Chapter Text
You can only describe realisation as messy. It feels sudden, unwelcome and harsh, and it feels antagonistic, to say the least. Some are broken and some are left abandoned, the sweet grasps of denial swooping at any sort of reason that our feeble minds may come up with. No matter what the circumstances are, whether it is positive or negative, the moment of consciousness comprehension is a punt in the gut of self-hatred. But do not be deceived with glitter-coated lies, it's not always bad, just unexpected and abrupt. Much like life as a whole.
Realisation fluctuates within its participants, it can be one of joy, sorrow, anger, regret or nothing in the slightest.
It's all depending on how much you cared in the first place.
Realisation isn't kind nor cruel, it's fair. And in a tale of a loosely stitched family, it can happen all at once.
The catalyst being a small whisper,
A simple call,
A resonating plea,
A cry for help
"no no No No NO NO NO PLEASE STOP IT STOP IT-"
And blood.
— — —
The angel of death practically snapped his head away from his tasks of shovelling the snowy entrance of his abode, as the cold breeze and soft smacks of snow danced around his face in a blissfully ignorant waltz. His eyes immediately darting into the woods, the same direction towards the greater dream SMP. Something didn't feel right, that was a fact. The crawling and stinging sensation on his spine and towards his heart crept upon him in such an unexpected way, it had caught him off guard. What the fuck?. Something went wrong, but he didn't know what, it was just a hunch, a bad omen, a subtle sinking feeling of dread welling up inside him.
The scariest part was that he was no stranger to this sensation, being the angel of death has its advantages in this unjust world, especially when death is imminent. In whatever way, it had only felt this bad on one other occasion, a circumstance that had the displeasure of haunting him, quite literally.
Phil's usually calm and collected eyes began to waver, as they slowly moved towards the flickering light of his friendship emerald earring, shared between his found family as an heirloom of security. Its once subtly dimmed light had begun to flicker a deep unsaturated green, a sight that Phil could feel clog up the back of his throat. This could only mean one thing, and one thing only. When a member is gone, the colour grows cold, and considering he saw his piglin companion inside only a few moments prior, it could only mean-
No, no this wasn't happening. Everything is fine, everyone is fine. His best friend, his student was at home, talking to his pet polar bear or sorting through some of his chests. His biological son...... well he was already dead but the shell of him was still wandering around this SMP plain, giving blue dye to anyone who would oblige. And finally, his gremlin child, the chaotic bundle of energy was probably building his godforsaken hotel or stealing some poor shmuck's diamonds for his new idol and contractor, Sam nook. Phil's calm but panicked breaths were mixed with small chuckles of denial, laughing at himself for even thinking that this could happen to the boy who seemed to never die. Nothing had happened, nothing had changed. He wasn't dea-
"Phil?"
A small timid voice came to the side of him, causing the ancient deity to snap out of his hopeful pleas. He turned and faced a more solemn-looking enderman boy, whose back was more hunched over than usual, holding a small fragile allium in the crux of his claws and his cheeks scarred with marks of deep tears, tears of loss. Phil's subtle broken smile faulted. Ranboo didn't need to say anything, Phil had seen and heard enough. His knees collapsed into themselves as the dark reality seeped in the old man's immortal heart.
It had become true all at once.
— — —
Technoblade held a gapple in his hands with a mixture of longing and loathing. Looking down at the rarity as if it was just another bundle of wheat. He peeked inside his chest only to be met with an overflow of the sparkling treat. He remembered a time in which he had to store as many gaps as possible due to them being snatched from their rightful place. He remembered a time of ease, a time when he would let those apples fall from their position because someone he used to care about needed them more.
But now he had too many, and he held them in his hands with distaste. He should just eat them, or store them in another chest for safekeeping, but he's insistent grip on this shiny fruit was one of desperation. Somewhere, deep inside his dark and brooding heart, he wants those apples to disappear, he longed for the sneaky hand of the child to reach in the chest, as if it wasn't painfully obvious that he was stealing. He knew deep down, that no matter what, no matter how many gabbles he's saved and collects, he'd leave them in that chest, waiting for them to be stolen once again. And this made him feel angry.
He hated that he felt this way towards the child that betrayed and used him multiple times in the past, it made him feel weak. Technoblade was a god, a warrior of strength, a piglin who had fought in so many battles, wars and wages, and won. He had been blessed with inconceivable strength and his mind was one of the sharpest in the land, then why was he cursed with the conceivable soft side of attachment, to an orphan nonetheless. His relationship wasn't one of affection with Tommy, quite the opposite actually, he was cursed by him. His life wouldn't be the way that it was now without this kid, and the soldier was blinded by the negative parts of his influence. But whether he liked it or not, he was stuck with him, as the restricting title of family had been locking him up ball and chain since the first day they met. And it was technoblade's own choice in doing so.
He angrily scoffed to himself, he should have kicked that orphan the moment he laid eyes on him. He chucked the golden apple nonchalantly back into the chest, shutting it tight soon after. He had more important things to do, rather than grieve a time that he had lost feelings for a long time ago.
But he was going to do a hell of a lot more grieving, he just didn't know it.
The voices had been relatively loud that past week, but nothing that could be understood, all obsessive ramblings and random names being spouted out at random. Techno had become accustomed to ignoring it. But today was different, they calmed down, only the small pogs and champs could be heard, very calm for a snowy afternoon, as if their eyes were on something else. But it was as if the world could feel his suspicions with the lack of noise in his head, as if right on cue, technoblade reached over to his potions cabinet, ready to go out and find anything to take his mind off that young golden hair, until suddenly the world itself came to a stop.
No voices,
No memories,
It almost felt as if there wasn't any floor for his feet to stand on.
Just a horrific pain in his heart and a green light from the side of his left cheek starting to fade ever so dimmer, into a dark milky green.
He froze in his place, the silence became deafening as his eyes looked outside, wide with fear. Phil was standing in the snow, looking in the exact direction as techno was intending. Phil was ok, techno took a breath for that, but something was definitely wrong. He observed from afar, still stuck in place, as a tired-looking ranboo slowly made his way to the old man who was paralysed in fear.
And as he watched the old man suddenly turn around, taking in ranboo's suspiciously sad demeanour, only for him to collapse onto the floor with despair only a few seconds after, made the voices go into a rampage.
Tommy, dream, prison, help, go to him, stuck, lava, Sam, books, obsidian, dream, potato, food, hit, punch, kick, blood.
Tommy, lava, prison, dream, punch.
Tommy, dream, prison.
Tommy
•
•
•
Tommy's dead.
Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead. Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead. Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead. Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead. Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead. Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead. Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead. Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead. Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead. Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.Tommy's dead.
The chorus of voices bleated out all at once, their voices unison and their calls were booming. Techno covered his ears, flinching at the volume and the words. Surely nothing was wrong, this is another trick. Everything is fine, everything should be fine. Tommy is not -
The voices are too loud for him to think logically.
He pushes the front door open with a massive slam, almost pulling it right off its hinges. He doesn't waste a second before reaching the two on the snowy exterior, one on the floor, and the other awkwardly hovering over the older one with no idea how to help. Techno slammed his knees into the soft pillowy texture of the snow, which unwarrantedly stung with the sudden change in temperature.
Phil was on the ground, clutching the emerald earring he indelicately removed a few moments prior, curling his figures so tight around it that it could have shattered if he lost control. He wasn't crying, he was staring dead into the bright white surface, his face both expressionless and yet contorted into a sick sudden painful realisation.
Techno's chest felt as if the oceans had split in two, but his face said otherwise. He doesn't waste time, he never wastes time.
But he wanted to because that little shit better not be gone.
"Where is he?" Techno spoke.
— — —
"He's not here !! Why isn't he here!" Wilbur exclaimed.
Somewhere in a place where nothing exists other than the souls of the dammed, a voice reaches out in desperation, searching high and low for the signs of a young light that burned out too quickly. Wilbur pulled at his trench coat in confusion and desperation. The void's dark and empty clasp was empty of any remnants of change, though he knew there should be.
"He died, I know he died. That piece of shit beat him up with a fucking potato for fuck sake, how am I supposed to make fun of him!!" He continued to pace around in the pitch black. Another figure, who is lying down with an empty whiskey bottle, frowned in annoyance, he was very clearly sick of Wilbur's rambling.
"Could you NOT be so loud? The mini you is probably lost somewhere in this infinite plain. You'll hear his dramatic heavy breathing soon enough." Schlatt remarked, only to proceed to mock the child's traumatised breath. Wilbur shot him a poisonous eye, a mixture of anger and worry. This wasn't right and Schlatt knew it too. This was unnatural, unheard of and it went against every one of nature's rules. Tommy was killed, he knew that for sure, he watched it all happen and could feel space in the void welcoming the young boy with open arms. But in the last moment, in his last breath, when his eyes became as dim as the friendship emeralds alarmed it would, he did not appear in the comforts of the void, and the growing space within it quickly dispatched as if nothing ever happened. The problem wasn't with the fact that space was created in the first place, in his supposed "last battle" with Dream, it did the exact same thing, only that time Tommy survived against all odds. He wasn't so lucky the second time through.
In all other accounts, he should be here with Wilbur, moaning and groaning and annoying the shit out of its inhabitance. But he wasn't, and he is nowhere to be found.
"Schlatt I swear to prime this is serious now. We've been here for long enough to watch countless mobs and animals die and come here and not once has this happened! Of course, it had to be Tommy." He exclaimed until he muttered that last part under his breath. It had two meanings in the crux of Wilbur's mind; No.1. What the fuck had his brother done, if anyone was going to break the concept of death, it was going to be him, and No.2. Oh Please prime let him be ok, he suffered enough, even death was cruel to the child.
He continued to panic, feeling every worse emotion all at once, and for a dead guy, it wasn't very pleasant. He was interrupted by Schlatt's cackle from his relaxed position, eying Will with malicious intent.
"Maybe the universe gave up on him?" He snarled, a bit of drool loosely hanging down his lip. Will's demeanour shifted as he looked Schlatt dead in the eye, giving him his full attention. He questioned the goat man's reasoning, his face saying it all.
"Well to be fair, that annoying little shit has threatened the void several times now, that stupid pillar in logster-shit, his big 'dream showdown?' I'm sure the void grew tired of the back and forth shenanigans......... maybe he wasn't deserving of his spot here, maybe he lost his chance to reside as a being all together." Schlatt mocked, wiping his drool away with a lazy swoop of his suit sleeve.
Wilbur stood there in disbelief. The theory was a shaky explanation with no evidence behind it, but it shook him to his icy core nonetheless. His soul pounding with sorrow and regret, every little memory beating at once because something inside Wilbur told him that they were now a precious commodity. Was that even possible? To just suddenly go like that?
"Is that it then? he's just, gone? He's just been erased from the world?" Wilbur's shaky voice resonated, his eyes wide as he looked down at his hands in bewilderment. He wanted nothing more than the other man to say no, because if it's true then-
"Pretty much yea."
To Wilbur, that thought was petrifying. Not only due to the ramification of what it could mean to his own life, but the fact that the void could possibly be so cruel as to wipe Tommy out of existence like that due to a few miss calls was upsetting, to say the least. The kid never asked to be so close to death so many times, neither of them was his fault, and Wilbur understood that.
But he couldn't accept it.
If he could slam his fists against the walls of the void, he would, vigorously. How could the world be so cruel to those who inhabit it? How can death pick and chose who gets to remain in limbo and who can't? Why did death do such a bad choice of picking who stays and goes, considering the two biggest tyrants were casually playing solitaire only a few hours prior? Why did it have to be Tommy? Why didn't Wilbur do anything?
His best friend, his ally, his most loyal companion, his brother..... now just a bundle of mixed feeling memories. This is true death, this was how death was advertised, and only Tommy has the displeasure of experiencing it. Wilbur curled up in a ball, letting himself sob as tears fell down his cold numb face.
— — —
Warmth. The sunlight burns through the dark oak trees, shimmering down to occasionally meet the striking red and white polka dots of the giant toadstools in the area. The birds were creating a symphony with themselves, contrasting to the shrivelled sniffles of a child, as a tall bird man slowly wraps a bandage around the boy's arm, both sitting on the porch of their lantern-lit cottage.
"What did I tell you about trying to fight a creeper by yourself." Philza sighed, carefully keeping the bandage wrapped around the 12-year-old kid's forearm. "Don't ?" Tommy replied. Philza looked up, the gremlin child was trying to hold back tears, his face and golden hair were covered in dirt and soot from the creeper explosion. Honestly, what was the kid thinking? he's lucky that mobs are not able to take canon lives.
"Exactly, I told you you would get hurt, but here we are now," Phil said in a matter of fact, trying to prove his point to Tommy that he shouldn't be so reckless. Tommy whipped his head up to meet his ocean eyes with the other's, their glossy sheen filled with a hopeless determination and a hint of humiliation.
"The fucking shithead was in my way, no one gets in the way of Tommy danger-Kraken innit!" He tried to say bravely, only for Phil to give him the eyebrow as he finished tying the bandage with a little ribbon. Tommy shrank back down to his normal terrible posture, drawing his attention to the aid and played with the loose bit of fabric. " I just wanted to be a cool fighter like you and techno." He mumbled, pouting at his defeat.
"That doesn't mean you can charge at a mob without any gear or weapons." Philza crossed his arms, now smirking at the boy's naivety.
"I know that!...... now." Tommy defensively squeaks before crossing his arms as well in a huff.
The woods were quiet for a moment other than the birds that carried on singing as if this conversation never occurred. Philza admired the natural beauty of the forestry, it's warmth felt protected by the beautiful dark emerald green leaves that swayed with the bird's songs. He glanced back down at Tommy and was met with big blue sparkly ones staring right back at him.
"Phil, do you think I can ever become a warrior? I wanna be cool and epic like you, mobs don't seem to scare you." Tommy said timidly, looking up with a childish wonder that Phil missed seeing in his other son, who's currently off somewhere with some fish lady. The wise man chuckled to himself, his eyes glossed over with knowledge of times that are not told in history. "That's because I've seen far worse than mobs." Phil cryptically responded, not taking his eyes off the bees that passed the land.
"Like what?" The child cocks his head to the side, curiosity bewildering him to know more. Philza thought for a little while, reflecting back on all the wars, all the lives lost not by monsters or gods, but by their own kind, their allies. He looked back at Tommy, his bright eyes of curiosity and innocence staring him down for an answer. How can this small child's species be able to commit so many atrocities, do they all look like this at the beginning of their lives? He didn't avert his gaze but offered a kind and sympathetic smile back at him.
"People." He doesn't hide behind his answer and Tommy didn't back down either, only looking a little scared as his mind trailed to what that possibly could mean. Phil hoped it didn't scare him too much, the boy was still a child after all. But that worry quickly dispersed when the small lanky boy stood with his fists tightly held together, a grin happily plastered on his face.
"Do you think I'll be able to beat people up when I'm older ?" He exclaimed, his excitement making him do small little jumps of exhilaration. The wise man laughed at the immaturity, but settled within the peaceful atmosphere, he simply accepted the boy's childish tendencies, placing his hand on Tommy's hair to ruffle it with affection, as that was the only thing he would accept nowadays.
"I'm sure you can mate." He smiled.
It was really warm that day.
— — —
"Tommy's gone."
"We know."
"My condolences."
"Thank you."
The server went quiet when the deities arrived on the mainlands, coming out of the portal only to be met with stares from wet eyes. After crossing the community house, they began their weighty stroll to the home, Tommy's home.
The anarchist duo slowly walked on the prime path, both looking extremely exhausted. The moment they arrived they knew the tension between them and the rest were softened, the smell of thick pity plugged the airways of the warriors and they did not like it one bit.
The journey was littered with people giving them their prayers, Phil thanked them but techno remained silent. The atmosphere felt heavy and thick as if the enemy’s ground was made out of honey. They were not going to the prison, it was not in their best interest to go near that place, otherwise, arson would become a much clearer goal. They had something more important to deal with, they needed to see him for themselves.
They had heard from Ranboo that Sam was able to retrieve him from the depths of the prison, bringing him back home to rest, eternally. Phil was wary of sam, for being the main prison guard that holds the most dangerous guy in the land, he sure didn't try hard enough to save his so-..... Tommy. Makes Phil wonder what his motives were for locking the child up with his abuser in the first place. Nonetheless, Philza sympathised with him. From what he understood, he and Tommy got really close, some considered him to be a father figure towards him. Did Philza really fail so hard as his guardian that Tommy was actively seeking a father figure somewhere else? Possibly, but there wasn't much he could do about it now.
They continued to walk, the solemn faces and whispers from others afar were haunting their view, making techno scoff at the ridiculous nature of it all. This was all a bit too much, most people hated or felt nothing towards the child, why were they acting as if this was a tragic event for everyone. Building statues, monuments, writing speeches and songs to commemorate a child who died at the hands of his greatest enemy. All plastic lies, all to make themselves feel less horrible for not doing anything, Pathetic. Technoblade was distraught of course, he was a person too, but the whole grieving thing wasn't necessary, he didn't like to waste time. Why waste the present holding onto the past, seemed counter-intuitive.
When they turned the corner, they were met with a gathering of citizens in front of the dirt house, all of them stopped in their tracks to turn and look at the duo. Stood there against the wall was Sam with his head in his hands, puffy was comforting the devastated creeper hybrid with soft tears pooling out her eyes. Quackity watched from afar, his head in the clouds in disbelief and Ranboo, softly placing red and white flowers all around the vicinity, still carrying that one allium with an iron grip. Though the house was littered with Flowers and memorabilia of the small child, the atmosphere was devoid of colour, everything felt grey and broken like everything had been split into two. Phil paid more attention to the swaying grass that protruded out of the dirt shack, its once vibrant green now a mossy faded colour, almost as if his own home knew when to pay respects to the dead.
It was still and painful, Sam's eyes interlocking with Phil's, revealing the hot steaming tears that oozed from the man's pained expression, small sparks and smoke coming out of the grips of his teeth as his intense emotions were reacting to his natural creeper biology. He seemed to take it worse than Phil did, at least on the outside. They didn't need to exchange any words, there was nothing left to say, all Phil could do was take off his hat, a sign of respect before entering the now-empty tomb.....well, almost empty. Tommy was in there.
The duo avoided eye contact with anyone else, just as the others did to them, especially between techno and Quackity, considering that big red scar across that not so smiley face was the piglins doing. Philza simply bowed down his head and proceeded to walk towards the iron doors, taking a moment before entering. Techno watched carefully from behind, the feeling in his heart growing stronger by the minute. He studied as Philza's resentment towards this land slowly subsided into one of regret, the little twitches in his eyes and the uncomfortable tension in his wings said it all. Technoblade followed close behind the winged man, feeling every bit of anxiety that was deeply locked inside his icy soul had hit him all at once as he watched that iron door agape.
The inside felt warm, but in a forced way, someone clearly tried to make the inside less depressing considering the new lanterns everywhere, something that Tommy would never bother crafting as he found torches to be just as efficient. It was damp, dreary and dark, but what do you expect from a dirt shack with no natural sunlight peeking through. In a weird way, it was peaceful, but it felt wrong. This house belonged to the most chaotically energetic person on the server, it had no place being this calm, serenity wasn't welcomed in the eyes of Tommyinnit.
On the other side of this room, near the right side corner, was a newly placed bed with red, white and lilac flowers adorning nearly every surface of the frame, lanterns burning above it and his beloved disks hanging on the wall. Phil's eyes wavered once again, his blond eyebrow piercing upwards as he bit his tongue in fear of bursting. There it was, the body of a child adoring his iconic red and white shirt and brown cargo pants, perfectly still on the bed with a cloth carefully covering his face. The godly duo were too afraid to move from their position because they knew if they stepped any further it would become a reality, and the damage would be much more present in their souls.
Phil quickly took notice of the figure near the foot of the bed, his head resting within his arms, with his now full-grown horns poking out the temples of his head. "Tubbo?" Phil's croaky voice calling out the now youngest child's name, who subtly flinched at the sound. The small figure took no time standing up, albeit his legs were shaking due to his emotions being rich of sorrow. His back was arched and his fist trembled on sight, the other hand delicately placed on the hand of the body, keeping in within his own. The child took one last moment looking back at the body, contemplating if he should even leave him in the hands of these war criminals. But even tubbo had the common decency to let his family have their moment to grieve, even if he didn't believe they deserved it. He turned around, giving Phil and techno a better chance to see his red puffy eyes filled to the brim with tears. And with that, no words exchanged and no looks shared, tubbo swiftly made his exit, opting to go and comfort the soft cries of the caring people outside.
Phil was left trembling, and techno remained static. The only thing left between them and the truth was the empty space within the small compartment. Techno was brave enough to take the first step, softy pushing past Phil in order to take the first look. Phil carefully observed as he watched this looming piglin hybrid stare down at the body beneath, and took note of how the man's arms trembled whilst doing so. He watched as Techno's eyes, for a split second, grew wide and quivered, his mouth curled into a quiet frown with his tusks poking through.
Phil, though terrified, took the leap of bravery and stepped towards the bed, letting his heavy wings solemnly drag across the dirty ground. He couldn't tell this from faraway but Tommy was littered with cuts and bruises across his arms and neck, his iconic T-shirt now stained with dry blood. Even his outfit was shredded, torn and burnt, Phil couldn't tell if they were old or new, but they definitely weren't natural. He took note of how long Tommy's hair had become since the last time he saw him, as his loosely tied ponytail peaked from behind his neck. The cloth was taunting Phil, and he could feel the great beast behind him feel the same, not wanting to take it off due to his respect for his friend, who should be the one to uncover his so- this child.
Phil didn't want to be the one to do it, but he had no choice, as he knew he had done enough neglecting, it's time to face his consequences head-on. As if Phil was ripping off a Band-Aid, he carefully and slowly peeled back the cloth.
The gods' blood went cold. It was as if Tommy's face was a canvas for an abstract painting, only featuring the colours of black blue and red. His left eye was beyond swollen, a small pool of blood leaking from his tear ducts and his nose was most definitely fractured, which also was leaking dry blood. His mouth slightly agape, showcasing a tooth that is missing, next to his faded chapped lips was a small trail of gore oozing out. He had lost the colour in his cheeks, now replaced with the dirty brown of bruising. But what struck out the most was his eyes, they were still open, staring right back at his family, though they were glazed over and dull. It was as if they were made out of plastic, no shine, no soul, just the colour of the ocean on a grey cloudy day, lifeless. It made Philza want to throw up.
"Jesus fucking Christ." He trembled, slapping his trembling hand against his mouth, finally letting tears fall down his old cheeks. This was too much, way too much. His eyes meeting with the broken young ones, knowing that nothing is looking at him back. Why didn't they close his eyes? why did they leave them open for the poor old man to see? Philza could see his last moments, could feel his last thoughts and hear his cries for his feathered father figure. The child was dead, his child was dead, and he abandoned him when he was at his lowest. Tommy was complicated, and he was not short of blame or criticism, but he was a kid, and kids are allowed to make a few mistakes before drastic measures had to occur. Why was his mistake, which is considered small in the grand scheme of things, the one with the most punishment? Wilbur wanted to die, his fate was sealed, he fell so deep into his own madness that he was certain that there was no more life after losing l'manberg. But Tommy had plans, Tommy had a future to be told, history to be a part of. Why was Philza the failed guardian in his story?
Techno stumbled back, his eyes threatened to water though he didn't let them fall down. It was sickening and he didn't know why, he had seen plenty of deaths in his time, many caused by his hands. Why was this more terrifying than the wars that he had participated in? His mind was clouded with denial and hatred, split into two consciousness that expressed two different views. Why did Tommy have to go die like that? No way he would have let himself die a pathetic and useless death. Was he toying with them? Was this some sort of sick joke to get their attention? The other side of him loathed dream, putting a reminder to pay that green bitch a visit for his execution, an eye for an eye. However, Techno knew that his main attention should be on the trembling old man aside from him, who looked as if this sight was eating him alive.
"That's not him Phil, don't look at it that's not him!" Techno voice shook with uncertainty, he tried to remove Phil from the view, taking his arm around as if it was their cue to leave, but Phil was not so persuadable.
"No techno. That's him, that's Tommy!! The boy we found and raised, all bloody, battered and bruised and" Phil's shaky breath was almost unrecognisable, techno had never seen him so defeated.
"You're hyperventilating Phil, you need to breathe." Techno started to panic himself, though he knew he had to be the rock in this one, he purposefully avoided his gaze from the bed, knowing that if he took one more look at the shrivelled shell of his old ally, he'd snap. Phil buried his head within his hands, feeling as if he wasn't deserving of his face to be shown.
"I can't do this techno, what happened? What happened for us to allow this to happen?" He softly sobbed into those tough and ragged hands of his, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders with the added crushing feeling of his wings tensing up with melancholy "Where the fuck did we go wrong?"
Techno had had enough. He concluded that his anger and frustration was targeted towards Tommy and himself more than anything. He understood Phil's grief, but he couldn't understand his own. Philza was grieving for a kid that had grown in his arms, not the Tommy that they knew now. Techno barely remembers a time when life was easy with Tommy, all he knew was betrayal and hardships, at least that's all he wanted to remember. He didn't like wasting time, not one bit, and this was ludicrous.
"Phil listen to me, that's not the Tommy we knew, that's not the Tommy that you raised. That Tommy died with l'manberg, government ruined him." He pushed his words out as if they were concrete on his tongue, he knew he was being harsh but if there was a slim chance of him breakthrough to Phil, he would have to neglect the hard truth. The winged man wasn't pleased with his ally's willingness to ignore the reality of the situation, no matter the relations he had with the body. He couldn't avert his eyes away from the dead ones on the bed, as if they were telling him that if he broke contact, the body will suddenly disappear. He wished they were closed, he wished he never saw them at all. His heart started pumping as fast as it could, feeling every blood cell and pitter patter of his pulse emanate with through his body, and techno's rebuttal about The nature of their relationship with Tommy wasn't helping.
"Techno your brot-... a child is lying right there, dead. He's still...... URG WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T THEY CLOSE HIS FUCKING EYES !!" Phil began by reasoning with techno, but his frustration bubbled too great at his focus of the agape eyelids, leaving him to finally snap. He slammed his palm on the edge of the bed, making the mattress and body shake in recoil to phil's anger. He can't get the image out of his head, dead eyes staring back at him, dead eyes staring in general.
"Phil..." techno was taken aback, to say the least. He felt a tinge of guilt seep in the back of his throat, but his prideful mindset restricted him from apologising or taking back what he had said. So he remained silent, watching the old man slowly moved his head toward the edge of the bed, letting his body sink with his as he sobbed.
"I don't wanna see him as a ghost techno, I don't want to see a child as a shell of his youth. I can't do that to myself, not again." He pleaded. He felt a cold shiver creeping his back, remembering full well that he had failed two of his closest love ones, knowing that he was sick of watching history repeating itself.
"You won't have to." The voice of Wilbur called out.
— — —
The godly duo stood there, mouth wide and absolutely distraught. Not only at the sight of an old beloved (the man who some could say started this whole mess) standing parallel to them in a ghostly form, but at the news, he had just shared whilst doing so.
"What the fuck do you mean he's been erased ?" Techno exclaimed, taking a step forward in aggression, immediately believing Wilbur had something to do with this. Wilbur's stance was defensive, puffing out his chest, giving Phil a clear view of the blood-soaked jumper under his pogtopia trench coat. He was translucent enough for them to see the dirt wall behind him, his fingertips and calves faded into invisibility. His once crazed eyes now faded into desperate pleading ones.
"I don't know. I don't know what happened but Tommy isn't on the other side, and he's certainly not a ghost. It's like he just stopped existing." Wilbur's voice echoed much like ghostbur's did, further cementing the fact that Wilbur wasn't back for good. Though Phil could tell that his son wasn't lying, he couldn't let the reality of the situation sink in. It seemed so impossible for fate to be able to choose one person's life over the other, even to the angel of death it felt cruel.
"There must be something else, why would you be allowed in the afterlife and he isn't? It doesn't make sense." Phil tried to reason, more speaking to himself than anyone else. He hopelessly needed to know a way around this, surely this is just one big misunderstanding right? Wilbur scolded at the words of his father, feeling belittled even after coming back to life to warn them.
"Don't you think I fucking know that? I spend weeks trying to figure this out !!" He raised his voice in frustration, slowly starting to remember how stubborn his family was.
"Weeks? Wilbur, it's been one day." Phil remarked, taken aback at how apprehensive his son has become, his voice booming in the damn dirt shack. Phil could see that Wilbur was getting more and more infuriated, clearly wanting his family to just accept the point he was trying to make.
"Yea well, time is very different when you are dead Phil !" Wilbur said aggressively, his words getting harsher and harsher at the godly duo due to their incomprehensible ignorance. Techno gritted his teeth at the whole situation, Glancing down at the weathered old man as he flinched at Wilbur's sudden attitude.
"Will don't run mouth to Phil like that, did you come back only to cause more trouble or somethin'?" The piglin snarled, getting more and more uncomfortable by the ghostly apparition. If anyone was stubborn, it was techno no doubt. The piglin hybrid had been stuck in his old ways ever since the wars started, immovable from his ideologies that his way was the only way. This matter was no longer about some twisted version of sibling rivalry, or about the stubbornness within a family. A kid was dead, the real kind this time, and they were not doing anything about it.
"This isn't about Phil or me technoblade!! Tommy is gone, disappeared without a trace. That body there is going to despawn any minute now and there will be literally NOTHING left of him because we couldn't do anything about it !!" Wilbur's words were sporadic and unfair, words that Phil and techno had already been playing on a loop since the very minute they stepped on this war-ridden plain. This wasn't fair, this wasn't fair on them. Wilbur had no right to speak, if anyone was a hypocrite it would be him. Sure he cares now, but what happened to caring when he lost his life defending a country that was never meant to be. He abandoned Tommy for a Government that was against him from the very start. Techno and Phil were betrayed by Tommy, they had a reason to feel bitter, at least that's what techno told himself. Techno felt himself snap with rage, getting in defensive mode and slightly pulling out his sword from its sheath.
" THAT IS ENOUGH WILL !!! THIS IS NOT OUR DOING !! IF HE DIDN'T GO TO DREAM IN THE FIRST PLACE, HE WOULDN'T BE DEAD, IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH US !!" He screamed, garnering the full attention of Phil as he stood there paralysed, not knowing what to do or say. for a second, Wilbur defeatedly chuckled to himself, slapping his incomplete hand against his forehead.
"Is your pig brain acting up again? Or are you unable to see the bigger picture?" His sarcasm filled the room like water. Techno squinted his eyes and proceeded to further grit his teeth, praying to hell that Wilbur won't say anything he will regret.
Stop it.
"He went to the prison to get closure, he needed closure because dream tortured him."
Stop it, please.
"dream tortured him because he was exiled, he was exiled because he was an easy target and had no one to stand up for him."
Shut up.
"HE WAS AN EASY TARGET BECAUSE HIS ONLY FAMILY ABANDONED HIM!!"
" I swear to PRIME WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP! WE WERE NEVER FAMILY! I'M NOT YOUR BROTHER, I'M NOT TOMMY'S BROTHER AND PHIL ISN'T EVEN TOMMY'S BIOLOGICAL FATHER!!! SO WILL YOU PLEASE STOP FORCING THE LABEL FAMILY ON US WHEN WE NEVER WERE ONE!!" Techno had had enough. He doesn't like wasting time, and he was so fucking done with this 'family' bullshit. Wilbur was out of line, heck, even Phil was out of line. Techno grieved like any normal person but he wasn't going to sit there and reflect on what he could have done because there is no way for someone to go back and fix things. He was livid, and he showed it. His red eyes were glowing more than usual, waving his arms around in anger, only for him to punch the wall beside him. However, In the midst of the huffed breath of an angry piglin, a hard cracking sound echoed around their thoughts and everyone paid their attention towards it, only to find broken shards of a music disk slowly falling down to the ground. Techno directly hit where the music disk mellohi was hung, breaking one of Tommy's most beloved treasures, the thing he sort to protect more than anything else. Techno removed his fist, only to see the disk completely wrecked, they all watched the pieces fall and some despawning before even hitting the ground.
"Techno what did you d-" Phil stuttered, but before any tension could subside, the winged man was rudely interrupted by a light? A very bright light emanating from one of the shards that had not despawned, remaining on the ground. It was blinding and suffocating, taking up their vision with a bright and unsettling white. They huddled together, technoblade drawing his sword, will looking for a way out and Phil frantically looking to check if everyone was safe. But in the midst of the panic, he turned his head towards where the body should be, only to see an empty bed with puffs of cloud symbolising that Tommy had only just despawned, left no remains other than the ruffles on the sheets.
And with that, their world went white.
— — —
This is the in-between. This place acts as your gateway for travelling in time. It isn't a dimension you are familiar with, but if you succeed in your tasks, it will be able to take you home.
You must not stray from the path, collect four items of your history, something locked within a long-forgotten memory. Once you get them all, you will be able to make your way back home. However, use your time wisely, as you have the ability to fix the broken if done right.
7 days, that's all the time you will have before your window of opportunity will close for good and you will remain there for the rest of your life. I'm sorry I cannot give you more, but time waits for no one, no matter how much pushing.
This will be your last opportunity to collect the forgotten, don't waste it. Goodluck.
———
It was warm again, techno fluttered his eyes open only to be met with shadows of leaves playing peekaboo with his eyes. He wasted no time getting up, rubbing his head in fear that he might have hit it on something.
"Where the fuck am I?" He snorted, looking around only to see a regular plain biome, oak and birch trees surrounding him. It didn't take him long to re-evaluate the situation. He Remembered a bright light that had managed to transport him here. He remembered a voice, whispering a commandment of his tasks, though it was a fuzzy memory, the words were implanted into his mind. 7 days? collect four items of our history? It sounded like a load of nonsense.
"Will!! Techno!! Are you ok ?" Phil's voice took techno out of his own inner monologue, making him aware of the two others being caught in the crossfire. They must have awoken at the same time as him because they looked equally confused and perplexed within themselves on what the hell that voice was. Techno was glad to see them ok at the very least, but something was off.
"I'm fine but......... I'm corporal. I'm actually here, I can touch stuff !" Wilbur stammered, looking at his hands and was amazed that they were not transparent. He touched the ground, feeling the grass tickle his fingertips, the soft breeze on the back of his neck, making him shiver. Philza and techno were silent, watching in amazement at the real body of a long lost friend. Wilbur couldn't believe it for a second, so as final proof for himself..... he slapped technoblade around the face. And it felt good.
"Hey what gives-?" Techno growled, grabbing his face in anger. He was about to attack Wilbur back, but a rustling in the bushes alarmed them to stay quiet. The trio held their breaths, taking out any weapons that they had in their inventory, waiting for an animal, mob, heck, anything to reveal itself.
"Come out where you are hiding or we will drag you out!" Techno commanded, his booming voice causing the ruffling to stop. It was quiet for a moment, leading the trio to believe whatever it was making the noise had fled, making them sigh in relief. The moment quickly subsided when the crinkling of leaves began to get louder, showing that the creature was close enough for piercing blue eyes to be seen through the leaves. The trio remained in their defensive mode, preparing for an attack, though Phil felt a bit weird about those eyes.
When it had gained the courage, the figure took a step out, his dirty golden hair all knotted yet it was glistening in the sunlight. His new looking red and white shirt much bigger on him than it should be. His big round blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. There were only a few bruises, and dirt was innocently covering his clothes without a care in the world. Two sticks were in his hands for self-defence, waiting for an attack. But it never came, only the petrified faces of adults staring back at him.
"Tommy?"