’s ‘incident.’ He seems to be having a lot of those lately. First turning back into an eight-year-old kid, then being kidnapped and forced to watch his brother’s own execution, the whole ordeal with Dream stalking him, and finally passing out because of a headache. Pretty insane. If the circumstances were a little different Tommy would brag about how awesome and how big of a man he was being able to survive all of that. But when his family has been babying him for days, the idea of bragging isn’t that fun anymore.

He wasn’t allowed to go outside by himself. Ghostbur usually went with him but the two of them weren’t allowed past the tree-line, past the turtle farm, over the hill next to the house, nor were they able to go that far out in the snowy field in the front of the house. Tommy hated those rules. He loved adventure! It was unfair that he was constricted within these stupid boundaries. He understood the importance but it still annoyed him. Sure he was eight but he wasn’t a baby . Stupid Dad and Techno didn’t understand his need to run and explore.

At least the new animals Techno brought home were cool and fun to hang out with.

Andrew was a cool horse. Not as cool as Carl, seeing that Carl loved Tommy and would always sniff around his pockets looking for carrots and apples which made Tommy giggle. Andrew just stood still in his stall, munching on his hay, keeping to himself. He was bigger than Carl and even though Techno had a soft spot for Carl Andrew was obviously the better horse, build-wise. Carl would always be the best in Tommy’s heart.

Bob the cow also had a few new friends. Tommy got to name them. He named one Henrietta and the other Block. Henrietta was a silly cow who loved Tommy. She’d moo at him every time he came into the barn and would nip at his fingers when he went to pet her. Even though Tommy had been bitten more than once he still loved the cow.

Block was lovable too, but not for his charming personality. The cow was so stupid that after Tommy and Techno saw it run into a wall Techno mumbled something about ‘putting it out of it’s misery.’ Tommy wouldn’t allow that though. The cow may be stupid and have no sense of direction but he was still a good cow.

Then there were the chickens. Tommy wasn’t quite sure if there were still twenty-three of them like Ghostbur insisted there were, but he never bothered to count them. It was difficult when they ran in circles around him. They were pesky birds and liked to bite at his ankles when he came to feed them in the mornings with Techno. There was this one nasty one that he had named Bitchza, because she bit him every time he collected her eggs. When he told Phil about Bitchza he just laughed and said it was karma for his wrongdoings. But that couldn’t be right, Tommy and never done anything wrong in his whole life. There was a reason why he was such an awesome big man after all. How would the ladies love him if he was a wrong’un? There was obviously a flaw in Phil’s thinking process. Tommy mourned for his father’s aging brain. One day he’d just drop dead because he was so old.

(To be fair he wasn’t that old, as much as he joked about it. He was more likely to drop dead slandering Phil’s name for calling him old. That or his father would actually finally murder him for the old jokes. Tommy hoped he wouldn’t. He still had so many great things to do in his life.)

Finally there was the army of dogs that Techno was building. They had around a dozen of them now, tamed wolves that Techno had found in the woods and brought home. They had their own kennel and everything because there were so many of them. Tommy loved them all and the dogs loved him back. It was too bad that Techno’s voices named most of them. Tommy at least got away with naming one of them Oak, naming it that because it’s sandy-brown fur reminded him of his favorite type of tree. The dog was so awesome and whenever he was outside Oak would follow him around. Tommy wished he could bring the dog inside so they could cuddle by the fireplace but the dogs weren’t allowed in the house. So he had to make do with being able to play with them outside when he was able to.

He thinks Techno and Phil are secretly happy that he gets along so well with the dogs. They’re trained to be savage beasts that attack on command, following the orders of their owners. So obviously they would be protective of their owner when they were so close. It was extra protection for Tommy as well as companions for the lonely little boy.

But now, in the not-so-early hours of the morning Tommy was watching as Phil and Techno prepared to leave for the day. They’ve been going on mini trips all week. If they go together they’re never far, and they always leave Tommy with instructions to light a firework so they’ll make their way home. If they have to go out farther than a few miles they don’t go together. When Techno went to pick up Andrew from some place called ‘Pogtopia’ (something Tommy briefly remembered Techno talking about and something that made his head tingle) Phil didn’t go with him. He stayed back to make sure that Tommy would be alright.

It was about time that they decided to go out together and farther than they have ever been before. Tommy can hear them whispering at night, making plans for- something. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that them being armed to the teeth is important, and that meant that Techno needed his weapons. He’s been without them for ages now and he’s finally going to get them back, Phil joining him on the journey through the Nether to L'Manburg.

It doesn’t mean that they aren’t worried about leaving Tommy home with just Ghostbur though. They all know how that went last time. They all don’t want a repeat.

“Mate you’ll be fine, we’ll be back by midnight the latest,” Phil assured him as he pulled his cape over his shoulders, wings hidden underneath them. Techno was also preparing his things. Toothpick hung from where it was clipped to his belt, where his sword would usually hang. His hair was pulled back into a tight braid and he was readjusting the gloves that reached up his forearms.

“It’s not like I enjoy this idea either Tommy,” Techno said with a sigh, pausing to ruffle his younger brother’s hair. When Tommy barely responded to the action Techno got down on one knee in front of the skeptical boy who had been watching them prepare for their journey all morning with a worried look in his eyes. “But I have to be fully armed to protect you. I don’t want L’Manburg holding anything over me anymore.”

Tommy sighed and shuffled a socked foot on the floor, not meeting Techno’s eyes. “Promise you’ll be back to keep me safe?” he asked, lifting a hand with his pinkie extended out toward his brother. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment but Techno just smiled and wrapped their pinkies together.

“Promise.”

(If his sixteen-year-old self was here he wouldn’t have been so naïve to think that a few words would keep him safe. Alas, this Tommy was but eight-years-old, and despite the cards dealt to him he thought he would stay safe. It’s too bad that the universe seems to hold a grudge against him.)

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Tommy was tired of card games. It made him miss the board games that he and his brothers would play when holed up in the house during winter storms back in their cottage sandwiched between the meadow and the forest. Combined with the fact that Ghostbur was totally better than him, along with his pissy and worried mood, the card games were doing nothing to put his mind at ease.

Since his dad and Techno left that morning Tommy felt- off . Something was worrying him. He knew he was being silly, that nothing was wrong, but it didn’t stop him from peaking through the window shutters to see if something, or someone, was outside watching him. The unease was driving him crazy and it wasn’t helping his mood at all.

Ghostbur was doing his best to entertain him but it wasn’t working that well. Tommy didn’t know any card games other than ‘Go Fish’ and he didn’t have the attention span to listen to Ghostbur as he tried to teach him new games. Especially since the first game he suggested was solitaire , which sounded like a game for old men or a game you’d purposely play to drive yourself insane. The notebooks that Phil had left for him to write and draw in weren’t enticing, even with the colorful ink that Phil had given him after a trip to the nearby village. The books that Techno recommended that he read weren’t interesting either, and they were too difficult to read and follow along with. His brother vastly overestimated his reading level as well as his attention span. Even Ghostbur reading aloud to him bored him to death in a matter of minutes. The stories just were too detailed and didn’t manage to capture his attention before they got to the good parts. He spaced out for the majority of the time that Ghostbur read to him.

He hated being inside. He wanted to go outside so badly. To run with the dogs — with Oak — as they checked on the turtles, recounted all the chickens, and scavenged in the forest. He wanted to drag Ghostbur around so they could make more snow sculptures and chase after the ravens that lingered about in the tundra. The house may have been decently sized, but with the rules preventing him from going outside, he felt more claustrophobic than usual.

To put it simply, Tommy was bored out of his mind.

And it had only been a few hours.

“Don’t worry Tommy,” Ghostbur said in his echoey voice, trying to cheer up his little brother. “Phil and Techno will be back before you know it! Why don’t you try drawing me a picture or two? We can hang them up when you’re done!”

The ghost smiled at him and Tommy threw the book in his hands at him. It went right threw him and fell to the floor behind him, making Ghostbur giggle. Tommy scowled. Those types of things used to make Wilbur yell and tackle him, taking him down to the floor where they would play fight with one another for hours as they enjoyed one another’s company. Ghostbur wasn’t the same, in a lot of ways.

“I don’t want to draw any pictures,” Tommy grumbled, crossing his arms. He frowned and continued to sulk on the couch. Ghostbur hovered over to his side, playing with his fingers.

“We could play more Go Fish,” Ghostbur suggested, but even he didn’t seem that excited to play the game. They did spend most of the morning playing it after all.

“I don’t want to play stupid Go Fish,” Tommy ground out. “I’m bored . And all of your suggestions are fucking stupid. ”

“Sorry,” the ghost replied. Tommy took a pillow and screamed into it. Ghostbur hovered nearby but said nothing. He didn’t step in to comfort his brother like he would in the past. He didn’t pull out his guitar to play a tune to cheer him up. He just stood there and did nothing . It frustrated Tommy more than he cared to admit.

He was just about to speak about his frustrations and yell at his ghostly brother when he heard something. Sitting up straighter and looking toward the front door Tommy titled his head in confusion.

“Did you hear something?” he asked his brother. The ghost was quiet but he hovered closer to the door, listening. Both of the brothers fell silent as they listened for the strange sound that got their attention.

There it was, the soft sound of footsteps on the porch steps. Footsteps that weren’t familiar. Techno’s were heavy and precise and Phil’s had a bounce in their step. These were cautious, slow, and quiet. They didn’t belong to anyone he knew, they weren’t welcome. They belonged to an intruder.

“Go, hide,” Ghostbur hissed at him, surprising Tommy as he turned to face him. The ghost’s eyes were blown wide and a determined look crossed over his face, but Tommy knew his brother well enough to see that he was afraid of whoever was outside.

Before he got a chance to move Tommy’s eyes widened as the door was slammed open just a second later, the sunlight making the figure in the doorway glow for a moment, illuminating the bucket in their hands. Ghostbur barely had time to turn around to look at the intruder before the figure took a step forward towards the ghost.

“Sorry Ghostbur, but I can’t have you getting in my way,” the figure in white said, thrusting his hands out and spilling the contents of the bucket on Ghostbur. Not expecting the attack the ghost screamed out in pain as water drenched his entire being. His skin steamed and his clothes melted as the water ate through him like acid. It looked awful, like he was being torn apart as the water made him bubble like he had been dipped into poison. Tommy could hear his haunting cries echo in his ears as Ghostbur evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace of the ghost behind, the only evidence being the puddle of water that was on the floor.

It only took seconds for the ghost to disappear into nothing. It only took seconds for the poison-like water to effectively get rid of the ghost. It only took seconds for Ghostbur to be gone.

For a beat, there was silence. Both the intruder and Tommy seemed too surprised by the ghost’s disappearance to do anything. They both stared at the spot where Ghostbur used to hover.

Then Tommy screamed.

Even after being terrorized by the sight of his ghostly brother melting into thin air Tommy forced himself to take action. Tommy kicked himself off of the couch and ran to Phil’s room, thinking about the window he could crawl out of and maybe escape from the intruder. But the figure in white (who was looking more familiar by the second) moved quicker than he expected. They only had to take a few large steps to effectively block Tommy’s exit and catch him by his arms, pulling him into his chest and holding him tightly in place. The boy screamed and kicked but the arms around him squeezed tightly, trapping him, and making it harder to breath.

“Prime, quit screaming kid,” the intruder hissed. Tommy struggled in their arms, now remembering where he had seen this person before. This was Punz, that guy from Techno’s execution that threw around the TnT sticks. In the frenzy he didn’t quite get a good look at him, but he still knew who he was in this moment. The familiar white accompanied by netherite armor and the gold chain stuck out in his mind as he thrashed in Punz’s arms, trying to free himself.

Tommy did everything he could think of to try and escape the intruder’s grasp. He tried to bite him, but he had netherite wrist guards that protected his arms. He’d break his teeth if he tried anything like that. And as he struggled, kicking out at Punz’s shins and hands clawing at the arms that trapped him, he was getting more worn out. The arms around him didn’t budge, making it all the more clear to Tommy that his efforts to escape were going to be useless. His fingers were going raw with pain and his heels ached from all the time he had kicked into Punz’s netherite armor. Punz continued to hold him as he wasted his energy trying to get free.

Tears burned in his eyes and slid down his cheeks as he screamed and cried. He stopped kicking and could no longer find the strength to claw at his captor. He effectively went limp in Punz’s arms as he sobbed, out of energy. Punz loosened his grip on the boy and took the time to bind his arms and gag the boy before finally wrapping a blindfold around Tommy’s eyes.

He had been captured again. He didn’t know what he did to put himself into this situation. He had been a good kid and didn't understand why he had so many enemies out to get him.

As he was hauled to his feet and dragged out into the snow Tommy cried because he didn’t know what he did wrong.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

He didn’t know this place. But he had a horrible feeling that this place knew him.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. But he had a horrible feeling that his place knew that too.

He had only been on a train, and to a train station, once before. It was when he first ran away from home with Tommy. Their world crossing crystals had run out of energy, rendering them useless, and making it impossible to leave the world that they had transported themselves to. They had taken a train out of the bustling city so he could find a job and work to buy new crystals so they weren’t trapped in a world that was too busy for country boys like them. It proved to be successful in the end, but he still remembered how stressed out and anxious those train platforms made him. The feeling hadn’t changed, even in his new ghostly state in the Void realm.

The train platform from his memories was pretty different from this place. In his memories the train platforms had been super busy, bustling with people hurrying to get to their destinations. The lights felt super artificial and they weren’t red, instead a blinding white that didn’t dim even when the night sky was above the city. He remembered how he had held his brother close, afraid to lose the young boy in the crowd. He remembered how he clutched their train passes tightly in his hands, afraid that he’d lose their one ticket out of the city. He remembered how afraid he was, a young adult just a few months into his adolescence who wasn’t prepared for the real world. But he was desperate to take his brother and get away from the father and brother that had all but abandoned them.

But now he’s afraid for different reasons.

He didn’t like the red lights. The lights in this underground train station didn’t create a lot of light and shadows danced across the platform whenever a train rumbled by. It’s too quiet for a train station that should be bustling with people. He’s not alone, but he’s lonely, and feels so out of place.

He can hear snoring from where a man laid in the shadows on an uncomfortable metal bench much like the one he was seated upon. Alcohol bottles were scattered on the floor around him, some of them were broken while others were empty. Stains of sticky alcohol dried underneath where the bottles laid, having most likely fallen out of the sleeping man’s hand.

Near the sleeping man was another man, cloaked in shadows. He could faintly hear the humming of mariachi music coming from that man from where he was, yards away from the two of them. The humming was quiet, silly even, but it didn’t improve his worried and anxious mood.

Not when the smell of smoke was so close to him, clinging to him as the person whom he despised the most was sitting a mere few feet away from him.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He knew that. The person sitting beside him knew that. The two men in the shadows probably knew that. Hell, even this place knew that. He was the odd one out, the freak, who didn’t want to be here but was stuck here despite his best efforts.

It’s not like he wanted to show up here. If the trains bothered to stop at the platform, pausing on their journey to who knows where, he would take up the opportunity to jump on the first one that stopped by without hesitation. He would ignore the way the ground felt too real beneath his strangely stolid feet and would pry open those doors even if it made his fingers bleed red and blue. Anything to get away from this place. Anything to get back to Tommy.

Then again, he’s not sure if the train would even take him back to the Overworld. He’s not sure how he showed up here. He doesn’t remember if he stumbled off of a train or if he just materialized here as he melted in the Overworld.

All he knew is that everything about this place made him uncomfortable. The smell of smoke with the lingering stench of weed and alcohol tickled his nose, making him feel like he had to sneeze every minute or so. The metal bench he sat upon was extremely uncomfortable and he didn’t like how the metal made his already cold skin freezing to the touch. He didn't like how he felt solid in this place, that he didn’t have the ability to phase through things. He didn't like the people that he was stuck here with. He didn’t like how the only colors here were red, black, grey, and white.

He missed blue.

Blue like Friend’s coat of wool that kept him warm. Blue like the putty and ink that he would stain his hands with so he could feel something and appear to be more colorful than he was. Blue like the ocean and eyes of the girl with salmon red hair that would grab his hand and run with him into the waves. Blue like Phil and Techno’s capes that blended into the sky and snow, turning their backs to him once again. Blue like the sky and the stripe on the flag that flew from the flag post in a land that he called his home. Blue like Tommy’s eyes that glittered with youth, mischief, amusement, anger, sadness, fear-

Blue like Tommy’s eyes.

Tommy.

He didn’t mean to leave him behind. He just wanted to protect him. He wanted to protect his little brother whom he had failed time and time again. He had left him alone with that- with that-

He didn’t remember what or who he left his brother with. All he remembered was the fear in Tommy’s eyes before he faded away into the Void realm. All he remembered was the fear and sense of failure that he had felt when he realized that he had failed his brother again.

He was pretty good at doing that it seemed. Even now, as a ghost and remnant of himself, he still failed his brother. He really couldn’t do anything to protect him like he had promised him years ago, in a time that he barely remembered now, even as a ghost.

Oh. His cheeks were burning. Even in a more solid state water still seemed to hurt him. It almost made him laugh at the irony.

Another train rumbled by, the lights that flickered by making the shadows dance as the train raced past their platform. The two men in the shadows didn’t stir at the sound, neither did the man that smelt of smoke who was sitting a few feet away from him. He didn’t either, now used to it from the time he had spent here.

Hours, days, weeks, months. Time was an anomaly here. It felt like no time (so much time) had passed by, yet he had no way of telling.

Bringing his knees up onto the bench and to his chest he wrapped his arms around them, blinking away the burning tears. He clutched at the sleeves of his yellow sweater, pulling at the fraying ends and slipping his fingers into the holes that were forming at the cuffs of his sleeves. He tried to clear his head and ignore the smell of smoke at the haunting red lights. He buried his head in his knees, cancelling out his senses as he tried to calm himself and his anxious mind.

It didn’t last very long.

Something brushed against his ear. He startled but froze when he smelled the smoke and could almost feel how the person beside him leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“You’re not supposed to be here little ghost,” the person said with a chuckle, breathing into his ear, his voice low and dark. “It’s time to wake up now.”

He blinked. The train station disappeared, taking the men and the person he despised along with it. There were no more red lights, no more sounds of rumbling trains, snoring, and humming of mariachi music, and there was no hint of the stench of smoke that had been itching at his nose. It was all gone.

Then he silently screamed as a wave of pain and agony crashed down onto him, making him curl into himself as he finally woke up in the Overworld, pulling himself back into reality as he slowly forgot about his time spent in the Void realm.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Techno knew something was wrong as soon as they came around the small bend of the hill that was guarding one of the sides of his house.

It had been a successful trip back to L’Manburg. They had immediately run into Ranboo, who Techno quickly took hostage and demanded his weapons back from. Under the watchful and threatening gaze of both Phil and himself the young hybrid was quick to cave to the pressure of giving up the weapons. He didn’t even get Mr. Government himself, Tubbo, before giving Techno his weapons back. Techno thought this mission was going to be more difficult than that but considering this was the same boy who had freely given him back his crown, mask, and armor, maybe he should have expected it to be this easy. The enderman hybrid gave into peer pressure almost comically quick.

On their way out of L’Manburg they had run into Fundy, the fox hybrid who was technically (don’t quote Techno nor his voices on that) Wilbur’s son. Phil was quick to ask him about information on the cabinet meetings that were exclusively just for the L’Manburg government officials. They had dragged Fundy into some half built, new structure where they had interrogated him for information. That’s how they found out about the festival happening in a couple days' time. All it took was some mild threatening for them to get what they needed. Techno didn’t even regret the terror he saw in the Fundy’s eyes when he brought out a wither skull. It did get him what he wanted in the end, and that’s all that mattered anyway. The faster they got things done the quicker they could get home to Tommy. The quicker he could fulfill his promise to the boy about keeping him safe.

Techno didn’t even think that they were away from the house for more than ten hours, probably closer to eight. Night had just begun to fall, the sun half-done setting behind them, when Phil and himself stepped out of the portal into the tundra. The time it took for them to travel to and from L’Manburg made it seem like the time to get his weapons was more than what they were worth, but it was far easier to steal them back then to craft an entire new set. Especially when he knew the weight of each weapon in his hands perfectly, and could easily use these weapons at will without a thought.

The sooner he got to Tommy, the sooner that he was there to protect him, the better.

But as they rounded the bend of the hill and saw the dark and empty feeling house Techno wasn’t so sure of that he would be able to fulfill his promise anymore.

The voices were screaming at him as he stared for a moment at the dark house. He quickly began to run through the snow, leaving Phil behind as he bound up to the house. The overwhelming sense of wrongness was making his head spin and the voices weren’t helping. Especially when he was trying to focus and couldn’t do that in his fear-stricken frenzy.

He took note of the footprints in the snow, his hybrid eyes being able to see them clearly despite the lack of light. The footprints came to and from the forest, facing in both directions. The intruder had come out of the forest then, approaching the house and letting themselves in before leaving. There was a second set of tracks that just came from the house, smaller than the other footprints. They looked like they had been half dragged through the snow before the footprints stopped suddenly halfway to the forest edge, like the person had been picked up. Techno would have assumed teleportation if the footprints leading into the forest did not continue, but they did. The tracks got heavier as they disappeared into the trees. It would be hard to track them considering it had started snowing right as they had stepped into the tundra all but twenty minutes ago.

Turning back to the house Techno felt the dread building up in his gut. The house emitted no light, not even a flicker of a lantern flame escaped through the closed shutters. Even if Tommy was asleep Ghostbur would have left a couple of lanterns lit for the boy and for Phil and himself for when they eventually came home. Tommy had a minor fear of the dark, especially with the nightmares he had been getting lately, so there would be at least one light source out. Instead there was none.

Techno practically ran up the front steps to the porch. Phil wasn’t far behind him, a bird on his shoulder and a worried expression on his face as he watched Techno climb the stairs and approach the door. Techno swung open the front door with one swift push and paused as soon as he stepped foot inside. He heard Phil come up behind him but his father didn’t step through the threshold into the house either, probably too shocked by the sight in front of him much like Techno was.

Ghostbur was hovering in the middle of the room. There was a puddle of half-dried water on the floor that the ghost had one half-formed leg hovering above. Ghostbur himself wasn’t looking too good. The ghost was missing half of his body. The majority of his left shoulder was gone, as well as the leg that was hovering over the puddle of water. His body was slowly knitting itself back together but it looked like a slow and possibly painful process considering the look on the ghost’s face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, making his skin steam, and the ghost looked unbelievably lost.

What stood out the most to Techno was the lack of Tommy. The boy was nowhere to be found and Techno had a horrible feeling that no matter how hard he looked he would not be able to find the boy anywhere in the house or on his property. When Ghostbur’s hollow white eyes met his own brown ones he knew his assumptions were true.

“Techno?” the ghost asked as he tilted his head, taking a cautious and lopsided step forward. “Where is Tommy?”

Chapter Text

For a kidnapper, Punz wasn’t that horrible. However, that didn’t mean that Tommy wasn’t scared of him. It’s not every day you watch your brother die and get kidnapped.

Wait a second, that wasn’t fucking true, this is the second time it happened.

It’s beyond stupid that this had happened more than once now. Tommy should be getting paid for this. Especially in the chance that it happens again. He deserved some money or diamonds or something for being traumatized by the adults around him. Especially if he’s going to be stuck in a creepy place like this.

Tommy’s trapped in a basement. It’s rather stereotypical, as Wilbur would have said, being kidnapped and thrown into a basement with poor lighting. Especially when the first thing that Punz had said to him after taking his gag off was “scream all you want, no one will hear you.” He hated to admit that those words scared the hell out of him.

His wrist was cuffed to the bed that was in this basement room. The chain that attached him to the bed would rattle whenever he moved and make an Ender awful sound when it scraped against the concrete floor. There was a single redstone lamp shining above him, and the dust powering it must have been old because the lamp would flicker out on occasion, sending him into complete darkness before it flicked back on. He screamed the first time it happened. He may or may not have cried as well because the shock on the pitch darkness terrified him. But who can blame him, he was just some little kid wrapped up in a horrible situation that was a prisoner to some mercenary that had killed his brother and stole him from his home.

Like Tommy said before, Punz wasn’t the worst. He honestly had expected like a torture room or something considering how he came and killed Ghostbur in seconds before dragging Tommy out into the snow. Instead the mercenary just knocked him out during their journey, only waking him once he was trapped in this room with the fabric of the gag hanging around his neck and an iron shackle cuffed around his wrist. Then Punz just- left him. He didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything more than what he had already done, and he just gave the boy a strange look before leaving him alone. Tommy didn’t like to think about what that look might have implied. Maybe he was going to get tortured later. Or killed even. Or maybe he was going to be sold for ransom. Didn’t mercenaries hunt people for money? Ransom would make sense. Tommy shivered at the thought of being passed off to someone worse than Punz.

The redstone lamp flickered overhead. It made Tommy jump even though this had easily happened a dozen times now. Every sound, flicker of light, and movement against his skin sent him into a frenzy of rushed breaths.

Curling into himself Tommy buried his face in his knees, trying to find safety in himself even if it was doing no good. He sat on the cold concrete floor, refusing to sit in the bed. He thought that if he gave into the one luxury that Punz had given him that he would unintentionally let his guard down, and he didn’t want that to happen. He had to stay on his toes, like Techno instructed him to do whenever he was in a dangerous situation.

Tommy lifted his head up from his knees when he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. Preparing himself for the worst, Tommy alerted his whole body to the potential threat that stopped outside of the door. When he heard the rattling of the doorknob he scrambled back, using his hands and feet to push himself farther away from the door as it swung open. Punz stepped into the room, the cold and emotionless mercenary taking slow steps into the room. He was carrying a plate of food in his hands and paused right outside of the doorway to stare down at the boy, an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment he closed the door behind him, and Tommy hated the whine that escaped his throat when he realized he was stuck in a room with a dangerous killer.

Punz took a step forward and set the plate of food on the floor, sliding it gently towards him. He sat down on the floor and rested his back against the door, watching Tommy and making no other moves to come closer to the boy. Tommy flicked his eyes away from the mercenary for a second, looking down at the plate of food. He hadn’t eaten anything in hours and it did look awfully appetizing for a plain old sandwich. He gulped and pushed himself further away from the food until his back was pressed up against the cold concrete wall. He wouldn’t take this villain’s pity food even when his stomach growled softly.

It could be a trap. The food could be poisoned, or drugged with something. Punz could be trying to buy his trust and lower his guard. It could be a multitude of dangerous things that wouldn’t be good for Tommy. Thoughts spiraled through his head as he continued to stare at the sandwich, almost forgetting that he wasn’t alone in the room.

“It’s not poisoned, it’s just a sandwich,” the mercenary said with a sigh, making Tommy jump with surprise. “I’m not going to hurt you kid.”

“You killed Ghostbur,” Tommy said darkly, his voice hoarse from the screaming he did earlier today and the crying he did more recently. He stared at the mercenary and he had the guts to look away from him, eyes looking up at the ceiling and the dying redstone lamp.

“He was in the way,” he said. “I’m not sorry about it either, he’s just a ghost.”

“You’re a sick fuck,” Tommy hissed, digging his fingers into the bare skin of his arms. It hurt, but it wasn’t enough to make him bleed. Punz didn’t look back at him.

“That’s nothing that I don’t already know, kid.”

Tommy frowned. He kicked the plate of food further away from himself. The clay plate made a horrible screeching noise against the rough concrete floor that made Tommy wince. Punz didn’t even flinch or look towards the plate. Instead his eyes came to settle on Tommy once again. Tommy couldn’t read Punz at all. He wasn’t good at reading people in general but Punz was completely blank and emotionless. Usually he could figure out one emotion hiding in someone’s gaze but Punz was always unreadable. It scared him more than he cared to admit, and he couldn’t help but shiver as he could almost feel the way that Punz’s eyes studied him.

“Why am I here?” Tommy asked, finally mustering the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing him since Punz entered the creepy room he was trapped in.

“Your capture is promising me a lot of money,” Punz said easily. “It was too good of an offer to pass up on.”

“But why me!?” Tommy cried out. He was confused, he was upset, and he was scared. His eyes burned at more tears built behind them and he pouted as he slouched against the cold wall behind him, not taking his eyes off of Punz.

“I don’t ask questions, I just get the job done,” Punz responded coldly. “Things get messy when you ask questions.”

“So you’ll kidnap some kid but won’t get into the mess of the reason why they are getting kidnapped?” Tommy asked in a somewhat sarcastic tone. “That seems, hippo-hypo- that seems stupid to me.”

“Hypocritical?” Punz offered. Tommy scowled at him and didn’t bother to respond. To his surprise Punz just sighed and ran a hand through his platinum blond hair. “Yeah, I would call myself a hypocrite too.”

“I think that you’re a dickhead,” Tommy snarled. “I hate you, I think you’re a stupid fucking prick, and I want you to leave .”

Punz froze. His ice-blue eyes stared at him for a long moment and for a second Tommy almost thought he could see confusion and disbelief in his eyes. But it disappeared too quickly for him to really come to any conclusions. It left Tommy feeling unsettled.

Abruptly, Punz got to his feet. He pushed the plate of food closer to Tommy and turned his back to him, opening the door. He paused in the doorway before leaving, a hand on the doorknob. He didn’t turn back around but Tommy saw him angle his head slightly back towards him. Maybe Punz could see him out of the corner of his eyes, but his blond hair hid his face.

“Eat your sandwich,” Punz said, almost grimly, before closing the door behind him. The door rattled in its frame and Tommy shuddered, rubbing his hands up and down his bruised arms as he stared at the door. His emotions felt all over the place as his eyes fell back down on the sandwich sitting innocently on the plate at his feet.

The redstone lamp flickered out again.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Tommy kind of regretted eating that sandwich. It was a pretty good sandwich even if the bread tasted a little stale and he didn’t like mustard, but good nonetheless. It wasn’t even poisoned, just a normal sandwich.

No, he regretted eating it now because he can feel bile rising in the back of his throat as he anxiously waited with Punz outside for someone to come and take him. He was being pawned off to someone, like he had suspected. It didn’t make the situation any less scary. He didn’t know who Punz had promised him to and he didn’t even know where he was. He was gagged again and had a blindfold tied tightly around his eyes, and his wrists were bound as well. Punz’s tight grip on his upper arm wasn’t helping the anxiety building up in his gut either. Neither was the cold, considering he didn’t have a jacket, shoes, or anything else that could save him from the cold. He almost wanted to ask for the white sweatshirt that Punz had, but one; he couldn’t talk because of the gag, and two; he doubted the mercenary would give it to him. So he had to suffer as his arms and feet slowly froze. He almost wanted the client of Punz’s kidnapping job to hurry up so he could get somewhere warmer.

His stomach churned again and he swayed on his feet, Punz being the only thing there to keep him upright. He never realized how nauseous he could get in the cold. It was winter after all. Wasn’t it like, nearly February now? He can’t remember anything before that day Techno found him a few days after Christmas, and it’s been at least a month since he had stayed with him. Probably longer but he wasn’t keeping track of the time. He was just trying to live and ignore the responsibilities that the adults had to handle. Maybe he had fucked a lot of things up turning into a kid. He didn't know and he didn’t like to think about it, that’s for sure.

Just when he thought he might have passed out from the cold, because he’s lightheaded now from breathing sporadically, he heard someone approaching. His other senses were currently of no use to him but he could hear pretty damn well. The sound of shoes against damp dirt was unmistakable when everything else was eerily silent around them.

“Punz, just the man I want to see! And you have the kid too!”

Tommy recognized that voice. He choked down more bile in his throat and lurched forward as he found it more difficult to stand. He knew that voice, he knew that voice, he knew that voice.

“Quackity,” Punz greeted coldly. “You’re late.”

“Fashionably late,” Quackity replied. Tommy could hear the smile in his voice. He could envision it in his mind too. (Just like how he could envision Quackity at Techno’s execution, a hand tightly gripping his hair, barking out orders, yelling at his brother, blood staining his body as it slowly turned to dust. He swallowed down more bile.)

“Whatever, just give me my money,” Punz said, once again the ever cold and emotionless mercenary. Quackity laughed and Tommy could hear him pass something over to Punz, the clinking sounds of precious materials sounding awfully familiar to all the times that Techno had come home with precious materials in hand. Punz’s hand left his arm to probably take the money from Quackity, and without the support of someone else to keep him standing Tommy’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground unceremoniously, lying still like a slug.

“Ender, what happened to him? You’re not pawning an injured kid off to me are you Punz?” Quackity asked. Tommy heard footsteps approaching him as he was hauled to his feet rather roughly, the grip on his upper arm tighter than how Punz had held him. Fingernails dug into his skin and the touch on his arm burned.

“We’ve been standing outside for the better part of a half-an-hour Quackity, you can take a wild guess. He doesn’t even have a jacket so he might have hypothermia at this point.”

Quackity cursed something under his breath in a language that Tommy couldn’t understand. He flinched when Quackity tugged him closer to his side, a whimper managing to escape his throat and pass through his gag when he was practically forced to lean his weight into the side of the cruel Vice President that had turned into his new captor.

“Quackity,” Punz said, breaking the silence that had grown between the two men, sounding farther away. Tommy cursed his light footsteps, he couldn’t keep track of where Punz was if he was moving around so lightly. He wished that he could see.

“What is it? Your payment is all there, what more do you want?” Quackity asked harshly, clearly wanting to get this exchange over with quickly. They had been standing out here for a while, it would be difficult to explain to anyone what was happening at this moment if someone came across them.

“Don’t hurt him. He’s just a kid.”

That surprised Tommy. Punz had killed Ghostubr right in front of his eyes, stole him from his home, dragged him through the wilderness unconscious, locked him in his creepy basement, and was now passing him off to some scary and evil government guy for some money. And he was asking Quackity not to hurt him ? What the fuck, where did the sudden empathy come from? Tommy didn’t have a clue as to why Punz would ask such a thing considering how he has treated him in the past. Maybe he saw how Quackity treated him during Techno’s execution. Could that be why?

“You have so little faith in me Punz,” Quackity laughed. “I won’t hurt him. Ender, you’re such a hypocrite, just look at yourself.”

“You don’t need to tell me what I already know,” Punz said quietly. “Just don’t hurt the kid. It’s not fair that he got swept into all of this.”

“Not fair? I don’t think it’s fair that any of us got swept into this but look where we are Punz! We’re walking the streets of hell and dancing with devils and now we’ve got to deal with it!” Quackity snapped at Punz, making Tommy flinch at the harshness of the Vice President’s tone of voice. “Once you’re in Dream’s world you can’t escape his clutches and the wars and violence that come with living in this shitty place. The kid should have learned that nothing good would have happened to him from coming here. He should blame himself for getting into this shit because it sure as hell isn’t our fault that he’s here. It’s his fault. ”

Punz stayed silent and Quackity laughed bitterly. Tommy shuddered and leaned away from the man only earning a harsher grip on his arm. Tears burned in his eyes as the words “it’s his fault” echoed in his head. It was his fault, wasn’t it?

“Have a good night Quackity,” Punz said as his voice got fainter. He had probably turned his back to the two of them, leaving Tommy alone with this crazy. Tommy wanted him to come back, he didn’t want to be alone with Quackity. He preferred the mercenary over this guy even if he did kidnap him. Punz didn’t have the best intentions but he had shown him a little bit of kindness. Quackity was the reason that he was here and why he had been stolen away, and he had assaulted him with harsh words and tight grips around his arm.

In response to Punz’s lame retreat, Quackity only laughed. He started tugging on Tommy’s arm, leading him away from the mercenary and the place of their meeting. Tommy let out another whimper, hating how pathetic he sounded as he stumbled over his own numb feet, forced to keep up with the Vice President that was now his new captor. If he was Phil, or Techno, or even Wilbur, they would be fighting back, not giving in like he was. 

But he had never been like any of them, and sometimes, Tommy considered that one of his most fatal flaws.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

“Quackity, what the fuck .”

Fundy stared down at the boy that Quackity had trapped in the basement of a house that before today the fox hybrid had no idea existed. It was a house that was hidden in the trees in the spruce forest behind L’Manburg, the forest that had a horribly built railway above it that could only be Tommy’s doing. The railway led to Pogtopia, but no one wandered in that direction anymore. Not since the last war between the rebellious group that reclaimed their nation. Fundy honestly thought this forest was deserted, but no, Quackity had a little shack hidden here between the trees.

And, apparently, he had a kid trapped in the dirt basement underneath said shack with nothing here to keep him warm or bring him any form of comfort. It was horror book levels of creepy that made Fundy’s ears flatten against the top of his head with worry. Especially when the kid’s blue eyes shone with tears in the light of the lantern that Quackity held up so they could get a better look at him. Looking at those teary eyes made Fundy feel sick to his stomach. What the fuck had Quackity done? How the fuck did he even get this kid?

“This is the reason why I wanted you to meet with me tonight Fundy,” Quackity said with a smirk, eyes fixated on the kid. “This, Fundy, is the key to our success.”

Fundy had no idea what he was talking about, but he watched with wary eyes as Quackity walked right up to the kid. With one hand he gripped the kid’s jaw so the kid would look him in the eyes. Quackity’s feral smirk grew into a feral grin as his dark eyes stared into the bright eyes of the boy that he had cornered, like a hunter trapping his prey. The way that Quackity looked at him was beyond unnerving and Fundy could only imagine how the kid felt being manhandled by Quackity’s rough grip. It was even more unnerving when Quackity let the kid go to pet his hair in an almost fond way. His smile grew a little softer, but it was still creepy, and he pulled his hand away from the kid's hair, leaving him a shocked and terrified mess, as he curled into himself in his corner. If Fundy was a braver man he would rush over and would knock his Vice President over the head and take the kid and fucking run . But Fundy was not a brave man, and that was something that he knew all too well.

“Yeah, but what the fuck,” Fundy said in shock, taking a few steps closer to Quackity as the Vice President gave the kid some space. The two came to stand next to one another again, both fixating their eyes on the kid, likely with different thoughts running through their heads. “You have a kid in your basement. You do not see how suspicious that is?”

Quackity waved it off like it was nothing. Literally, he waved his hand in the air and chuckled a little. At the sound of his laughter the kid flinched back, curling tighter into himself in the corner he was situated in. It made Fundy’s heart ache just looking at him. This kid had never been treated kindly by Quackity, not at Technoblade's execution and definitely not now, as Fundy looked down at him. The boy was gagged and his hands were bound, and even if he tried to run both Fundy or Quackity could easily stop him since they were standing in front of the stairs that led up to the house. He had nowhere to go. This made Fundy’s stomach roll and he shifted on his feet with discomfort. He’d rather be anywhere then here right now.

“Fundy, you see, this is the same kid that Dream and Techno were protecting,” Quackity explained, lifting the lantern so he could get a better look at the kid. “Punz also slipped some very useful information to me that only makes having the kid even more beneficial for me- for L’Manburg.”

“I still don’t get it,” Fundy said, crossing his arms. His ears and tail flicked involuntarily and Fundy had to bet that anyone who could read the body language of a hybrid like himself could tell that he was uncomfortable. But Quackity didn’t say a thing, the half-blind Vice President still had his eyes on the kid. Until he turned and grinned at Fundy, creeping him out with that grin that was a little too much teeth since the scar tissue on his face raised his lip up. Fundy fought back the urge to recoil like the kid had when Quackity grabbed his face.

“Tomorrow’s the festival, as you know,” Quackity said. “Dream’s supposed to be in attendance and our plan is shit. You know that, I know that, and Tubbo’s denying it. And Ranboo doesn’t have any opinions of his own, he’s a worse yes-man than Tubbo is. So I got the upper hand by myself.”

“Upper hand?” Fundy repeating, trying to break down what Quackity could possibly mean when he said that he got them the ‘upper hand.’ His grin grew wider as he jerked his head toward the kid, who had been watching them with careful eyes since the moment that Quackity stepped away from him.

“Just imagine what kind of upper hand we’ll have against Dream when he’s face to face with the sight of his younger brother who is in our control,” Quackity explained, crossing an arm behind his back and lowering the arm with the lantern to his side. Fundy’s mouth dropped open.

“No way,” he said. “No no no no way.”

Quackity only nodded in response to Fundy’s shock. Fundy lifted his arms up and ran them through his hair, his eyes landing back on the kid once again. He was shaking and tears were running down his cheeks as he cowered in the corner. Fundy wondered if this talk of the festival and Dream finally brought him to his breaking point. The lantern light only illuminated him enough that you could tell that there was a small human boy in the corner, but Fundy’s hybrid eyes made up for what the human eye couldn’t usually see. Now, Fundy kind of wished that he couldn’t see the fearful look in the defenseless kid’s eyes. The eyes of Dream’s fucking brother .

“You do realize how insane this is, right?” Fundy turned Quackity, getting the Vice President’s attention. “Now I realized why everyone with power wanted the kid. No one has anything on Dream. No one! What are we even going to do with him?”

Quackity chuckled when he saw Fundy’s shocked expression. Fundy wanted to express his concerns, tell Quackity how wrong this could go if they mess up. Fundy didn’t even want to ask how he came to the conclusion that kidnapping and threatening a kid would be their best chance against Dream. Honestly, Fundy thinks that they would just provoke the man even more. They stood no chance against Dream, even if the man had no armor and spare weapons. The only people that could hold their own against him were Technoblade and Philza, most likely. What did Quackity have planned for this kid that he would be able to stop Dream in his tracks?

“That, Fundy, is where you come into play,” Quackity said. Fundy’s mind went blank. All the previous thought and concerns he had vanished in the blink of an eye. What did Quackity want from him?

“Pardon?” the fox hybrid squeaked out. Quackity laughed.

“You must know that this festival has been a project that mostly Ranboo and Tubbo have been spending time working on,” Quackity started. “So when Dream comes around, you are going to help distract him so I can run and get the kid. I might move him to my house in L’Manburg, but right now this is the safest place for him.”

Fundy kind of doubted it. The spruce plank ceiling looked like it could fall on top of them. The dirt walls could crumble in on the boy, Ender knows how close the boardwalks of L’Manburg get to flooding when it rains really hard, he could bet that heavy rainfall would do this place no good. Anywhere would be safer than here. Anywhere that wasn’t with Quackity Fundy hated to admit.

Ever since Technoblade had killed him Quackity had been more off than usual. He was boiling over with the need for revenge and power. He honestly was turning into a control freak and psychopath, somebody like Wilbur in his final days spent in Pogtopia. He wasn’t like the Quackity back in the Manburg days that he had confided in when they shared secrets and drinks behind Schlatt’s back. No, this was an entirely different person compared to those times. Fundy didn’t like this version of Quackity. He missed the drug-dealing humorous guy that could always bring a smile to your face with his jokes. Fundy couldn’t see that in him anymore.

Fundy ran a hand over his face and stared back down at the kid hiding away, tucked into the corner, as far away from the two of them as he could get. His blue eyes were hauntingly familiar and for the supposed ‘brother’ of Dream he seemed a little meek and timid. Fundy had heard about Drista, Dream’s sister, and comparing the siblings together this boy stuck out like a sore thumb. Fundy wasn’t going to focus on that fact too much, not when he needed to have a clear head if they were going to make this plan work. He couldn’t get all sappy and empathic now, not when the future of their nation depended on everything going perfectly tomorrow at the festival. So, despite his better judgement and the gut feelings that he was about to do something he would regret, the fox hybrid sighed and turned to Quackity.

“So, what do you need me to do?”

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Ghostbur had been wandering around Techno’s property for hours now. He kept calling and looking for Tommy, his echoey voice bouncing around in the air as he searched for his brother. It was no use though, Tommy was nowhere to be found. But Techno wasn’t going to be the one to break the news to him, and Phil wasn’t inclined to tell the poor ghost either. So they let him wander as he searched for a brother that was nowhere to be found.

Techno turned away from the window where he had been watching Ghostbur wander in the dark. Phil was pacing around the living room, his feet always stepping around the towel that had been laid over the puddle of water that was in the middle of the flood. Judging by his expression the man was beyond worried for Tommy and his safe being. Techno was worried out of his mind as well, even if he wasn't as obvious with his emotions as Phil was.

He stepped away from the window and sat in the armchair, watching Phil as he paced. There was no sign of a scuffle in the room anymore, unless you counted the towel on the floor. Techno had picked up the items that had been tossed to the floor soon after they came home while Phil did his best to calm down a delirious Ghostbur who had been hysterical after he realized Tommy was gone and they didn’t know where he was.

Honestly, Techno could relate. As soon as he realized his little brother was missing the voices went ballistic. The need to spill blood was strong and Techno almost stormed into the forest to do just that, to take out his anger on any poor animal that had the unfortunate fate of crossing his path. Phil was the one to stop him, to tell him that he couldn’t blame himself, to sit him down with a cup of hot chocolate in his hand like he had done for him when he was a child. But all Techno could focus on for the first hour of realizing that Tommy was gone was the promise he had made to him, and the promise he had broken.

“I will keep you safe, forever and always, and no harm will come to you ,” were the words that Techno neglected to say to his brother before they had departed from home earlier that day.

Those were the words that he had wanted to say when he wrapped his pinky finger around his younger brother’s own pinky, staring into those ever-bright blue eyes. Those were the same words he remembered whispering to the small four-year-old boy, tucked into his bed on a quiet night after he had almost fallen into the river near their childhood home only to be saved by Techno. Then, in that earth-shattering moment so many years ago, Techno had never felt such a strong need to protect Tommy before that moment when he had almost lost the boy he had come to call his little brother. Years later he would feel the same way when he found an age-reversed brother stumbling through the snowy forest with nowhere else to go. But Techno had said nothing other than “promise” to Tommy when he said he would come back to keep him safe. And for the first time in ages, Techno was confident that this soul-crushing feeling he had in response to losing his brother was heartbreak.

(The voices had wailed when they realized Tommy was gone. They screamed, shouted, cried, cursed, and did everything Techno wished he could have done when he first discovered his brother missing. They mourned as they realized that they too had failed and broke the promise they made to Tommy. They were like the siblings that wanted to be there for Tommy but could only influence Techno and his older sibling responsibilities. They cared for the boy as much as he did, so they were well within their right to be upset at his disappearance.)

Phil’s footsteps came to a halt and Techno broke free from his thoughts to look up at his father as he paused in the center of the room.

“So, Tommy is gone,” Phil said lamely, his wings hanging sadly from his back. Techno just stared at him before he scowled and clenched his hands into fists as he reclined in his seat.

“We should have brought him with us,” Techno ground out, his words coming out as something close to a snarl. Phil just shook his head.

“That wouldn’t have been ideal, and you know that,” Phil responded, giving him a pitying look. “Stop blaming yourself mate, it’s not your fault.”

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

The words bounced around in Techno’s head, mocking him. Phil could say whatever he wanted, the voices could say whatever they wanted, but this was his fault. He came to the conclusion that his weapons were more important than Tommy, and despite the fact that they had a break-in just a week ago, he still left Tommy alone with just Ghostbur at home.

Techno shouldn’t have put so much faith in the ghost. After Tommy recalled the events of Dream breaking in and how the ghost of his twin brother kept him safe, Techno assumed he would have done the same this time too. But the ghost had been bested by a bucket of water , so clearly the ghost did little to nothing to protect Tommy.

(The voices told him not to blame himself, not to obsess over the mistakes he made, nor the mistakes that Ghostbur had made. He had to have a clear head so he could get Tommy back. He hated how right they were.)

“So, what do we do?” Phil asked. “We don’t know who even took Tommy!”

“Well, that’s not true,” Techno replied, catching Phil’s attention. Techno stared at the towel laid out on the floor, soaking up the water that had been thrown at Ghostbur. It was messy, and there was a clear sign of a scuffle that had happened in the room. When they first got home, pillows and blankets on the couch had been on the floor, and wet footprints were faintly scattered around the room. Tommy was probably the cause of the thrown around pillows and such, while the footprints were the sign of the kidnapper. But what was lacking from the scene of the crime was a note.

Dream loved to tease and play with his victims. Creepy notes, unsettling vibes, and things just slightly out of place that unnerved you were his type of way of making his influence on things known. Back in the Pogtopia days Techno could remember the notes that Dream had left for him whenever he wanted to get in contact. Even thinking back to the day of his execution, Techno could remember the note with a simple smile laid in the bottom of the chest with the armor in it that made it clear to him who had helped him get away.

Instead, this time, there was no note left behind, but there was one another person who had helped him escape that day of the execution.

“Punz did this,” Techno said. “He’s Dream’s lackey, his personal little mercenary. I don’t know much about the guy but he’s been on Dream’s side for ages, even before I moved onto this server. This has Punz written all over it.”

“How do we know it’s not L’Manburg again?” Phil asked, not discrediting Techno’s theory but expressing his worries. Techno didn’t blame him for thinking that L’Manburg did this. Phil had no personal encounters with Dream like the rest of them, and before he broke into their home to taunt Tommy, his opinion of the world’s creator was not a negative, but more neutral, one. L’Manburg, on the other hand, Phil had negative opinions and experiences with.

(The voices murmured their agreement about Phil’s theory. They could agree with Techno that Punz likely took Tommy, but after that whole Butcher Army ordeal and the way Quackity treated Tommy, one could never be too sure.)

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Techno said, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Do you remember that interesting fact that Fundy happened to tell us to Phil?”

Phil raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “The festival?”

“Yeah, that one,” Techno said. “It’s what, the day after tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow actually,” Phil said, glancing at the clock. “It’s past midnight already.”

Techno sat back in his seat, swinging one of his legs over the other as he watched Phil. His father eyed him carefully, his wings no longer hanging limply, as he seemed to pick up on Techno’s idea. A smile of his own came to form on his face as Phil realized what Techno was subtly implying.

“Tomorrow-” Techno decided, readjusting the skull mask on his face to hide his smirk, “-we raise hell in L’Manburg. If everyone in the server is going to be at that festival, then that means someone has to know about Tommy’s whereabouts. And whoever that is, we’ll make them pay. ”

Phil grinned and Techno chuckled. A vault of wither skeletons skulls awaited them on the other side of the snowy mountain. Newly sharpened netherite weapons and a newly oiled crossbow laid out on the kitchen table, ready for use. Potions and fireworks laid innocently in chests around the house, just waiting for the day that they would need to be used. And two elite warriors stood together in a house, plotting revenge on their enemies that dared to take their family away from them.

(The voices cheered as, once again, Techno was about to wreak havoc and shed blood for the brother that had been taken from him.)

Chapter Text

Tubbo didn’t have a good track record with festivals. That was a given, considering the past. Even before his execution during the Manburg days he remembered that festivals weren’t something he found fun as a little kid. They were overwhelming, crowded, loud, and never failed in turning him into an anxious mess.

That was true for this time as well.

Ranboo and himself were the official hosts of the festival since they had done most of the planning, decided the date, and sent out the invitations together. It was no surprise that Quackity and Fundy had dumped the responsibilities for running the event on them while they planned the trap for Dream. Tubbo didn’t really mind, it just gave him flashbacks to the last festival, and even though he tried to convince himself that everything would be just fine he couldn’t believe himself. War and revolution really stole away his positive outlook on situations, among other things.

It was already late in the morning when L’Manburg officially kicked off the beginning of their festival. Kinda. Tubbo and Ranboo were greeting guests together as they showed up slowly, coming from the Prime Path that led right to L’Manburg’s border, but the festivities themselves hadn’t really started. The L’Manburg cabinet and Ranboo never planned an official start for the festival — there would be no speeches or fireworks shows — but they were waiting for their guests to arrive and settle in before the hosts of the event truly allowed themselves to mingle with the crowd. It gave everyone some time to show up, talk to one another, and relax.

Tubbo desperately wished he could relax.

He honestly felt like he was on the verge of having a panic attack. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he took sporadic breaths. He couldn’t help but wonder if Ranboo’s hybrid ears could hear his irregular breathing and his heart that felt like it could beat out of his chest. Ranboo could definitely tell that he was distressed, because he kept slipping his hand into Tubbo’s — giving it a gentle squeeze — before letting go. It was a sweet gesture that Tubbo was beyond grateful for. A grounding motion that was from a true friend with no ulterior motives. (It was a motion that in the moment, for just a second, Tubbo imagined it was Tommy there holding his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. But no one needed to know that.)

Even though Tubbo had known Fundy and Quackity for years now he would never wish that they could replace Ranboo’s position at his side at this moment. Both of them had been there for him during Schlatt’s term as president and after, during his time in Pogtopia, but honestly what did those times mean to him anymore? They were good friends and better politicians, but Tubbo was glad that he had Ranboo instead of them right now.

Ranboo hardly knew anything about the history and people of this world. He showed up one day and found himself stuck here, but with his memory it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. Tommy and Tubbo were the ones to invite him to L’Manburg, because like themselves, he was a lost teenager with nowhere to call home. L’Manburg was perfect for him, because L’Manburg was the home for misfits, outcasts, and people looking for an escape. (That’s what it was supposed to be, and what it once was. But Tubbo wasn’t sure if that’s what L’Manburg was anymore.) Ranboo didn’t need to know the country’s rough history beyond the basics, he didn’t need the pressure of having to make decisions that should be left to adults, he didn’t need to be burdened with their problems. Tubbo made sure that beyond some volunteer work Ranboo didn’t have to do anything for L’Manburg that he didn’t want to do. He was willing to give the hybrid an out if he wanted one if and when he found himself in uncomfortable situations.

Ranboo was the one to make the decision to stick by Tubbo’s side. Tubbo never expressed his gratitude for having Ranboo as a friend and ally, but he really was thankful for it, for him. Because Ranboo chose Tubbo because he was Tubbo . Not because he was president, not because he was a soldier, not because he was a survivor of a couple of wars, but because they were friends. Simple as that. Tubbo can’t think of anyone that would do that anymore.

Tommy would have, once upon a time, but Tommy wasn’t here anymore. (Tubbo wasn’t even sure if Tommy was alive anymore. That thought alone made him sick and guilty. Exiling Tommy was the thing he regretted the most. He knew what Dream threatened was cruel, evil, and something that Tubbo wouldn’t wish upon anyone, but would it have been worth it to avoid what was happening now? What lives were worth saving if Tommy wasn’t among the living anymore?)

Tubbo shook the thoughts from his head as he welcomed HBomb into L’Manburg with a fake smile on his face. The young man grinned back cheerily at him, balancing a crate of what was probably alcohol in his hands as he tried to wave at him. Tubbo could bet that the alcohol would be gone before the evening came around. No one was really an alcoholic, but no one would turn down a substance that would relax and clear their minds. If it weren’t for his image he was trying to upkeep then Tubbo might have let himself enjoy a drink despite how much he hated the cursed beverage and how there would be at least a few adults discouraging underage drinking. Prime knows that he used to drink occasionally when Schlatt was in power, and Tommy and him had shared a beer on Tommy’s sixteenth birthday.

Then he got shot in the face not even a week later.

“Tubbo?” Ranboo asked, looking down at him with a worried expression on his face. “You okay? You’re shaking.”

“What?” Tubbo replied stupidly. He lifted his hands only to notice that they were indeed shaking. His whole body was trembling actually, and he couldn’t stop. Tubbo shook whenever he went too long without food or water, but not like this. He shuddered as a tremble shook his body. The feeling was horrible and it made him feel a little sick to his stomach.

The trembles were so violent as well. It felt like his body had been thrown into the arctic with no snow gear, abandoned in the cold. But here he was in L’Manburg in mid-winter, and despite the cold breezes coming off the sea it didn’t get super cold here. It had snowed once but the snow had melted away days later. That was the coldest it had ever gotten. Even now, Tubbo was well dressed enough to stay warm. Why was he trembling?

“Tubbo, relax.”

Hands rested over his own. Tubbo blinked when he realized Ranboo had placed his hands over his own. Ranboo’s hands curled around Tubbo's, squeezing them gently, his thumbs softly making circling motions as he held Tubbo’s hands carefully with his own.

“Tubbo, do you know where you are right now?” Ranboo asked gently, his voice kind and sincere.

“L’Manburg,” Tubbo said easily, staring at their joined hands. Ranboo nodded.

“Good, do you know what’s going on today, what we are doing?” Ranboo asked. Tubbo blinked and looked up at Ranboo, avoiding his eyes but glaring up at his face.

“I’m not having a panic attack Ranboo,” Tubbo said sternly. Ranboo dropped his hands and wrapped them around himself. Tubbo let his hands drop back to his side. He already missed the warmth of having Ranboo’s hands in his own.

“Sorry,” Ranboo apologized meekly. “I wasn’t sure. You were spacing out and trembling a lot.”

“I’m fine bossman,” Tubbo borderline snapped. “I’m fine.”

Ranboo didn’t press for more details, he knew better than to pester Tubbo when he was being defensive. He just let the boy put back on his fake, presidential smile as he welcomed the rest of the world's citizens into L’Manburg. Tubbo felt guilty for snapping at the hybrid, and he wanted to reach out and hold hands again, but he put back on his presidential persona. He had an image to upkeep and a country to keep in order. Presidents didn’t hold hands or show signs of weakness.

It was good to see so many people, so many former and old friends, back in one place. Tubbo hadn’t seen Niki in ages and she was one of the few he greeted with a genuine smile. The woman had even given him a quick hug before going off to find Puffy, who had arrived not long before her.

Other people he was more tense about when greeting. Punz strolled in with Sapnap and Karl not far behind him and Tubbo’s grin almost slipped from his face. Tubbo knew that the man had more of a heart than he let on, proven true from the times where the man helped without expecting anything in return, but he couldn’t ignore how Punz was Dream’s closest ally. It didn’t matter if he was Dream’s paid ally, an ally was still an ally.

Yet, despite the obvious tensions between groups of people, things were going remarkably well. Tubbo had no idea where Dream was, but it wasn’t like he had expected the man to show up on time. He hoped that whatever plan Quackity had come up with for Dream would work. He said he had the ‘key’ to luring Dream into position. Tubbo didn’t know what that key was, but from the confidence Quackity radiated when explaining his last minute changes to the plan, Tubbo trusted him.

Well, enough as he could trust Quackity. He didn’t have anything against Quackity and considered himself friends with his Vice President as well as coworkers, but Tubbo was wary of everyone these days. He was perfectly valid in his reasonings as to be wary. Especially after being a soldier and politician who had been stabbed in the back too many times. And this time he wasn’t sure if he would have anyone to turn to after being deceived again. Because he wouldn’t want to burden Ranboo with that and Tommy was gone.

Still, there were two people that Tubbo overlooked during planning for the festival.

Tubbo had been enjoying himself. He had gotten into a talk with Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity who were apparently engaged. He found himself genuinely smiling as the three fiancés bantered back and forth with one another cheerfully. It reminded him of older times, especially when George wandered over with Sam and stole Sapnap away, ranting about something dumb that Callahan did over by the L’Manpond.

Then a firework went off and ruined everything. Tubbo’s vision tunneled and his breathing sped up as he felt like he was being shoved into a box. Faintly he could hear someone shouting his name but everything from the outside world faded away as he found himself staring up at Techno’s skull mask. Techno’s fist was bunched tightly in the collar of his shirt, lifting him up off the ground by a few inches. It only made Tubbo’s breathing worse as he clawed at Techno’s arms, trying to beg to be put down. Wheezes were the only sounds that managed to escape his throat and it did nothing as Techno stared him down.

“Where is he?” Techno demanded, his voice deep and growly as he threatened Tubbo.

“Wh-who?” Tubbo wheezed. The word barely managed to escape his mouth as he choked and Techno, realizing that he was cutting off Tubbo’s air supply, unceremoniously dropped him to the ground. Tubbo inhaled deeply as he dug his hands into the grass, choking and wheezing and gasping for breath. Someone was kneeling beside him — wrapping an arm around him — and whispering soft words of comfort but Tubbo could barely hear them. Especially when Techno was pointing that crossbow at his face.

“Where is the boy Mr. Government?” Techno growled.

“I don’t—” Tubbo wheezed again “—I don’t know who you’re talking about!”

Arms were wrapped tightly around him, protectively, but Tubbo couldn’t think clearly. Techno was pointing the crossbow at his face this time, not his chest. It was like staring down a barrel of a gun, only it was a crossbow with a loaded firework aimed just a foot away from him. A weapon that could steal away his final life, just like how it stole his second.

Then a hand reached out and lowered the crossbow, and Phil came into Tubbo’s vision. He was calm, that lethal type of calm that could burst any moment, and stared at Techno. The hand that wasn’t on the crossbow was resting lightly on the hilt of his slim sword. Tubbo didn’t remember its official name, he just knew that the sword was nearly as old as Phil and just as deadly when being wielded in his hands. Even though Phil didn’t have the same thirst for blood like Techno he was more than prepared to draw his sword and fight by his side. It didn’t reassure Tubbo at all. Not when — arguably — the two most powerful people in this world were threatening him.

“Mate you’re scaring him shitless,” Phil said to Techno. His hand was still resting on Techno’s crossbow, aiming towards the ground. Tubbo couldn’t help but wonder if he knew the history behind that crossbow. Especially when he turned to look at Tubbo, his wings bristling on his back from the tension in the air. “We can’t get answers if he can’t talk.”

Phil pulled his hand away and Techno lowered the crossbow. Tubbo could see how tightly he was gripping it, but he felt as if he could breathe more easily without it pointing at him, aimed right at his face. Now Tubbo could name the comforting presence that stuck beside him — Ranboo — who ran to him when everyone else scattered at the sight of Techno and Phil and who had comforted him throughout his mini panic attack.

Ranboo helped him to his feet and Tubbo could feel the intensity of the glare that Techno was leveling at him as Ranboo held onto Tubbo, supporting the shorter boy as he found it difficult to stand on his own feet.

“I told you once, Ranboo—” Techno started, fixating his gaze on the enderman hybrid that was taller than him, “—that if you posed ill intentions towards those I protect, that I will kill you. And now you’re aligning yourself with the government who stole away the boy I was protecting.”

What was Techno talking about? When did Techno get the chance to tell Ranboo that? Tubbo could feel how uncomfortable Ranboo was at this moment by the way he shifted on his feet, and it wasn’t helping either of them. Tubbo balanced himself and tore away from Ranboo to look directly at Techno. He was trembling, but didn’t look away.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Tubbo said, trying, and failing, to sound confident and composed as he stared at the warrior hybrid in front of him. “But I can assure you that L’Manburg has not taken anyone from you. We’re in an era of peace, why would we do such a thing?”

“Because you did it before!” Techno roared, making Tubbo flinch back. “Did you really forget about how you dragged me and my ward from our home to execute me?!”

“He’s- he’s not here though,” Ranboo pointed out. “We, me and Tubbo, we don’t know where he is!”

“Then you’ll help me find the man responsible,” Techno growled, taking a step forward to look Tubbo in the eyes and snarl in his face. “Where is Dream ?”

And as if to solidify the intensity and burning rage in his question, a large boom could be heard in the distance, so loud and powerful that the ground shook and a flock of ravens screeched as they flew into the sky.

As people began to shout in confusion and Techno and Phil shared a concerned look, everyone got a ping on their communicators from the man in question.

Dream: Everyone, meet me at the Community House NOW.

Tubbo gulped as dread built up in his stomach.

This couldn’t be good.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Tommy, quite honestly, was tired of being a captive, a prisoner, a whatever. It was exhausting having to deal with his fluctuating, wild emotions and having to deal with the panic and terror of being stolen from those he loved drained his spirits. Not to mention that each location he was being trapped in was dark and damp with terrible lighting, which was just so terribly cliché. And yet Tommy can’t even find joy in making connections from stupid books to his situation now. Wilbur would have laughed at how stupidly cliché it was. But Tommy? Tommy was just tired of all it at his point.

He just wanted to go home. He was dehydrated, hungry, tired, and his arms and legs were cramping from where they had been tied tightly. He was still gagged but at least the blindfold was gone. Not that it really was of much help to him. The most he could do was shuffle on the floor like a pathetic worm. Not poggers. So instead he leaned back against the dirt wall of the basement, watching the candle in the lantern as it melted.

There was barely anything left of the candle. The wax was oozing out of the crack between the small panes of glass on the sides of the lantern. It was kind of surprising that the wick hadn’t gone out in the puddle of melted wax yet, or reached its end with nothing left to burn. It was the only light in the room and Tommy was a little worried of how likely it would be that he would soon be trapped in complete darkness with just himself and the terror his mind could make.

Luckily, with what was left of the light, Tommy could just barely make out the stairs that led up to the main floor. If his arms and legs weren’t tied he would have figured out a way to quickly bound up those stairs, bang down the door, and run the fuck away. Unfortunately, his new captors were smart enough to leave him tied up, knowing that even though he was only eight he could escape if given the chance.

Techno liked to call him a raccoon because of the ways he’d sneak in and out of places. Phil would have agreed with a laugh because of how true it was. Wilbur would have called him a weasel. Maybe a ferret. Or a rat. Tommy didn't know much about any of those animals but he would take offense to being called anything other than Tommy. He was no animal, he was just himself.

Watching the candle melt was getting boring. He shuffled on the ground in his corner and Tommy couldn’t stop himself from groaning weakly into the gag that was still tied around his mouth. It was looser now, the knot tying it was obviously not the best. Plus from all the times he had rubbed his face on the dirt walls in the hopes of getting it to slip off was bound to show some results. It was sorta working, but he got more dirt on his face than he managed to move the gag around. It was so gross — being covered in spit and stuff — and Tommy wanted it gone. Not to mention how nasty it was having to suck on your own spit in order to try and hydrate yourself. Ender his head was pounding. Was this what a migraine was like? Wilbur used to get those — he’d stay in bed all day when he did — and Tommy always had to stay quiet on those days lest he upset his older brother.

It was always sad when Wilbur got migraines on the days where Phil and Techno weren’t home.

Those days sucked, when it was only him and Wilbur alone in the house. Days would turn into weeks and Wilbur and Tommy would be stuck at home doing nothing other than keeping the farm running and the animals fed. Wilbur would tuck him into bed every night with a song, and Tommy would cry himself to sleep some nights wishing that all of his family was home. He never was the best with having people leave him behind, some sort of fear that stuck with him after being abandoned. So he was left wondering when Techno and Phil would be back because weeks had turned into months. Would they remember to be back for his birthday? They had already missed out on-

What did they miss out on? Tommy was having a hard time remembering. And remembering made his head hurt. Like, a lot . Tommy once bonked his head purposely on the wall before, and the pain in his head was so much worse than that. Maybe it was the headache or dehydration getting to him.

Busy trying to ignore his pain Tommy almost didn’t hear and feel the boom coming from far away. It was really the sound of screeching birds that startled him more than the big boom did. Still, he sat straight up and his eyes wandered to the stairs.

What the hell was that? Should he be concerned?

Turns out he didn’t have to wait long to find out, because not long after he heard the Big Boom (as he had dubbed it, he had copyright claims now) that fox hybrid from yesterday threw the door open at the top of the stairs and almost tripped and fell down as he ran quickly over to Tommy.

“Fuck!” the hybrid — Fundy Tommy was pretty sure his name was — yelled when he saw that Tommy was still tied up. “Fucking Quackity didn’t even undo your restraints, I swear to Prime-”

He continued to rant nervously as he cut through the ropes around Tommy’s angles with his fox-like claws. As soon as the limbs were free Tommy weakly tried to kick at the hybrid just to see if he could deal some damage to the older man, but he had no success when the fox hybrid grabbed one of his legs with his hand. The fox hybrid only sighed and hauled Tommy to his feet, keeping him from falling over.

“Ender it’ll just be faster to carry you, you can barely stand,” Fundy said under his breath. Tommy’s eyes whipped over to stare at the fox hybrid, just beginning to register his words before he had arms wrap around him and throw him over his shoulder. It was oddly familiar. Tommy really was getting tired of all of this. He already had been over that though.

He didn’t protest as the fox hybrid sprang to his feet and ran out of the house, carrying him as if he weighed nothing. To be fair, he was fairly small compared to everyone else he had seen in this world, so he was pretty light. And he didn’t put up any fight, laying limp in Fundy’s arms, tired of fighting back. Thinking about what torture might await you and crying yourself to sleep every night, and at random times during the day, drains all the energy out of you. Who would have thought.

As they approached the location the fox hybrid had raced across the landscape to get to, Tommy could hear arguing. Loud, aggressive, angry arguing from a familiar voice. Dread curled in his stomach and he had half of a mind to try and flail out of Fundy’s arms, but decided against it. He battled with his conflicting emotions as the fox hybrid slipped between rubble of some place built in the middle of a lake. Fundy avoided the other people standing in the rubble, sticking to the shadows, before he came to stand next to Quackity (that bitch). Tommy was set on the ground and a hand rested on his shoulder, both keeping him from running and keeping him standing upright. Tommy hadn’t used his legs in a while after all and he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to run even if he tried.

Luckily Quackity didn’t focus on him, too invested in the conversation that Dream (also a bitch) was having with that Tubbo guy. The one his compass in his enderchest always pointed to and the person he knew little to nothing about. (Yet something instinctual inside him wanted to break free from Fundy’s grip to run to him and to put himself between the boy president and the masked man that stared him down. He pushed the feeling down, instead focusing on freeing himself from his restraints.)

“-just give me the fucking discs Tubbo!” Dream shouted at the president, sounding furious. It honestly wasn’t that big of a surprise considering that Dream’s voice carried through the remains of whatever this building was so everyone could hear him clearly. “Look at what he did! Take a look around you! Clearly he needs more than isolation to stop him from being a reckless idiot and breaking the law!”

Tubbo, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to curl up into himself and disappear. He was very pale and his hands were shaking as he took every word that Dream angrily shouted at him. (Wiblur’s hands used to shake when he was upset. Phil’s wings would bristle and Techno’s hands would tighten into fists.) Tommy knew just by taking a quick look at the president that he was terrified. To be fair if he was being shouted at by Dream he would be shaking too. The man scared him, with that mask he always wore and the axe that was always strapped to his back.

“I can’t do that Dream, we don't even have proof that he did this!” Tubbo argued, his voice shaky. He didn’t even sound too sure of himself. “Plus, you were supposed to be the one watching him!”

“That doesn’t matter,” Dream brushed aside his comment. “He blew up the Community House to aggravate me, and I need to keep him in line. What better way to keep him in line than to have the discs in my possession?”

“But- but he wouldn’t do this !” Tubbo argued. “Surely not!”

“If he can blow up the land of his exile he can blow up the Community House,” Dream said darkly. Something about his comment made Tubbo take a step back in shock, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Dream only tightened his fist around the handle of the axe he was holding, looking all too prepared for a fight. The move seemed so out of place, especially when Dream was fully decked out in armor and weapons and the president had nothing. Tubbo wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Surrender the discs to me Tubbo,” Dream said, his voice low. “I can’t watch him if I don’t have control . He already blew up his home and stole someone important from me. If you don’t give me the discs then you can say goodbye to L’Manburg.”

Tommy honestly had no idea what was happening, but it was clear that there were a lot of people upset. Especially when you considered how many people were holding weapons in their hands and had armor strapped over their clothes. So many people that he didn’t know. Ranboo was there — looking distressed — among the others. Even Phil and Techno were amongst the crowd, hiding in the shadows and looking pissed, as they watched the conversation Dream was having with Tubbo.

Who was this person that they were talking about anyway? The one Dream apparently needed discs to control, which seemed like a silly way to control someone. Whoever it was kind of sounded like a bastard, blowing up things, but surely they would have had a reason, right? Dream mentioned a blown up place. Tommy had been to a blown up place before, that’s where this all began. Were they talking about that place with the beach? Why would that shock Tubbo so much?

Also who was the person stolen from Dream?

“Now hold on just a second there Dream,” Techno interjected before anyone else could say a word, stepping out of the shadows that had previously hidden him. “Who did Tommy ‘steal’ from you?”

Dream whipped his head around to look at Techno, as if he didn’t know he was there. He was hiding in the rubble but Tommy could spot his pink hair, skull mask, and golden crown anywhere. Techno was his brother after all, it’s not like it was difficult to find his family in a crowd when they seemed drawn to one another.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business Technoblade ,” Dream gritted out. “This is between me and Tubbo and the future of L’Manburg.”

“Well if it’s about the future of L’Manburg then I think that concerns me too, I’m the Vice President after all,” Quackity said, almost smugly, as he stepped out of the shadows to stand beside Tubbo. “Especially when you have no room to talk about the fate of L’Manburg.”

“Excuse me?” Dream seemed taken aback by the boldness in Quackity’s statement. No one else, including Tommy, knew what the hell he was talking about.

Quackity only grinned up at Dream’s mask as he sidestepped, barely even sparing a side glance at Tommy before he tugged him away from Fundy harshly. Tommy stumbled into him and Quackity's grip tightened around his arm in a way that was painful. Yet as he stood by the vice president's side Tommy didn’t even have time to blink before there was an axe being pressed to his throat. An axe he didn’t even realize that Quackity was holding.

“Quackity!” Tubbo squeaked, his eyes wide with shock. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Techno was drawing his sword and even Dream seemed surprised as he readjusted his hold on his axe. Other people in the rubble whispered to one another and Tommy squirmed as he felt all these eyes on him. He fought back the urge to whimper as he looked at Techno fearfully.

“Listen Tubbo, stop being an idiot and let me get things done, unlike you ,” Quackity snapped at the president, the one that should have been able to keep Quackity in line. “Dream has no room to talk about L’Manburg’s fate when the fate of his little brother’s life is in my hands.”

What the fuck? Little brother, to who ? Tommy’s eyebrows drew together as there was a second of silence. Then shouts echoed through the rubble of what used to be the Community House as suddenly everyone’s eyes were on Tommy. He fidgeted in Quackity grasp, letting out a soft whimper as the man’s nails dug into his skin, keeping him close to his side and pressing the axe dangerously close to his neck. At least the ropes around his wrists were looser and he was so close to getting the gag off of his face. He could feel how it had loosened over time, he just had to get it off. Tommy stretched his jaw as he worked on pushing the fabric out of his mouth.

Dream, in the meantime, looked pissed. You couldn’t see his expression with his mask covering his face, but you could tell by the way he was gripping his weapon that he was boiling with rage. And out of everyone, he was the quietest of them all right now. It was unsettling — the way he was staring at Tommy as anger fumed off of him. Tommy couldn’t help but look away, terrified of the masked man just a few feet away from him.

His eyes wandered to the president, their blue eyes meeting. Tommy looked at him with worry likely evident in his features and Tubbo stared at him in shock. Emotions flickered across his face — concern and confusion — and for a second Tubbo blinked in surprise. He took a step back, looking disturbed almost, as he stared at Tommy. It felt like he was staring into his soul and Tommy couldn’t help but wiggle in Quackity’s grasp as the president stared at him.

Tommy looked away again as his eyes flicked over to stare at Techno and Phil, pleading in his mind for them to free him. Phil looked both relieved and concerned to see him while Techno looked like he could kill, obviously protective of his little brother. Especially with the way he was holding his sword and glaring at Quackity. Especially when Tommy had an axe pressed to his throat. And he thought a dagger was bad considering last time…

“See Dream?” Quakcity said mockingly. “You can't do anything here. I have your brother in my hands, so if you tried anything you’d have to risk his life.”

“Quackity,” Techno said with a growl. There was a threat there in his tone but Quackity didn’t even look at him. His eyes were on Dream alone as he smiled confidently at the green-clad mad.

“You have no idea what the fuck you have done, Quackity,” Dream snarled, standing up straighter. Quackity just laughed.

“I’ve gained control, unlike you!” Quackity said, pointing an accusing finger at Dream. “You couldn’t even watch Tommy!”

Tommy? Like, himself Tommy? What did he have to do with all of this? Was he the person they were talking about? Tommy whimpered again as he maneuvered the fabric in his mouth, getting more concerned as the argument continued. He had no idea what he had to do with any of this. What happened in these past eight years that turned him into someone that everyone seemed to dislike? Did he really blow up this place like they seemed to imply? He bit back tears as the stress of the situation seemed to weigh down more heavily on him.

“I don’t know why any of this concerns Tommy when he’s not even here!” Tubbo argued, glaring at his vice president. “He’s done nothing, leave him out of this. I want to know why you’re sinking so low that you’d threaten a kid, again!”

Quackity’s expression darkened and he opened his mouth to say something but Dream bet him to it.

“Everything concerns Tommy!” Dream shouted. “He’s ruined everything! Every event, every disaster, every war, it all leads back to him! He’s the worst thing that ever fucking happened to this server and no one can keep him in line. And when we try he does something like this —” Dream threw out an arm to take in the destruction of the Community House before turning on Tubbo again “—so that’s why I need to control him. That’s why I need the discs! So he doesn’t fuck up again!”

“You can’t blame Tommy for everything-” Tubbo tried to argue with Dream before he was shut down again.

“I can and I will because I’m right ,” the man snarled. “So give me the discs, give me control, and give me the kid, or you’ll regret it.”

“But Tommy-”

“Shut up!” Tommy screamed, stomping a foot into the ground as tears streamed down his face. He didn’t even realize that he got the gag out of his mouth before he was shouting at everyone, stress turning him into a sobbing mess. “I’m sorry and I don’t know what I did wrong but please stop blaming me for everything! Stop it!”

Silence fell. Tommy breathed heavily and sniffled as he cried. He hiccupped and bit his lip nervously as he tried to control his raging emotions. It didn’t even dawn on him that he had said anything until he looked up as tears continued to flow down his cheeks. He took in the surprised looks of everyone around him and blinked in confusion. He didn’t know what was wrong until he felt dread build up in his stomach and realized what he just did. What he had just said. What he had just admitted in front of everyone in the world.

Oh.

Oh no.

Chapter Text

“Tommy?”

It was awful, how they said his name. They said it like he was something worth their love and protection. Like he was worth their effort and time. Like he was worth anything of meaning.

It was disgusting the way their faces fell when they realized who was in front of them. It was horrible watching the guilt flash over their features and the way they took a step back in horror. It was vile watching as Tommy stumbled towards them, seeking their protection, because he was too weak to help himself.

Dream hated it. He hated it all. He hated how they all thought Tommy was deserving of their love, protection, loyalty, and time. Tommy was worthless, Tommy was unlovable. How come Dream was the only one that could see that?

If there was anything Dream regretted, it was letting Tommy into this world. That or not getting rid of him any sooner. Tommy had ruined everything. All of Dream’s plans ran down the drain as soon as that child came into the picture. All of his power was questioned, his authority ridiculed, and his rules laughed at all because of the one bright-eyed blond boy that dared to challenge him. If Dream allowed himself he would have strangled him to death back in Pogtopia to shut his mouth and to stop him from getting in the way. Sadly, he had to keep up good relationships with Wilbur, which meant keeping the brat alive. He was supposed to have died in another way, but he evaded that as well. So Dream curiously let the boy live, only to regret it later.

In all reality, Dream should have killed Tommy as soon as he bargained his discs over to him instead of giving L’Manburg independence. There was that saying of killing two birds with one stone that would have worked perfectly in that situation if he had done that. But no, he had tried to keep his original plans of creating a world for one big family to live in happily, letting the kid get away with what he wanted, more or less. Mistakes were made then, and Dream hated to see them repeating now. He was determined to not let the child run wild now.

Exile was meant to be the perfect way for Dream to reconstruct his plans. Having Tubbo under control during his presidency was all too easy of a thing to do, and no one dared to step too far out of line when they knew that Dream was watching, too afraid of the green-clad man to stand up to him. The others on the server were far more respecting of the rules, it was L’Manburg and Tommy that were the problems. But with Dream controlling Tubbo and isolating Tommy he thought he would have the time to fix things and put his plan of perfection back in motion.

Especially when he found a way to reverse Tommy back to his younger self. Dream was powerful, not many had powers and abilities to change someone’s code — manipulating their soul — like he had. The only person that had the god-like powers like him was his sister, as she couldn’t even use them in a world that wasn’t in his or her control, and it didn't matter anyway because she wasn't even in this world with the rest of them. Having the power to create a realm, manipulate someone’s soul, and resurrect a being was something that Dream alone could do.

The plan to reverse Tommy was simple. Children were easier to influence. They were easier to lie to, being gullible and naïve with their young eyes not yet used to the cruelty of the world. They were so innocent, and innocence could easily be molded into obedience if done correctly. This plan allowed Dream to spare the kid for the sake of everyone else, but to mold him to perfection. But the universe decided that Dream couldn’t have nice things and ruined his plans again.

Tommy was supposed to be his . If older Tommy wouldn’t pay attention to the rules and submit to Dream, then Dream would make younger Tommy submit to him. Perfection was not so easily achievable, and Dream knew this, but he didn’t think that Tommy would make things so difficult.

He was supposed to be the perfect little brother. Like the child that would follow in the footsteps of his brother as soon as they arrived in the world together. Like the soldier that would follow his general back in the days of the L’Manburg war. Like the rebel that stayed by his leader’s side during the Manburg and Pogtopia rebellion. Like the puppet that would follow a green-clad man like a lost dog. A perfect boy, soldier, rebel, and puppet, all in Dream’s control.

Because family was something that Dream never had. He remembered how his father left him and his mother alone, never to return. He remembered the men that his mother brought home and the stench that they would bring with them. He remembered how his mother would shove his sister’s fragile body into his arms as she yelled at the girl’s father who refused to have a hand in raising her. He remembered the substances that he was forbidden to touch but his mother indulged in too often. He remembered the bottles around his mother’s prone and cold body and the way his face went blank as he held the hand of his wailing sister when he realized that his ‘family’ had failed him. So he took him and his sister’s things, turned his back on the woman that had birthed him, and never looked back.

George and Sapnap came into his life much later, when he had started wearing a mask to hide his face, his sister copying him. They introduced him to what a family should be. They were the brothers he never had but had always wanted. They were the adventure he had been craving his whole life, that he could finally have now that he was no longer stuck caring for a woman that had never loved him and raising a sister who now had a village willing to help raise her.

But he wanted more. He wanted a mother that would hold his hand when he was sad, a father who would be there to sit and talk out his troubles with, siblings that would swear loyalty to him because their bond was too special to ever be broken. That’s why he created his world. It was a promise to himself, and to his sister, that he would build that family they deserved. He would build a world for his sister to come home to when he finally succeeded in making a family that was deserving of him and his protection, loyalty, and love.

Everyone here had a place in his family. It may have not seemed like it but it was true. It’s why each person here was studied and hand picked when offered to join the realm. Everyone served a purpose in his family as siblings, cousins, parents, and distant relatives. A family he never had but was all too deserving of.

But Tommy tore that dream apart. His safe haven for himself, its other inhabitants, and his sister, was threatened by a foolish child with a loud mouth and brash personality. So to turn Tommy into his younger self would have changed all of that, if only he hadn’t ruined that too.

Now here Dream was, surrounded by nearly everyone on the server, having to suddenly face all the mistakes he had made. He had pushed aside his closest friends to rid himself of attachments so he couldn’t be controlled like L’Manburg had been during all of its eras, or like any of the other fools on this server that let little attachments shape their friendships, loyalties, and enemies. He had worked to control people so they didn’t step out of line and ruin his idea of perfection. He had killed, harmed, and threatened his way into keeping his power so no one could question his authority. He was the head of this family and he would be damned before he let anyone take that position away from him.

So when Tommy made a move to stumble towards the outstretched arms of Technoblade and Philza, Dream grabbed him roughly by his arm that were still tied behind him and tugged him close to his chest, an axe pressing close to his throat as he held onto the boy that everyone thought was deserving of a family when he was the least deserving of them all.

Because this wasn’t Tommy’s family, this wasn’t Tommy’s world, this wasn’t Tommy’s dream, this was all supposed to be Dream’s . His and his only. His.

“Dream, I’d be careful with that axe if I were you,” Technoblade threatened, his own sword facing Dream as the glint of his red-brown eyes shone from behind the skull of his own mask, glaring fiercely at Dream’s own mask. Dream was unphased.

“He’s at my mercy!” Dream laughed. “You can’t stop me, none of you can! Tommy is under my control!”

“Tommy’s not under anyone’s control,” Tubbo argued, the small human boy looking nervously between Dream, his axe, and Tommy. “He’s his own person.”

Dream just laughed again. Was he really that naïve? Was he really that foolish? It was amazing how much everyone would twist the truth so they didn’t have to accept it. Adorable. Tommy was his, everyone in this world was his .

“Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo,” Dream tsked with a few shakes of his head, trying to stop himself from letting out another chuckle of amusement. “You’re a fucking fool. A god damned fucking fool. ”

“What?” the president said meekly, taking a step back.  Tommy was squirming in Dream’s arms but Dream only squeezed his arm harder, his nails pressing into the boy’s skin. He stopped squirming, whimpering quietly, only being able to let himself to shake slightly with fear as his heart beat loudly in his chest. Dream wished he could see the boy’s distressed face in this moment right now, but Tubbo’s was enough to bring a smile to his face hidden underneath his mask.

“Tubbo, you’ve surrounded yourself with traitors!” Dream exclaimed, shifting his hold on his axe. “Quackity was the one to kidnap Tommy, and Fundy must have known seeing that he was the one that brought him here. I noticed how he slipped away.”

The fox hybrid in question ducked his head and slouched his shoulders, trying to hide from the eyes of everyone gathered in the Community House ruins. Quackity did the opposite, squaring his shoulders and jutting his chin out as he stood up straight, daring to look everyone in the eye with that new nasty scar of his.

“Not only that, but your good pal Ranboo is a traitor too!” Dream exclaimed, giddy. “I’ve read his little book. He admits to giving Techno his items back and how he knew where Tommy was this whole time!”

“That’s not- I didn’t- I didn’t know!” Ranboo protested but Tubbo was already backing away from the tall enderman hybrid, looking betrayed. Tubbo mumbled something that Dream didn’t catch and Ranboo looked heartbroken as his friend turned his back on him, adopting his presidential persona again.

“Please,” Tommy cried, oh so quietly, oh so weakly. “Please stop!”

“Me, stop?” Dream said, ignoring the boy’s pleas. “Tommy this is all because of you. This is your fault!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Philza growled, wings bristling. “We’re all sick and tired of your shit and your lies. So you better give us Tommy before things get dirty.”

“But there’s nothing you can do!” Dream shouted. “He’s at my mercy!”

He laughed and pressed the axe to Tommy’s throat. Judging by the way that the boy flinched and let out a small cry, Dream could guess that the weapon had pierced his skin. A little more force and it would be cutting through his vocal cords and windpipe. It brought Dream joy, having Tommy in his hands, his life under his control. He had waited so long for this day. To watch the life drain from his body, for him to go limp as the life escaped his eyes, for him to finally go silent. It’s not like Dream just couldn’t bring him back if he regretted it. Sure he hadn’t tested the revival book yet, but he had no doubts that it would work. He was already so close to being a god in this realm, he wouldn’t let life and death rule over him too.

Plus, controlling Tommy meant controlling everyone else, because everything in this server seemed to revolve around the boy in one way or another. Tommy was the ultimate key to power and no one could even see it. Tommy was Dream’s to control. Tommy’s life was in his hands and there was nothing that anyone could do about it because Dream was—

Dream was—

Dream was staggering forward, grip loosening on his axe. Dream was trying to keep himself upright as blood trickled down his leg. Dream was trying not to show weakness even though there was an arrow sticking through his leg.

“You forget Dream,” Punz said — his voice cold and assertive — standing up from his crouching position from his perch at the top of the Community House ruins, “that you are at our mercy. And we’re tired of you controlling us all.”

“You,” Dream snarled, his eyes snapping up to look straight into Punz’s own blue ones. (It was unusual, not seeing him flinch as his mask stared so intently at Punz, when usually the mercenary would look away from his mask in a sign of submission.) “You’re going to regret that. And you know who will pay the price.”

“I’m not going to let a flimsy contract and a few dishonest words control me any longer,” Punz said. He loaded another arrow into his crossbow and aimed it straight at him again. “So I’m not afraid of shooting you again.”

“You-”

A sword was in his eyesight now. Technoblade’s pig skull mask was facing his own smiling one. Dream was still, and he hadn't even noticed how loose his grip was on Tommy until the boy squirmed again, maybe trying to break free. Dream’s fingers drew blood this time as they dug into his skin, but his axe was no longer so close to the boy’s neck. Especially when he could feel another blade being pressed at his side — the weak point between the pieces of his chestplate — and more arrows being drawn and aimed at him by the people scattered about in the ruins of the Community House.

“You can’t win this Dream,” Technoblade said. Dream stared down the blade that was leveled at his face. Behind the mask, a small grin tugged at his lips. Dream’s hold on his axe only got tighter as he brought it close to Tommy’s neck.

“I can’t lose either,” Dream countered. The words seemed to surprise Technoblade who tilted his head quizzically, not understanding.

But Dream knew what he was about to do all too well.

Oh how fragile life was, especially when you held it in your hands. It only took a second to steal it away right in front of everyone’s eyes as a blade dug through skin and muscle to take away the last life from the world’s blue-eyed blond boy with too much spirit for his own soul. How beautiful it was to watch the chaos that followed after as a manic laughed while he held onto the dying body of a child that he despised with all of his heart, that he desired more than anything because of the power that he unknowingly held, that he desired to be because of everything the boy had stole from him.

A lot of things happened at once.

Tommy started convulsing in his arms as he choked on his own blood. He fell to the ground as Dream let go of him and pulled his axe out of his throat. Someone ran to the boy, Dream couldn’t tell who, because pain was overwhelming him.

A blade was sticking through his chest, having gone straight through his side to stick out the other end. A long thin blade that Dream could only imagine belonging to Philza. A killing blow, not unlike the one that stole Wilbur’s last life and was going to take Dream’s first. It seemed poetic, almost, for this blade to be the one to take Dream’s first life. How strange, how beautiful, how befitting.

Someone was shouting, asking for a pillow or a bed. Another person was sobbing, not alone in their cries of anguish as they stared at the dying boy. Someone else was roughly pushing Dream into the ground and resting his head on a pillow so his respawn point was close by.

But Dream was smiling and laughing through it all. Even as he choked on his own blood, lying on his deathbed, there was a grin on his face.

Because he had won.

“You’ve lost Dream. For taking Tommy’s lives it’s only fair that we take yours.”

The voice was distorted, and Dream couldn't place who had said that. Maybe Punz or Philza, maybe Technoblade or Tubbo. Maybe Sapnap, or George, or Sam, or Bad, or Puffy, or anyone else. Yet they were wrong.

“I’ve won!” Dream choked out as blood trickled down his lips, letting out a hoarse laugh. “Because you can’t kill me! I’m the only one that can bring him back!”

And with that, Dream let death take him for the first time, prepared to come back and tell everyone of the power he held.

Because when one plan fails, and another one falls out, you always hold onto that secret card up your sleeve, waiting for the perfect opportunity to play it and to change the game.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Technoblade’s baby brother was lying still on the ground. Technoblade’s baby brother was bleeding out from his hideous wound on his neck. Technoblade’s baby brother was dying and taking his final breaths.

And there was absolutely nothing that Technoblade could do about it.

Still, he wasted no time in ripping his skull mask off of his face and tossing it to the ground so he could look his little brother clearly in the eyes. He fell to the ground next to him and gently pulled the boy into his lap, cradling him like he was the most precious — yet the most fragile — thing in the world. He tore the sleeve of his shirt off even with the armor straps that tried to keep it in place. He roughly slipped it off and bunched it in his fist so he could press it to his little brother’s throat in an attempt to keep him from bleeding out. He knew it was going to be useless, with a wound like that there was nothing that could be done. In all honesty Techno was surprised that Tommy hadn’t died from the pain alone. He was always the strongest child that Techno had ever known. He used to think that was a good thing. He wasn’t so sure anymore. 

He cradled Tommy’s limp body in his arms, shifting him carefully so he could support the back of his head with one of his arms while the other held the cloth to his throat. His red-brown eyes met Tommy’s own bright blue ones. They were as blue as the summer sky and so full of fear as tears gathered in the gemlike orbs that were supposed to shine with mischief and innocence. He opened his mouth as if to make an effort to speak but all he could do was gurgle as blood spilled past his lips and dripped down his chin. Techno felt tears build in his eyes as he stared down at Tommy.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Techno cried, tears silently slipping down his cheeks. “I’m so so sorry.”

Tommy weakly lifted a hand to grab at Techno, fingers trying to grip onto his armor but instead catching the end of his long braided pink hair. He tugged lightly and pulled out the tie holding it together before running his hand through the silky strands as the braid began to unravel. Techno nearly broke down in uncontrollable sobs when he saw his little brother smile softly as he gripped his hair tightly, remembering how his brother used to do the same thing when he was four-years-old and mesmerized with the locks of pink hair.

Techno couldn’t be sure, but with that small smile on Tommy’s face and the love in his eyes, he could swear that this was forgiveness.

So why did this have to be a goodbye?

“I love you.” Techno whispered the words so only his brother could hear them. It wasn’t like anyone else was paying attention, but these words were for Tommy and Techno alone. “And I will love you, forever and always. Because we are brothers and not even the universe can change that. And that green bastard certainly can’t.”

Techno chuckled lightly at that and Tommy continued to smile even as the light in his eyes dimmed.

“And I am so sorry,” Techno continued, letting his words go wild as he spoke to his brother with genuine love and adoration for the first time in years.

(Techno was sixteen the first time he left home for more than a month. It was shortly after Tommy’s eight birthday. He was gone for the entire summer, participating in tournament after tournament with only Phil as company. He won every single one. He returned home well into the autumn season to two brothers, one of which turned his eyes away and greeted his twin with a grimace, and the other of which ran into his arms and cried about how he was worried that they wouldn’t return, that his big brother wouldn’t ever come home. Techno promised him that he’d always come home to him.)

(He broke that promise the day he turned eighteen and left home for good.)

“Because I’ve been a horrible brother, and I forgot what it means to love.”

(Techno traveled constantly. If he wasn’t on the move then he was in Hypixel, dominating in tournaments and tending to his potato farms as he rose to the tops in their ranks in the large world. He didn’t even realize that he had cut himself off from his family as he devoted all of his time to his new life, muting the pings on his communicator and ignoring the letters piled on his desk that he never opened. Soon enough the messages stopped and the letters were thrown out, and there were no new ones there to replace the ones that were thrown away without a care in the world.)

(It was strange how quickly he tossed away his ability to love. Maybe it was because he was constantly keeping himself busy so he had no time to think about such trivial things. Thoughts about his family, his brothers especially, rarely crossed his mind if they did at all. And when they did, he couldn’t bring himself to care.)

(When Techno arrived in Dream’s world he was met with the tired and concerned face of his youngest brother. There was something else bothering the boy, some emotion that Techno could not recognize. He himself felt no lost love for his brother when they traveled to his brothers’ hidden base, and even when he discovered that both of his brothers had lost two of their lives the news barely phased him.)

(It only took a couple of years for his ability to love to disappear, instead replaced with bloodlust and hunger for power, riches, and fame.)

“And I’ve hurt you even when I promised to keep you safe.”

(Techno had forgotten the promises he had made to Tommy all those years ago. He wouldn’t be surprised if his brother had forgotten them too. They held no meaning in a world driven by war and power, and they were childish promises anyway.)

(So when Techno beat Tommy to the point of near death when the boy tried to defend his best friend after Techno murdered the weak boy, he let himself lose control. He let himself thirst for the blood that dripped down the boy’s skin. He let himself paint the boy black and blue with bruises.)

(There were no promises to be kept in war, especially if they were made to Tommy.)

(Wilbur needed Techno’s promises more than Tommy did anyway. This is proven to be true when they blew up L’Manburg together. This was proven true when Techno nearly killed Tommy for the second time since coming into this world.)

“And I’m not deserving of you but I will always love you.”

(Wilbur died. Phil was distant. Tommy was left a broken boy. Techno retreated.)

(Wilbur’s death broke something inside him. It made him realize that maybe he did care for his twin, that maybe he was sad to see Wilbur dead. That maybe there will always be a part of him that will remain empty, knowing that his twin is gone. Wilbur had no grave, no burial, no funeral, but Techno mourned him like they had a ceremony to remember him even when there was nothing that anyone did to remember the fallen president, leader, rebel, and brother.)

(Isolation, instead of letting him return back to his cold and power hungry self, opened his eyes. Maybe it was because Phil was there to remind Techno that he was more than the name he had made for himself. Maybe it was because the ghost and the memory of his twin was there to remind him that he’s still worth someone’s affection. Maybe it was because his baby brother, despite the pain he caused him, still saw good in him.)

(Maybe it takes a father who doesn’t know how to parent, a ghost who doesn’t remember his actions, and an eight-year-old version of his baby brother to remind him that he is human too.)

”Because that’s what it means to be brothers.”

(Despite how they left one another and neglected one another, despite how they screamed and fought, despite the way they turned on one another, there was still room for love between a broken family trying and learning to love one another again.)

(Techno, despite what he previously believed, will always love his brothers.)

(He will keep them safe, forever and always, and ensure that no harm will come to them as long as he lives and as long as they continue to live.)

(He will love them, forever and always.)

(So maybe that’s why it hurt so much to lose them.)

“Brothers,” Tommy mouthed, smiling up at him with the same smile that Techno used to cherish as soon as Tommy was brought into their lives. “Forever. ”

“Forever,” Techno echoed even as a sob threatened to bubble out of his throat as held his dying brother close.

Tears poured from his eyes as Tommy’s hand fell from his hair, too weak to continue to hold on. His body trembled as he watched the light in his little brother’s eyes fade away as the life drained out of them. He pressed a gentle kiss to Tommy’s forehead when Tommy went completely still and his breathing stopped, signifying the end of his brother’s too short life. He cradled his body close even as the blood of his brother continued to stain him, because he couldn’t let go of the boy he just learned to love again and promised to keep safe.

It was another promise he failed. Now he lost another brother. Now he was the only living Craft brother left and he couldn’t hate himself more for it.

“Say hi to Wilbur for me,” Techno whispered as he held the body of his dead brother in his arms, mourning for everything he had regained only just to lose it again.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Historians would look back and say that the President of L’Manburg, the Angel of Death, and the Blood God with the body of a blond boy in his arms, walked silently out of the Community House ruins with expressionless faces as no one dared to stop them.

Onlookers who saw what happened in the moment would say that a best friend, a father, and a brother who held the body of the blond boy they all cherished in his arms, walked out of the Community House ruins with tears in their red eyes, anguish in their souls, and determination in their steps as those who witnessed them leave watched in solemn silence.

The friend held back sobs as he walked beside those he considered enemies but who now carefully held the body of his best friend close. He blamed himself for what happened, regretting the actions he had made months ago. He would later sit and cry in his office, rejecting comfort from those he used to call friends, as he mourned the loss of the greatest person he ever had the privilege to meet. He would pour himself a drink and try to drown in his grief only to be pulled out of it by the other friend he thought he had lost that day. They would continue to mourn the blond boy they called a friend together.

The father said nothing as he let his only remaining son bring home the body of his youngest boy. He would curse the woman he loved for letting him raise three boys when he should have never been allowed such a thing. He would reminisce later thinking of sunny days filled with laughter when all of his boys were happy, well, and alive. He would mourn and pray for his son’s safe travels to the afterlife. He would finally allow himself to cry as he thought about what he had lost only having the stars in the tundra there to comfort him that cold night.

The brother would stand tall, would never falter in the pattern of his stride, and would never loosen his hold on the body of his now dead brother. He would not allow himself to cry anymore, or to think of what could have been done to prevent this outcome. He would go home and lay his brother in the bed that they shared many nights and wrap him in a sheet, covering his horrid wound that caused his death and brushing his blond locks out of his face. He would spend hours picking at the frozen earth so he could bury his brother in the ground. A ghost would join him, asking what was wrong with the boy, but the brother would say nothing. He would bury the blond boy that evening, resting dandelions, red poppies, purple hyacinths, sunflowers, and ambrosia flowers on his grave.

There is no beauty in dying. Dying is ugly. Dying is painful. Dying is full of anguish and suffering. Dying is the time to remember past regrets and how you have failed the dying. Dying is a time to remember promises that were unfulfilled and will go unfulfilled. Dying is watching a maniac come alive again with promises that he can revive another. Dying is a friend and father kneeling beside a brother holding onto his youngest brother as they cry together. Dying is a world full of horrible individuals coming together to realize their wrongs. Dying is conflict.

Death, however, is beautiful. Death is a time for remembering the good and the bad and cherishing it all. Death is a time for love and tears and happiness. Death is a time for mourning and forgiveness and moving on. Death is a mother reaching for her child, ready to bring them home. Death is a brother embracing a brother, regretting their separation and how they broke apart. Death is a boy rediscovering himself and what he has lost. Death is a gentle sleep that can be awoken under the right circumstances. Death is peaceful.

But for now, our sleeper rests peacefully in his tomb under the earth, waiting to wake again.

Chapter Text

When Tommy was young — younger than he was now but older than he was when Phil first adopted him — a young girl in his village explained death to him. Or well, a part of it.

He can’t remember the girl’s name, face, or really anything about her outside of this memory, which seems strange considering it only happened a few years ago. It’s funny how he could vividly recall the times the young girl taught him to braid hair because he wanted to learn so he could braid Techno’s hair, but he can’t recall the color of her eyes or the sound of her voice. Those bits of information were lost to his memory, hidden in the depths of his mind, if they were there at all. Even in his reversed mental state you would think that he’d be able to recall the memory a little more easily. But that wasn’t the case.

He’s not exactly sure why the girl told him about death. He knew that recently her grandparent, or maybe it was a different relative, passed away. The girl’s parents were the village doctors as well, so maybe discussing the reasons behind her relative’s death was bringing her some strange sense of comfort. Either way, he remembered how they sat at the edge of the water fountain in the village, sitting side by side as the girl watched him braid strings with his fingers, gently aiding him when the strings of the braid unraveled.

“My mum told me that the brain stays awake even after death,” the girl had said out of the blue as she guided his hands, folding the strings over one another. “It’s not for very long, but it’s enough time if you didn’t get to say goodbye when the person was still alive.”

“What?” Tommy remembered asking out of shock, his eyes leaving the strings in his hands as he stared up at the girl who was just a few years older than him and trying to explain death to him.

“You know, death,” the girl had responded with a wave of her hand, like discussing death was natural and not mildly terrifying to a young boy who still didn’t understand it to its fullest. “When you lose a life, or multiple lives, and don’t come back.”

Tommy knew what death was. He wasn’t immune to the knowledge, even at a young age. Aftercall, when he was still very young he could still remember his mother, with her blond hair and soft smiles, and how they stayed together through it all. He could remember the way his mother cried when they buried someone he can’t remember in the ground, they way they would stumble across cold bodies on the streets, and how his mother pulled him away from the cat in the road that looked like it had gotten caught under someone’s wagon, its blood staining the dirt and rock in the street.

He knew what death was. He could remember the way that Phil shot down mobs that got too close during the night, not afraid of the lights that were lit around their cottage on the edge of the woods but would fall easily to the arrow that was released from Phil’s powerful bow. He could remember how Wilbur cried when the barn cat had gotten to the frog that he had wanted to keep as a pet and how Tommy helped him bury the animal in a rag by the lake. He could remember how Techno explained what happens to souls after their final deaths, how they are cradled in the hands of Death as the god takes them to the Void.

Tommy from the future could barely remember any of those old memories, but he grew to understand death all too well. But he had never heard of the person being trapped in their own dead body after death, even if it was just for a short while.

“They get trapped in their bodies when they’re dead?” a young Tommy had asked, sounding mortified. The girl only shrugged, probably not too sure about it herself.

“My pa said it’s a science thing he learned in another world,” she had offered the boy, trying to calm him down. “But my mum says it’s so the dead can listen to their loved ones say goodbye before the God of Death guides them to the Void.”

“I thought Death was a Goddess,” Tommy said. Again, the girl shrugged.

“I dunno, and I don’t think it matters. I guess we’ll find out when we lose our last life.” The girl looked down at the strings in Tommy’s fingers, the poor braid having partly unraveled as Tommy paid less attention to it. She settled her hands over his and helped him to undo the strings as she hummed softly. “Your braid has come loose. Here, let’s try this again.”

Years later, a much older Tommy will have all but forgotten that memory and the girl who had taught him how to braid. Even in his reversed state it was nearly impossible to recall the very hazy memory, time having eroded and eaten away at it as it was wasted away in his mind. Still, when his body went limp in the arms of his brother, the memory came to mind. He couldn’t help but freak out when he realized he was going to be trapped in his own body, forced to listen to the outside world, waiting for the Void to swallow him. When his heart failed Tommy internally screamed as he listened to his brother sob out apologies and whispers of love. He wanted to open his eyes and stare Techno in the eyes and see him smile one last time before he slipped into the Void and the pure darkness that surely awaited him. He wanted to see Phil and Ghostbur and tell them that he loved them. He wanted to actually tell Techno that he loved him because he can’t remember the last time that he had told his brother that he cared about him.

Instead, he was forced to listen to his brother gently whisper the words “say hi to Wilbur for me” as the outside world grew fainter and fainter until he could no longer hear his sobs and the sounds of others mourning him.

And Tommy could do nothing as he was dragged into the afterlife, his life stolen away from him too soon, separated from his family once again.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Entering the afterlife was horrifying. It’s excruciatingly painful. Tommy felt like all his limbs were being torn apart, like his body was being shattered into pieces, like his soul was being fractured. He can’t even cry out in pain because there is nothing. There is no sound, no sight, no matter. It’s just Void.

Then, like waking from a terrifying dream, Tommy was awake and present in the Void. He couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath that made him go still as he stared blankly into pure darkness. This darkness was not soft. It’s not littered with tiny little stars. There was no soft song from bugs, no sound of rain on the roof, no hum of a house around him to reassure him that he was safe. There was just darkness.

Tommy stared into the Void.

The Void stared back.

Tommy blinked. He stared up from where he was laying on the ground. He blinked again.

Somebody was leaning over him, hands planted on the opposite sides of his head and arms supporting them as they boxed Tommy in with their body, brown eyes stared deeply into his own blue ones.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Wilbur said, staring down at him, trapping him with his arms as he hovered over him, his hair falling into his face and his eyes wild with an unrecognizable emotion. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“What?” Tommy croaked, well shocked at the sight of his older brother.

Time had not been kind to his brother. In all honesty, Tommy didn’t even recognize him until they were staring each other in the eyes and Wilbur opened his mouth to speak. Tommy had expected to see a little more of Ghostbur in Wilbur. Ghostbur, who looked so much like the brother that he had traveled with through worlds and knew would always be there when he needed him. Him and his yellow sweater, guitar on his back, and his gentle voice would always bring comfort to Tommy after a long day of working outside or running through the streets of the village.

This Wilbur, however, did not share the same gentle voice, soft clothing, or guitar loving qualities like the Wilbur that Tommy could remember. This Wilbur had dark bags under his eyes and his eyes flashed with an indescribable emotion. He was dressed in battered and torn clothing that was stained with ash and blood. He smelled strongly of smoke and faintly of alcohol, and it made Tommy want to gag. Wilbur also looked paranoid. It was hard to tell but when you’re close with your siblings it gets easier to pick on their nervous habits. Wilbur was biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes would flick to the side every now and then, and his arms were shaking either from paranoia or struggling to hover over Tommy for this long.

Wilbur was unrecognizable. This new Wilbur was paranoid and anxious. He was nothing like the loud and silly older brother that he could remember. Tommy didn’t like it, he didn’t like what he saw of him .

“Get off me,” Tommy said, trying not to sound disturbed as he grew anxious at the sight of his brother. Wilbur blinked slowly, taking a little too long to register Tommy’s words before he scrambled back, getting to his feet. Tommy stood as well, trying not to shake as he wrapped his arms around himself. Wilbur’s hands were shaking and his eyes were locked into Tommy’s figure, staring him down and making Tommy uncomfortable. Then, without another word, Wilbur turned around and disappeared into the darkness of the Void. Tommy, for once in his life, did not follow after his older brother.

This was when Tommy realized that nobody had told him anything about the man that Wilbur grew to be, or anything about how he had died. He wasn’t too keen to find out about it either. Something told him that he wouldn’t like the answers that he got.

“Techno says hi,” Tommy whispered into the darkness, having no courage to chase after the man that was supposedly his brother.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Wilbur came back, eventually. It’s not like it would have been difficult to find Tommy, he’s hardly moved more than a few feet from the spot he woke up in the Void. He didn’t want to admit it but he’s terrified of wandering into the darkness like how Wilbur had. The darkness had swallowed him up so easily that Tommy was afraid that Wilbur wouldn’t have returned.

The darkness of the Void was not comforting. It was silent, it was deadly, it was powerful. It’s not like the dark of the night where torchlight still flickered in the edge of his vision and stars lit up the sky. It’s not like the darkness of his room where the sheets and blankets on his bed reminded him of where he was, that he was safe, that his family was outside his door and down the hall. The darkness was not like the darkness of his dreams where comforting presences hovered nearby when he needed them. The darkness was not like the darkness of a cave where lichen would glow and travelers would light the paths to scare away the mobs that creeped through the dark.

This darkness was not kind. This darkness was cruel.

Tommy was afraid of getting lost, of being alone, of being swallowed by the darkness. He was scared of losing himself in the darkness as it ate away at his mind, stealing his emotions and memories, leaving him a shell of himself that knew nothing but fear. He didn't like this older, strange, and mildly terrifying Wilbur, but he didn’t want to lose him either. He couldn’t lose the only person that he somewhat recognized in the Void. He didn’t want to be alone, he couldn't be alone, not anymore. When he’s alone everything goes wrong.

Because when he was alone he was being watched by a man dressed in toxic green with a smiling mask. When he’s alone a man with a scar on his face was plotting to take him away. When he was alone a man in a white hoodie was hunting him down. When he was alone there was no older brother there to protect him. When he was alone there was no father there to tell him everything was going to be okay. When he was alone there was no ghost of a brother there to bring him comfort.

Because when he was alone, he was afraid and vulnerable, and no one would be there to save him when he needed them.

So Tommy sat on the ground, running his hands over the flat space of darkness that served as the floor, and listened for sounds to break through the silence of the Void.

It’s strange, the darkness is absolute and there is no sound at all. It’s swallowed all life that wanders around, which is ironic since this is the place for the dead to ‘rest.’ But even with the lack of noise Tommy could still tell when Wilbur drew close. He could smell the smoke, he could sense Wilbur’s dangerous and anxious aura, he could tell when his brother stumbled upon him.

Life is drawn to other life in a place of death.

So it’s to no one’s shock that blue eyes looked up to meet surprised brown ones.

“You’re still here,” Wilbur said, stating the obvious. His eyebrows were drawn close with confusion as he stared down at his younger brother. His hands were tucked into the pockets of the long dirt and ash strained trench coat that covered most of his being. Tommy wondered if his hands were shaking again, fidgeting as they curled into the air, as if they were pushing down on guitar strings instead of the inside of his pockets. But Tommy didn’t linger on those thoughts for that long. The expression of surprise on Wilbur’s face is what made Tommy more curious.

Tommy’s not sure why his older brother seemed so surprised at him being here. He’s been here for hours now, sitting alone in the darkness, waiting for Wilbur to come back. He’s dead, it’s not like he could anywhere. There’s only one afterlife and this is obviously all he’s going to get. Why would it be so surprising to stumble upon another dead person, not once but twice, and still think that they weren’t supposed to be here? Tommy is dead and he has nowhere to go. Wilbur is dead and he has nowhere to go. Even together they can’t leave this place because this is their final stop. No more lives, no more second chances, no more mistakes to fix. There is only Void and they only have each other now.

“I don’t think I’m going anywhere Big Dubs,” Tommy said, biting back the sadness that dared to leak into his voice. He is truly dead. This is not a bad dream that Techno will wake him up from come morning light. This is not his imagination playing tricks on him. This is death and there is nothing that Tommy can do about it.

Wilbur just continued to stare at him, confusion melting away into a blank expression.

“But you’re not supposed to be here,” Wilbur said flatly.

“Well this is the afterlife, right?” Tommy said, feeling numb. “I’m dead, so I don’t see how I could be anywhere else.”

Wilbur continued to stare at him with a blank expression. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he repeated. Tommy’s getting pretty tired of hearing Wilbur say that. Yes, he died too young, but it’s not like he could stop himself from dying. It’s not like he could go back. There is nothing to be done because nothing can be done.

Ignoring his older brother’s words Tommy pulled his legs up to his chest and hugged his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. Silence fell between the two and the Void continued to stay as dark and as silent as ever. After a minute Tommy watched Wilbur come closer to stand next to him. Both of them remained quiet as Wilbur lowered himself to the ground, crossing his long legs over one another as he sat criss-cross next to Tommy. Neither of them said anything to one another. There was nothing to be said because neither of them had anything to say to one another.

Two brothers sat side by side and stared into the Void.

The Void stared back.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

“I know decades have passed, but I can’t recall a time where you got your neck cut when you were young,” Wilbur said one day, breaking the silence that normally fell between them for long periods of time.

Tommy was slowly getting used to the silence. It was pretty apparent that the loud, silly, musical version of his brother that he could remember was no longer the same. This Wilbur was more quiet and would go for hours without talking to Tommy. He seemed to get lost in his head often and would mumble to himself. His hands always shook when he mumbled to himself, fidgeting for something that wasn’t there.

This Wilbur smoked too. Tommy had no idea where he got the packet of cigarettes or the lighter but they were always in the pockets of his coat. He never ran out of cigarettes and his lighter never ran out of fuel. Whenever his hands started shaking really badly he would dig his hands into his coat and pull out a cigarette and the lighter. It explained why he always smelled like smoke. Tommy wondered if he had a flask of alcohol too, because while it wasn’t as strong as the smell of smoke, the smell of the toxic drink was still there.

Tommy didn’t like it. He didn’t like this quiet and scary Wilbur. He didn’t like the uncomfortable silence that felt between them that they couldn’t seem to break. Tommy would try to talk to him but Wilbur would never respond unless he had said something to Tommy first. It was like Wilbur didn’t believe he was really here. Tommy didn’t like to think about what that could possibly mean.

“What do you mean my neck is cut?” Tommy asked. Wilbur gave him a long look and raised an eyebrow.

“Your neck,” Wilbur said. “It’s bleeding.”

Tommy raised a hand to his neck, feeling his throat in the same place where Dream had cut his axe through his skin and killed him. He couldn’t feel anything pain wise but he gasped when his fingers felt cool liquid and came back stained with blood. Tommy’s vision swam as he stared at the blood on his fingers, his gut rolling as he felt nauseous.

Wilbur was talking. “—worst injury you got when you were young was when you broke your arm when you fell off the roof. You also got a really bad case of hypothermia after falling through ice. Any other worse injuries came later, older than you are now. But nothing that would explain the cut on your throat.”

The longer Tommy stared at his hands the more he realized all his injuries he had gotten before death came with him to the afterlife. Around his wrists were bruises and small cuts from the coarse ropes that had dug into his skin after being tied too tightly. He had to bet that the same rope burns were around his ankles as well. Bruises and small cuts from Dream’s hands and nails from where he had gripped his arms roughly were also still there. He wondered how many other injuries were littered across his body, hidden by his clothes and invisible as they brought him no pain.

“How?” Tommy muttered, mostly to himself, but it stopped Wilbur from ranting about injuries he had gotten in his past.

“You think I know?” Wilbur said with a scoff. “I still have my injuries, I just can’t feel shit.”

“What?”

Tommy looked up at his older brother, tearing his eyes away from his bloodied hands. He let them drop to his side as he met Wilbur’s eyes, trying not to flinch at the way Wilbur smiled creepily.

“You haven’t noticed?” Wilbur asked. He grinned. Tommy shivered. “I can show you.”

Tommy’s not sure how he’s never noticed the injury before. If there was anything in his stomach he thinks he would have thrown it up at the sight Wilbur shows him. Instead he gagged and resisted the urge to fall to his knees and dry heave.

Wilbur had pulled back the front of his trench coat. Underneath it was a white — or more like grey — shirt that was heavily stained with blood. His whole abdomen was stained with blood, and the edges of his coat were stained as well. A cut went through his shirt, revealing skin and guts underneath, a thin slice that gutted straight through Wilbur. Tommy had noticed the cut and stain on the backside of Wilbur’s coat but had never said anything about it, or connected the dots as to why his coat was cut and stained. Now it made more sense. It appeared like his brother had been run through with a sword.

His older brother poked at the injury, his fingers coming back stained with blood. He wiped them on his coat and readjusted the fingerless gloves on his hands. He seemed way too calm for a man who had just been poking his fingers into his stomach to prove the fact that he couldn’t feel a thing.

Tommy felt sick.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Wilbur said, that stupid grin still plastered on his face. He prodded the injury once more, this time not bothering to wipe away the blood on his hands. “And ending befitting for a cruel villain.”

“What- what do you mean?” Tommy asked, trying not to trip over his words as he continued to resist the urge to gag. Wilbur only snorted in laughter, pulling his hands away from the injury and letting his coat fall back over his chest to hide his bloodied shirt and the injury underneath.

“My ending,” Wilbur said, preaching his words like he was a poet reciting his song. “My glorious ending. The death of the villain, brought to his demise by the savior that his enemies were waiting for.”

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Tommy croaked. Wilbur laughed.

“Of course you don’t understand! You weren’t there, not this Tommy!” Wilbur laughed and ran his bloodied hands through his hair. “You didn’t see the explosions, the look on everyone’s faces when they realized I betrayed them, the way they all saw me get run through a sword.”

“What- who?”

Wilbur turned and grinned at him. He took a couple steps forward even as Tommy stepped back, trying to distance himself from his brother — no — from this deranged man. Wilbur only took one last big step to close the distance and place his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, making the younger boy flinch. He leaned away as Wilbur leaned in, that crazy smile still on his face.

“It’s poetic, isn’t it?” Wilbur said. “Planning your own death. I tried with explosives but you took them away. So I had no other choice but to ask someone else to do it for me.”

“Kill yourself?” Tommy asked, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He thinks he already knew the answer but watched as Wilbur nodded and grinned at him.

“Exactly,” Wilbur said. “How beautiful is it, for the villain to be slayed by the sword held in the hands of his own father? The same father that used to hold him with those hands killed him with them. His beloved child, pierced through by his own blade by the child’s insistence.”

“No,” Tommy protested, shaking his head wildly, refusing to look at Wilbur’s face. “Phil wouldn’t. Dad would never. He would never.”

“I begged on my hands and knees in front of him,” Wilbur said, almost singing his words by the way he sounded so happy and so pleased by the fact that he got Phil to kill him. “In the end it didn’t matter. The sword ran me through, the magic fused in the blade burned my insides, and Phil was the one to do it. He didn’t even try to save me from myself. He didn’t even care!”

Tommy cried and pulled himself away from the grip of his brother. Wilbur let him go, still smiling, watching him as he stumbled back. Tommy wrapped an arm around himself and wiped at his tears with his other.

“I hate you,” Tommy hissed. “I don’t like you.”

Wilbur tilted his head and his smile grew softer.

“I don’t like me either.”

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Wilbur has a lot of cards. They are laid out in perfect rows across the floor, no more than four high and stretching out as far as the eye can see into the Void. Wilbur walked beside them, counting them carefully, before placing a card that he had been holding in his hands down next to the others on the ground, adding onto the row that continued to grow. It’s a Queen of Diamonds. Above it is a King and an Ace and what follows will be a Jack if Wilbur continues the same pattern. Tommy didn’t see why he wouldn’t consider it was the same pattern for ages and ages.

“You know, I’ve been dead for almost ten years now,” Wilbur said, straightening out the last card that he placed. He set down a deck of cards at the end of the long row of cards, still crouching beside the cards as he balanced on the palms of his feet. “There are over three thousand cards here, assuming I haven’t counted wrong.”

“What?” Tommy said, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

Wilbur huffed and pushed himself up, standing up tall.

“Each card represents a day,” he explained, waving his arm out to gesture at the rows of cards. “I don’t know the time perfectly but everyday I come back here to place a card. That’s how I keep track of how much time has passed.”

Tommy looked down at the expanse of cards. They alternate in suits and colors, a seemingly endless stretch of red and black that extends into the Void, swallowed by the darkness. Aces are at the top of a row of four, Jacks at the bottom. There is always one space left between the suits where a Two sits, not to be followed by another card but to mark a change in the suit.

Tommy can barely spend enough of his attention span counting the first few sets of suits laid out on the ground. He didn’t know how Wilbur had the motivation to walk alongside the groups of cards and count each one to remind himself of how long he’s been here. He has no idea how Wilbur managed to come back here everyday to lay a card on the ground and record the time that has passed.

“How have you been here ten years already?” Tommy asked, daring to look up into the face of the older man. “It hasn’t been that long since you died, right?”

Wilbur shrugged. Tommy figured that was as good of an answer that he was going to get.

“Why even bother to keep track?” Tommy asked. He was genuinely interested in the reason why. He would have let himself rot in his own misery or found a better way to spend his time than creating a record of the time passed with decks upon decks of playing cards.

“Mum told me when the universe will end,” Wilbur said, making Tommy’s eyes go wide. “We still have around eight eons left.”

“What the fuck is an eon?” Tommy all but interrupted. Wilbur gave him the side eye before rolling his eyes and sighing.

“It’s about a billion years,” Wilbur said. “That’s when the universe ends. I’m keeping track until then.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” Wilbur said. “I asked Mum and she replied, so I guess I might as well.”

Wilbur slid his hands into his pockets. Tommy could see them moving in his pockets, likely fiddling with the lighter and or cigarettes he kept in them. Maybe he was going to smoke. Or light his finger on fire again.

“Mum’s a fridge you know,” Wilbur blurted. Tommy blinked for a long second. His brother was actually insane. He wasn't so sure before but he’s sure now.

“The fridge had a picture of her face on it,” Wilbur said, going on with his story. “Out of all the pictures and drawings that Phil put on the fridge, that one never moved, never changed. When I asked what the fridge was he said it was our mother. So Mum is a fridge.”

Tommy remembered that picture. It was a picture of a woman from chest up, smiling brightly at the camera. Her eyes were closed and her dark hair was flying into her face but she was happy. He remembered how Phil explained that he had to rent out an expensive communicator to take that picture and go off world to have the picture printed. It was one of his most precious items that he hung up on the fridge so he could remind his boys that if their mother were here that she would give them the same kind smile and wrap them in a warm hug. Tommy hated to say that he didn’t believe him, because if she hadn’t been here for so long then why would she care for them? 

Well, it’s not like it mattered now.

“Are you sure he just didn’t know you were talking about something else?” Tommy asked. Wilbur shrugged.

“I dunno,” he said. “He never told me who Mum was, so I figured having a fridge as a memory of a mother was better than no memory of a mother at all.”

Tommy barely remembered his mother. He knew that they shared the same blond hair but he couldn’t remember her face. He remembered that they traveled the streets together, but he can’t remember if he was raised in another home. He remembered how she wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and abandoned him in an alleyway, but he can’t remember if she was happy or sad about leaving him behind.

He thinks that he would prefer to have no memory of his mother than to have any memories of her at all.

“How do you know it’s your mum that you heard?” Tommy asked, staring down at the cards that stretched into the dark.

“I don’t know,” Wilbur said. “But I pick and choose what I want to believe.”

Tommy couldn’t agree with that statement more.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

“You know,” Tommy said one time when they were sitting across from one another, a game of solitaire in front of Wilbur and Tommy’s hands settled in his lap, “I think I’m starting to remember things.”

If Wilbur was listening he gave no sign of paying any attention to Tommy. Instead he continued to flip and arrange the cards in front of him, creating small decks as he tried to beat the game in record time. Tommy thought it was a very stupid game. You set out rows of cards just to make stacks of cards and win by having four complete stacks of cards of the same suit. Wilbur’s best game he completed in under a minute. This one, however, Tommy could see him growing frustrated over as a minute had passed already and he had barely any cards stacked together.

“I never remembered going off our home world,” Tommy continued, his eyes following his brother’s hands as they moved and shuffled through cards. “But today I stared into the Void and remembered a city. That Tubbo kid was there, and we ran through the streets together before we reached these big docks by a beach. We ran along the beach together. I almost pushed him into the water and he succeeded in pushing me in. I got pissed at him for getting me all wet.”

“I met Sally in that city,” Wilbur said, surprising Tommy. He didn't realize that Wilbur was listening to him, he gave no sign of it at all. He didn’t look up to meet Tommy’s eyes but his hands paused, hovering over his cards but making no move to grab them. Moments later he continued to shuffle through the cards, clearing away the stacks Wilbur had laid out as he began a new game.

“She hated that city as much as I did,” Wilbur added, sounding wistful and sad, almost. “I’m not sure why I stayed there for so long. Maybe it was because my job was decent and I could get you and Tubbo in school for a while, but I hated that city so much. She was the one to ask why I didn’t leave. I had never thought about that before.”

“Who was Sally?” Tommy asked. Wilbur dealt cards out in stacks, going silent for a moment as he thought of an answer.

“She was everything,” he said softly, softer than Tommy had ever heard him talk since he last heard him. “She loved the ocean and she loved salmon sushi and I think she loved me. She meant so much to me but I had to leave her behind.”

“Why?”

“Unlike me she was chained to the city.” He paused again, his movements of moving the cards slowing as he seemed to recall the memory more. “She had a fiancé, a family, a career, and a life in that city. She would have no support outside of that world. I was worried that if I were to run off with her I wouldn’t be able to care for you all. And she was worried about leaving her entire life behind just for a boy that she had known for a few months. She couldn’t leave and she knew that. I knew that too, even if I didn't want to admit it.”

“Do you think- do you think you would have gone back if none of this happened?” Tommy asked. ‘This’ seemed like a poor way to explain the time Wilbur has spent in Dream’s world and spent dead, but he didn’t know how else to explain it. He didn’t want to find a fancier word to explain it either. ‘This’ by no means was a worthy word for everything that happened, but to choose a worthy word meant accepting everything. Tommy wasn’t ready for that yet.

“I think if I wasn’t trapped here I would have brought Fundy back to see her,” Wilbur said, smiling softly. “They’re cousins y’know, both being fox hybrids, but Sally practically raised him all on her own. She was the one to convince me to take him off the world, saying it would be better for his health. After an accident happened when he was little causing him to have memory troubles, Sally said he was never the same. The city wasn’t healthy for him, he could barely recognize people’s faces and remember them. That city was suffocating him like it was suffocating us.

“And I couldn’t not take the kid with me. You and Tubbo were ten at the time and he was fourteen. He was fourteen and he had never truly lived. It wasn’t fair. So how I was like an older brother and father figure to you and Tubbo, I became that for him as well.”

Tommy could remember Fundy a bit better now. His most recent memories of the fox hybrid were not the best, considering he played a role in his kidnapping multiple times. But vaguely he would remember chasing a boy through the forest, tackling him down with Tubbo and laughing together. He could remember the boy who had trouble remembering people’s voices and faces, only knowing names but not the people they belonged to. He could remember the quiet boy that had a contagious laugh if you were lucky enough to hear it. He could remember.

“I think I remember,” Tommy said, smiling softly to himself. “The first time we met him, Tubbo, and I went off to get ice cream down by the beach. I dropped my ice cream on my shoes and cursed at it, as well as the birds that stole the cone right from off my feet. He laughed so hard he dropped his ice cream as well.”

Wilbur’s hands paused from where they hovered over his playing cards. Tommy looked up and the smile fell from his face as he looked into his brother’s own blank expression.

“I don’t remember that,” Wilbur said coldly. “How do you know it was real?”

Tommy faltered. His brain paused and all the memories he thought he was beginning to remember went to hide away in his mind again.

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Tommy thinks that the most uncanny thing about this older, new Wilbur is the lack of music. He didn’t sing or hum or whistle anymore. There were no notebooks with lyrics and notes scrawled throughout the pages. His fingers no longer twitched for the strings of guitar or the keys of a piano.

Growing up Wilbur was always a musical boy. Phil used to call him a little bird for the way he chirped back at the birds in a near perfect call that always sounded like the harmony of a song. Techno used to call him a siren for the way he could capture the attention of the room with just his voice and a song. Tommy loved to call him his favorite musician because Wilbur had this way of singing or playing any song that would lift Tommy’s mood without any problems.

This Wilbur was nothing like the Wilbur Tommy remembered.

So to fill the horrible silence of the Void Tommy started humming. Songs from his childhood, lullabies that Wilbur used to sing to him so he could sleep easier, marching songs that Techno would join in on, songs that made Phil laugh, and songs that only Wilbur played for Tommy, afraid to tell anyone else about them. It was nostalgic and helped to take Tommy’s mind off of other things, like his possibly insane older brother.

Wilbur didn’t react to the humming for the first few times that he did it. But as hours and days passed by he grew increasingly annoyed by it. It was fairly apparent that he was having trouble ignoring Tommy.

One day Tommy hummed a tune that he didn’t recognize but felt so right to hum. It was slow and soft and the words to the song felt like they were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t remember them. But he thinks Wilbur did, because he turned wildly to face his brother and snapped at him with a crazed look in his eyes.

“Would you quit your humming?” Wilbur hissed. “Especially when it’s that song!”

Tommy furrowed his brows in confusion. “What song?”

“Of course you wouldn’t know,” Wilbur scoffed, crossing his arms. “That cursed song has haunted me since the day I created it. It’s an unfinished symphony that will forever remain unfinished.”

“Why didn’t you finish it?” Tommy asked, not really caring about the song anymore but caring about getting some answers. “Why did you stop singing?”

Wilbur froze. He blinked slowly and looked down to meet Tommy’s bright blue curious eyes that were staring up at him. He seemed genuinely confused by Tommy’s questions.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t sing anymore,” Tommy said, frowning. “You don’t hum or whistle. Your fingers twitch for your lighter and cigarettes, not your guitar. You don’t have any notebooks with lyrics, just your stupid solitaire cards. You don’t sing anymore.”

“I- I still sing!” Wilbur protested, but even he seemed to have realized the truth.

“I just want to know why,” Tommy said sadly. “It was your most favorite thing in the whole world and you stopped. Why?”

“It was-” Wilbur hesitated and took a deep breath before continuing. “It wasn’t my favorite thing in the whole world.”

“Then what was?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, not when I’ve lost it, lost them.”

Wilbur’s words trailed off and not even a minute later he was shoving his hands into his pockets and walking into the darkness. Tommy watched him go, wondering what, wondering who, Wilbur could have possibly been talking about.

What did Wilbur love more than his ambition and passion for making music?

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

The worst thing about Wilbur was his unpredictability. One day he would be willing to talk and hold a conversation with Tommy, the next he would outright ignore him. Sometimes he would talk into the darkness as if he was talking to someone else, other times he would silently lay on the ground and stare up into the Void with a blank look in his eyes.

This reaction, however, was new.

As soon as Tommy met this older Wilbur he had been afraid of him. It wasn’t a willing or purposeful reaction that Tommy felt towards his older brother, he just couldn’t help but want to keep his distance from the older man some days. He was a lot taller than him and easily towered over him. His dark brown eyes flashed with scary emotions and he was rather unfeeling a lot of the time. He would smoke and breathe the smoke into Tommy’s face, grinning when he watched the boy splutter and curse at him. He would light his fingers on fire with cold eyes trying to burn himself even when they couldn’t feel or hurt themselves in the Void.

So yes, his older brother with the sword gash in his abdomen, long hair that fell into his face, the coldness in his eyes, and the mood swings that he went through scared Tommy.

That’s why when Tommy watched him stumble out of the darkness of the Void and lock eyes onto him, Tommy felt the need to run.

“Wilbur?” Tommy asked, his voice shaky and hesitant. His body shook as he turned his feet slightly as if to prepare himself to run if he needed to.

Wilbur’s eyes were blown wide and he was hunching over slightly. He was breathing heavily and took a heavy step forward. His eyes didn’t move, didn’t blink, as they stayed trained on Tommy.

Tommy felt his breathing pick up and he took a step back as Wilbur stepped forward.

“Wilbur, you’re scaring me,” Tommy croaked out as he felt tears prickle in the corner of his eyes. Wilbur said nothing. If Tommy’s heart could still beat it would certainly be beating very fast right now.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Wilbur said coldly, sounding like a broken record forcing to repeat the same phrase over and over again. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“But I-” Tommy started, only for Wilbur to interrupt him with a scream.

“NO!” Wilbur screamed. He shrieked at the top of his lungs, sounding like a banshee from one of Techno’s myths. Tommy flinched and covered his ears with his hands to try and cancel out the sound. Wilbur was standing up a little straighter now and tearing at his hair, still breathing heavily and whimpering to himself as he took another deep breath. Tommy watched him open his mouth to scream again and quickly took a few steps back.

“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” Wilbur screamed, repeating the same phrase that he had just said a moment ago. A phrase that he repeated too often for Tommy’s comfort. He took quick steps forward and Tommy scrambled back only to fall back on his butt. He continued to push himself away with his hands and feet, trying to get away from Wilbur even as he stepped closer. Tommy looked up with a fearful expression on his face.

Wilbur was crying, clenching his fists and staring down at him, his eyes wild.

“I wasn’t supposed to be alone,” he whispered. It sounded like a confession, like defeat. Tommy shivered involuntarily. “I wasn’t supposed to be alone.”

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Tommy said as he watched Wilbur fall to his knees beside him. The man only ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the brown curls roughly.

“I wasn’t supposed to be alone,” he echoed again. “You were supposed to be up on that stage. You were supposed to be on that stage when the explosives went off. I wasn’t supposed to be alone.”

Both of the boys choked on sobs. Tommy because he was scared and confused. Wilbur for whatever his own reasons for crying were.

“But I’ve always been alone, haven’t I?” Wilbur said, a crazed smile spreading across his face. “I’m alone, I’ve always been alone.”

“But I’m right here!” Tommy cried, trying to get his brother to listen to him. “I’m right here! ”

“SHUT UP!” Wilbur screamed, hands once again tearing at his hair. “YOU’RE NOT REAL, YOU NEVER WERE REAL. YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!”

“Stop!” Tommy cried. Wilbur didn’t stop his screaming, now pounding his fists into the ground beside him. Tommy could understand why he did it. He wanted to feel alive so badly, but they couldn’t feel anything here. Tommy couldn’t feel his hair brushing at the back of his neck, he couldn’t feel the clothes on his back, he couldn’t feel the blood dripping down his skin. Wilbur tried to harm himself all the time, cutting himself on the edges of the sharp paper cards, lighting his fingers on fire with his lighter, and tearing at his hair all to try and feel alive. They would touch one another, reach for each other's hands, play with one another's hair, and hug each other tightly, all to feel nothing.

There was no use in touch or pain when they couldn't feel a thing. The things that used to make them feel alive were so easy at reminding them that they were dead.

“Please Wilbur,” Tommy sobbed, scooting closer to his brother to take his hands. “I’m real, you’re real, please Wilbur listen. Please listen.”

Wilbur only pulled his hands out of Tommy’s, scrambling back. His eyes are wild and he had the audacity to hiss at Tommy like a feral animal. Tommy just watched, sitting on his knees in frozen silence, as his brother continued to cry and scream. With his eyes fixated on his brother he didn’t notice the way that the ground of the Void had been reaching for him since he had fallen on his butt moments ago.

“STOP IT!” Wilbur screamed. “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE! I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ALONE!”

“Wilbur-” Tommy said, reaching out for his brother. He gasped when he saw the Void rising up to grab him, bubbling upwards to wrap around Tommy’s wrist like a chain. Tommy screamed and tried to claw it away. It was of no use. It was like iron around his wrist, and Tommy looked back to see it wrap around his ankles as well. It slowly began to drag him down and Tommy screamed, reaching out to Wilbur.

“Wilbur PLEASE!” Tommy shouted, making one last effort to reach his brother. Wilbur only looked at him sharply with a feral and angry look in his eyes.

“I WANT YOU TO LEAVE, ME, ALONE! ” Wilbur screamed with all his might.

The Void chains tugged roughly at Tommy and he screamed as he was dragged down into the darkness of the Void. The last thing he saw of Wilbur was the tears that shone on his face and the way his mouth hung open with surprise as the Void swallowed Tommy whole.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Tommy used to like the story of Theseus. No story was without it’s tragedies, but as he grew up Techno never used to tell him the whole version of the story. Just the beginning, a fraction, of Theseus’ story. The kid’s version if you will, about a brave hero that came home victorious.

Theseus was a brave prince that recognized that his country was being treated unfairly for having to sacrifice its citizens to another country to keep the beast they had locked away satisfied. The brave prince volunteered to be a sacrifice with the promise that he would bring his people home and bring an end to this horrible sacrifice they were forced to follow. And he succeeded. He went to the other country and with the help of a beautiful princess he fought his way through the treacherous labyrinth to reach the heart of it. That’s where he battled the Minotaur and won, bringing his people home. Even though he forgot to change the sail of his ship and accidentally killed his father with his forgetfulness, he was a hero.

Heroes were supposed to get happy endings. All of Tommy’s stories about heroes had happy endings. They always had a beautiful girl at their side, a city that would bow at their feet, and people that would praise and thank them for their heroics.

When Tommy played hero he was always successful. Wilbur, Techno, and Phil played the role of a sidekick and villain in his pretend stories, but Tommy always walked away on top. In the village he would rescue the little girls in their pretend stories and push the other boys to the ground that played the villain. He always envisioned himself as a hero because heroes were like Phil, supportive and powerful. They were like Wilbur, charming and kind. They were like Techno, strong and cool. Tommy wanted nothing more than to take all of those qualities and become the best hero that history had ever seen.

He was a fool to ever believe that time and history would ever be kind to him.

History didn’t care about him. History romanticizes the truth behind stories that are fed to children to inspire their foolish dreams. History only cares about spinning a tale of glory and of loss and regret to teach its readers about potential fame but as well as the pain that comes with it. History was a tale for historians to document to remind its readers that they shouldn’t follow in the footsteps of the fools that inspired historians to document the past. History only cares about the tragedy. It cares about appointing heroes and villains and telling their tales, but not the people that played a role in those tales.

History didn’t care for Theseus and other heroes and their truth, it cared about their pain and the story that they could create from it.

Tommy didn’t learn until much later in his life, when he was sixteen and had been a soldier that lived through months of pain, that Theseus was doomed to fall.

So it seems that he was too.

At least he wasn’t alone.

Tommy fell through the Void, no longer able to scream his voice out as the panic and fear had stolen all the fuel he had to scream. Just a few feet away from him was an older boy that was falling too. Tommy wasn’t sure when or how he got here, between one blink and the next the boy had appeared and was falling at the same rate as him.

The boy had dirty blond hair and bags under his eyes that were much too similar to Wilbur's. His eyes were a dull blue-grey that looked like they once shone but had since lost their light. He was missing a shoe and only had a sock on his right foot. His clothing was tattered and dirty, much like Wilbur’s, but unlike Wilbur’s clothes this boy’s clothes hung on him like rags that barely held themselves together.

Still, even in his disheveled state, the boy had a determined look on his face. He was struggling to get closer to Tommy, angling his body and wriggling like a fish on land as he reached for him. He stretched out his arm as far as possible, a pinched expression on his face as he wiggled his fingers at Tommy holding his hand out for him to take.

Tommy was too surprised to do anything.

“You fucking idiot take my hand!” the older boy shouted. He sounded upset but not angry. Just frustrated. He seemed confused like him but his will seemed much stronger than Tommy's was at the moment.

“Who are you?” Tommy croaked out, hoping the boy could hear him over the rush of wind in their ears.

“I’M YOU!” the boy shouted. “AND I’M REAL, YOU’RE REAL. NOW TAKE MY HAND YOU DUMBARSE!”

And with a burst of sudden realization Tommy’s memory of his dreams came back to him. This was the boy that had been trapped in a Void of his own, stuck in the back of his mind for so long. This was the same boy that had been desperately trying to break through to him for so long, projecting memories and emotions at him in an effort to wake his older conscious up. This was the boy that was sixteen and was supposed to be living instead of his inner eight-year-old consciousness.

This was himself.

This was Tommy .

And to wake up they had to wake up together.

Tommy reached out his hand. Their hands passed by each other as they reached out for one another, the wind spinning them away from one another. Their fingers brushed but didn’t lock onto one another as they were just too far apart to cling to one another. They continued to reach, continued to try, because no Tommy would give up on a challenge and let themselves go. They would continue to try because they wouldn’t give up. Tommy reached his arm out as far as he could, the boy doing the same, and prayed that it would reach.

Their hands locked onto one another and two boys that were one in the same, that were the same , fell into the Void together.

And if a mother reached out through the veil she had been trapped behind for so long to slow their fall, then no one had to know.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

The light was too bright. The rocks underneath his back felt like they were piercing through his clothes and through his skin stabbing into his back. He shifted his body and almost gasped at the way it suddenly felt like his whole body had been thrown off a cliff as pain rushed through him.

“Tommy?”

He blinked his eyes open, groaning at the light. Something hovered over him and blocked out the sun enough for him to crack his eyes open. His fingers twitched for a weapon that wasn’t there and his eyes flew open with shock when he realized who was sitting beside him and leaning over him. That pink hair couldn’t have belonged to anyone else after all.

“What,” Tommy croaked out, resisting the urge to cough. “What the fuck.”

Chapter Text

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Purple tears slipped from the cracks of the crying obsidian above him, collecting in small puddles on the floor before they’re absorbed into the volcanic glass beneath him. He counted the drops, having not much else to do. It’s been maybe twenty-four hours since he was thrown into this cell (one designed by but not meant for him) and he already feels like he’s going insane. More-so than he already is.

He respawned in this cell, the pillow he vaguely remembered being forcibly shoved onto laying on ground in the center of the room. It was taken from him soon after, Sam not wanting to risk him throwing it into the lava, himself following, so he could spawn back in the forest not too far from what now remained of the Community House. It’s probably collecting dust in the small cupboard of a room above the cell in case he ever decides to kill himself.

For a second, he considered it. Just for the fun, for the thrill. To experience death and what it’s like to die when it’s under his control. But it’s foolish to waste a life like that just to scare his prison guard. Even if the thought excites him.

Toying with death has been one of his favorite things since he first saw someone meet their end by his hand.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

He still remembered the feeling of his axe cutting through fragile skin and letting that despicable boy fall from his arms. There may have been an arrow sticking through his calf and a sword through his torso but all he could focus on was Tommy. Beautiful, annoying, charming, selfish, dying Tommy.

His blood had split so wonderfully. Just like it had all the previous times Tommy met his end by his hands. The thrill of taking his life excited him, the way he could control and manipulate how it happened when all other means of order failed. Recalling it was easy enough. He watched the boy’s head split open while trying to run from him in that blackstone room. He watched the arrow cut through him in a poor excuse of a duel and watched his body fall into the water. He watched the blood spill from his throat as he crumbled to the ground. Unable to be saved, even though in every death, his so called friends and family had been just paces away.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t left alive long enough to watch Tommy die like he had all the previous times before. But he knew that it was too late to save him. He can feel it, because it is as if the world itself was mourning alongside its occupants. He knew because when he awoke in this cage to see Sam, Punz, and Sapnap on the other side of the lava they had tears in their eyes and hatred in their gazes. He knew because everything is a little bit more silent, duller, than it usually is.

The world was quiet without Tommy.

(Isn’t this what he wanted?)

He doesn’t regret what he’s done. If he did then he’d be different from the man he is today. Now was not the time to ponder on regrets anyway. If he pondered on regrets to much he—

(—he sees a young girl with hair as blonde as his own smiling up at him even as he leaves her behind, empty promises spilling from his lips.

He sees the face of his mother lying in a pool of her own blood and vomit, hours dead already, too late to be saved.

He sees the faces of the friends that he called family turn their backs on him one by one.

He sees the face of a young boy with eyes brighter than the blue sky and blond hair like gold with a smile that rivals his younger sister’s when he stares up at him with something akin to childish glee in his eyes.

The little girl will never smile at him like that again and promises will be left unfilled.

The woman he called his mother will never breathe again.

The boys he called friends, called his brothers, will never stand by his side again.

The boy will never look at him with that sort of wonder again.)

—he will feel too much, and it is better to feel nothing at all.

He doesn’t regret. Not anymore. He moves on, planning and scheming and focusing on the present because he can’t regret. Not when he has plans to change the world and build something for himself and others.

But now he is stuck in this cell, trapped in the place where another should be. He does not know if this is his end but he would rather die than to give up now. This will not be his end so long as he still lives and breathes.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Notebooks are scattered in the corner of the room where his chest and lectern sit. He has long since run out of ink. He’s snapped his feather pens and spilled a whole jar of ink in one of his notebooks. The other two jars he used up already by scribbling nonsense on empty pages and drawing designs on his arm.

He stabbed the remains of one of the feather pens through his arm to use his blood to draw. Sam took away the pens soon after, promising to return with something he can’t harm himself with. He has not returned yet, and hours have passed.

His clock is gone, the gold and redstone mechanism easily melted in the lava when he tossed it away. The item frame where the clock hung still sat on the wall. Even after thoughtful consideration he’s decided not to move it. Whenever Sam returns with a new clock it will be hung back on the same wall. It’s not like moving it would make much of a difference anyway.

He wished that the cell was only made from obsidian. Then he could pry the lectern away from its spot in the corner and drag it to the edge of the lava. It could light a Nether portal and he could be free. But he had thought of this escape when reviewing the plans for the prison with Sam, so now the cry obsidian lines the walls as well.

Disappointing. Oh well. Nothing can be done.

It’s not like he’s so concerned about escaping yet. He still has two lives to his name. Technoblade still owes him a favor, something they talked about over private messages in the hours after his escape from L’Manburg. Technoblade knows who placed those items in those chests for him to find. It saved his life. And despite Technoblade’s hatred for him because of the spat they had over his younger brother, he does not seem like the type to disregard a life debt. At least he hoped as much.

Even without Technoblade’s favor he knows this prison in and out, blueprints burned into his memory in case of the prison's failure. He didn’t quite expect this, no, but he would not let himself go unprepared for a situation where he would be trapped here.

Unfortunately escape means that he is condemned to pick away at obsidian while fatigue plagues him, or find another solution.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The lava barrier drops. Across the pool of molten magma stood Sam, his expression hidden by the gas mask and goggles covering his face. In his hands are a clock and bottles of ink. He can’t help but smile a little at that.

Sam said nothing as the bridge brought him over to his cell. The netherite bars prevented him from reaching the man, but as soon as the bridge was on its way back over the lava they dropped down into the floor again. Huh, must have been an automatic system Sam installed. He wouldn’t know, he’s barely touched redstone in his life, it’s one weakness of sorts that he can admit to himself.

Neither of them spoke up, the warden and his prisoner both staying silent as they observed one another. Sam quietly crossed the room, setting down the bottles of ink in his chest of notebooks. He had some sort of writing utensil he set in there too, something to replace the feather pens he had snapped. Once that task was finished Sam hung the new clock up in the item frame, tilting it back and forth until it was completely level. Not like it mattered, the clock would soon be removed as soon as Sam left again. Messing with it could at least ease his boredom a little. Maybe this time he will stick half of it into the lava and see how long he can last holding onto it before the heated metal burned his skin.

Finally, as Sam walked back to the edge of his cell, he paused and turned to face his prisoner. He couldn’t help but smile behind his mask as Sam stared intensely at him. This was what he was waiting for, Sam couldn’t stay silent forever.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” he asked, his hands tightening into fists at his side. Despite the façade he put on as the Warden, his hands still shook.

“No,” he replied, still smiling to himself. The creeper hybrid only continued to clench and unclench his hands.

“You promised to bring him back,” Sam said. “Before we threw you in this prison you said you would bring him back.”

He only tilted his head and leaned back against the wall, relaxing his posture. Toying with Sam was fun, watching him fidget as he put on an indifferent front to upset the other man. Remaining uncaring was something he was pretty good at after years of practice.

“I did.”

His fingers tapped a mindless pattern into the obsidian beneath him and Sam continued to stare.

“Yet you’ve only sat here and done nothing while Tommy’s been dead for the last twenty-four hours,” Sam snarled, and the smell of gunpowder filled the room.

“To be fair, I never specified when I would bring him back,” he said, waving Sam off with one of his hands before he twirled it in the air as he studied his fingers. “Just that I would.”

Another purple tear dripped onto the floor.

“I could kill you right now,” Sam hissed. “I could stab my trident through your heart, I could show you no mercy, for I have no mercy for a murderer. I am your Warden and I can show you how cruel I can be.”

“Yet here I am,” he said, placing his hands in his lap and tilting his head at Sam. “Alive. And you’ve done nothing to change that.”

“You killed a child!” Sam exclaimed. “Do you feel nothing? Regret nothing?”

A simple shake of his head answered Sam’s questions and sent them back into silence again. The smell of gunpowder still hung heavy in the air as Sam bowed his head, fists shaking at his sides.

Lava popped and the glowstone continued to dully shine and cast flickering shadows along the walls. Purple tears ran through the cracks of the crying obsidian and dripped onto the floor. Fabric shifted as Sam’s boots scuffed against the rough obsidian as he began to turn away, looking back across the lava that separated him from his freedom.

“What will it take for you to bring him back?” Sam asked, his words quiet, refusing to look at his prisoner any longer. He could tell that Sam was giving up on conversing with him. His words were the words of a man that did not want to break down in front of a killer. They were the words of a man ready to give up on getting anything out of him as his endeavors were fruitless. But he wasn’t done toying with Sam yet, longing for someone to taunt, to hear another voice.

“His body,” he responded, too quick to answer, too quick to trick Sam into staying a little bit longer. Sam only scoffed and lightly shook his head.

“No, I think you would have said something before if you needed his body,” Sam said. “Plus, I doubt Technoblade would even allow me near him, let alone let me ask for the body of his brother. No one has seen him since the murder.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. Sam wasn’t wrong. He’s long since memorized the art of resurrection, but he doesn’t quite need a body to do so. “I don’t need anything from you to bring him back. I’m just waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Sam asked, sounding confused, sparing one final glance to look back at him.

Underneath his mask, the prisoner before him smiled again.

“For him to settle into death.”

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

When Ranboo found him struggling to open a bottle of what he thinks was wine that was leftover from the festival yesterday morning, he promptly took it from his hands and threw it out the window. Not the enderman hybrid’s brightest moment, and not one that at the time Tubbo appreciated, but it was nevertheless a good decision. Mourning while intoxicated doesn’t really sound like the greatest idea.

Doing anything while intoxicated wasn’t a good idea, especially when you’re a minor and the president of the country.

But couldn’t help himself. He was too curious for his own good and after spending months with Schlatt watching as he used alcohol to avoid his problems it was the first thing to come to mind. That probably says something about Tubbo’s mental state, but he’s not going to think about that now. Not when Ranboo was trying to comfort him.

Because Tommy is dead.

And it’s his fault.

He can’t believe he didn’t notice how the little boy tailing after Technoblade was Tommy. Sure, he was a little younger than when they first met when they were maybe ten, but it was still unmistakably Tommy. His best friend. You think of all the people he’d be able to recognize the boy.

If he was saying all of this out loud Ranboo would probably try to tell him otherwise. Because that’s how Ranboo was. Like the therapy friend he’s never had. And Tubbo feels horrible calling him that because he’s spent months getting to know Ranboo and becoming his friend, it doesn’t feel right to call him the therapy friend just because he’s there to comfort him when he’s upset. He felt like he was taking advantage of him if that was true.

But here they were, sitting together on the floor the next morning, Ranboo with a hand running through his hair as Tubbo curled into his side. Two friends who lost their third. A president and his minutes man and the empty space where their spitfire vice president should be.

Because Tommy is dead.

And Tubbo doesn’t know what to feel.

“You know, Phil messaged me to say that they made a grave,” Ranboo said quietly, speaking up for the first time since they fought last night over the spilt wine, for the first time since they woke up this morning and immediately clung to one another. Tubbo stiffened and gripped the soft fabric of Ranboo’s suit in a clenched fist.

“Why?” he murmured into the other boy’s side. “Isn’t Dream going to bring him back?”

Both of them know that Dream could have been bluffing. He’s nothing but a liar and a manipulator after all. But neither of them quite want to admit that Tommy’s gone forever. He had so much life and it was snuffed out so easily. Like an ant under someone’s boot.

“I don’t know,” Ranboo answered after a beat. “But I want to visit, to say a proper goodbye, y’know?”

Tubbo does know. He craved the same closure, and has been craving it since he saw the desolate beach so devoid of life when it was supposed to be Tommy’s exile. And if closure is a grave with dates far too close to one another then he will do what he can to take advantage of this opportunity.

“Let’s go visit,” Tubbo said, sitting up and pulling himself away from Ranboo. The other boy stood and offered him his hand with a sad smile on his face. Tubbo took it and let the enderman hybrid lead him out of his office, out of L’Manburg, and to a place where he was once unwelcomed and now will go to mourn.

There’s some irony in that statement that Wilbur would have loved, the poetic bastard. But Tubbo is far too tired to think about it for too long. And cold, as they step out from a Nether portal and trek through layers upon layers of snow.

Tubbo doesn’t have the appropriate wear for winter, especially for the winter weather that the north sees. All he has is a worn and too big Christmas sweater that’s been shoved in the back of his closet as soon as the holidays were over. It felt wrong to celebrate without Tommy.

L’Manburg never saw more than a light dusting of snow. It was probably because their country didn’t lay that far to the north, and because they lived right next to the coast. Sea breezes or whatever pushed the snow farther north. Tubbo thinks that the last time he dressed properly for winter was on another world, when Tommy and him were younger, when they treated Fundy like their older brother, and when Wilbur was there to worry and care for them.

It hadn’t been that way for a long time now.

Snow seeped into his shoes and melted, making his socks wet. His leather dress shoes will probably be ruined after this. The cuffs of his pants are also soaked through and he’s losing feeling in his hands despite the fact that Ranboo was holding one of them as he guided them alongside a strange path that curved around a hill. The enderman hybrid doesn’t even seem to be bothered by the chill while Tubbo is shivering uncontrollably.

They make it to Technoblade’s house eventually. The walk probably only took twenty minutes and would have been faster if Tubbo didn’t trip so many times, but in his defense Ranboo has incredibly long legs and was walking too fast. As they finally approach the house Tubbo can see smoke rising from the chimney, a flock of crows resting atop the roof, and Philza leaning on the rails of the porch. He gave them a little wave as they came close. Ranboo returned it. Tubbo did not. Tubbo’s eyes are focused on something else.

Near the treeline and resting at the bottom of a small slope of snow, lies a gravestone. What looks to be an oak sapling is planted just behind it and fresh flowers rest atop the thin layer of new snow.

It’s a grave. It’s Tommy’s grave.

When Ranboo caught sight of what he’s been staring at and gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I’ll go say hi to Phil,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’ll let you have some time to yourself.”

Then the hand slipped out of his and Ranboo’s walking up to meet Phil. Tubbo stood still for a few moments, trying to get his feet to move, before he had the courage to approach the grave. The closer he got the more it dawned on him that this could very well be Tommy’s final resting place, forever. And the gravestone with his name on it has dates that are far too close together.

Someone laid dandelions on top of Tommy’s grave, among other flowers he doesn’t recognize at first glance. Tubbo remembered spending spring afternoons with Tommy in fields of flowers, twisting dandelions into crowns they would adorn atop their heads. When they were children it was a fun thing to do to keep their minds off of thinking if they had a place to sleep that night or if they would have food to eat. When they were soldiers it was to take their minds off of blades glinting in the sun and bombs lying underneath their feet and their eldest brother losing nights of sleep over war.

He thinks that one time Tommy told him that dandelions were his favorite. He can’t remember anymore. Even now the memories of those spring afternoons are slipping away. He wants to hang tight to those memories but they slip through his fingers like sand in an hourglass.

Time has slipped by so fast. One day they were children following cluelessly after their brother, the next they were soldiers wondering when the next attack would come. Now Tubbo is president of a nation that stands for nothing and Tommy is buried six feet in the ground.

Wilbur should be beside him. Or Tommy should be beside Wilbur, in L’Manburg. They were brothers for far longer than Tubbo was brothers with them. But Tubbo wouldn’t have buried Tommy in Wilbur’s tomb either, so he can’t blame Technoblade and Philza for their choice of burying him in snow.

He had always loved the snow. He said it used to remind him of the days when his family was still together. If Tubbo reminded him of sunshine and summer days then his family reminded him of snowstorms and nights spent cuddled next to a hearth.

But standing here, numb hands in the pockets of his dress pants and his suit jacket doing little to block out the cold, Tubbo can’t help but feel bitter. He’s mournful, the tears and snot dripping down his face aren’t just from the cold, but he’s bitter. He’s bitter that he couldn’t save Tommy, that he died in the arms of the family that disgraced him and not in the arms of his friend. But didn’t Tubbo disgrace him too, by casting him out of L’Manburg and exiling him?

He’s a hypocrite and he knows it but he can’t help but want to ignore the truth. A part of him doesn’t even want to acknowledge or accept that Tommy’s dead. To be fair until Ranboo found him in his office he hadn’t really accepted Tommy’s death as truth.

Behind him he can hear footsteps approaching, snow crunching underfoot. He doesn’t turn around, too busy staring at the dates on Tommy’s gravestone, trapped in his own mind. It’s only when the person stopped to stand beside him that he looked up.

Technoblade stood beside him, no crown atop his head or mask covering his face. His face was devoid of emotion but by the way that he’s gripping his sword hilt at his waist Tubbo can tell that he’s suppressing some sort of emotion. Technoblade isn’t even focusing on him, his eyes instead looking at the crudely carved gravestone.

“Here to stab me big man?” Tubbo couldn’t help but snark at the older man. He’s not afraid to dare him to stab him though, not anymore. He honestly couldn’t give a shit. He’s lost just about everything that’s dear to him, his life won’t be that big of a loss.

But Technoblade made no move to do anything. Instead his hand fell from his sword hilt and he turned to face Tubbo, brown eyes staring deeply into his own.

“No,” he said simply. “Even I have the dignity to refrain from attacking mourners.”

“But you’re not above shooting children in the face with firework rockets?” Tubbo said sarcastically, trying to get a rise out of him. What he didn’t expect was for Technoblade to flinch back and look away.

“No, I suppose not,” he responded, and he sounded defeated of all things. And it makes Tubbo angry.

Growing up he heard stories about Technoblade, a furious warrior that dominated in the Hypixel world’s tournaments. A mercenary in some worlds, a leader in others. One that toppled governments but favorite pastimes were apparently starting vegetable wars with people in Hypixel.

So of course when he found out that Tommy and Wilbur were related to him — if not by blood then by promises — he was ecstatic. To hear that your pseudo-brothers knew one of the most influential warriors of all time he couldn’t help but feel special. When Technoblade came to help out in the Pogtopia-Manburg war some foolish part of himself thought they would be unstoppable with an actual warrior there to help them. No longer would his young hands have to hold a sword and shield when he had an actual adult there to protect him.

He was so very wrong.

The burns that scarred his skin, permanently, are proof of that.

“You’re a fucking bastard, you know that, right?” Tubbo hissed, resisting the urge to kick Technoblade as hard as he could in the shins. “It’s bullshit, not harming mourners and children. Just look at what you did to me, to us , during the war.”

“I am well aware of my actions Mr. Government,” Technoblade answered, red swirling through his brown irises. “Are you aware of your own?”

“I’m a child! ” Tubbo shot back. “Who cares what the fuck I did, aren’t I supposed to make mistakes? It’s not like I had anybody to raise me, Tommy and Wilbur fucking picked up from the side of the road. They may have been family to me, but they weren’t replacements for the parents I should have had to help me.”

“You can’t blame your actions solely on the fact that you don’t have parents,” Technoblade replied, and Tubbo hated how cold he sounded.

“And you can’t blame yours on fucking peer pressure,” Tubbo said, jabbing a numb finger towards Technoblade’s chest. “Peer pressure my ass, you fucker.”

“When you have the voices of hundreds in your head, it’s oftentimes too difficult to determine which is your own,” Technoblade said slowly, his hand gently pushing Tubbo’s hand down to his side.

And well, Tubbo hadn’t known about that. He wasn’t uneducated on mental illnesses or side effects of being Glitched, but he hadn’t realized that Technoblade was affected by something like that. He doesn’t think he’s being unfair about Technoblade being cruel and hypocritical, but he can't exactly ignore that Technoblade deals with problems of his own. Tubbo has his own mental monsters that linger.

“I don’t forgive you,” Tubbo said, clenching his hands into fists at his sides.

“I don’t expect you to,” Technoblade said, looking away from him.

Silence fell between them. The cold bit at Tubbo’s face and he can feel tears and snot freezing to his face. He wasn’t even aware that he had continued to cry, albeit silently. His hands are so numb he can’t feel them anymore, his feet feel like ice bricks, and he’s shivering so hard he’s just waiting for his legs to give out at this point.

“Come on,” Technoblade said, turning on his heel. He glanced back at Tubbo who was glaring at him. Technoblade just sighed. “You’re going to catch a cold, come inside.”

Then he started walking through the snow, not waiting for Tubbo to follow. He watched him go for a few moments before looking away. Instead he took one last look at Tommy’s grave and the flowers that sat atop them.

“Your brother is kinda a bitch,” he whispered. “I miss the old Pogtopia him.”

And he did, despite the way his body wanted to shrink back every time he saw Technoblade there was still a part of him that craved what they had before the festival. The Technoblade he would collect dandelions with for stew and would mine with while spouting out random information. The Technoblade who let him go on rants about Roman Archives and passed him a bottle of water every time the smoke and dust of Pogtopia started to settle in his lungs. He missed the Technoblade who found him and Tommy drinking on Tommy’s sixteenth birthday and took the bottle from them, ushering them to bed. The Technoblade that would give him tips on how to dodge glass bottles and make himself slip and blend into the shadows. The Technoblade who laughed at his and Tommy’s jokes and kept them away from Wilbur when he was going on dust and smoke driven crazes. The Technoblade who took care of his injuries and would share stories of his adventures when he couldn’t sleep.

He missed when Technoblade wasn’t The Blade and was just Techno, Wilbur and Tommy’s brother (and by extension, his own).

“I miss him,” Tubbo whispered. “And I miss you too. So fucking much.”

Tommy’s grave sat innocently in the snow, little snowflake flurries settling on the stone. His grave was not marked with fancy words, just a name and dates. A thoughtful bouquet of flowers was left on top of new snow and overturned dirt and an oak tree sapling sat behind the stone. Tubbo didn’t have to think too hard about who put the flowers there and planted the tree. He knows that warriors who hide away their emotions still feel. He’s one of them after all.

And maybe that’s why now, he finds that it’s okay to cry.

But the cold is starting to make himself sick, and Ranboo is inside, and he can’t mourn here forever. So he took a deep, shuddering breath, before he turned his back on the gravestone and trudged his way through the snow to Technoblade’s cabin. Tomorrow is a new day and he has many more days to mourn. Today, he just wanted to rest.

At the very least, he thinks he deserved some sleep.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Ghostbur wished that Tommy was here.

Tubbo and Ranboo are asleep together, looking more like a pile of limbs and blankets on the floor than actual humans. They’re dressed in Phil and Techno’s spare clothes and have blankets tossed over them. The fire in the hearth is still going strong, keeping the room warm. It’s a comfortable heat, a necessary one too considering when Tubbo came inside he was soaked by the snow and so numb that Phil had to draw him a bath to warm him back up. After having a fulfilling dinner and a cup of tea he passed out of the floor almost immediately. Ranboo was so worried for Tubbo that he passed out alongside him. It’s kind of cute watching the two friends sleep peacefully on the floor.

Phil and Techno are still up, which honestly isn’t surprising. They haven’t really gotten any sleep lately. It’s late and the sun has long since set yet they’re still sitting together on the couch. Neither of them are really acknowledging Ghostbur as he sat in his chair, playing with some blue.

Ghostbur wished that he could go outside. He doesn’t know where Tommy is. Techno said that he was gone, but that could mean anything! He wasn’t in the house, Ghostbur knew that, he checked in every spot, even in the wardrobe that made his head fuzzy. He wasn’t in the barn with the horses, cows, twenty-three chickens, and the wolves that Techno had picked up recently. Ghostbur wanted to go look for him in the woods but Phil stopped him, saying something about Tommy being home soon. But it’s been over a day and he’s still not back.

It wasn’t exactly uncommon for Tommy to go missing for a day or two, but usually he went with someone if he did. When L’Manburg was little more than a drug van he and Tubbo would camp away in the woods by themselves. Even as they grew Tommy would disappear for a day or two here, always coming back with more supplies and a smile on his face.

But Tommy is small right now and Ghostbur is worried. His brain fuzzed every time he thought back to when he last saw Tommy. Now he can't help but think that Tommy’s been gone for more than just a day or two.

“Phil,” Ghostbur said, squeezing the blue in his hands. His father hummed in acknowledgement as he looked at Ghostbur.

“When is Tommy coming back?” he asked. His father’s face fell and he looked away. Techno isn’t looking at him either, his eyes on the kids sleeping on the floor.

“Wil-Ghostbur,” Phil said with a cough. “Tommy’s—”

(There is static in his ears that sounds suspiciously like a train horn.)

Ghostbur is squeezing blue tightly between his fingers. He blinked, then blinked again. Phil is giving him a strange look and he can’t help but sink into his chair a little bit. He can’t remember what he was thinking about.

Tubbo and Ranboo are sleeping together in a pile of limbs on the floor. Even with the couple of blankets tossed over them Ranboo’s feet are sticking out and Tubbo’s managed to kick one of the blankets off entirely. They look peaceful in their sleep, even with the obvious scars that adorn their skin. They look softer, more like kids, when they’re asleep.

Ghostbur wished that Tommy was here.

He’s been missing for a little while now. Ghostbur even went out to look for him, but couldn’t find him anywhere. Not like Phil let him go very far. But he said that they could look for him again later. Plus Ghostbur assumed that he must have started melting yesterday, looking for Tommy, because it’s hard to remember. Everytime that he went out yesterday and found Techno in the yard his memory fuzzes. A lot of his memories are like that. Sometimes he wished they weren’t, but at the same time fuzzy memories are bad and sad memories and better off staying fuzzy. If they didn’t stay fuzzy he’d have to have so much blue on him all the time to soak up his sadness.

Still, things would be better if Tommy were here. He’d find some way to get Phil and Techno to bed with too many swear words. He’d probably make Ghostbur sing him a song before he joined Ranboo and Tubbo in the cuddle pile on the floor. He’d make things better.

But Tommy’s not here right now. And Ghostbur is probably worrying about him more than he should. Maybe he went to go hang out with Fundy, it’s been a while since those two hung out. Ghostbur should see Fundy soon, maybe take him fishing. He liked salmon, right? Did Tommy like salmon?

“Hey Philza, Dadza, Phil,” Ghostbur sang, leaning over the armrest chair with a smile on his face. His father turned to face him with a small smile on his face. He looked tired.

“Yes Ghostbur?” Phil said, making him grin.

“Do you know when Tommy’s coming back? I have an important question for him,” Ghostbur said. Phil’s expression fell and before he could say a word Techno spoke up.

“Tommy’s away right now,” he said, his eyes trained on the kids sleeping on the floor. “Don’t worry about it.”

Phil looked away and Techno went silent again. Ghostbur frowned and sunk back into his seat, picking at the blue stained cuffs of his sweater sleeves.

He wished that Tommy were here.

Things are quiet the next morning. Ranboo doesn’t wake up until Tubbo kicks him in his side. Phil stepped out of his room, shaking his wings and putting his hat over his messy bedhead hair. Techno was up before everyone, and Ghostbur had watched him put a kettle on the stove, heating up water for tea.

Tubbo looked like he was about to fall asleep and face plant into the plate of toast in front of him. Ranboo was combing his hands through the tuft of hair at the end of his tail, yawning like a cat that just woke up from their nap. Phil was sipping a cup of warm tea and Techno was leaning on the kitchen counter as he looked out through the window.

It was peaceful. Ghostbur enjoyed watching everyone wake up from his spot in the armchair. It was nice to see everyone getting along together. It had been so long since they had all come together as a family. They were missing a person here and there, but it was better than nothing. It made Ghostbur happy.

Then everyone’s communicators ding as a new message makes the screen lights up.

Ghostbur doesn’t make a move to pick his up. It’s an old thing that hardly works and it used to belong to Alivebur before it was his. He doesn’t like it. Plus he probably got the same message that everyone else got, it sounded like it was a public post.

But whatever it was must have been important judging by the wide eyes that stare at the message on their screen.

“Holy shit he wasn’t lying?” Tubbo whispered mostly to himself. Ranboo is shaking in his seat. Phil almost dropped his communicator as he swore, looking both scared and excited. Techno looked deathly calm but he’s gripping his communicator too tightly in his hands.

“Who wasn’t lying?” Ghostbur asked, and for the first time that morning the other people in the room acknowledged his presence.

“Dream’s reviving Tommy,” Phil said before turning to Techno. “We have to get to the Community House, now .”

Ghostbur just watched with a confused look on his face as everyone spurred into action, abandoning cups of tea and plates of uneaten breakfast. Dream was reviving Tommy? What did that mean? Was it code for Dream finding Tommy? Was Tommy missing in the first place? (He couldn’t actually be reviving Tommy, right? Because that meant that Tommy—)

He’s confused but he still makes a move toward the door when everyone rushes out to leave. It’s Techno that stopped him at the door. Ghostbur wanted to say it was because it was snowing outside and Techno didn’t want him to melt, but judging by the look on Techno’s face he couldn’t be sure.

“Why don’t you stay here Ghostbur,” Techno said softly. “We’ll be back soon.”

“With Tommy?” Ghostbur asked, nervously fiddling with his sweater cuffs.

“With Tommy,” Techno said with a nod before he rushed down the stairs and followed after Phil, Tubbo, and Ranboo. Ghostbur watched him go with a frown on his face. He wished that they hadn’t left him behind, tossing him to the side again. He wished he still had some blue to play with. He wished he had Friend to snuggle with.

But more than anything, Ghostbur wished that Tommy was here.

Chapter Text

Panic.

It ran through his veins like a strength or speed potion would, electrifying him. He can’t see straight, lights were dancing across his eyes and the world felt as if it was spinning. His breaths came fast and wet, he’s coughing and choking on air as he tried to take in his surroundings.

His body is on fire . He’s never felt this much pain before in his life. Not when Dream ran him through with a sword and his head cracked when it hit the ground and not when Dream shot an arrow through his chest and he drowned as he watched his blood stain the water. Not when Wilbur stood by and watched Techno beat him to near death and not when Techno summoned withers right in front of him and shot fireworks at his face.

He’s in an immeasurable amount of pain.

He’s never felt so alive.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive. Memories of his exile haunted him, the months he spent on that coastal beach are blurred together by fog. His days there were the same, mindlessly doing the bare minimum to survive and enduring the pain that Dream put him through to teach him a lesson as his friend. He was alive but not living, a shell of himself, just a boy in a body that didn’t quite feel like his own.

But now, lying down on the ground, he was aware of everything. The rocks digging into his back, the wind brushing his hair into his face, the touch of his clothes hanging off of his thin frame, the sound of people breathing, the trickle of water falling from broken bricks, the shuffle of feet on the ground, the faint sound of trees and birds in the distance.

It’s overbearing, like he hasn’t felt touch and heard sound in months. 

And it’s excruciating .

The sounds, the smells, the touch, the feeling, it’s all too much. Tommy’s breaths came fast as he shuddered from where he laid on the ground. His hands and feet scraped against the ground as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and pushed himself away from the man crouching beside him. From the people standing and staring at him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, this is wrong . His eyes dart around the area, and despite the fact that he’s never been in this ruin before he can still recognize it as what’s left of the Community House. The white sand of the beach, the scorched earth, the oak trees, and glittering water from the cold ocean is all gone. He’s not in the lands of his exile anymore.

He’s not in the lands of his exile anymore.

At this point his ragged and quick breaths don’t even panic him now that they’re so familiar. His fingernails dug into his skin as he dragged his hands up and down his arms.

He’s not supposed to be here, he abandoned his only friend, Dream’s going to come for him, Dream’s going to kill him, he’s fucked, oh gods oh prime oh ender-

“Tommy.”

The deep voice cut through his thoughts and Tommy’s eyes snapped over to the pink-haired man that’s been staring at him. Meeting Technoblade’s brown-red eyes did nothing to ease his panic.

“Tommy, you need to breathe kiddo,” Technoblade said softly and his words burned. Tommy’s ears feel like they’re one loud noise from bleeding and Technoblade’s strange and misplaced kindness felt like a blade to the chest.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Tommy whispered, hugging himself and ignoring the pain of his fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not supposed to be here, I’m not supposed to be here, I’m not su-”

“Tommy’s, it’s alright,” Technoblade said, trying to reassure him, to trick him, and Tommy can’t stand him. He’s shaking his head — he thinks so at least because the world is a blur of color again — and he wants to get away from Technoblade.

When did it get so hard to breathe? It’s like his lungs have been out of commission for months on end and now don’t know how to work properly. Tommy didn’t have the time to think about whether or not his lungs were working, he had to think about how to get back to Logstedshire before Dream found that he was missing.

“This can’t be real, this can’t be real,” Tommy muttered to himself, fingernails digging into fragile skin. “This can’t be real, this can’t be real.”

The more he says it maybe the more it’ll be true. He’s not sure why his brain has decided to hallucinate about the Community House, especially when it’s been blown to bits by the looks of it. That makes him wonder if his surroundings are real. He’s used to seeing Tubbo in his hallucinations, so he’s not surprised to see the boy standing in the corner, but Phil and Technoblade are rarer sights. And they are never nice in his hallucinations. Never.

Still, at the very least he must be hallucinating them. He never thought that he’d sleepwalk to the center of the SMP in an effort to get to L’Manburg, but he can’t discredit his own mind. It’s not like he’s never fallen asleep hoping he would do it even though it would only end in his death. So his surroundings must be real at least. He can’t trust anyone else though, they’re just hallucinations after all. They must be, they must be, they must be.

Breathing comes a little easier once Tommy’s able to push the voices of the hallucinations out of his mind. It’s easy enough to ignore their presences, Tommy’s had lots of practice with that, but the voices are always the hardest to ignore. His eyes simply glimpse right past them as he started looking for a way out, a way back to Logstedshire.

(Looking out for Dream, looking to see if he still has time, and if he doesn’t, then at least he’ll have been able to see the SMP before Dream inevitably kills him for a third time).

The Community House has been completely wrecked by what were probably explosions. Water still leaks from the top, the pipes that used to be laid in the bricks are poking out and bent at awkward angles. Rubble and bricks lie haphazardly around. Shattered panes of glass are crushed under the weight of bricks and shoe soles. Discolored eyes stare worriedly at him from across the ruins, hands picking at the cuffs of their pressed suit.

Discolored eyes .

Tommy is across the ruins before he even realizes that he’s moved. He fell to his knees in front of Ranboo, hands gripping tightly at the fabric of his soft, pressed suit. His breathing is fast again and he doesn’t know if it’s because he ran and collapsed in front of the tall enderman hybrid or it’s because he can feel himself panicking again.

Discolored eyes. The one thing that always shone through Tommy’s hallucinations. The one thing that can break himself away from his mind. The one thing that could help him.

“Please please please.” The words fell from Tommy’s lips but he could barely hear them as he gripped Ranboo’s suit pants tighter. The hybrid crouched down in front of him and concerned discolored eyes flicker to meet his own grey-blue ones for just a second before they flick away as hands come up to steadily grip his arms with a gentleness that Tommy hasn’t felt in so long.

Oh, he’s shaking. He didn’t notice that.

“Tommy, Tommy you need to breathe,” Ranboo said gently, sliding his hands comfortably up and down his arms. So different from the way he dragged his own hands up and down his arms, scratching and peeling at his own skin. Surprisingly the hybrid’s touch doesn’t hurt, and Tommy couldn’t stop his body from falling into Ranboo’s chest as he collapsed against him, exhausted.

“Please Ranboo, I need to go back,” Tommy gasped, and his voice broke as he began to plead. “I can’t let him find me, please I can’t die again, please Ranboo please.”

Tommy thinks he’s crying at this point but he couldn’t be quite sure. His body had been shaking for so long, his voice had been hoarse since the beginning, and he’s still unable to breathe properly because his lungs still don’t want to work on their own. His hands only gripped Ranboo’s suit tighter, unwilling to let go.

At least if Dream finds him he’ll be able to die in the arms of someone who cared about him. Right?

“Tommy,” Ranboo said, and Tommy thinks it’s the gentlest he’s ever heard the skittish hybrid speak. “Tommy, Dream can’t find you, Dream’s been locked away.”

It’s as if time has come to a stop.

The birds stop chirping. The water stops dripping. The background noise of voices fades away. The world is covered with fog and Tommy goes slack in Ranboo’s arms.

Dream can’t find you, Dream’s been locked away.

“Really?” Tommy found himself breathing out, unbelieving. But Ranboo only nodded as his arms wrapped around him. He whispered softly of how Sam and Sapnap and Punz locked him away after he did something unforgivable. What that is, Ranboo wouldn’t give away. Tommy can’t really bring himself to care because Dream is gone.

Dream is gone and he is free.

“Take me home, please,” Tommy whispered. Ranboo lifted him to his feet, took him by his hand, and led him away from his hallucinations and the Community House. 

Neither of the boys looked back at the distraught faces that watched them go without a word.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

The Prime Path was rotting.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised. As one of the oldest creations in the world that served as a path everyone walked along it was bound to be worn down. He used to take it upon himself to change the rotting boards with new ones whenever he got the time. Even during the Revolution when his every step was watched, he would replace the boards.

He stopped being able to do the task so frequently when he and Wilbur got exiled during the second war.

He stopped completely when he was exiled from the mainland.

But now walking along the Prime Path Tommy couldn’t help but feel empty when Ranboo guided him around holes in the path, caused by either rot or a creeper, or maybe an arsonist, he wouldn’t know. The Prime Path just served as another one of his lasting marks in this world that no one cared about.

And even though it bothered him he didn’t have the energy to be angry about it.

Ranboo brought him to his dirt shack. Which, it made sense, when they first met Tommy did call the shack his home. But he couldn’t help but feel hollow when he stared at the scuffed oak doors and shattered windows and the lopsided sign above the door that had his name crossed out with Connor’s name replacing it.

Even when he was exiled people still found it fun to mess with his things. He wasn’t even surprised by it anymore. Ever since he pulled his first prank people have been griefing him in retaliation, even if he didn’t do anything to them. Never forgotten, never forgiven, always the butt of the joke.

Tommy felt nothing.

But he slipped his hand out of Ranboo’s to approach the doors. They swung open with barely a tap and lured him inside. Dust coated everything, even the slightly newer footprints on the floor had a thin layer of dust and dirt settled over them. His things seemed to be in the place he left them, and his bed remains pushed in the corner of the backroom, the awkward stairwell still leading into the maze of his basement.

Nothing has changed. Tommy wondered why he felt as if it needed to.

It’s quiet. It’s empty. It doesn’t feel like home. Tommy felt like a stranger stepping into a house they’ve long since abandoned.

This dirt shack hasn’t been his home in months. He can’t help but wonder if it was ever home at all. Maybe sometime it had been, but they’ve long since passed that point. This isn’t his home, not anymore.

He turned around to find Ranboo awkwardly crouched in the doorway. The hybrid was playing with his hands and watching him with a worried expression on his face. Tommy just blinked slowly, suddenly overcome with exhaustion as his limbs grew heavy, a fog settling at the edges of his mind.

“Are you alright Tommy?” Ranboo asked, tilting his head like a cat. Tommy just shook his head. He felt like he was frozen in place. Ranboo seemed to notice as much because it only took him a few steps to be at his side, holding one of his hands gently.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Ranboo asked softly. A nod and Ranboo was tugging him along. “Then you can stay with me,” Ranboo said and Tommy could hear the smile in his voice.

He couldn’t find it in himself to protest against the idea.

They left the doors open behind them and didn’t look back at the dirt shack where the disturbed dust was already beginning to settle once again.

L’Manburg had changed since Tommy had last been around. Which made sense, considering they had just finished building the boardwalk and the framework of a building or two by the time he was exiled. It’s been months since he last stepped foot on this land so it’s strange to see it all built and complete without any influence from him or Wilbur. Well, unless you counted the crater…

It still smells of gunpowder, like when the dust had settled after the explosion and the battle. Tommy hated it. This new L’Manburg looked too nice to be stained by the smell of ash and explosives. It reminded him of Pogtopia and how the soles of his shoes were ashen stained by the butts of cigarettes that littered the bottom of the ravine. Walking through L’Manburg you could see the stains of scorched earth and overturned rock that was exposed by Wilbur’s explosives. Tommy hated how Pogtopia and L’Manburg were slowly growing in similarities.

But most of all seeing this new L’Manburg made him miss the old L’Manburg. The L’Manburg with four black and yellow walls and the Camarvan. The L’Manburg sheltered by a thick forest of thriving evergreen and deciduous trees. The L’Manburg where the only ash and gunpowder you could smell was from the accidents that came from Wilbur’s potions experiments or roasting diner over a campfire. The L’Manburg with flowers and saplings that they would carefully step around in the hopes of the wildlife growing as their country did.

That was the old L’Manburg, this is the new L’Manburg, with its crater-turned-lake and its buildings on stilts and replica of the Camarvan. Tommy doesn’t hate it — it’s Tubbo’s L’Manburg after all — but he doesn’t love it either. He’s not sure if he ever will love it in the same way he loved Wilbur’s L’Manburg. Coming to terms with that fact makes him ill for a reason he doesn't understand.

It’s L’Manburg, shouldn’t he love it regardless of who leads it?

He doesn’t voice of this out loud as he let Ranboo lead him through L’Manburg. Instead he tried to focus on other things. Like the light frosting of ice that still stuck around and the shovels of very melted snow piles that laid next to the wooden paths. L’Manburg almost never saw snow, it wasn’t far enough north for that.

Then there are the Christmas decorations that are still up, despite the fact that it’s not Christmas anymore (at least Tommy assumed it wasn’t). Most of the houses were decorated moderately, with some lights and some evergreen branches stapled to the roof edges. There were even a few holiday banners hanging off of the boardwalk railings beside the new L’Manburg flag.

Yet there was one house that was decorated more than most.

The house with the most decorations stood out like a sore thumb, smack dab in the middle of L’Manburg. It was tacky, extremely tacky, especially with the lopsided letter R hanging from the tip of the roof. It wasn’t even centered properly.

Tommy wasn’t surprised in the slightest when Ranboo walked up to the door of the tackiest house in L’Manburg, the R was a giveaway. He just raised his eyebrow and watched Ranboo squirm with embarrassment as he fumbled with the lock on his door.

“I just like Christmas,” the hybrid mumbled under his breath, flicking his tail. “Also just as a warning, my pets are pretty loud around newcomers, so be careful.”

He swung the door open, hand still holding Tommy’s as he dragged him into the little house, Tommy barely taking a second to process what he said.

Loud was an understatement. A chorus of creatures immediately started screaming as soon as Tommy crossed the threshold of the door. He pulled his hand from Ranboo’s to slap them over his ears. His back slammed against the now closed door and he tried not to let his legs fall out from underneath him as he was assaulted by the noise. His ringing ears and still aching body only made him feel more overwhelmed.

How pathetic was it that some noise surprised him this badly?

Ranboo frantically started shushing the creatures as soon as he recognized Tommy’s distress. He even tried his best to pick multiple of them up so they didn't swarm Tommy, but ultimately failed at his task. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, oh my ender I’m sorry Tommy they get really excited I’m sorry,” Ranboo rambled as apologies split from his lips, words muffled by the hands over Tommy’s ears. He kept picking up his pets to try and keep them away from him but the animals just continued to run in circles and jump up to greet the boy.

Tommy suppressed the urge to kick them all away so they would leave him alone.

Then Ranboo’s dog came up to Tommy.

Its eyes sparkled in the light.

It didn’t bark at him, didn’t try to touch him, just stared up at him with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. Tommy stared in silence as the dog licked its lips and seemed to smile up at him. It fell down at his feet and yipped quietly as it lay on its back and wagged its tail, as if inviting him to pet him.

Tommy stared deeply into the dog's sparkling eyes and smiled for the first time since he woke up.

“Hello,” Tommy whispered, still smiling as he crouched down, pulling one of his hands off his ears to run it through the dog’s soft fur. “What’s your name?”

He didn't notice the way that Ranboo was looking at him with a fond expression on his face as he petted the dog gently, lost in the sparkles of the dog’s eyes.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Ranboo’s house was very cluttered. Chests were overfilled with items, random tools and materials laid on the floor, and his pets only made the mess worse. Tommy knew that all of his own spaces were messy, but never quite like this. Ranboo just walked through the chaos as if he was a part of it, unbothered by the disorganization and messes strewn about.

Somehow he managed to find a spare cot for Tommy to sleep on for the night, shoving aside chests to make room for it in his little attic space where he slept and kept his spare items. He had tried to offer Tommy his own bed but he had responded by shaking his head in refusal. The tall hybrid would have been so uncomfortable lying on the cot and Tommy wasn’t going to be selfish and take away more of Ranboo’s possession so he could be slightly more comfortable. That would be unfair to Ranboo.

They made do with the arrangement and didn’t speak anymore about it as soon as they were tucked in for the night.

Tommy stayed in Ranboo’s house for a few days. He spent the majority of his time quietly lying on his cot upstairs. Most of the time a fog settled in his brain and he had trouble remembering things, stuck and unable to move. Other times he would just sleep.

Sometimes, when he was feeling more awake and less foggy, he’d sit downstairs with the pets, especially Ranboo’s pet dog who was too big to be carried up the ladder to the attic. He didn’t talk much but would whisper little words into the fur of Ranboo’s pets when he needed to hear something, to remind himself that he was here.

He would always sit with Ranboo for dinner, eating considerably smaller portions than the other boy. They never ate beef or mushrooms or drank milk. He didn’t give Ranboo an explanation as to why he couldn’t eat those foods. The boy never asked either. Somehow bringing it up quietly was enough for Ranboo to believe him.

(Tommy never told him about how he threw up that first day after eating three meals a day for the first time since he could remember.)

At one point during those first few days Tommy laid atop his cot upstairs, listening to Ranboo speak to someone downstairs. They spoke quietly, so Tommy was unsure of who the other voice was. His hearing wasn’t as good as it used to be. Later Ranboo told him that his family had visited, but he turned them away because Tommy was sleeping. They asked him to reach out if Tommy wanted to see them.

He didn’t.

It wasn’t like he had any family left anyway.

He thinks it was the fifth day of living with Ranboo (and he’s unsure of that because he’ll blink and suddenly it’s nightfall when he swore he just saw the sun rise) when Ranboo suggested the thought of him moving out.

“For you to have your own space, y’know,” he said as he dished out food for Tommy. Nothing with beef or mushrooms. They had that conversation days ago. They were having spaghetti again. Again. “Not that I don’t want you here, it’s just that the house is a little small for the two of us.”

And well, he wasn’t wrong about that.

“Where would I go?” Tommy asked. Ranboo paused for a moment as he took a seat before his eyes lit up.

“You could live in Philza’s house next door!” he said with a chirp that wasn’t too far off from that of an enderman. “It’s not like he uses it anyway, living with Technoblade and all.”

Tommy did not want to move into Phil’s house. Not after the accident with George’s house. Not when the man wasn’t here to give permission himself. Not when he’d probably fuck this up too.

But Ranboo was there to move some of his things from his dirt shack and help organize them in Phil’s place. To ease Tommy’s mind they set all of Phil’s things aside in the case that he came back for them. Ranboo was there to help him clean the house, arrange his things, and promise that he’d be there in a second if he ever needed him.

They were neighbors after all, and Tommy’s half-broken communicator that Ranboo was letting him borrow only had recent history with Ranboo, he practically had the hybrid on speed-dial at his own insistence.

Tommy didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Ranboo’s kindness. But he craved it after months of isolation, sharp words, and harsh punishments. He couldn’t muster up the courage to make him go away. Not when he was the only one who possibly cared for him, who he had left.

So when Ranboo knocked on his door every morning and every night to eat breakfast and dinner with him Tommy always opened the door.

When Ranboo asked if he wanted to walk his dog around L’Manburg or down the Prime Path with him he always said yes.

When he woke up screaming and crying Ranboo would always be there at the door with extra pillows and blankets in his hand, a promise that he'd be there for him for the night.

When Ranboo brought him home a handful of alliums Tommy took them from his hands and put them in a vase, setting them gently in the windowsill beside his bed, vowing to keep them alive as long as he could.

He couldn’t hate Ranboo, as much as he wanted to.

And it seemed like Ranboo couldn’t hate him, as much as he wanted him too.

It was late in the afternoon and Tommy was helping Ranboo tend to the gardens on the hillside behind their houses. They were shadowed by Eret’s tower behind them, giving them some protection from the bright winter sun. Tommy spent most of his time looking out over the view of L’Manburg and ignoring how he could see the White House out of the corner of his eye. It was quiet — peaceful even — as they sat together, Ranboo digging into the earth to harvest what was left of the little garden.

Tommy ran his hand over the grass, eyes blank and fog lingering at the edge of his mind, thoughts swimming through his mind.

“Why don’t you hate me?”

Ranboo stilled. He stayed kneeling on the ground, his hands in the earth, as he looked up at Tommy. Tommy didn’t say anything, didn’t dare to look at him, and just dug his hands into the grass and dirt where he sat.

“Why would you ask that?” Ranboo asked and Tommy despised how sad and quiet he sounded.

The dirt he dug his fingers forcefully into was cold.

“Everyone does, but why don’t you?”

Ranboo stood up and Tommy was suddenly reminded of how tall the hybrid was from where he was sitting on the ground. He couldn't stop from hunching into himself a little bit as the hybrid moved to sit beside him.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you Tommy,” Ranboo said softly, settling his hand on the grass near Tommy’s. “In fact, I barely know you but you’ve shown me nothing but kindness, even if it’s in a strange way.”

“That’s not true,” Tommy argued but Ranboo shook his head.

“You were one of my first friends on this server Tommy, even if you were exiled soon after,” Ranboo said. “You took the allium I gave you when I expected you to slap it out of my hands. You took all the blame for our shared mistake to protect me from Dream’s wrath. You’ve been- you’re good Tommy. I can't hate you.”

“I’m not good,” Tommy said, clenching his fists in the dirt. He was breathing too quickly. “I’m not your friend, I’m annoying, I’m loud, I’m evil, I’m a plague, I’m like a dirty little bug, I’m bad, I’m-”

“You’re a kid,” Ranboo interrupted. “Like me. Like Tubbo. Purpled too. You’ve made mistakes and you’re allowed to make mistakes. That doesn’t make you bad.”

“I’m not a kid,” Tommy hissed through a short breath. Ranboo only frowned.

“No,” he agreed quietly. “But you should be.”

“I’m bad,” Tommy repeated, feeling lightheaded. “Because- because if I wasn’t... Then why would- why did, why-”

“I don’t know,” Ranboo said, cutting off his ramble. “And it isn’t fair. And I’m sorry.”

Tommy said nothing. He pulled his fists out of the dirt. His fingernails were chipped and bleeding.

Flashes of a white beach and scorched earth appeared in his mind and the fog in his brain returned.

He didn’t remember returning home or fixing his hands.

All he remembered was going to sleep.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Tommy didn’t really see anyone in L’Manburg or around the mainland. That is to say that he actively avoided anyone but Ranboo. For the past couple of weeks he’s only spoken to Ranboo and his pets. People who he’s run into or who have run into him quickly turn the other way. He can’t tell if it’s because Ranboo asked for everyone else in the world to give him a little distance, or because they don’t want to see him.

It’s not like he’s run into anyone special. He crossed paths once with Fundy. The fox hybrid quickly looked away after their eyes had met and hurried away, tail between his legs. Another time, while he was walking down the Prime Path, he saw Captain Puffy (he thinks that’s her name) who looked like she had something to say to him before she closed her mouth and continued on her way.

He’s seen Tubbo a few times out of the corner of his eye, but every time he turned to see if the boy was there, he was gone. It’s probably his eyes playing tricks on him again. Prime knows how often it happened in Logstedshire. So he pretended not to see him. Not like he wanted to anyway.

But of course he had to knock on his door today.

Tommy thought it was Ranboo at the door inviting him to garden, or to organize his chests, or pet sit or something. When he opened the door to find Tubbo standing on the step awkwardly holding an armful of cookies in little cloth goodie bags he had to fight the urge to slam the door in his face.

Yet his heart ached at the sight of his old friend. This was Tubbo, who still wore the stupid presidential suit that was slightly too big for him that had a pin of new L’Manburg flag fastened to the lapel of his jacket. His scars still covered his face and his hair was unkempt as always. He was giving him a poor attempt at his aloof and carefree grin, obviously trying to hide his nervousness even as he shifted on his feet.

This was Tubbo. His Tubbo. Despite everything.

“You gonna let me inside, big man?” Tubbo asked, his fake grin slipping a little.

So with an aching heart Tommy let the boy who he used to call his best friend into his new home.

Tubbo walked inside and immediately crossed the room to drop his armful of cookies on Tommy’s little dining room table. When a couple fell to the floor he watched as his president huffed out a nervous laugh as he crouched to grab them and put them back on the table. When he turned back around his eyes didn’t quite meet Tommy’s as he stared at him.

“I uh, I brought you some cookies,” Tubbo said, still shifting nervously on his feet, hands shaking at his sides. “Niki’s cookies, since, y’know, I doubt you’ve had her baked good for a while. I didn’t know which ones you would want so I bribed Ranboo for a diamond block and kinda bought out her entire stock because they’re Niki’s cookies so of course they’re going to taste great and you-”

Tubbo continued to nervously ramble but Tommy had already begun to tune him out as he focused on the pile of cookies lying on the table.

Tubbo brought him cookies.

He hadn’t had Niki’s pastries, cookies, and other baked goods in months. The last time he had some of her baked goods was when she had first found her way to Pogtopia, feeding their group some food other than potatoes for once. Tommy remembered feeling so sick to his stomach after eating so much sugar for the first time in months, but he couldn’t help himself. Niki’s baking was special like that, and she showed her affection by giving baked goods to her friends. He couldn’t refuse her baked goods, ever. It was practically a war crime.

Tubbo obviously wanted to share the familiarity of those safe and warm memories with him. Memories of better days spent with friends and family who have now long since abandoned him. Where all they had to worry about at the moment was who was getting the last slice of Niki’s pumpkin pie.

But Tubbo’s little act of bringing him cookies had a double meaning.

Tommy and Tubbo didn’t do verbal apologies. They’ve never had. All of the verbal apologies they spoke out loud were little more than elegant words supposed to ease Wilbur’s conscience when they got into fights during their times of journeying through worlds together.

Tommy can’t remember the last time he verbally apologized to someone and meant it, especially when it was to Tubbo. Because that wasn't how he apologized. Anyone who knew him well enough knew this. Wilbur had caught onto this fact rather quickly, Fundy too. Tubbo knew this almost from the beginning of meeting and getting to know him, because he was the same way.

The both of them showed their apologies through little actions. Sometimes it was a small act of kindness, words of appreciation, or little gifts they’d give to one another. They never said the words “I’m sorry” to one another, showing it instead.

In the past that meant Tommy sewing patches onto Tubbo’s favorite coat after he accidently set it too close to their campfire. It meant Tubbo using the coins he found on the street and stolen out of tip jars to buy Tommy his favorite fizzy soda from the fancy machines in the city they met Fundy in after stealing his things. It meant the two of them meeting at a bench to play a disc and watch the sunset after a long day where the words they shouted at one another weren’t kind ones.

Tubbo had brought him cookies. It was the first thing he had done for Tommy since he had woken up in the Community House ruins. Maybe since he was exiled.

He didn’t come to have a chat. He didn’t come to mock him. He didn’t come to ask him about exile.

He brought him cookies.

“You brought me cookies,” Tommy said quietly. Tubbo stopped rambling to finally meet Tommy’s dull grey-blue eyes. His own shone with unshed tears and for a second the smile on his face seemed genuine.

“I did,” he said in response.

“You’re not going to start bringing me cookies everyday now are you?” Tommy asked. Tubbo shook his head.

“No, I think this is enough, for now,” he said, and he sounded a little sad about it.

(The unspoken words between them were loud in both of their minds. They were good at reading one another, these unspoken words did not go unnoticed. They didn’t do verbal apologies, but they hid little context clues in what they said to one another.

“You brought me cookies.” — You came to apologize.

“I did.” — I am, and I’m sorry.

“You’re not going to start bringing me cookies everyday now are you?” — I don’t forgive you now, but you’re not going to drown me in apologies are you?

“No, I think this is enough, for now.” — I don’t expect your forgiveness, and no, I’m not going to. But I will be here when you are ready to accept my apology one day.

To them, it meant so much more than a “I’m sorry.”)

Tommy said nothing. Instead he crossed the room to enter his little kitchen nook, grabbing a jug of apple juice from the icebox that Ranboo had given him. He set it down on the table before grabbing a couple of glasses for the both of them too.

He poured two glasses of juice. He pulled open one of the goodie bags of cookies. He slid a glass and a cookie to Tubbo who had been watching him in silence, the fake smile no longer present on his face as he stared in silence.

“Tell me about what’s happened while I was gone,” Tommy said, sitting down at the table, inviting Tubbo to join him.

Tubbo smiled — a genuine one — and opened his mouth to ramble.

This time, Tommy listened.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ⟳

Ranboo was over for dinner again. They’re making some sort of vegetable soup. Chicken base broth that’s thick in consistency, and the soup itself was full of plenty of vegetables they’ve been collecting from the garden, with the addition of some beans that Ranboo said Niki gave him.

It’s nice to have a break from spaghetti. Tommy could never refuse one of Ranboo’s meals when he’s so kind as to share his cooking with him, but he was growing very tired of spaghetti. It’s nice to have him in the kitchen by his side to cook something different.

It’s quiet. A good gentle and peaceful kind of quiet. The sun had long since set and L’Manburg was silent, the only sounds coming from the crash of ocean waves against the docks and rocky beach and the sound of crickets and beetles in the woods. Lanterns light up the outside along the boardwalks and inside Phil’s house — Tommy’s house — well placed candles and lanterns drive away the darkness.

Tommy and Ranboo don’t say anything to one another, there’s really no need to when they are simply comforted by each other’s presence. Ranboo was stirring the pot of soup on Tommy's wood burning stove while Tommy hummed quietly to himself, chopping carrots to add to the soup. He’s pretty good at turning random ingredients into a meal. He’s had a lifetime of experience to help him with this small talent.

Can Ranboo even have soup? It’s not a creamy soup, Tommy detested milk, but broth is mostly made of water. Sure they added flour to make it thicker but isn’t it still watery enough? Tommy hoped that Ranboo wouldn’t risk burning his insides for Tommy’s sake. It’s just one meal. Tommy wouldn’t be hurt if he didn’t want to have it, especially if it was at the risk of hurting his friend.

His friend…

When did he start calling Ranboo his friend?

He’s shaken from his thoughts when Ranboo called his name, red and green eyes studying his face. Tommy avoided them quickly which made Ranboo let out a sad vocalization.

“Are you alright?” Ranboo asked. He was holding his hands together, twisting his fingers nervously. “You seemed a little out of it. I know Tubbo said he was coming over today, did everything go okay?”

Even though he didn’t tell him — not that he told him anything about Tubbo's visit yet — Ranboo probably knew about the cookies. Not the meaning behind them (that was reserved for Tubbo and Tommy alone) but there was no way that Tubbo bribed Ranboo for a diamond block without letting it slip that he was buying cookies for Tommy. The distinct lack of the baked goods in the room was probably bothering Ranboo. He doesn’t know what happened between Tubbo and Tommy today, and because he was a worrywart, he can’t stop thinking about it.

In truth, Tommy had watched Tubbo eat nearly half of the cookies he had bought for him as he rambled about stupid little things that had happened in the months Tommy was gone. The rest of the cookies have been shoved into the cupboard where he kept his kettle and tea bags. He didn’t know where else to put them, and even though he didn’t do it on purpose, he knows that Ranboo never opens that cupboard.

Nothing bad had happened, and when Tommy opened the door earlier to find Tubbo standing there nervously, he hadn’t really expected anything to go bad. But Ranboo didn’t know that and he probably spent all day wondering how Tommy and Tubbo were doing. Here he was, worrying for Tommy even though he’s better friends with Tubbo. He was acting like he cared about Tommy, as if he was deserving of his kindness, like Tommy was somebody worth worrying about.

That must mean something.

Because when Dream showed him kindness Tommy always had to pay it back, no matter if it was an act big or small. When he worried about Tommy it was Tommy’s fault because he shouldn’t have been stupid enough to make Dream worry for him, it was his disregard for Dream’s feelings that made him a fool. When Dream cared for him it was his foolishness that landed him in a position where he had to be so dependent upon someone else.

Ranboo wasn’t Dream.

But Tommy’s mind called them both his friends.

One seemed far better than the other.

It was confusing. It made the fog linger in his mind. It made him ache for Dream and hate him at the same time.

Tommy just wanted to be okay. For Ranboo and for himself. Even if that sometimes meant putting a fake smile on his face and shoving away his feelings.

He just wanted to feel happy and safe.

But right now, standing side by side with Ranboo in his kitchen, he wondered if maybe he had just that. Happiness and safety.

“I’m fine big man,” is what Tommy finally managed to say to the enderman hybrid, giving him a little smile. “Tubbo gave me cookies and nearly gave me a stomachache too, but all is good.”

When Ranboo sighed with relief and gave him a smile, trying to act all sneaky when he reached out to hold Tommy’s hand, Tommy could almost believe what he said.

Because in the presence of a friend — his friend — all did seem good.

Chapter Text

The crows have been leaving him gifts.

Phil’s crows, that is. They kept coming to knock at his window, leaving shiny trinkets on his windowsill every morning. Tommy knew that they were keeping an eye on him—reporting back to Phil about how he was doing—but as the days passed and the crows continued to show, it felt more like they were coming to visit him of their own accord.

He still does see them whenever he goes out. They lingered in the trees and hopped along the paths, flying away when he got too close. But they chirped little greetings at him and always woke him up in the morning. It felt like a routine at this point, opening the window to collect the gifts on his windowsill and leaving behind bread crusts as payment.

Most of the gifts the crows have brought him are insignificant. Shiny bottle caps were the most common, probably a remnant of all the parties thrown during Schlatt’s presidency. From the stories that Tubbo had told, alcohol was always at these parties, and you were lucky if you could get away without stepping on a bottle cap.

Tommy still kept the gifts though, after trying to throw them out and instead getting his fingers bit by a particularly feisty crow. The bottle caps are all stored away in a drawer in the kitchen, mostly because there were so many of them and he didn’t want to add them to the box of all the other gifts.

Sea glass was another fairly common gift. L’Manburg was a coastal country, bordering the ocean. Its rocky beaches were dull, and the pier took up most of the shore. Sea glass washed up to the coast all the time, shining amongst the grey rocks on the shore.

Tommy quite liked the sea glass the crows gave him. Ranboo helped him carefully drill a hole in a piece of sea-green glass so he could weave a leather cord through it, turning it into a necklace. He wore it on occasion, but a lot of the time it sat on his bedside table.

Rocks were also a common gift, coming in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Tommy’s still not quite sure how the crows managed to leave an amethyst geode the size of his fist on his windowsill, but he’s learned not to question the birds. It’s not like they can respond either.

One time they brought him a medal. It was half blown up, and the detail on it had been worn away. The ribbon of yellow, red, blue, black, and white was mostly burnt away, just barely holding together the clasp and the actual medal part together.

It was the L’Manburg war medal. Something that was supposed to signify their victory, a memorable token to honor those who fought, survived, and won.

Jack had made them after he joined L’Manburg and was told about the country's history. He thought a medal that could be worn on the breasts of the fighting men’s jackets was a great way to honor the four of them that won the war. He spent weeks finding the perfect metal, creating the design, crafting the medals, and finally handing them out.

Now, most of the medals have been lost.

Tommy’s was probably still pinned to his too-small L’Manburg coat, buried at the bottom of his enderchest. If it wasn’t there, it was probably collecting dust and suffering from age as it sat abandoned in a chest in his old dirt home. Rats and moths had probably gotten to it now. Tommy didn’t like to think about how much this saddened him.

He doesn't know what happened to Fundy’s. Maybe he still had his medal pinned to his coat like Tommy did, or maybe not. Tommy hasn’t really spoken to Fundy since he’s returned from his exile, but the subject of the L’Manburg war and glory days is not a subject that he liked to talk about. It must hurt too much.

Tubbo’s had been lost to the ocean. Tommy knows this because he saw the boy rip it off of his presidential suit and hurl it into the sea. It had been just days since the 16th. Wilbur was dead. L’Manburg was in ruins. Tommy hadn’t slept. Tubbo was wearing a suit that was too big for him.

He thinks that they had been talking about plans for L’Manburg’s reconstruction. He couldn’t really remember. All he remembered was that Tubbo had begun to yell at him, spouting out nonsense about the original L’Manburg war. He had thrown his hand up to his chest, right over the medal. In a fit of rage he had torn it from his suit, stretched his arm back, and tossed it as far into the ocean as he could. He remembered the silence when they watched it hit the water. Tubbo had fallen to his knees and began to cry. Tommy only hung his head and said nothing.

A few days later Ranboo entered the world. Tubbo was smiling again and the bags under his eyes were starting to disappear. Tommy was laughing and he could sleep at night. It didn’t take long for that to go wrong too.

Tommy ran his thumb over the melted edges of the medal now, after picking it up out of the box where he kept all the crows' gifts. It didn’t take a lot to guess who’s medal this was.

Wilbur had always been proud to display the medal on his chest. He wasn’t the one who won them the war—Tommy was—but he was proud no doubt. He liked being able to celebrate their victory and those who helped them achieve it. He thought commemorating their victory with the medals was a fine idea.

His medal had been lost during their escape from Manburg, the day Schlatt exiled them. Wilbur had been devastated to find the medal missing, lost in the scuffle of their escape and his second death. It didn’t take very long for him to grow bitter.

Tommy had offered to go find it at one point. Wilbur had told him not to bother. He said it wasn’t worth pinning to a ratty trenchcoat to celebrate a country he didn’t belong to anymore. Tommy hadn’t brought it up again.

The medal had probably been caught up in Wilbur’s explosions, explaining why it had been melted and burned away. But it was no doubt his.

Tommy pressed the medal to his heart and closed his eyes.

Oddly enough, he thought he could hear the sound of his brother humming in his ears.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ↻

Of all the people to come knocking on his door, Tommy did not expect Punz to be one of them. Especially when he held a vaguely familiar blue sheep and a baby cow under each of his arms. It was easy to say that Tommy was more than a little surprised to find them on his front doorstep.

“Um, can I come in?” Punz asked, wiggling his arms as the sheep tried to eat his sweatshirt. He looked incredibly uncomfortable and was having trouble balancing the two animals underneath his arms. Tommy just held the door wide open to let the mercenary in. If Punz killed him, well, at least they’d find the body quicker than they would have if he was still exiled.

“Thanks,” Punz said as soon as the door closed behind him, letting the sheep and baby cow tumble gently out of his arms. The sheep ran across the room on unbalanced hooves and immediately started chewing on Tommy’s curtains. The cow ran behind Tommy’s legs, trembling at the sight of the mercenary. Tommy couldn’t blame the little cow, his own hands were shaking even as he tucked them into the pockets of his cardigan.

“Sorry for not sending a message before showing up,” Punz said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I’d drop by today but that cow really hates me for some reason.”

Tommy snorted. If anything the cow should hate Sapnap. He was the one who had gone around slaughtering pets. He earned quite the name for himself after that whole debacle.

“It’s fine,” Tommy said, picking at the lint inside his pockets and shrugging his shoulders. “I wasn’t up to much.”

And wasn’t that the truth. Ranboo was out for the day, Tommy was still actively avoiding everyone else because he’d rather skip all the awkward conversation, unless it was Tubbo showing up on his doorstep to rant about his day. The garden didn’t really need any tending to and Tommy had already checked on Ranboo’s pets today. Tommy’s sewing supplies were out on the dining table, but he had spent most of the day sitting in his chair without actually continuing his project. He just couldn’t focus and his hands were really shaky today, and no matter how he stretched them out and practiced the breathing exercises Ranboo showed him, he couldn’t get them to stop. It was harder to sew when your hands were constantly shaking.

He supposed he could have spent his day doing something more productive, but Tommy didn’t really have much purpose right now. With L’Manburg being cared for by Tubbo and Tommy not really having any goals of his own, there was nothing to do but sit around all day and let his mind drift into the fog.

Inviting Punz into his house was honestly the most exciting thing that had happened to him in weeks. Even though Punz was Dream’s personal mercenary and one of Wilbur’s killers, Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to kick him out of his house. Like he said, they’d find his body much sooner if he died in L’Manburg instead of exile. It makes him wonder how long it would have take them to find him if—

He cut off that train of thought. Now was not the time to be spiraling.

“So,” Tommy said, glancing at the sheep eating his curtains. “What’s up with the animals?”

Punz blinked and shifted on his feet, like he didn’t quite know how to answer that question. It was strange how hesitant he was acting when Tommy had only ever seen him act before with certainty. It was almost comforting seeing that a man as stoic and illusive as Punz could be vulnerable too. It was also unnerving, and Tommy swore his hands were shaking worse than they had before.

“The sheep is Ghostbur’s, I think he named it Friend,” Punz said. “I have no idea when or how Dream got his hands on him, but I found them in his vault. Same with the cow, who has the nametag of Henry around his neck. I thought– I thought maybe you’d like them.”

Ghostbur having a blue sheep named Friend was somehow the least surprising thing about the sentence. And despite the mention of Dream and a vault, Tommy couldn’t help but cling onto the name Henry.

Henry, the name of his cow who had died over a year ago. At least Tommy thinks it was over a year now. He can’t even remember, his memories are all out of order. Either way, this baby cow hiding behind his legs couldn’t possibly be Henry .

But they did share a similar pattern and those same black eyes. They wobbled on their legs the same way Henry did when he was a baby. And they did cling to Tommy much like he clung onto them when he needed to ground himself.

Maybe this wasn’t Henry, not his Henry, but it was a creature that shared enough similarities that Tommy couldn’t stop himself from reaching down and picking up the little cow. He snuggled into his arms just like Henry did when he was a baby. Tommy rubbed his hand gently around the horns just barely poking out of the baby cow’s fur.

Punz watched him quietly as Tommy held the cow close. It was almost like he was afraid to say anything and ruin the moment.

“I don’t know if it’s the same Henry,” Punz began hesitantly. “But either way I figured you could find or make a good home for them.”

“That’s rich coming from one of the people who’s spent a long time hating me,” Tommy said with a huff.

Punz frowned. “I don’t– I don’t hate you. You’re a kid.”

“Not a kid,” Tommy mumbled, resisting the urge to bury his face in Not-Henry’s fur. “But whatever.”

Punz only sighed, trying to break the awkward tension Tommy created, because he was fairly good at that. Creating situations that made others uncomfortable.

“Anyway, I have something for you.”

Punz reached behind his back and Tommy flinched, closing his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. His heart stuttered and he wheezed out a breath, stumbling back blindly. But there was no squeal of surprise from Not-Henry, no sound of a sword being unsheathed, and no pain in his chest. There was only a sharp intake of breath and the sound of nervous feet shuffling on the floor.

Tommy opened his eyes.

In Punz’s extended hand was a familiar vinyl disc. Scribbled on the inside of the green ring of the disc was Tommy’s handwriting, joined by the doodles that Tubbo had added so long ago. Its edges were chipped and worn with time, but it was in one piece. The disc caught the light and spun around the grooves of the vinyl plastic, daring Tommy’s eyes to follow after.

Trembling, Tommy set Not-Henry on the floor and reached out with his shaking hands. The disc wobbled in his grip and Tommy felt afraid to hold it after so long, as if it would shatter in his hands no matter how gently he held onto it.

“Cat,” Tommy whispered, tracing the grooves of the disc with his thumb. His hands were still shaking. “I don’t– I don’t understand.”

“Dream had it,” Punz said. “Hidden away in a vault where he only shared the coords with me. It was for a– a future plan that fell through”

A teardrop fell onto the disc. Tommy hadn’t even realized he was tearing up, even as his body shook and his chest tightened.

“Tubbo still has the other one,” Punz said quietly, sounding more gentle than he had ever heard the mercenary sound before. “But I thought you would appreciate having it after all this time. You deserve to have it.”

“I don’t deserve anything,” Tommy said, with a finality to his words that made Punz pause and stare at him with a strange intensity. Tommy couldn’t bring himself to stare back at Punz, his eyes still glued to the disc held in his shaking hands.

“If you believe that, then you deserve the world,” Punz said so softly that Tommy thought that maybe he had imagined it. Either way, he said nothing to the mercenary as Punz bid him goodbye, wishing him well, before he left Tommy alone.

With the disc still held in tightly in his hands, Tommy sunk to the floor, hunched over, and cried.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ↻

Arms are wrapped tightly around him, holding him in place. Voices talked desperately in the background, but the words didn't make it to his ears. Something is being held to his throat, biting sharply at the skin, and he can’t move.

There is a shout.

Then there is unbearable pain.

Tommy jolted awake, hands flying to his throat as he choked on his screams. He heaved, desperately trying to breathe in, but his throat was clogged. His airway was blocked and he couldn’t take in a breath. Saliva dripped down the back of his throat and it tasted like blood.

Black dots danced across his vision. His hands clawed at his own throat, desperate to tear his body open to get air into his lungs. He touched the base of his throat, right underneath his Adam's apple, and swore that his fingers touched something wet. He’s scared to look at them and find blood.

No matter how he tried to clear his throat, he couldn’t stop choking. His lungs constricted, his throat tightened, he wheezed, and his vision swam.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe.

HE CAN’T BREATHE .

Just as his vision began to fade and his body started to feel limp, air rushed in. He gasped, breathing heavily, sucking in air too quickly. It reminded him all too much of nights where he found himself drifting in salty ocean water, drowning himself in his sleep. It reminded him of the way he had to quickly swim to the surface with little energy to gasp like a dying man once he broke free from the ocean’s embrace. It reminded him of all the nights he considered letting the ocean take him away.

He knew that he was panicking. He couldn't stop.

He tried to remember the breathing exercises Ranboo taught him. He tried to remember the way him and Tubbo tapped patterns into each other’s palms to calm each other. He tried to remember the song Wilbur used to sing him when he panicked.

He couldn’t.

Sobs escaped from his throat and he collapsed into his pillows and blankets. He curled himself into a ball and tried to remember what it was like to breathe normally.

It was a long night.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ↻

Niki was the one to tell him that he died.

He’s been trying to hang out around L’Manburg more. Once Tubbo started coming around Tommy’s been out wandering, not just in L’Manburg, but outside of it too. It makes Ranboo and Tubbo happy to see him out of his house. He’d do anything to make them happy.

He doesn’t approach people most of the time. They don’t approach him much either. A lot of the people he’s passed on the Prime Path or in the central area seem like they have something they want to say, but bite their tongue and go on their way. Take Captain Puffy and Sapnap for example. But honestly having them run off was a win for Tommy, they were sparing him from an incredibly awkward conversation. But something inside him still twisted when he had to watch them walk away.

He wanted that normalcy again. From back in the days where Tommy used to chase Tubbo up and down the Prime Path until they made it to Wilbur’s drug van. When he could jump out from behind trees or buildings, his victims would only call him a “little shit” and roll their eyes before going on their way. Where no one would mind if he just showed up at their house and would invite him inside.

Now everyone just looks at him with a pitiful gaze. Their eyes lingered on his scars and the strange white streak in his hair before they looked away. Tommy decided to just shove his hands into the pockets of his cardigan and keep his head down. Sometimes it’s best to pretend that he doesn’t notice them at all.

He often found himself at Niki’s bakery by the pier and docks when he had nowhere else to go. He enjoyed hanging out with Ranboo, talking to Tubbo, and even waving hello to Fundy or Jack when he saw them, but Niki’s bakery was a different kind of comfort. The warmth of the kitchen, the sweet smell of baking pastries, and the sound of the sea are all comforting.

Niki’s also one of the few that still treated him normally. Well, as normal as she or anyone else could. She still walks around him like he’s a piece of glass, easily broken. But she will smile at him and offer him bread, like she did when they first met.

Compared to everyone else, it felt more genuine. That's why on days where things feel a little too much he walked the short path to the pier, coming down the steps and through the doors into Niki’s bakery to escape. She’s never turned him away.

Sometimes they’re silent, and Tommy will rest his head in his arms as he laid slumped on the counter. Niki didn't mind if he took a nap while listening to her bake. Some days he just would sit and let the fog settle inside his brain until whistles and hums from Niki pull him out of his own mind. Other times they chat as Niki kneaded bread and frosted cake. It’s enough.

But today Niki asked how he's been doing since he died. And Tommy didn't know how to respond. Because he didn’t know.

“I died,” he said, and it’s not a question. It’s the truth. And in all honesty, Tommy can’t find that he’s surprised.

He died.

He’s still alive.

That’s all there is to it.

But Niki stared at him with concerned eyes. She set aside her cakes to cool and pulled off her oven mitts, resting them on the counter. She looked at him again, as Tommy stared at his palms wondering if the blood pumping through them was really run by a beating heart.

“Did no one tell you?” she asked. She doesn’t sound angry, just concerned.

“No. They didn’t.”

Tommy’s hands curled into fists. He dug his fingernails into his worn palms, relishing in the pain, the feeling of being real. Niki’s hands rested gently over his hands, uncurling them. Calloused fingers ran over the divots in his palms that his fingernails left behind. They don’t meet each other's eyes.

“I’m sorry, I thought someone told you,” she said as she held his hands.

“It’s fine,” Tommy replied.

It’s not, not really, but there’s nothing else he can do. He can’t go back in time and demand answers. He can’t change the past. Three lives of his have come and gone, but he’s still here. That’s all that mattered.

(A part of him wishes he stayed dead. He doesn’t know why.

Maybe it’s because he thought people were better off without him. Maybe it’s because until recently he thought everyone hated him with the way they casted him out, exiling him. Maybe it’s because he spent so many nights in Logstedshire hoping he wouldn’t wake up the next morning. Maybe it’s because he missed Wilbur so much that it hurts.

He doesn’t know.

That, or he doesn’t care to admit why he wished he was dead.)

“It’s not,” Niki said, and ender was he grateful that one person cared that this would hurt him. Someone still cared that he was supposed to be gone forever but still lived, and was grateful that he was still here. “It’s not fine. I want you to be okay Tommy.”

“Me too,” Tommy said. He wished, he wished, he wished.

Niki squeezed his hands gently. He squeezed back.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ↻

Tommy felt small.

But not in a bad way. Not in the way that close walls made it feel like he was being crushed. Not in the way that others with more power than him looked down at him. Not in the way that he looked over L’Manburg when he watched the TNT tear it apart. Not in the way that he saw his father standing over his brother’s corpse. Not in the way that Dream stood over him—kicking a foot into his side, the smile on his mask sneering at him—during his days exiled to Logstedshire.

No, he felt small, and he felt safe.

He knew that he was dreaming. There’s something about the fog in his vision and the way the images blur that tells him this. But he can’t help but wish he could stay here forever.

He’s being held in someone’s arms. They’re cradling him so gently, like he’s the most precious thing in the world. A nest of pillows and blankets surround him, but he’s more focused on the hand that runs through his hair and the soft, deep voice of the person he’s laying atop of.

Sometimes soft pink will fall into his vision. Even in his dream state he knows that this pink should be pulled back into a braid instead of falling into his face. But another part of him wants to reach up and pull the pink so he can run it through his fingers, twirling and twisting it, braiding it on his own.

The voice speaking to him was low. Maybe it’s late at night in this dream and they made the choice to speak softly. Maybe they’re telling a story and are trying to bring the story to life with their voice. Maybe they think that Tommy’s asleep and are trying to keep from waking him. Maybe they just want to speak softly to him because they can.

Tommy doesn’t know. All he knew—all he wanted to do was to bury himself further into the blankets and the pillows around him and this person. He wanted to stay in this safe, warm cocoon of a dream forever. He wanted to fall asleep in this person’s arms and know that they would be there in the morning.

But instead Tommy’s eyes blink awake and he found himself lying in the same bed he fell asleep in. He was still living in Phil’s house, borrowed for an indefinite amount of time. The warmth and safety of his dream faded away as a chill ran through his body when he woke up alone.

Turning over Tommy buried his face in his pillow, feeling the fabric of the sheets grow damp as tears slipped from his eyes.

He missed his brother.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ↻

Tubbo was wearing a heavy snow jacket. It hasn’t snowed in L’Manburg since December, maybe January. But then again Tommy’s only heard about the weather patterns and seen the piles of melted snow lying besides the paths. He wasn’t actually there, he was cast away to spend the fall and winter on that desolate beach. It might still be winter, but he didn't think that Tubbo needed a jacket as heavy as the one he’s wearing.

His presidential suit was gone. Alongside the winter jacket Tubbo was wearing thick snow pants tucked into snow boots, a scarf, and thick fingerless gloves. Tommy’s red bandana was tied around his wrist, and Tommy’s glad to see that hasn’t changed. But everything else—

Everything else was out of place.

“I’m leaving L’Manburg,” Tubbo said before Tommy could even begin to form a question.

“What?”

Tommy was sitting in Phil’s old armchair. His sewing project was set out over his lap with spare material sitting on the coffee table, the one that had uneven legs. Tubbo was still standing awkwardly near the door. He had let himself in after Tommy called out to him, but he continued to stay close to the door, as if he was ready to leave any moment. It made Tommy a little nervous too.

Maybe that’s why he nearly poked himself with his needle when Tubbo said he was leaving. He didn’t realize how the statement would startle him. Then again, it wasn’t like he was prepared for it.

“I’m leaving L’Manburg,” Tubbo said again. “Fundy, Jack, and Niki are drifting away, Quackity disappeared, and no one else visits anymore. I can hardly call myself a president anymore, not when the country is dying.”

“But– me and Ranboo are still here!” Tommy protested. Tubbo glanced away, as if he was guilty of something. Tommy felt his stomach drop.

“Ranboo’s coming with me,” Tubbo said, kicking one of his boots against the floor. Tommy’s heart stuttered in his chest. “He’s going to stay as long as he can in L’Manburg for you, but he’s moving with me. We found this island that we want to settle on.”

Tommy almost asked What about me? What happens when you leave me behind? But he doesn’t want to be selfish. Instead he stared down at his sewing project, feeling his motivation trickle away.

“We want you to come with us,” Tubbo said. “Me and Ranboo want a place to settle down, to build a peaceful life without countries and wars.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what he can say. He played with the needle and thread in his hands as Tubbo hesitated for a moment, watching as he poked his fingers lightly with his needle.

“We found a young piglin boy abandoned in the Nether,” Tubbo continued. “We just wanted a place to raise him together. We want you to be a part of our family there too.”

“But you’re leaving L’Manburg,” Tommy said. Tubbo nodded.

“Yes.”

It hurt more than he thought it would. Knowing that Tubbo wanted to leave.

This was their L’Manburg. Wilbur, Tubbo, and Tommy’s L’Manburg. And he just wanted to leave that behind? He wanted to leave behind years of history, the land they made their home? He just wanted to give that up?

Tommy didn’t understand. After years of fighting for L’Manburg they finally had it to themselves and no one was going to take it from them. They had won. So why did Tubbo want to leave now? Why did he want to give up on the land that their brother founded and died for? The land they died for. Why did he want to abandon their home?

Tommy’s just wanted a place to call home for forever now. He always thought that place was going to be L’Manburg. Wilbur promised that it was going to be their home, that it was their home. Even Tubbo promised the same. And every time that Tommy thought it finally would be home, that those statements would become true, it slipped away.

“Do you– do you want to come with us?” Tubbo asked.

“I’ll think about it.”

For now, that was the most he could offer.

Later that night Tommy pulled out the box that he kept all the crows’ gifts in. He glanced over the new editions to the box, like the soft shiny rock he liked to roll between his fingers and the feather tipped with white that was undoubtedly his father’s.

But instead of taking these out, he pulled out the worn and rusted medal that used to belong to Wilbur. He ran a finger over the ruined details and carefully touched the frayed and burnt edges of the L’Manburg flag ribbon. He held it to his chest, pretending for a moment that he could clasp it to his breast and wear it proudly.

He closed his eyes, remembering days spent underneath the summer sun, relaxing over a war fought and won. He remembered having his loved ones—his family—by his side as they built up L’Manburg together. He remembered days before a rebellion was created in a ravine, before L’Manburg was blown up, before exile.

He remembered a L’Manburg where Wilbur was still alive.

Oddly enough, this time he thought he could hear the sound of his brother singing the L’Manburg anthem in his ears. He can imagine his brother’s voice is joined by his own, and the other members of L’Manburg.

Tommy can’t stop the tears that slipped out from his closed eyes.

He missed those days.

He missed L’Manburg.

He missed his brother.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ↻

“Why did no one show up for my party?”

Tommy was sitting at the table he set up on the beach. There are poorly built chairs on the shore, old towels he dyed bright colors acting as beach towels laid out on the sand. There was a sweet cake set in front of him, the smell of sugar making him nauseous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate or smelled something so sweet. Not when he was so used to the scent of ash and death.

Waves crashed against the shore. They knocked over one of the chairs and swept one of the towels out to sea. Tommy barely noticed.

Dream leaned against the table. He swiped a finger through the frosting of the cake. It was gooey and melted, the sun's heat melting it despite the chill in the air. Tommy had to hold back a shiver as the ocean winds breezed by, shaking him to his core. Dream paid him no mind, instead wiping the frosting on a napkin set out on the table.

“You sent out all the invites, didn’t you?” Tommy asked, looking up to meet the eyes of the face painted on Dream’s mask.

“Of course,” the man answered. “Me and Ghostbur hand delivered every one.”

“And nobody came?”

Dream sighed, standing up straight. Tommy slouched in his seat when the man approached him, leaning down a little to close as he put a hand on his shoulder. He bit his lip and closed his eyes when the hand gripped him a little too harshly.

“This is what I have been telling you Tommy,” Dream said. “Nobody cares about you. Nobody wants to visit you. You’re loud, you’re annoying, you ruin things. Why would they want to visit?”

“Because you visit me,” Tommy said. He bit his lip again, relishing in the pain when he tasted blood on his tongue.

“That’s because I’m the only one who cares,” Dream said. The hand on his shoulder came up to cradle his cheek, wiping away sand that had stuck to his skin. Tommy stayed deathly still, even when the hand pulled away. “I’m the only one who can put up with you and teach you how to be better. I’m doing everyone a favor making sure you learn something in exile.”

“For when I go back?”

Dream said nothing.

It was raining.

He stood in the fields surrounding Logstedshire. The sand still blended in with the earth, and the crash of ocean waves was a near deafening sound. Wind raged as rain poured, soaking his whole body, making the fabric of his clothes stick to his skin. It plastered hair to his face, made him shiver where he stood, and stole the warmth from his core.

In his hands he held a trident. It was Dream’s, something only meant to be borrowed. There wasn’t much he could call his own these days. He could feel the hum of the enchantments glimmering the metal surface of the weapon, the magic singing along to the sound of the storm. He tilted his head up to look at the grey clouds overhead, hands clenching around the staff of the trident.

All it takes is one swift throw to launch him into the sky.

As he left the surface of the earth, he could hear Dream’s whoop of joy follow after him. Even in his tired, hurt, hungry, and angry state, he couldn’t help but smile.

Of course it was Dream that brought happiness to the wreckage of a ruined day. Tommy couldn’t have been more grateful for his friend.

The sky welcomed him with open arms. The rain washed over his body like tears, rinsing dirt and ash from his skin. The clouds parted for him as he went higher, and higher, and higher. With every pull of the trident, fighting against the rain, it felt like the sky was pulling Tommy into an embrace.

It was exhilarating. The feeling of flying. Tommy couldn’t help but wonder if this is how Phil felt every time he spread his wings and took to the skies. He almost wished he could have wings split out from his back and fly him to the heavens above. He wanted to live in this moment forever.

With one last throw of the trident, Tommy found himself suspended in the air. He was weightless, clouds curling around him like a god’s hand holding him in the sky. He tilted his head back and let the rain wash over him. Water joined the tears on his face, and he couldn’t tell how badly he was crying as they mixed together. He didn’t even realize he was crying in the first place.

Then, he fell.

He was torn from the sky’s gentle embrace. Rain froze around him as he fell to the ground faster than the droplets of water. Clouds parted for the falling boy, the winds rushing around him. The trident in his hands was loose, and Tommy couldn’t bring himself to throw it again to catch his fall. He was too lost in the feeling of falling.

(Perhaps he was lost in the feeling of freedom, one that he hadn’t felt in so long.)

He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he let himself fall. If he let his body hit the ground and shatter into a million pieces. If he gave up.

Instead Tommy’s body met water—breaking his fall—and waves washed around him. The ocean swirled his body and dared to drag him into the depths. Water crashed into his back, stealing the trident from his hands and the air from his lungs. The ocean dared to drown him, dragging him down. He was sinking, and a part of him wanted to give into the depths. To give into the dark.

It was only when someone broke through the storm and grabbed him that he was pulled from the harsh waters. When Dream retrieved him from the salty ocean, he was silent. As was Tommy, tears still streaming down his face with the rain that met his skin. The trident that he had let go of was held tightly in Dream’s hands. He wasn’t allowed to borrow it again.

In the safety of his tent, curled up against Dream’s side as the man lit a lantern to keep him warm for the night, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He wanted to live in that feeling of falling forever that he didn’t even consider his friend’s feelings. How did Dream feel when he saw him fall and hit the waves? What if he had hit the ground instead? How did he feel when he watched the ocean dare to take him away?

He bundled his fist in the fabric of Dream’s sweatshirt. The man was silent as he set the lantern aside. He ran a hand through the boy’s wet locks of hair, keeping silent as his mask stared blankly ahead.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy whispered.

“What for?” Dream asked.

“For the party, for my complaints. For borrowing your trident and being foolish as I used it.”

Dream snorted and ran his hands through Tommy’s hair again. The boy had to hold back a whimper. Dream’s hands were nowhere near as gentle as his brothers’ or father’s. They were rough, pulling at the tangles in his hair when his fingers got caught. Fingers dug at his scalp and would pull at his hair to make Tommy look in a certain direction. It was uncomfortable, but Tommy kept these thoughts to himself.

“It’s okay, you’ll learn how to be better soon enough.”

Tommy hummed, leaning into the man’s body, craving the warmth of another person as a chill wracked through his body. He knew that all too soon Dream would be leaving him and he would be left in the cold again. It was going to be rough, shivering in the cold. He was still wearing the same soaked clothes from that evening. He didn’t have anything else to change into.

He wished, sometimes, that Dream would stay.

(Stay, like Techno didn’t. Like Phil didn’t. Like Wilbur didn’t. Like Tubbo didn’t. He wanted so badly for someone to stay.)

“Dream,” Tommy said. “Do you love me?”

Dream was silent for a long moment. The hand combing through his hair paused. Tommy held his breath.

“No,” Dream answered. “Nobody could love somebody like you. But maybe when I’m done fixing you, you’ll finally be loveable.”

Tommy blinked as the world fell away, surroundings changed. His body hit the ground with a thump as he rolled out of bed, breathing fast, eyes wide. He stared up at the ceiling of Phil’s L’Manburg house, trying to catch his breath.

Dream wasn’t here. He wasn’t back in Logstedshire.

And as much as Tommy tried to tell himself that he was loved, he couldn’t find himself believing it. Not when everyone was leaving him.

Even Dream.

Chapter Text

Snowchester was cold. That was the first observation Tommy made as Ranboo rowed them over the freezing ocean, the view of the island coming into clarity as they traveled through fog and ice.

It was colder than L’Manburg, with its sticky hot summers and chilly winters that almost never saw snow. It was colder than Logstedshire, even when he used to wake up to find frost on the grass every morning and shivered every time the ocean breeze came through. There was something about Snowchester, however, that reminded him of someplace familiar.

(There was a voice inside his head that whispered, Technoblade’s home. The arctic cabin. Remember how you stumbled through the snow, calling out the names of your brothers, your father, begging to be rescued? How you tripped and stumbled and nearly froze in the night? How your brother found you, wrapped you up in his arms, and took you home? How even in the cold of an arctic winter, he kept you safe and warm?

Tommy ignored the voice. He had no recollection of these memories.

And even if he did, he’s afraid of what he could remember.)

Ranboo had told him all about Snowchester on the boat ride to the island. It was a little island that Tubbo had noticed a while ago but never had the chance to build on. He had finally made the decision to start building projects there soon after Tommy had…died. The entire time that Tommy had more or less been recovering from revival, Tubbo had been visiting the island for a few hours each day to build on it.

From what he heard, all that was built was a little log cabin, with just a few rooms, an attic, and a basement. But Tubbo had already laid out plans for a pier and more buildings. The only thing that stood in his way was the snow and winter storms.

The name Snowchester had come from something reminiscent of Tubbo’s home world, one that he had long since left behind. At least that’s what Ranboo had told Tommy. He wondered if there was more to it than that, or if it was really that simple.

(L’Manburg was supposed to be simple. It started as such. But Wilbur had turned it into something beautiful, something bigger than its name. Tommy couldn’t help but wonder if that was a part of the reason why it failed.)

When they approached the shore Ranboo jumped over the boat into the shallow water. The hybrid shivered, but the water didn’t burn his skin. Not when his armor and underclothes were layered with protective enchantments that prevented water from touching, or burning, his skin.

Tommy watched quietly as Ranboo pulled the boat to land, beaching it on the rocky shore. He shivered and pulled his coat tighter around him. He wasn’t built for this weather, nor did he have the proper gear to keep himself warm. He watched with an almost jealous gaze as Ranboo steadied the boat and gave him a smile when he deemed it alright to step off the boat. He couldn’t move like the hybrid did, especially when it felt like the cold was freezing his joints.

His body didn’t work like it used to anymore. Not after everything that he had gone through. And there was still that lingering weakness in his body that wouldn’t go away. Another remnant of his death, and his exile, that was still stuck with him.

So when Ranboo stuck out his hand to help Tommy out of the boat, he took it, but couldn’t control the bitter feeling in his gut.

They trekked through snow and ice, over a hill on the island. When they reached the top Tommy peered down the slope, looking at the little log cabin nestled between the trees. Smoke was rising from its chimney and the glass panes were fogged with ice. There were lit lanterns on the porch, even though it was only midafternoon.

It looked cozy. It felt familiar. It made Tommy feel this deep sort of longing that he couldn’t place.

(A voice whispered in his ear. Are you not searching—yearning desperately—for home?

Tommy whispered back. I have no home.

The voice was gone again.)

Ranboo led him down the hill and to the cabin. He knocked snow off of his shoes as he climbed the steps, purposefully kicking them against the edge or stomping them hard to rid them of ice. Tommy mirrored him and tried to do the same. He’s not sure if Tubbo would appreciate him dragging snow into his home.

When they opened the door to the cabin Tommy was rushed with a wave of warmth. Warmth from the fire, warmth from the pot of boiling soup on the kitchen stove, and warmth from the smile on Tubbo’s face when he turned to greet them. At his feet was a small child, with hair as pink as Techno’s and a smile as wide as Tubbo’s, who ran to greet Ranboo without sparing Tommy a glance.

“Boo!” the little boy shouted as he collided with Ranboo’s legs, wrapping his arms tightly around the tall hybrid.

“Hi Michael!” Ranboo said. He leaned over to pick up the giggling boy, unable to hide the smile on his face. Michael was also giggling and smiling to himself, and he knocked his head against Ranboo’s own as soon as they were eye to eye. It made Ranboo grin even wider before he knocked his head back in return.

Tommy felt tears burn at the edge of his eyes. He turned away and looked at the puddle forming around his boots, ice melting off of his soles. He pretended the tears were from the shock of bitter cold to sweet warmth, instead of the memories of an older brother who used to sweep him into his arms and knock their foreheads together.

I love you , Michael said every time he knocked his forehead against Ranboo’s.

I love you too, Ranboo said every time he knocked his own forehead back.

Do you love me? Tommy thought bitterly when the image of his older brother came to mind.

“Michael, there’s someone I want you to meet!” Ranboo said cheerfully, turning the child in his arms to face Tommy. The pink-haired boy stared curiously at Tommy with mismatched eyes. One was a warm shade of brown and the other was clouded, like Tubbo’s scarred eye was. They matched in that way, with the scar covering half their face. “This is Tommy, your uncle!”

That hurt. But it also made Tommy want to cry. Because despite all things, Ranboo and Tubbo still wanted him to be a part of their family.

“Uncle?” Michael echoed, still staring at Tommy.

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “I guess I am.”

The piglin boy didn’t say anything else. He just stared curiously at Tommy for another moment before demanding to be put down. Tommy watched him run back off into the kitchen, making Tubbo shriek when the child pushed his way between his legs as he tried to prepare dinner. Ranboo laughed and chased after Michael. Tommy watched with a smile from afar.

He couldn’t bring himself to be a part of their moment.

After a warm dinner filled with laughter and a night spent relaxing in Tubbo’s small living room, Tommy found himself out of place. Michael was sleeping on Tubbo’s lap, snoring softly and making piglin noises in his sleep. Tubbo was quiet, and almost appeared to be asleep himself, if it weren’t for the way he ran his hand through Michael’s curls. Ranboo was sitting close by, still flipping through the children’s book that he had been reading to the kid not too long ago. He kept stealing glances at his little family curled up together, and then at Tommy who was sitting in the armchair across from them.

“I should…” Tommy started before trailing off. He allowed himself to take a deep breath when Ranboo’s eyes settled upon him again. “I should probably go home.”

“Why?” Tubbo asked, his eyes fluttering open so he could stare at Tommy. “You could stay.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem,” Ranboo added. “We could set up the couch for you. Prime knows we have plenty of blankets to spare.”

“I-” Tommy started again, before cutting himself off. There wasn’t really a reason to go home. He just—needed too. He needed to get out of this house, away from this family. He needed to take his jagged and torn pieces of himself somewhere where they couldn’t hurt anyone. “There’s stuff I still need to clean up at home.”

“This late?” Tubbo asked.

“I left Friend and Not-Henry at home, they still need to be fed tonight,” Tommy said. He knew full well that the animals would be fine on their own, he always prepared to keep them safe for days. Just in case he ever went out and didn’t return. Just in case.

“I can take you home then,” Ranboo said. “I’m sure my pets would love to have me over for another night.”

“No.” Tommy dug his fingers into the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’ll be fine.”

Ranboo frowned. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

Tommy just shook his head.

“If you're so sure?”

Tommy wasn’t. He was already thinking of those rocking waves, dark and dangerous, ready to flip his boat and drag him under. It reminded him of nights spent in exile, waking up in the mornings when the sky was still dark, having found himself in the ocean during his sleep. Drowning himself unintentionally almost every day, like his sleeping self was searching for something across the ocean, or thought he was better off dead. He’s not sure if he ever got over having to crawl himself back to land each morning, spitting salt water out of his mouth and gagging as it forced its way out of his lungs.

Tommy never used to be afraid of the ocean. Once, he had thought of it to be something beautiful. But he’s found himself to be afraid of a lot of things now, even things he once loved.

But he couldn’t bring himself to disrupt Tubbo and Ranboo’s little family. He couldn’t add himself to the picture of their not-so-nuclear family. He couldn’t see himself in their home, sleeping on the couch or in a spare room, like he was a part of something. He couldn’t bring himself to be a part of another family, not when all of his past ones fell apart.

(His mother, who abandoned him. Phil and Techno who left him behind. Wilbur, Tubbo, Fundy, and the rest of L’Manburg who split apart. Each and every family that Tommy had been a part of had broken into pieces. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault.)

In a picture perfect puzzle, Tommy was the extra piece that had gotten thrown into the wrong box. He didn’t fit in with the rest of the picture. His sharp edges didn’t align with anyone else's. He was alone.

This family of three didn’t need him. Tommy appreciated them. He loved them. But he would never belong.

So he put a smile on his face as he stood, slipping his shaking hands into the pockets of his coat.

“I’ll be fine.”

He wouldn’t.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ↻

Tommy knew that it must have been Phil who brought Ghostbur to see him, because when he found the ghost wandering outside of his house, he was holding a black feather in his hands. One that was too big to belong to any ordinary bird. Not to mention that there were more crows lingering on the boardwalks than usual. One flew up to Tommy, resting upon his shoulder. The crow pecked at his ear and Tommy lifted his hand with a soft smile, watching as the bird dropped a little stone in his palm before flying away. Tommy pocketed it in his cardigan, making a mental note to add to his drawer of gifts later.

Rolling the stone between his fingers, Tommy carefully approached Ghostbur. He hadn’t seen the ghost since his exile—since his so-called party —but something told him that they had seen each other between that time. In the time where Tommy had been a child, where he only had glimpses of memories that his child-self had experienced.

Honestly, he was afraid of what he would remember from that time. He assumed Techno had taken care of him during that time, considering how he had reached for him after his revival. The brother that he had feared—who had beat him half to death and who had told him to die like a hero—had cared for him like he did years before.

Would Techno still care for him, if he went to him now? Or would things go back to like they were, cursing each other's names and wishing the other brother were dead?

(Not that Tommy had ever wished that. But Techno had, and he couldn’t help but wonder if his older brother thought that Tommy wished he was dead. He never wanted that.)

But that didn’t matter now. Not in this moment. Not when the ghost of his oldest brother stood before him, just a fragment of the man he once was.

“Hey Ghostbur,” Tommy greeted, a shaky smile on his lips, fingers still rolling the stone across his palm in his pocket.

“Tommy!” Ghostbur spun around, quickly closing the space between them to wrap his chilled arms around Tommy. They slightly phased through him before popping back, acting like solid limbs when they no longer were. Still, Tommy hugged his brother back, craving the tiny fraction of warmth that he got from the embrace.

“Oh Tommy I missed you!” Ghostbur said. “Look at you, you’re tall again!”

“I always was tall,” Tommy said, unable to stop himself from smiling. Ghostbur giggled.

“No, the last time I saw you, you were small! Like a little kid again, all cute and tiny. A little baby man.”

“Oh,” Tommy muttered, the smile falling from his face. He rolled the stone in his pocket between his fingers, trying to stop himself from clenching his hands into fists. “Yeah.”

Ghostbur didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, but he didn’t linger on the subject for too long. He had always been a little more scattered as a ghost. Tommy wondered if he got hit in the head before he died.

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other!” Ghostbur said. “I had to stay at Techno’s and then there was a lot of snow and Phil didn’t want me to go outside because I could melt! Did you know I can melt? Not sure if I ever told you. Anyway, so I had to stay inside for a long time, it was very boring but at least I had my blue. Finally Phil said I could come visit! I’ve wanted to see my baby brother so badly! And I left Friend here too! So now I can visit you together!”

Ghostbur said a lot of words at once. Tommy had trouble keeping up.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Uh, I left Friend over here outside.”

Ghostbur let out a little squeal of excitement before wandering over to the tiny pasture that laid next to the L’Manburg boardwalks and crater-turned-pond. It was a small patch of grass with a nether portal nearby and a marker in the ground that looked suspiciously like a grave. All Tommy knew was that Ranboo left it there, for whatever reason.

Friend was happily eating away at the little patch of healthy grass. Not-Henry was lounging nearby, laying in the little shade that the marker left, even though there was still a chill in the air.

It was still winter after all. While the snow didn’t remain, the cold certainly did. Tommy couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his cardigan tighter around himself. If he knew he was going to go outside today he would have worn his coat.

“Friend!” Ghostbur chirped, throwing himself around the sleep. The blue animal didn’t even startle, nor did it pause as it continued to eat grass. Ghostbur didn’t seem to care. He seemed content enough to run his ghostly hands across the animal’s pelt.

“Seems like he missed you,” Tommy said, biting back a snicker. Ghostbur didn’t pay Tommy any attention as he cooed at the sheep. Friend didn’t even look at Ghostbur. He must have been really enjoying that grass. Not-Henry looked up once at the chirpy ghost before going back to his nap. Mood.

Tommy loved Ghostbur, he loved him like he would always love what remained of Wilbur. But that ghost was giving him a bit of a headache, and he could probably use a nap. With Ranboo slowly moving over to Snowchester Tommy hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past couple of days. Soon enough he wouldn’t have a friend there to comfort him when he woke from nightmares.

It was probably for the best. Tommy was being rather selfish, stealing away Ranboo’s attention when he had a family not too far away.

The hand in his cardigan pocket clenched around the rock he had been playing with seconds ago.

“Is everything okay?”

Tommy looked up to find Ghostbur staring at him. He was no longer petting Friend, instead he just rested his hand atop the animal’s head. The sheep nudged his head into Ghostbur’s palm every now and then, as if searching for warmth that wasn’t there.

“What?” Tommy blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine?”

“You don’t seem sure about that,” Ghostbur said. He was frowning. “Is it the quiet that’s bothering you?”

“What quiet?” Tommy asked, genuinely confused.

“L’Manburg. It’s quiet now. It didn’t used to be.”

And it was. There was no longer the bustle of noise that came with the people walking through the country, inviting friends into their homes and relaxing on the boardwalks. There was no one walking around the country, studying the crater, talking as they walked to Niki’s bakery and the pier, or admiring the rebuilt Camarvan. There was no life, there were simply buildings standing empty and alone.

Ghostbur and Tommy were the only two people standing in L’Manburg. The ghost of the first president and his former right hand man. Everyone else was gone.

Tommy hadn’t even noticed. He had gotten so used to being alone.

“Do you miss it, what L’Manburg used to be?” Ghostbur asked.

“What kind of question is that?” Tommy spat. “Of course I do.”

“Even though it hurt you?”

Tommy froze. “That’s… that’s not what I miss.”

“What do you miss then?”

What did Tommy miss? He missed a lot of things. He missed the nights cuddled together in the Camarvan when it was too cold to sleep outside. They’d push Wilbur’s potion bottles out of the way and into the back of the van. They’d take the blankets together and lay them out on the van floor, trying to provide the most cushion they could when they didn’t have a mattress they could lay on. Then they’d curl under blankets altogether. Wilbur and Tommy were always in the middle, with Tubbo curling up on the other side of Tommy and Fundy on the other side of Wilbur. When Eret joined them he always complained there wasn’t enough room for him, so he’d sleep by the van doors and seat.

Back then Tommy thought that was because Eret wanted to be their first line of defense in case anything happened. Now he can’t help but wonder if Eret was distancing himself from the beginning, just in case things went wrong. And they did.

He missed when L’Manburg wasn’t a town balanced carefully over a crater. He missed when there wasn’t evidence of a giant scar on the country’s land, a scar that wouldn’t heal. The houses were like poorly done stitches trying to hold the land together, but since Tommy had come back from exile, he couldn’t help but notice how they seemed to be unraveling apart as more and more people left the country behind.

He missed the people. He missed being able to always go to Niki’s bakery and expect to see her there. He missed strolling around with Tubbo, going around bothering Jack and Fundy. He missed when Eret was a part of their land, the time before her betrayal. He missed the laughter, the kindness, the time before smiles turned into sneers. Before skin was tainted by scars and memories tainted by war.

But whenever Tommy looked at Ghostbur, he was reminded of what he missed most of all.

“I miss Wilbur sometimes,” Tommy admitted, staring into the ghost’s hollow eyes. Ghostbur was quiet as he listened. “Even if he was bad, and even if he hurt me. I love him and I miss him and I wish I got to say goodbye. I… I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Ghostbur was silent for a moment longer, fiddling with Friend’s blue wool, like he would if he had his blue putty in hand. Tommy shivered and wrapped his hands around himself, unable to meet Ghostbur’s eyes any longer. He couldn’t stop shivering, and his cardigan was doing nothing to keep him warm anymore.

“He loves you,” Ghostbur finally said. “And he misses you too.”

“Don’t you mean loved?” Tommy asked bitterly. “He’s dead, he can’t love anymore.”

“No,” Ghostbur said. Tommy looked up to find the ghost of his brother staring at him. Their eyes meet, Ghostbur’s staring deeply into Tommy’s. They were brown, instead of their usually hollow, washed-out grey. “He loves you.”

Tommy was silent. He turned his head to the side to look out over the ocean of L’Manburg’s coast. He ignored the burn of tears coming to his eyes.

He loves you.

Later, without the prying eyes of his ghostly brother, he would allow himself to cry.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ↻

“Sing me a song?”

There was a laugh. “Which song?”

“I dunno, surprise me!”

Another laugh. There was a hand that gently brushed hair out of his face, one that he couldn’t help but lean into.

“You promise to sleep after this?”

“I promise!”

Perhaps they both knew he was lying. Maybe that’s why they both smiled so brightly. That’s alright, it was one of those promises that was meant to be broken, one with little consequences other than teasing and complaints of little rest in the morning.

His older brother’s voice was low and soft. It always was when he sang him lullabies. Not like the songs they would sing when they chased each other through the yard, danced around in the house, or belted out when their other brother and father were home.

“Rock-a-bye baby—” he sang softly, running a hand through his hair. Tommy listened, smiling and closing as he just listened to his brother sing. He always liked listening to Wilbur sing when he was more serious about it. Not that their other songs weren’t fun, but there was just something more special about this. “—down come baby, cradle and all.”

“That’s sad,” Tommy said, snuggling into his blankets and pillows.

“How come?”

“The baby fell. There wasn’t anyone there to catch them.”

“Well, how do you know that?” Wilbur asked. “Maybe their mom was there underneath the tree, ready to catch them when they fell.”

Tommy only frowned, thinking distantly of the mother he didn’t have anymore. The one that had left him behind. If he was that baby in the tree, there would have been no mother to catch him.

“I want a different song,” he said, not voicing his thoughts to Wilbur. There was a reason neither of them spoke about their mothers. “One that’s happy.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes but he was smiling. He didn’t seem to be bothered by Tommy’s demands. It was always so easy to get Wilbur into giving into his wants. Especially when it was as simple as a song.

“Aaa, kotki dwa, szarobure obydwa—” Wilbur sang. The song was slow, much more quiet and a little longer than the last song he sang. Tommy listened intently this time, much more focused on the song itself this time. He didn’t understand a word of it, but there was something so calming about the way that Wilbur sang that Tommy couldn’t help but relax. The sounds were a comfort to him, especially when it was his older brother making them. He reached gently for Wilbur’s hand, his brother allowing him to hold it gently as he continued to sing.

When he finished the song there was a moment of silence for a long breath. The silence hung in the air around them, a gentle sort of silence that made Tommy’s eyes droop as he let out a yawn. He blinked up at Wilbur, finding his older brother smiling at him.

“What was that song?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Wilbur said. “But Phil used to sing it to me and Techno when we were young. When we took you in, I asked him to teach me the words so I could sing it to you.”

“I like it,” Tommy said. “Can you… can you sing one more time?”

“The same song?” Wilbur asked, sounding surprised. Tommy shook his head and closed his eyes.

“No, sing something different again.”

“Okay kiddo,” Wilbur said, and Tommy could hear the smile in his voice. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine—”

This time, when Tommy woke up from the dream, he wished he could go back.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ↻

“You’re leaving?”

Niki paused just outside the doorway of her bakery. She had a bundle of bags on her back and was carrying a box of what looked like pots and pans and other cooking equipment. From where Tommy could see through the window and door of the bakery, it looked like it had been cleared out. The decorations were gone and the furniture removed. It was just a husk of what it used to be.

As much as Tommy wanted to pretend that this happened all of a sudden, he couldn’t. He visited the bakery frequently enough that he knew the space like he knew his own home. He also noticed when things had gone missing, but never decided to think much about it.

He thought Niki might have been redecorating. He was wrong.

Tommy stared at Niki. He couldn’t hide his hurt expression from her. She was always easier to be open with. All those days spent in the bakery trying to mend his fragile pieces, knowing he was free from judgement and in a safe place, he had never tried to hide the broken parts of himself.

She was his sister, in a way. She was a part of his home. And she was preparing to leave.

Niki looked guilty. Her hands tightened their hold on the box in her arms, but she didn’t move from her place outside the bakery’s door. But she still met his gaze, softening her expression into something pitiful.

Tommy hated pity. He hated being looked at like that. Even in all his moments where he was unafraid to be transparent with his emotions, Niki had never given him a pitiful look. Not when he cried, not when he retreated into his own mind, and not when he blamed himself. Niki never had given him a pitiful look…until now.

Tommy couldn’t stop himself from biting his lip and clenching his hands at his side. They were shaking again.

“I’m sorry Tommy,” Niki said, readjusting her hold on the box in her hands. “But there’s nothing left for me here anymore.”

“But it’s L’Manburg!” Tommy exclaimed. Niki only sighed and began to walk down the pier boardwalk, passing Tommy and likely heading for the Nether Portal near the L’Manpond crater. Tommy watched her go for a shocked second before quickly following after her. “This is your home!”

“No, it’s not,” Niki said. “It hasn’t been my home for a while.”

Tommy stopped. Niki continued to walk forward a few paces, stopping only when she reached the steps that led up to L’Manburg center and realized Tommy wasn’t following after her anymore.

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked. “This is our home. It’s L’manburg. This is the place that Wilbur built for us.”

Niki was quiet for a long moment. Her warm brown eyes were gentle, but bitterly sad when they met his own.

“Tommy,” Niki said softly. “When was the last time you truly thought of L’Manburg as your home? Because for me, L’Manburg stopped being my home the moment Wilbur decided it was past the point of saving.”

“But you stayed,” Tommy tried to argue. His voice was quiet, he couldn’t bring himself to speak much louder than a whisper.  “You stayed after he died and you built here and—”

“I stayed for you,” Niki interrupted. Tommy went quiet. “For you, Tubbo, Fundy, Jack. I stayed for the people I loved until I watched them be cast away or become someone unfamiliar. And when I recognized that, I distanced myself. And now I’m leaving.”

“But, this is L’Manburg, it’s home,” Tommy said, his protests weak. He knew it was a losing battle, trying to argue with Niki. When she set her mind to something, she followed it through. If she was leaving, Tommy couldn’t stop her.

But it still hurt. Tommy wanted to lift his hand to his heart and clench the fabric of his cardigan, as if he could reach through his chest to keep his heart from breaking again. Instead he wrapped his shaking hands around himself, staring at Niki and pretending it was her arms around him. Pretending that there wasn’t this distance between them.

She was leaving.

“L’Manburg was my home because I loved L’Manburg and I loved its people,” Niki said. “But Wilbur is dead. And everyone else has left. I’ve moved on, and I’m ready to explore new things, settle my roots down elsewhere. I will cherish the time I spent here and the people I loved, but it’s not my home. Not anymore.”

But what about me? Tommy wanted to ask. I’m still here.

Instead he stayed quiet.

“I love you Tommy,” Niki said with a smile. “When I’m ready, my home will be open to you. But right now, I need to figure things out on my own.”

“I love you too,” Tommy said. The I’ll miss you went unsaid, but not unnoticed between the two of them.

With one last smile and one last glance, Niki turned and walked up the stairs to the L’Manburg’s center. This time Tommy didn’t follow after her. He couldn’t watch her step through that Nether Portal. He couldn’t stand another heartbreak.

Tommy clenched his hands into his sides, gripping tightly at his cardigan.

When was the last time you truly thought of L’Manburg as your home?

He can’t help but think of half-built walls, a bubbling stream, a broken down van, and the sound of guitar playing. He couldn’t help but think of laughter shared between young boys, songs sung by close friends, and nights spent huddled together as they shared warmth.

A best friend’s warm smile before a scar stretched across his face.

A cackling laugh from a young boy who’s red hair used to shine.

A helping hand offered by a tall man’s hand before it reached for a damning button.

And a brother’s arms wrapping around him, keeping him safe and warm, before they turned cold.

That was home.

And it was gone.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○  ↻

Water splashed against the sandy beach edge. It ran up the sand, daring to touch the tips of Tommy’s shoes, before retreating back. There was a chill in the air, and despite being bundled up, Tommy couldn’t suppress a shiver. He looked over at the rough waves of the ocean that divided him from someplace he might call home, and wished there was an easier way to cross the waters.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Ghostbur whispered at his side. The ghost looked nervous, staring down at the dark waters while clutching blue in his hands. “I can’t swim Tommy.”

“We’re not swimming Ghostbur.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “We’re taking a boat.”

“Oh.”

Tommy just hummed under his breath and went to find the boat that Ranboo left on the shore. When he had messaged the enderman hybrid asking if he could stay over for a few days, he quickly agreed. Luckily both Ranboo and Tubbo seemed fine with Tommy bringing along Ghostbur too.

Since the ghost had gotten dropped off with him a few days ago, he hadn’t left. Tommy asked him if he had wanted to go home at one point, even if it meant having to reach out to their father, but Ghostbur declined. He said that he had missed Tommy and didn’t want to leave him.

Also he missed that damned sheep, who was unfortunately coming with them.

“So it’s going to be like Lads on Tour again?” Ghostbur asked and he watched Tommy tug their rowboat to the water's edge. He almost lost his grip on the boat and fell backwards into the sand when he said that, but Tommy managed to grab himself before he slipped.

“No,” he bit out. “Not like Lads on Tour, or whatever. We’re just going to stay with Tubbo and Ranboo for a few days.”

It was getting harder and harder to stay in L’Manburg. Especially since Niki had left just a day ago. After she was gone, it felt like Tommy had seen L’Manburg for what it truly was since he had been revived. Abandoned.

Quackity had long since disappeared, for reasons Tommy still didn’t quite understand. But he had a gut feeling that whatever he did had been terrible. And judging by the guilty looks Fundy had given him before he left, maybe he had been a part of it too.

But Jack, Niki, Tubbo, and Ranboo all had left one by one as well. Leaving just Tommy alone in what little remained of the country his brother had built.

Wilbur and Techno would have called it poetic that the ghost of the country’s founder and his former right hand man were all that was left. Tommy didn’t think so. He didn’t know what to think.

“I like Tubbo and Ranboo,” Ghostbur rambled. “They are very nice. Good friends to you.”

“Speaking of friends,” Tommy huffed as he finally shoved the rowboat into the water, “get your fucking sheep.”

Ranboo met them at the edge of Snowchester. He helped pull their boat to shore, which was nice, because Tommy was already heaving from how much strength it took to just row the boat. He hadn’t realized how much muscle he had lost in exile. He didn’t used to feel this winded after doing a lot of strenuous activity.

Tommy didn’t even feel bad about having Ranboo help him out of the boat and keep Ghostbur focused on following the path to Tubbo’s cabin. He was exhausted. It felt nice to trust a friend like this again.

After leaving Friend the sheep safely tied up to a newly built hut next to a small potato patch, Ranboo led them inside. Ghostbur awed at the cabin’s homely feeling, commenting on how it reminded him of Techno’s place. Tommy hadn’t really realized it before, but they did share their similarities. Cabins made of rock and wood sheltered in the snow, with a light always lit and a fire always crackling. Maybe that’s a part of why Tommy felt so comfortable here.

(Tommy had never visited Techno’s cabin after being revived. He shouldn’t remember this. He chose not to think about how his memories seemed to be mixing together.)

“Welcome back!” Tubbo said as they walked in. He was sitting on the floor with Michael, the little boy playing with some blocks set out on the rug in their living room. “Hey Tommy, Ghostbur.”

“Hi Tubbo!” Ghostbur said. He quickly crossed the room to stand next to Tubbo, grinning wildly. He gasped when he noticed Michael, making the little boy look up from where he was building his blocks into a tower. “Who’s this?”

“This is Michael, me and Ranboo’s son,” Tubbo said with a smile. “Michael, do you want to say hello to Ghostbur?”

Michael looked at his father, shook his head, and went back to playing with his blocks. Tommy couldn’t stop himself from snorting a little laugh, but everyone else was smiling too.

“Aw I wish I got to see Fundy when he was this young,” Ghostbur said. He was smiling sadly but when he turned back to look at Tommy, his expression was much brighter. “I still remember when you were this small Tommy.”

“You do?” Tommy asked. He didn’t remember much from when he was really little. Just that Phil had picked him up and taken him home after he found him starving on the streets. But Ghostbur nodded, still smiling.

“You were cute when you were really little. I remember thinking you were annoying, but I loved having another little brother,” he said. “And not too long ago, you were little again! Not as little as Michael though.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy mumbled. “I don’t really remember that.”

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of Michael’s block tower falling over. The little boy stared at the fallen blocks for a while before he threw the block he was holding onto the floor and crossed his arms, pouting to himself. Tubbo cooed but the little boy ignored him, staring grumpily at the blocks knocked over on the floor.

“Um, who wants dinner?” Ranboo asked with a nervous grin.

After a warm meal and a cup of hot chocolate, they found themselves seated in the living room again. Ghostbur was settled on the couch with a sleepy Michael, cooing at the little boy. He had warmed up to the ghost quite quickly, but Tommy thinks that was because Ghostbur gave him some blue to play with. Michael had found that very exciting. Ranboo and Tubbo not so much, considering the dye had stained Michael’s clothes.

Tubbo was sitting on the armchair, legs curled up to his chest. Tommy was sitting at his feet, feeling comfortable enough on the floor. It felt nice to sit close to the fire, the warmth of the flames a constant reminder that he could feel the world around him.

Ranboo had been previously sitting on the couch, but now was flipping through his extensive records collection. He said things had felt too silent, and wanted something to sooth them before they went to bed. Tommy didn’t say anything, but he agreed. The sound of the wind and crashing waves on the shore only made him nervous, and he could only focus on the sounds of the crackling fire so much.

The records collection that Ranboo kept on the living room shelf was much more impressive than how Tommy stored his discs. Opposed to just keeping them in an ender chest, Ranboo had them neatly sorted on the shelf, each one carefully tucked away in a cardboard or plastic sleeve to protect the fragile vinyl.

“Any requests?” Ranboo asked as he slipped another copy of Blocks back in its sleeve. He didn’t have any of the records labeled, and anytime he thought he remembered what disc was in a sleeve he proved himself wrong. It was funny the first few times, but now Tommy was bored of watching Ranboo go through them all.

“Do we have Chirp?” Tubbo asked. Ranboo opened his mouth to answer, but Tommy cut him off before he could get a word out.

“No.” Tommy bit his lip, the memory of a certain beach flashing in his mind quickly before it was gone. “Let’s listen to something else.”

Ranboo and Tubbo glanced at him for a moment, studying him carefully with something akin to concern painted across their faces, before they looked away. Ranboo went back to looking through his records, and Tubbo pulled a blanket laying over the armchair onto his lap.

“What about one of your discs Tommy?” Ghostbur asked from his place on the couch. “Don’t you have your discs you like to play?”

Tommy was shocked for a moment as he stared at Ghostbur. While yes, he did have one of his discs back, no one knew that. For some odd reason, it didn’t feel right to share that Tommy had one of his discs back after he had been separated from it for so long. It felt like exposing a fragile part of himself. But Ghostbur knew he had lost the discs, at least at one point, so Tommy couldn’t help but stare at him with shock and confusion.

Tubbo also startled, sitting up straight in his chair with wide eyes.

“Tommy!” he exclaimed, throwing his blanket off of his lap, accidently throwing it over Tommy’s head. Tommy gasped for a second before tugging it off of his head to find Tubbo staring at him. “I have your disc!”

“Uh, yeah?” Tommy said, confused. Tubbo did have his disc, he had given it to him for safe keeping a long time ago.

“Dream’s locked up!” Tubbo said, grinning widely. “I can finally give it back!”

Before Tommy could say a word Tubbo pushed himself out of his chair and ran across the room to where they kept an enderchest. Michael grumbled from where he laid on the couch—likely upset about the noise—and Ghostbur settled a hand on the boy’s hair, playing with it absentmindedly. Tommy just watched in shock as Tubbo shoved things around in his enderchest until he pulled out a familiar disc.

Like Cat, Mellohi was also covered in familiar doodles around its purple and white ring label. They were made years ago, when Tommy and Tubbo had first gotten the discs. The vinyl caught the warm light for a moment, glinting to expose little scratches that the disc had gotten over the time.

Tubbo was still grinning widely as he held the disc triumphantly. He crossed the room again, slower this time, and held the disc out to him. He presented it to Tommy in all its glory, and Tommy took it with shaking hands.

“C’mon bossman,” Tubbo said. “Let’s play it. Just like old times.”

“Yeah,” Tommy croaked out, fighting back the tears that came to his eyes. “Just like old times.”

Chapter Text

Tommy doesn’t really realize how long he’s been at Snowchester until a week has gone by. Which is almost amusing, considering that just a few days into his stay Ranboo and gone back into L’Manburg to bring all of his pets home, and came back with Not-Henry. Tommy hadn’t thought much about it, he just assumed the cow would be better taken care of in Snowchester. Maybe he was meant to live here, especially when Tommy had gotten his cows slaughtered in the past. And when Ranboo had built a hut for all the animals and Tubbo was laying the foundations for another few buildings, it seemed like Snowchester would be the better home.

It was when Phil had messaged Ranboo, wondering if Ghostbur wanted to come home, that Tommy realized how time had passed. He was struck by the fact that he had been completely content to stay in Snowchester this whole time. In fact, he had hardly thought about L’Manburg.

It made him think of what Niki asked him, wondering if L’Manburg was still his home. And Tommy couldn’t answer that question with confidence anymore. He didn’t know if he had an answer to the question anymore.

Regardless, a week of time had passed, and Ghostbur seemed excited to go back home with Phil. He had been excited to stay in Snowchester for a while, but he was longing to return to the place he called home.

“I miss Phil and Techno!” the ghost had said. So Ranboo asked Phil if he wanted to come pick up his ghostly son, Ghostbur hovering over the hybrid’s shoulder the entire time, watching him type with a grin.

Tubbo had laughed about the way he phrased the message, joking about the situation as if they were just babysitters keeping an eye on Ghostbur for a time. Tommy had laughed too, but in all truth they weren’t that far off. Despite how much he mentioned that water harmed him, Ghostbur was always reaching into the water or snow and accidentally melting himself. They couldn’t even let him go and walk the minute to the animal hut to see Friend because the ghost had decided walking into a snowbank and melting himself would be a fun detour. He was easily distracted by the world around him, like being a ghost made him see things in a new light.

It had been a day or two since Ranboo had messaged Phil. Today, later in the afternoon, he would be arriving to pick up Ghostbur. And Tommy decided that he would be staying far away.

Tommy knew that Phil was aware he was staying in Snowchester. If it wasn’t Ranboo’s messages to him that had given it away, it was the fact that Phil’s crows had followed him across the small ocean to settle in Snowchester. They continued to keep an eye on him and brought him the occasional gift. Tommy kept each one safe like he did with the gifts given to him in L’Manburg. Tubbo had even found him a box to keep them in.

He just wasn’t ready to see him yet. Other than when he woke up that day at the ruined Community House, Tommy’s last coherent memory of Phil was the picture of him stabbing Wilbur through. The vision of Wilbur’s dying moments was burned into Tommy’s mind in all the perfect clarity from that godforsaken day.

There were only a few memories that had followed after that. Most of which Tommy couldn’t even recall anymore.

(If he thought about it hard enough, if he reached into the depths of his mind, he could find the memories from the short period of time where he had been young again. Where his father was still a hero in his eyes.)

Seeing Phil wasn’t something that Tommy wanted to do. It wasn’t something Tommy was ready to do.

That afternoon Tubbo said he had supplies to collect for his projects while Ranboo was going to talk to Phil as he dropped off Ghostbur at their meeting point. That left Tommy alone with Michael. Tommy wasn’t upset about that, he was growing to love Micheal, but he was worried because Ranboo’s meeting point was in Snowchester. Even though the hybrid said he could stay well out of range, something about the proximity to being so close to his brother’s killer— his father —made him nervous.

He tried to ignore the nerves that had built in his stomach when Tubbo and Ranboo had explained their plans. He didn’t want to burden them more than he already was.

Tommy decided he was going to keep Michael inside during that time. After saying their goodbyes to Tubbo and Ranboo, Tommy had set Michael’s blocks on the floor. The boy hardly spared them a glance, instead running to the windows to peer outside. He saw the sun shining outside and Friend munching on the potato patch and wanted to go outside and play. And Tommy couldn’t say no to Michael’s soft brown eyes.

So they bundled up in fur lined coats and warm scarves. Tommy tugged soft mittens onto Michael’s little hands and adjusted his hat so his ears would stay warm while they were out in the cold. He tied the laces of the kid’s boots and smiled when Michael finally ran out into the snow. It felt nice to smile again, for something so carefree.

Tommy ignored looking up at the crest of the hill, where he knew Ranboo was standing with Phil as they caught up with each other. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at the face of his father and see a man who he could only imagine covered in his brother’s blood.

He would rather remember his father as a man who abandoned him than as a murderer.

So instead of giving him a glance, or even a thought, Tommy watched as Micahel played in the snow. The little boy would flop into the snow to leave snow angels all around. He would roll little balls of the soft powered ice in his hands to make snowballs, trying to toss them at Tommy, but always falling short. Tommy would make his own to toss at the boy, if only to scare him off and make him laugh.

After running around for a bit, they visited the animals as well. Tommy cracked open the doors of the hut to peer through, finding all of the animals all sleeping together in one giant cuddle pile. Enderchest looked up from her spot resting on one of the dog’s backs, but didn’t give them more than a glance before returning to her sleep. Still, it made Michael giggle and he waved at all the sleeping animals through the crack in the door even though they didn’t notice them.

Eventually Michael decided that they needed to build a snowman. And Tommy couldn’t argue with that. Together they rolled balls of snow together and carefully placed them near the potato patch.

“Protector,” Michael said when they had the base settled in the snow. “For potatoes.”

“Protector,” Tommy agreed with a nod. The little boy watched as Tommy set the other parts of the snowman on top of each other, standing tall near the potato patch. It was a little lopsided and lumpy, but it made Michael smile, and that’s what counted.

“We—uh we want, no need, clothes?” Michael said, stumbling over the human words. From what Tommy knew, the boy had only just started speaking proper sentences in their common tongue. He was pretty fluent for how long he had been practicing, but he still stumbled.

Now he was staring up at the snowman carefully. Tommy had helped him collect rocks for its face and sticks for its arms, but otherwise the snowman was bare.

“We can go get some,” Tommy said. “There’s some scarves by the door.”

“But carrot nose. Like snowmen Bo make,” Michael said sadly. “We need carrot, and I no go in the house with shoes.”

He stared down sadly at his snow covered boots. Tommy suppressed a laugh.

“I can go get them,” he said. “Can you stay here and protect the snowman?”

Michael stared up at him and nodded his head. He turned to look back at the snowman with a serious, yet determined, expression on his face. What had Tommy nearly cracking up again was the way that he glared at Friend, who seemed more than content to stay nibbling on the weed pile that Tubbo had left next to the potato patch. Ghostbur hadn’t wanted to take the sheep with him, saying that he had made friends with Ranboo’s pets. Tommy wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t question it.

It didn’t take long for Tommy to collect the things. He found a nice carrot in the kitchen, pulling it from a bundle of others that Tubbo had left in one of the cupboards. The scarf and spare pair of gloves he had stolen from the collection of winter gear that his friends kept in the storage bin near the front door. One that Michael used as a bench, but was meant for storing their hats and things.

When he came back outside he found Michael still standing next to the snowman. But he wasn’t looking at Friend, or even the snowman at his side. He was staring up at the crest of the hill, waving to someone. Confused, Tommy quickly walked the short distance from the cabin to Michael’s side. He couldn’t stop himself from following the boy’s gaze up to look at what Michael was waving at.

At the top of the hill stood four figures. Ranboo was standing there with Ghostbur at his side. They were talking to the third figure, Phil, who was all too noticeable with his wings. The three of them weren’t looking down the hill at Michael, looking too engaged in their own conversation.

But at Phil’s side was Techno. Techno, who wasn’t looking at Phil, or Ranboo, or Ghostbur. Techno, who was looking at Michael. Techno, who was waving to the small boy who stood next to a snowman. Techno, who met Tommy’s eyes, who’s wave came to a stop, who seemed to startle for just a moment.

Tommy didn’t know that he was a startling thing.

They stared at each other for a long moment. For a second the world seemed to freeze, and it was just to the two of them. Just two brothers with a distance that separated them, so small, yet so wide.

The last time they had looked at each other like this with a distance between them, Techno had told him to die. This time, he didn’t say a thing, and looked at him with a fondness that Tommy had forgotten.

Techno was looking at Tommy with nothing but love in his gaze, and it stole the breath out of his lungs.

Then, he choked. Tommy’s eyes clouded as the moment shattered. He forced himself to look away as choked on his own heart that felt like it had come up his throat to spill out of his mouth and spill blood onto the snow. He clenched his shaking hands at his side, breath stuttering again as memories flickered to his mind. His lungs ached in his chest as they gasped for air and it felt like his heart had dared to stop beating.

He couldn’t feel a thing, only his aching heart that was beating so hard it felt like it was going to shatter at any moment.

“Tommy?” Michael carefully reached a hand out, wrapping his mittened fingers around Tommy’s bare hand. The touch shocked Tommy back into his senses, and he took a sharp breath. “Okay?”

For a moment, Tommy forgot what it was like to speak. Words clogged in his mouth as he swallowed down a lungful of air. When he looked down at Michael, the boy’s warm brown eyes meeting his own cold blue-grey ones, all he could do was stare. Then he crouched down and wrapped his arms tightly around the little boy, drawing him close to his chest and burying his face in the boy’s neck.

“Yeah little man,” Tommy said. “I’m okay.”

Michael’s chest rumbled with a little purr and his small arms came to wrap around Tommy. He almost choked again, tears coming to his eyes, as the boy hugged him back.

Techno’s face burned into his mind. The image of his brother looking at him so fondly—an expression Tommy hadn’t seen in years—was something so strange to see now. When Tommy hugged Michael tightly, for a second all he could think of was Techno. With their piglin features, soft pink hair, warm eyes, and the way they made Tommy feel safe—like he was home—they were so similar.

But this wasn’t his brother. Tommy knew that.

Still, he couldn’t help but miss the brother that he no longer had.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○ ⟳

“It’s cold.”

There was a chill that made his chest ache. It settled in his core, an unforgiving thing. It was bitter and made his body shake. Tommy ached for warmth, even though he was surrounded by it. It’s not the type of warmth his body ached for.

“You’re seated by the fire, swaddled in blankets, how are you cold?”

“I’m cold!”

He didn’t understand, his brother. He didn’t understand the way his heart ached when he looked up at him, a stranger that was so familiar. Years had gone by, years he couldn’t remember, and his brother had changed. He was different now, but still the same. Yet he distanced himself in a way that Tommy wasn’t used to. He was used to his brother reaching for him, taking him into his arms, holding him close. He wasn’t used to the cold.

His brother sighed. He looked tired. He was tired, and it was the fault of both their enemies. Tommy knew it was his fault too. His fault for being the way he was, a boy that wasn’t meant to be here the way he was. But he didn’t know how to change that. He just wanted his brother.

“I don’t know what you need,” his brother said. He sounded sad. Disappointed almost, but not with Tommy. With himself. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sit with me.”

There was a silence that fell between them, broken only by the sound of the crackling fire they gathered near.

“Please,” Tommy whispered. “Please sit with me.”

His brother stared at him with his haunted brown-red eyes, and took a seat next to him on the floor. They were sitting close to the fire, a nest of blankets laid around them. Pillows were scattered about as well, one sat in Tommy’s lap. He abandoned it in favor of scooting closer to his brother, wrapping his arms around him and leaning in close. His brother startled for a moment, gasping quietly, before he settled into the embrace.

“Are you tired?” he asked. Tommy shook his head and buried his face into his brother’s chest as he began to slump over into his lap. His brother’s arms began to wrap around him, embracing him back.

“No,” he lied. He was tired. He had been tired for days, since he had woken up on that desolate beach. And it had been a long few days as they continued to recover from their escape from L’Manburg. He hadn’t been sleeping well, the faces of the black-haired man Quackity and the man with the mask haunting his nightmares. No matter how far he ran, he couldn’t escape them.

“Really?” A hand came to rest on top of his head, running gently through his hair. There was a rumble of amusement that hummed through his brother’s chest, a rumble that made Tommy smile. “You seem tired.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Tommy said. His eyes closed and he let himself fall into his brother's lap, using his legs as a pillow and wrapping his arms around his waist. Holding him close like he was a stuffed bear, a comfort item to help him sleep and fight off the nightmares. His brother had always been good at fighting his nightmares, making them flee from his mind and keeping him safe and protected for another night.

“Are you falling asleep?”

Tommy hummed. “You’re warm,” he said in lieu of an answer.

The hand continued to run gently through his hair. He titled his head slightly so the hand could tug gently at the tangles that began to gather, humming in satisfaction as it combed through his hair.

This was the warmth that he had been craving. He couldn’t stop himself from snuggling closer. He held on so tightly to the warmth he had missed.

This was the brother that he remembered. The one that would invite him into his room after a nightmare and hold him close. The one that would tug the blankets over their heads and make sure not to suffocate the stuffed animals snuggled between them. The one that wiped away his tears and didn’t dare to let him go.

Maybe even though he was a stranger, he was still the same. This was still his brother. And he always would be.

“I forgot how small you used to be,” his brother said softly. Tommy listened carefully, only half-awake. He wondered if his brother thought that he had fallen asleep. “You’re so tiny like this. Fragile.”

The hand running through his hair paused for a moment to adjust a blanket and pull it closer. Tommy snuggled tighter, content to stay curled up in his brother’s lap.

“I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m sorry,” his brother continued. “I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry if you got hurt. This time I promise to fix things.”

Pinkie promise? Tommy wanted to ask, but he was too tired for words.

“I swear it,” his brother whispered.

When Tommy woke up from the dream this time, there were tears running down his face. He stared up at the ceiling from his bed, looking up at the glowing stars that Tubbo had stuck to the ceiling. His breath stuttered, and another tear rolled down his cheek. His body ached for a warmth that he was missing, that he couldn’t have.

“I miss you,” he whispered to the empty room. “I shouldn’t. You hurt me. But I love you so much that it hurts.”

The room didn’t whisper anything back. The wind rustled the trees outside and in the distance Tommy could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocky shores. He closed his eyes again, listening to the way his breath entered and exited his chest. Listening to the way his heart beat.

“You promised,” he whispered. “Why aren’t things fixed yet?”

The room around him held no answers. Only his brother did.

Another tear rolled down his cheek. Tommy allowed himself to cry.

⟲  ○ ◯ ○ ⟳

“You’re having nightmares again, aren’t you?”

Tommy startled and looked up at Ranboo. He was sitting on the foundations Tubbo laid for a stone pier, something that was nothing more than a slab of rock and metal sticking into the ocean, waiting for Tubbo to finish the rest. Other buildings were scattered about, a round tower-like building Tubbo built for storage. Another cabin resting at the edge of the hill that just needed a roof now. And a much larger building that Tubbo said was going to be a factory of sorts, but only had the frameworks done at this moment. Tubbo liked his projects, and he liked being able to pick whatever project he wanted to work on at any given moment.

The pier itself wasn’t finished at all, but Tommy had needed something to do. The potato patch was mostly self-sustaining, the animals had already been cared for, and Ranboo took care of most of the indoor chores. So Tommy had fashioned himself a little fishing rod—like Wilbur had taught him to—and decided to see what he could catch.

Now he sat here with a little bucket as his side and a line cast into the water, with Ranboo hovering over him.

“What?”

“Nightmares,” Ranboo repeated. “You’ve been having nightmares again. Michael noticed, his ears are more sensitive than the rest of us.”

That was true. Ranboo seemed to be a pretty deep sleeper and Tubbo had learned to sleep through almost anything. Plus Tubbo’s hearing wasn’t what it used to be.

“How did Michael know?” Tommy asked.

“He came to us this morning asking why you were screaming last night,” Ranboo said. “He wanted to know if you were okay.”

“Oh, sorry.” Tommy frowned and turned back to look at the waters. The end of his line was bobbing in the waves. No fish had come to take a bite out of his bait.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Ranboo said, taking a seat next to Tommy. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. You stopped coming to me after your nightmares.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Tommy said, his hands clenching around the pole of his fishing rod. They were cold and starting to shake. “You’re like, a fucking dad now. I can take care of myself.”

“There’s nothing wrong with coming to us. Doesn't have to be me, it could be Tubbo.”

“I don’t want to bother Tubbo either.”

“You’re not bothering us, we want to help you. We love you, you’re our family.”

“No I’m fucking NOT!” Tommy heaved, breathing deeply. His hands shook and his vision blurred. “I’m not your fucking family and I’m tired of pretending I am. I’m just a fucking leech that you decided to take pity on.”

Ranboo was silent. Tommy did dare look at him. His line bobbed in the water, tugged harshly for a moment before the tension released. A fish had come and stolen his bait. Fucker.

“Tommy,” Ranboo said. Tommy closed his eyes. “Tommy, look at me.”

Tommy shook his head. He shuddered when he felt Ranboo gently rest a hand over his own—still clenched tightly around the fishing rod—as he carefully pried the rod from his hands to set it aside. Ranboo took one of his hands in his own and squeezed it gently. Tommy opened his eyes and slowly turned to face the hybrid at his side. Ranboo looked at him with his red and green eyes, staring right into his own grey ones. Tommy froze.

“I love you,” Ranboo said. “So does Tubbo and Michael. You’re Tubbo’s brother, Michael’s uncle, and one of my closest friends. You are family.”

“But—” Tommy tried to argue before being quickly cut off by Ranboo.

“No Tommy, you are,” Ranboo said. “You live in our home and we are more than happy to have you here. We want to be there for you, for you to have a place here, to be comfortable. We want you in our family.”

Tommy was quiet for a long moment. He continued to stare into Ranboo’s unblinking eyes, not knowing what to say. His heart stuttered in his chest and he took in a shuddering breath as he felt tears come to his eyes.

“Promise?” Tommy whispered. Ranboo smiled.

“I promise.”

The next few days Tommy treaded carefully around the family. Ranboo would give him smiles, Michael would invite him to play, and Tubbo would start up a conversation whenever Tommy came to him. He settled in his tiny room in their little cabin, thinking about how long it had been since he had lived in a house where his family members were just down the hall and behind a door.

It was easier than he thought to think of himself as family. Perhaps it was because he had accepted it a long time ago, but hid the feelings behind guilt and doubt when there wasn’t anything he had to be worried about. They showed him that time and time again, every day when they asked him to stay, and he agreed.

L’Manburg was a thought in the back of his mind, but not one he dared to let himself fuss over. Not when his family was here, now. That was what mattered.

It was days later that Tommy found himself picking weeds out of the potato patch. Michael was playing nearby, chasing one of the dogs around through the snow. In the distance he could hear Tubbo building away at the pier, shouting at Ranboo to grab more bricks for him. It made Tommy smile and Michael would giggle every time he heard his dads shouting in the distance.

There were a flock of crows nesting in the trees nearby, fluttering from branch to branch and watching the boy play in the yard. Tommy wasn’t paying the birds much attention. He knew that they were Phil’s crows, checking in on their little commune. Continuing to keep an eye on Tommy, but also on Ranboo, Tubbo, and Michael. Phil had always been more protective than he let on.

They chirped to each other and a daring few even settled in the yard where Michael was playing. They hopped across the snow and picked at the frozen ground. Michael was having too much fun chasing Ranboo’s dog to bother the birds.

One of the crows came to rest on the top of the snowman that Tommy and Michael had built days ago, the one next to the potato patch. The snowman itself was looking more lopsided than it was when they first built it. It had warmed up for a few days and the snowman had begun to melt just a little. But it was still standing tall and Michael loved to change its scarf every day.

The crow studied Tommy carefully. It was holding something in its beak, a locket attached to a chain if Tommy had to guess. Except it looked a little bigger than a locket.

With a flap of its wings the crow dived into the potato patch, hopping around the plants to settle next to Tommy. It titled its head up to present the object held in its beak, its beady eyes staring at Tommy.

“A gift?” Tommy said. He held out his hand for the bird to drop the object into his palm. “Thank you, I will keep it safe.”

He went to slide the gift into his pocket but stopped when the bird nipped at his fingers and chirped at him.

“What?” he said. “Do you want me to look at it?”

The bird chirped again. Tommy sighed, but he was smiling softly to himself.

He studied the gift the crow had given him in the palm of his hand. The chain was new, in perfect condition compared to the rest of the gifts that the crows usually gave him. With his other hand, he turned over what he assumed to be a locket in his palm, only to find the face of a compass. The needle spun for a moment before it settled, pointing somewhere that wasn’t north.

A magic compass. Like the one in his enderchest that said Your Tubbo. It was an expensive thing, and when Tommy realized what it was he gasped. 

“I can’t take this,” Tommy said to the crow. “It’s expensive, I don’t even know where it points to or if it belongs to someone—OW.”

The crow that had just bit his hand again chirped loudly at him before flying away, joining its friends in the trees. 

“Fucker,” Tommy grumbled before he took another look at the compass. He noticed there were words etched on the side, much like his other compass. Even though this compass was smaller than his other, in careful script there was a note on the side.

Techno’s Cabin

Oh. Tommy’s heart ached as he took a deep breath. He wasn’t expecting that. He thought the compass had been someone else’s. Not directions.

Maybe it was someone else’s compass. Maybe it belonged to Phil, to show him the way if he got lost. Or it could’ve even been Techno’s, named that way to confuse anyone who might steal the object. It could be.

(But what if it is really meant for you? the voice whispered in his mind. Tommy ignored it.)

“Hey bossman, what do you have there?”

Tommy jumped, looking up to find Tubbo leaning over him.

“Shit you scared me, Tubbo what the fuck!”

Tubbo laughed at his misery and sat down beside him.

“What did the crows give you this time?” Tubbo asked. Tommy handed the compass over to him, watching as Tubbo took it with wide eyes, whistling under his breath.

“Damn, it’s a compass like ours,” he said. Then he frowned. “Well yours, mine fucking broke.”

“I thought you burned it?” Tommy asked. Tubbo just raised his eyebrow.

“Why would I do that? Nah man a creeper tripped me up, shattered the thing. Ghostbur disappeared around that time too so I couldn’t get him to fix it.”

“Oh,” Tommy said dumbly. Tubbo just rolled his eyes and he took a closer look at the compass.

“Techno’s Cabin,” he read aloud, running a finger over the etching on the side. He titled the compass back and forth, watching as the needle stayed focused in one direction. “Yeah, it does point towards Techno’s place.”

“You’ve been there before?” Tommy asked.

“Twice,” Tubbo admitted. “Neither visit was a happy one. They both happened during the time you were young, or uh, dead.”

Tommy hummed. Tubbo just tapped on the glass of the needle face before handing it back to Tommy.

“You don’t remember those times, do you?” he asked, watching as Tommy carefully took the compass back. Tommy glanced down at the needle pointing to Techno, someplace he couldn’t recall but still felt like he knew so well.

“Not really,” Tommy admitted. “There’s bits and pieces here and there, feelings of deja vu and nostalgia that I can’t explain. Figure that they belong to him—younger me.”

“But no concrete memories?” Tubbo asked.

“I do dream of him, sometimes,” Tommy said. “I know it must be him, because I don’t recognize the memories from any time else.”

“What do you remember?”

“Techno.” Tommy took a deep breath. “Dying. That strange place in between life and death. Feelings of safety, feeling scared. They’re blurred memories, but I keep having more and more dreams of them every day.”

“Do you miss it?” Tubbo asked. Tommy’s eyebrows crossed in confusion.

“Miss it? I don’t know what you mean, I didn’t even actually experience it.”

“But you did,” Tubbo said. “It was still you, just a different version of you. They’re still your memories though. They aren’t his, they’re yours. You’re the same person. So, do you miss it?”

Tommy did. It hurts to admit that. He couldn’t help but feel so guilty when he admitted that to himself. He shouldn’t feel like he wants to be eight years old again with someone taking care of him. After all, he had been all but taking care of himself for years. He felt guilty to admit that he wanted his brother back, even though Techno had hurt so many. Had hurt him.

But he wanted it so bad. That feeling of safety, warmth. The knowledge that his brother could be someone to rely on. He wanted to feel safe again.

He’s not sure what Tubbo saw in his expression. But Tubbo’s eyes softened their gaze and he reached out his hand to take Tommy’s and squeeze it gently.

“You miss Techno, don’t you,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He knew.

“I shouldn’t,” Tommy whispered.

“But he’s your family,” Tubbo said. “They’re hard not to miss.”

“But he hurt me, he hurt you.”

“Yeah.” Tubbo shrugged. “And I don’t forgive him, I already told him so. But that’s different. I considered Wilbur my family, and he blew up the nation he gave to me just a few minutes later. He let me get shot in the face. But I still miss him. He loved me once, I can’t help but miss that.”

“But I don’t understand why I miss Techno so bad,” Tommy said.

“Sometimes we miss the people who hurt us,” Tubbo said. “And sometimes, people change. We can’t stop our hearts from loving, we just have to accept it.”

Tommy clenched his hand tightly around the other boy’s. Tubbo didn’t even flinch, he just continued to watch Tommy. He watched as his expression contorted from something guilty, to something sorrowful.

He had loved a lot of people in his life. Some people who he didn’t mind freely giving his heart to, and some people who he wished never met, so they never had to break his heart, his trust. Wilbur, Techno, Phil were the first to come to mind. But also Dream, Quackity, Eret, Niki. All people who he had called friends or family once. Some of whom he had freely loved, some who had hurt him. Some who he wished he could have taken his affection back from. Some who he would have given it to time and time again.

But all he could think about was those spare moments from that time where Techno had taken him back in. Even as a child, he didn’t turn him away. He had taken care of him. He had promised to make things right.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time anyone had promised him something like that.

“I think,” Tubbo started, slowly grabbing Tommy’s attention again. “That you should go see your family. I think—I think you need to go home.”

“But this is—this is my home now,” Tommy stuttered. “My family.”

“Yeah, but we’re not the only family you have,” Tubbo said. “You’re aching for Techno, Phil, and hell even Ghostbur.”

“But—”

“Tommy you love so hard you let yourself drown in your feelings. You would rather let yourself sink in your own misery than be vulnerable. You can’t live like that forever,” Tubbo said. “Your heart aches for your family, and I can see you drowning. I can’t watch you drown any longer. Go home.”

This time, Tommy didn’t protest. Instead he stared at the face of the compass, the needle pointing in the direction of Techno’s cabin.

Home, he thought.

(Home, the voice whispered in his mind. We’re going home.)

⟲  ○ ◯ ○ ⟳

The ocean felt like a calmer beast when you braved it alone. The spray of the ocean hardly felt like a problem when you only have yourself to keep afloat. The saltwater that brushed the edge of the boat and just barely managed to splash in only numbed your toes. The wind guided your sail, the oars in your hands glided through the waves, and the space around you was empty.

It’s just you, your boat, and the waves.

The sky was overcast. The water was cold. Tommy’s hands were numb, as were his feet. He probably should have worn a heavier jacket and an extra pair of socks, but he had grown used to Tubbo’s cabin and the comfort of Snowchester. He forgot how cold it was out on the ocean waters.

The last time he had traveled this far was when he was exiled. And even then, the ocean wasn’t quite as cold as it was now. It had been autumn when Tommy was exiled. It was winter now, and even with spring just a few weeks away the air around him felt as cold as ice.

He inhaled the cold and breathed it back out. He wondered if his breath could crystalize if the temperature was right.

Tubbo had wanted to come with him. He had made the journey across the ocean before. He didn’t say that Tommy was weak, or that he couldn’t go alone, but he said that he wanted to be his support.

Tommy had said no.

Ranboo had wanted to come as well. He knew his way through the Nether and what paths and shortcuts to take. He knew how to cut Tommy’s travel time in half and promised to get him there safely.

Tommy had said no.

He had appreciated how both of his friends offered to come along. But he also knew he had to go alone.

So with nothing but Techno’s compass to show him the way, Tommy had set out early that morning. The sun had just started to wake from its slumber, and Tommy had already pushed his boat into the water and set sail. He had left his friends a note saying where he was going. They would understand.

They had been so understanding for this whole time. His hesitancy to leave L’Manburg, his hesitancy to reach out for help, his hesitancy to do so much. They had been there through it all, taking each new step with him and understanding how he was taking his time to take each of those steps.

But after the crow had given him the compass—pointing to Techno’s Cabin as the inscription on the side had said—Tommy couldn’t stop thinking about his family. As broken as they were, there was still a bond that held them together. And with each passing day Tommy felt like the tugging on that bond got tighter and tighter, pleading for him to come home.

Your heart aches for your family, Tubbo had said. It was true, and Tommy had ignored it for so long.

Tubbo probably thought he had been aching for his family since he was revived. Ranboo probably thought the same as well, considering that he didn’t know much about Tommy's history with his family outside of what Tubbo told him. But Tommy had been aching for his family even before then.

He wanted to say it started on that dreaded day. Where he had been thrown around by explosions and withers. His brother had been laughing somewhere in the background at the destruction. He had been separated from Tubbo, from the rest of his comrades, and was lost in the chaos.

The smoke had blocked out the sun, and Tommy couldn’t stop tripping over debris, lost in the smog. When he had finally managed to gaze through the haze of ash and smoke, he saw a sword glinting in what remained of the sunlight, pierced through his brother’s gut. And there was his father, holding the body of his eldest brother, who lay shattered in his arms.

Tommy remembered his panic, the tears running down his face, the urge to run to Wilbur even though he knew he was gone. His body laid slack against the sword, and no magic from the world would come to take him away to heal in a between realm. Not this time. No, that was the last life Wilbur had, and his very own father had taken it.

In the days after the 16th, Techno had disappeared, Phil had distanced himself, and Wilbur had been buried. Tubbo was busy with his presidential duties, Fundy was caught up in other matters, and the rest of L’Manburg was trying to move on when Tommy felt like he had been frozen in the memory of that day.

When he thought about it, the memory of a flaming house he set afire with a stranger of a boy at his side, was the first time he allowed his heart truly ached for what he no longer had. And it had cost him everything.

When he was exiled, the ache only became more painful as time went on. He just ignored it, pushed the feelings down, and reached out in desperation for the only other person who had been there.

Because if Dream hadn’t been there, Tommy’s only other option for hope was death. Some days it was hard to tell which of the two were better. And some days Tommy wanted nothing more than to die.

Now here was Tommy, alive despite everything. Three deaths had come and gone, yet he was still here to prove his own existence. There was no way to tell that he had even been revived, except for a small strand of white hair that blended in with his blond curls.

He hadn’t even noticed it for what it was, not for days after he had discovered that he had been revived. When he had taken a close look in the mirror for the first time after discovering he had cheated death, he laid eyes upon the streak of hair and knew. But he had simply tucked it away with the other curls, choosing not to think of it.

Another wave of saltwater crashed into his boat, spilling water over the side. It soaked his shoes and Tommy couldn’t suppress a shiver. His feet may be numb, but he still could feel the cold. It made him feel alive, the way the chill settled in his bones, making his teeth rattle and his head hurt.

He continued onwards.

By the time he reached shore, it had begun to snow. Little flurries fell from the sky, glinting in the light that shone through the clouds. They danced through the air, riding on the wind, spiraling downwards. They settled in Tommy’s hair and melted on the tip of his nose.

Tommy stood there for a long moment on the shore, his boat beached beside him, his feet numb. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket, clenching them into fists. Not in frustration, but to feel something, to warm them however he could.

He clenched his fist around a cool object in his right pocket. The little compass. He pulled it out, the chain attached to the tiny compass clicking as it untangled itself. He ran a cold finger against the face of the compass glass, watching as the needle adjusted before it set itself straight. Tommy looked up in the direction it was facing to be met with a barren landscape of snow and ice.

He fought back the urge to sigh. He should have worn two pairs of socks.

The snow was thick and heavy. Sometimes he would take a step and it would rise all the way to his knees as he sunk into the powdered ice. Most of the time it just swallowed his shoes and rose up to his shins, effectively stealing any warmth he had left in his feet.

He wasn’t dressed the most appropriately for the cold. Snowchester didn’t get snow as deep and heavy as this. And he didn’t have to travel miles through it either. The farthest he traveled was to the shore or across the lawn as he played with Michael.

This was different. All his eyes could see was snow, stretching across the flat landscape. A tree or two sprouted up here and there, and Tommy took care to avoid the arctic foxes and polar bears that eyed him as he passed by their dens.

He kept his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, only taking out his right hand to check his compass every now and then. The needle still pointed forwards, and if he ever found himself off track he would adjust quickly before continuing to stumble his way through the snow.

It was cold. So cold. He couldn’t feel his fingers, his toes, his nose. He couldn’t feel much of anything, and it was haunting him.

(The Darkness, the Void, the voice whispered. A lack of feeling. A brother lost.

Tommy ignored the voice and the memories creeping at the edge of his mind.)

At least he was still shivering, that was a good sign.

The sun was beginning to set when Tommy crested a little hill. He staggered and breathed heavily as he hauled himself through the snow. He tripped and he stumbled and he didn’t want to get back up. But he did. The sight he saw was worth it.

In front of him, laid nestled at the base of a larger hill, was a tiny cabin. Smoke was rising from its chimney and lanterns were lit on the porch outside. There were lights on inside and the sounds of life.

Besides the cabin was the skeleton structure of another, built from stone and wood. Behind that, a hut that Tommy assumed housed animals much like the hut at Snowchester did. And there were little farms scattered around too, glass covering the fragile plants and lanterns lit to share some light.

Tommy wanted to fall to his knees at the sight. He wanted to collapse from exhaustion and wait for someone to find him. But instead he took the compass out of his pocket, watched the needle settle on the house, and continued through the snow.

By the time he reached the front door Tommy truly did feel like he was about to collapse from exhaustion. Between sailing and walking through the snow all day, he couldn’t feel any part of his body anymore and wanted to sink into sleep.

But he also wanted to see his brother. His dad. His ghostly brother. He wanted to see his family. So with a silent sigh, Tommy knocked on the door.

For a moment, there was nothing. The sounds in the house quieted for a moment, before continuing. Tommy wondered if they thought he was just the wind outside. Besides, who would be coming to visit?

Then he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He listened carefully to the sound of a chain being removed from a lock and the handle of the door twisting. Then, the door opened. And standing in the doorframe was a familiar figure.

“Ranboo I said the wolf wasn’t giving birth for another couple weeks why are you—”

“Techno?”

The two brothers stared at each other for a long time. Techno’s eyes were wide, staring at Tommy like he was a ghost. He swallowed back the words that Tommy had cut off, closing his gaping mouth. Tommy didn’t say a word, he just swayed on his feet, subconsciously leaning towards the warmth that leaked through the open door.

“Tommy?” Techno asked, hesitant. “What are you doin’, it’s freezing out there, you look like an icicle. How long have you been outside?”

Tommy didn’t answer. He was struggling to find the words he wanted to say.

“I–” Tommy choked. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Techno’s hand gripped tightly on the doorframe. Tommy tried not to notice.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Tommy said. “For taking advantage of you, your kindness and hospitality. I don’t remember much about those few weeks or months you took care of me when I was little, but even during Pogtopia and all of that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for using you, you didn’t deserve that. You’re my brother, even after all this time.”

Techno just stared. Tommy’s hands clenched tightly in his pockets. He shivered violently, and looked away from Techno’s gaze.

“I don’t care.”

Tommy flinched and looked up at his brother. Techno’s warm eyes stared into his own grey-blue ones, and Tommy felt frozen in place.

“I don’t care about your apologies,” Techno continued. “I care about you. We hurt each other and I know that, but I don’t care. Because I’ll always forgive you. You’re my little brother. I love you Tommy.”

“You–what?” Tommy stuttered.

Techno’s face fell.

“Did you think I was going to turn you away?”

“I thought—I thought you hated me!” Tommy exclaimed. “You told me to die!”

“And I will never forget that,” Techno said. “And I will never forgive myself.”

Tommy heaved in a breath. He could feel his heart beating fast in his chest, and his lungs gasping as they took in freezing air. He could feel himself begin to panic as his fingers twitched and his legs begged to run. But he was stuck frozen under Techno’s gaze, and there was nowhere to run. Not with the sun setting and the temperature dropping to something dangerous.

And despite all of that, Tommy wanted to stay.

“I missed you,” Tommy whispered. He was shaking.

“I missed you too,” Techno said. He took a step forward, out of the doorway and onto the small porch that Tommy was standing on. He held out his arms, and Tommy didn’t hesitate to fall into them.

Warm arms wrapped tightly around him. Tommy gasped and sunk into Techno’s chest, tucking his face closer. His hands escaped from his pockets to wrap tightly around Techno and hold him as close as he could. Tears ran down his cheeks and Tommy sniffled loudly as he fought back a wail.

A hand ran up and down his back. A voice shushed him as he hiccupped and gasped loudly, fighting back tears. An arm stayed wrapped around his waist while the other tucked in his upper back. A hand ran through the tangled ends of his hair. It pressed his head gently into Techno’s chest.

Tommy inhaled and exhaled. His eyes were wide and he hiccupped again. He couldn’t let go. He didn’t want to let go.

“Please,” Tommy whispered. “Don’t let go.”

“Never,” Techno mumbled.

And with that promise, Tommy let his eyes close and his tears flow freely as he clung to his brother. The ache in his heart finally began to subside.

“Welcome home Tommy,” Techno mumbled as he held him. “Welcome home.”