Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ghostbur will not remember this, he was sure of it.

Not because this was some deeply personal event that would come back to haunt him on sleepless nights if he had a memory of it, but because this was definetly the gates of literal hell opening right in front of his eyes.

Well this was a stupid way of putting it, since he knew well that there was no hell, at least not in the traditional sense.

So then, why was the night sky staring at him with wide eyes, screaming in a thousand voices? Why did everything feel too vast and too bright, and yet so claustophobic and dark?

A sudden gust of foul smelling wind blew down from above, then spread out in every direction, knocking him to the ground.

Then it was all silent, as it was before.

He sat up and held his head in his hands, trying to calm his breathing.

Maybe this was a common occurance, he's just never noticed before? Maybe this was normal.

What if it wasn't? What would Alivebur do if he saw this, and it wasn't normal?

Find his family, his mind supplied. Find Tommy, find Fundy, find Friend. Make sure they're okay. The man he's a shadow of would do this, right?

He tried to keep the event in his mind as he ran along the creaking planks of the prime path.

The younger boy's front door was locked, he was surely fast asleep.

Asleep means he was okay, right?

Ghostbur ignored the freezing air around the dirthut, knowing that his senses cheat him sometimes. Tommy was okay.

He wasn't sure why he was checking on him. If something was wrong, it must be alright by now, right?

His communicator buzzed to life, alerting him of a pair of unfamiliar names.

Chapter Text

[FoolishG] New people?

[Tommyinnit] ???

Somewhere, deep below the surface, two men sat in a dimly lit cave fashioned into something of a gym.

Groundwater dripped from the ceiling, directly into the face of the third one laying on the stone floor.

Martin Blackwood had stopped the bleeding about an hour ago, but he was just beginning to chatch his breath.

The second man in the room, the one with ram horns attached to the sides of his head, was no help whatsoever.

Right now the room was silent, save for the constant sound of dripping water.

The horned man, likely done observing him at this point, lit a cigarette.

“Say, are you here for any reason in particular?” He asked not so politely.

Martin looked back at him, as if questioning if he’s being serious.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He began, rolling his eyes. “Let me just get my dying boyfriend up the stairs, while you just sit and watch”

“Hey, it’s not like I can help, I’m a fuckin ghost!” The man said.

“Of course you are.” Martin layed his head in his hand. “You wouldn’t help me if you could either would you?”

“Would you help an asshole who just popped into your home out of thin air?”

“Yes! Yes i would!” He cried.

The horned man shrugged.

“Welcome to the Dream smp, i guess. They’re gonna love you upstairs.”

“The Dream smp?” Martin asked.

“Oh fuck off! I am not explaining that to you.”

Chapter Text

DreamXD joined the game

[DreamXD] ?msg callahan
[DreamXD] fucj
[Technoblade] cringe

DreamXD left the game.
Callahan left the game.

[Ph1lz4] holy shit you killed them both

Jon’s eyelids felt as if they had weights on them.

“Martin?” He whispered.

“I’m here, don’t worry.”

“Oh god, we made it.”

He slowly sat up, supported by Martin.

“Jesus what is that?” Jon asked upon laying his eyes on the formally dressed, Devilish looking man across the room.

The man put his cigarette out on the cave’s wall, nearly lighting a poster of a shirtless man on fire, but didn’t enlighten him about his identity.

“A ghost, apparently. Whatever he is, he’s not exactly pleasant company.”

“How long was I out?”

“An hour, maybe more, I don’t have a watch.”

The ghost laughed.

“Like it would work.” He said.

“Good god it talks.” Jon said.

“You can call me ‘it’, but a long time ago i was one of the big guys up there.”

“Yeah sure, whatever.” Martin began. “Let’s go, I can’t stay here for another minute.”

Jon looked back at the ghost. A familiar feeling washed over him, one that he hasn’t felt quite like this since the apocalypse.

“Martin, he has a statement.” He whispered.

“Already?”

“No, I don’t need to take it, but I can feel it.”

“No, I meant that the fears have just arrived, right? With us.”

“I’m not sure. They could have been leaking through Hilltop road for a long time.”

“Maybe you should take that statement. I don’t mean to pressure you but he’s kind of a dick.”

Jon stood up, steadying himself with the help of the wall. “We can come back later.” He said.

“No! Don’t come back.” The ghost objected.

The way up was through something that looked like a mining tunnel, with rails that didn’t look as old as the cobwebs suggested.

Jon shuddered at the thought of how many spiders could be hiding in the cracks of the stone.

He leaned into Martin’s side for support as they made their way up through the dimly lit tunnel.

He spotted sunlight, something he has not remembered seeing in so long!

They were in a clearing at the side of a forest. In front of them, the railway went up, like a floating rollercoaster. Maybe that is what it was?

The air was fresh, unlike in the cave, although a little cold. Jon collapsed into the grass, still trying to wrap his head around where he is.

This was freedom. At least more freedom that he’s seen in a long time.

There was a soft thump, then Martin gasped.

He looked up to see something far too tall, but human shaped. The creature’s skin was jet black, with one half of his face half covered in sleek white fur. At his feet, there was a pile of dirt.

“Uhm, hello.” He said.

Jon yelped and tried to drag himself backwards, almost falling back into the tunnel.

“Am I interrupting something?” The tall creature asked.

Chapter Text

"I have- I have a weapon!" Martin yelled.

Jon looked up to see him pointing the knife he used to stab him, shaking slightly.

His own wound had healed up mostly. For once he was glad to be a servant of the eye, even though it felt wrong to say that.

"Oh, alright." Said the stranger. "I have a trident but I wasn't gonna use it. Do you want me to show you?

He tried to gather his thoughts. Could he still bring the eye's wrath upon avatars?

Was this creature even an avatar? What was he?

The argument continued, with the stranger having made good on his promise of showing off his trident.

"Who are you?" Jon asked, catching both of them off guard.

"That is actually a good question!" The creature said, then turned back to Martin. "You should probably put the knife down first!"

He stubbornly refused, keeping it pointed.

"You do know that literally everyone here has a better weapon than that, right?"

"What, do they all happen to have guns?"

"Martin please put it down." Jon pleaded.

"Listen I'm just trying to protect us!"

"We should probably hear him out first!"

He reluctantly lowered the knife, then slipped it into his pocket.

The stranger released his grip on the trident, which then faded from their sight.

"Okay! Now that we're done with that we should start over." He said. "My name's Ranboo."

"I'm Jonathan Sims." He held his hand out for a handshake.

Ranboo adjusted his gloves, then reluctantly took it, flinching away when the two briefly made eye contact.

"And your friend is Martin?" He asked, after pulling back.

"My name is Martin Blackwood."

"He's my boyfriend, actually." Said Jon.

"Uh-uh." He pulled out a small notebook from his pocket. "I'm going to write your names down real quick just a sec."

He scribbled something, then spoke again.

"By the way, don't worry about the stabbing thing. Tons of people do that here unprovoked."

"Not that different from London, then." Joked Jon.

Ranboo put his book away, then looked at them, waiting for one of them to speak.

"We met a man down in the tunnel." Martin said. "He told me this place is called the Dream SMP?"

"That is correct." Ranboo said. "Are you new here?"

"Yes, actually. Is there a place where we could stay? Like a hotel or an apartment?"

"Yeah, I think there is. If you need help getting around I could give you a tour of the more populated areas, I've done that before."

Jon and Martin looked at each other. They were now in a new world yet again, full of strange things that are yet to be seen.

Ranboo, who was decidedly not an avatar despite his strange appearance, was the first person to show them kindness.

This was a start, an opportunity to see what lies ahead of them, and learn to survive if people were truly as strong and quick to stab as their new friend claimed.

Chapter Text

"Getting to know our way around here would be nice, I guess." Jon said.

"Cool! Follow me then!” Ranboo said. “Let’s hope I’ll remember to show you most landmarks.”

The two men began walking after him.

The sun was setting rapidly, so much faster than in their old world. Ranboo looked up at the sky, then back to them.

“Do you have any equipment other than that knife?” he asked.

“Well it depends on what you mean by that.” Martin said. “I have a first-aid kit.”

“Jonathan?”

“Just some essentials. Please call me Jon, by the way.”

“I guess that would mean that you have no armor, right?”

“Is that an issue?” Martin asked.

“No, it’s really more of a minor nuisance, we can take a shortcut so we get to safety before the monsters come out.”

He looked a little nervous all of the sudden. He stopped and looked back.

“I really wasn’t going to show you that place first, it paints a really bad picture of this server.” He thought about this for a second. “But it’s not like the good picture is so much better, I mean I already told you about the stabbings.”

“I assure you it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.” Martin said.

Ranboo raised his eyebrows, then nodded.

“Could we ask you a few questions by the way?” The taller man continued.

“Sure thing.”

“I really don’t mean this to be rude, but,” Said Jon. “What exactly are you?”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to answer this if you-”

“No no no, I completely get it, I just didn’t realise why you were so-” He stopped. “I’m an Enderman. Well, half.”

He stared at him wordlessly.

“Do you know what that is?”

“I think I’m supposed to.”
Ranboo pointed to the black half of his face.

“You two are really new, huh.” he said.

“Are you still…” Martin whispered to Jon.

“The Archivist?” he answered. “I guess? It just hurts to ‘know’ things right now.”

The night had mostly fallen by the time they spotted lights in the distance. Well, it was a bit more than lights, really.

In front of them laid an enormous crater, obviously man-made, and covered with an equally large plain of glass.

“What on earth happened here?” Martin asked.

Ranboo sighed.

“Welcome to L’manburg. Could you imagine this was a country once?”

Jon looked down to the bottom, where he spotted what he assumed was thick red vines growing in the darkness, and something that looked as if it was a flag, stanidng tall despite the red jungle beneath it.

“Well, more than once. It was blown up twice, I think.”

“Jesus.” Jon exclaimed quietly.

“Yeah, there’s kind of a lot of going on right now. The vines are a fresh wound for a lot of people, I wouldn’t mess with that.”

“How often does this happen here?” Martin asked.

“Honestly? Not that frequently. Every couple of months? It’s been a couple of days since the last event with casualties.”

They both looked up at Ranboo.

“They are both fine right now.” he quickly added. “Come on we should really get going.”

Chapter Text

"Wait, wait." said Martin. "What do you mean they are fine?"

“They are alive, and probably doing okay. Why?"

He confidently stepped on the crater’s glass cover, inviting the two men after him.

“Ranboo, I don’t know how to explain this to you, but where we come from, people die when they are killed.”

They stared at each other in silence for a second as they walked, letting the strangeness of this statement sink in.

“So you don’t get three chances.” The boy said. “The dead stay dead forever.”

Martin sighed.

“We just bury our dead, and try our best to move on.”

“That sounds terrible, I’m sorry.”

“It’s just the way it is.”

“There are ways around it, of course.” Jon added. “But I wouldn’t call any of them pleasant, not really.”

Ranboo opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but decided against it, opting to reconsider what he was going to say instead.

“Did you have ghosts there or anything?” he asked.

“Wow, that’s…That is a can of worms I’m not sure I would like to open right now.” Martin said. “ I do know you have ghosts here, though.”

“Oh you met Ghostbur then?”

“Is that his name?”

“I’m surpised you didn’t know, it’s usually the first thing he tells people.”

“The first thing he communicated towards me was how much he wanted us to fuck off and leave.”

“That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“Come to think of it, he was dressed just like you.”

Ranboo tilted his head to the side in apparent confusion.

Jon’s eyes wandered to the sky. He’s noticed by now that gravity was a messy subject here, with objects and debris floating freely around the hole above which they stood.

In the distance he spotted writing in the sky.

“Oh what the hell is that?” He asked.

“That is just the ‘You Heart Little Penis’ sign.” Ranboo answered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What? Why do you have that?” Martin chimed in.

“Uh,” the enderman began. “It’s a landmark. Part of history, I think.”

“Is there a particular story behind it?” said Jon.

“I have no idea.” He shrugged.

They finally stepped on solid ground, leaving the destruction behind.

It was dark, with only a couple of old-fashioned torches illuminating the wooden path ahead of them.

“So is this the populated area?” Martin asked.

“We call this the Greater DreamSMP, it’s the place where most people settled down.”

The man nodded.

“Can you tell me why it’s named that?”

Ranboo crossed his arms, and looked away.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Wherever you want.”

He took a deep breath.

“Dream was the one who invited us to live here. He’s in prison now. Honestly I’d rather forget about the guy.” He said.

“Yikes.” Jon whispered.

“Wait, he named this place after himself?” said Martin.

“Yes, but he’s currently locked away, we shouldn’t be talking about him.” Ranboo straightened his back. “There is no point dwelling on it.”

He kept walking ahead quietly, lost in thought, and staring at the ground.

Martin broke the silence.

“Why do you think that Ghost refused to tell me this?”

“He did?”

“He said, and I quote, Fuck off, I am not explaining that to you.”

“Are you sure it was Ghostbur?”

“Are there any other ghosts?”

Ranboo Furrowed his brow.

“i don’t think so. I’ll ask around.”

They were approaching a tall red building, which stuck out from the rest of the landscape, looking more like a skyscraper than a house.

“I’d say you could stay at my family’s motel across the street, but I haven’t finished it yet.” said Ranboo in a quiet voice, pointing at a much smaller, cozy looking cottage. “You can spend the night at the other one.”

Jon felt the air cooled down around them, as a quick set of footsteps approached.

Chapter Text

He spun around to see a blond teenager - he was sure it was a teenager, despite the bags under his eyes that made him look twice his age - approaching, with an unreadable expression on his face

He held a large black axe on his shoulder, tightening his grip on it as he pushed past the three of them.

The cold was coming from him, there was no doubt.

“Hi, Tommy.” Ranboo said.

He stopped, and nodded at him in acknowledgement, not bothering to turn and look at them.

Martin put his hand on Jon’s.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, how have you been?” Ranboo continued.

Chapter Text

The museum was not far, according to Ranboo, and he has not been wrong about any of the things he's said about this… city? Settlement?

Place. Martin settled on "place."

Another thing Ranboo was right about was the presentability of everything around them.

Half finished houses, abandoned constructions, and destroyed buildings littered the side of the path, with few that looked as if they had stepped out of the pages of a fantasy novel, in both good and bad ways.

And then there were all the floating objects. Large Signs in the sky, trees, boulders.

It was as if Jon and he were like Alice, and the way out of the "gym" was the rabbit hole.

Would that make Ranboo the white rabbit?

...

Could a person float like the boulders and trees?

He felt Jon nudge his side gently.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing, I'm just thinking." Martin replied.

"Do you want to tell me?"

"Oh, no, it's really stupid."

"I honestly don't think anyone here has had a smart idea in several months!" Said Ranboo.

"Well I can see that." Said Jon.

It might be worth asking at least, thought Martin. The boy had experience, and for all he knows he had most likely grown up believing these things to be natural.

"How exactly do physics work around here?” Asked Martin. “I mean like there’s these things floating in the sky, but we’ve just been walking this whole time.”

Ranboo looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Did you not have floating blocks where you come from?"

"No," Said Jon. “Things just fell, usually. There wasn’t anything that could really float in place.”

“Besides bugs, of course.” Martin added.

“Sand and gravel are the only things that can’t float.” Said Ranboo. “Look.”

He materialised a handful of sand into his palm, then walked over to a nearby house, and slammed it against the wall.

It immediately fell to the ground.

“How do you keep doing that?” Asked Martin.

“Doing what?”

“You keep making things appear in your hand.”

“Oh, that’s just my inventory.” Ranboo said. “Like a bag. In a little uh, Pocket Dimension. Everyone has one.”

Martin nodded, finally beginning to accept that nothing will ever make sense again.

Ranboo continued on with the demonstration, summoning, or rather taking out of his inventory, a piece of stone, then repeating the same thing that he had done to the sand.

It stayed on the wall, not lodged into it, but just laying against it, as if he had just placed it on a vertical table.

“So If I understand correctly, this would have also fallen in your world?”

“Without glue or nails, it would have.” Agreed Jon.

“Can we also do that? Float, I mean.”

Ranboo raised his eyebrows.

“No, but we can use tridents to fly. Also there’s the MLG water bucket trick for free falling, but you need to think fast to do that.” He answered. “Jesus I feel like a video game tutorial.”

“I also feel like I’m in some weird game, if that helps.” Jon said.

“It must be disorienting.”

Jon shrugged.

“I’m getting used to it.”

The enderman pressed his lips together.

“I feel like we’re talking about something we shouldn’t discuss. Anyway, Martin, wanna to try flying with my trident?”

“I’m sorry i don’t actually know how that works.”

“It’s simple. You stand in some water, and point it in the direction you want it to shoot you.”

“You mean the sky?”

“It can be the sky. You’d have to land back in the water if you don’t want to die, though.”

“Oh no, let’s just go to that museum instead.” Said Martin.

He wasn’t sure if it would be a normal museum, but he was prepared for surpises. He could only hope it would be without the risk of him falling to his death. Or a wax museum. He did not want it to be a wax museum, nor anything else that would remind either of them of their old jobs.

Chapter Text

The building they arrived at by sunrise, roughly ten minutes after sunset, if Martin wasn't going insane, looked nothing like the tacky hell hole where the unknowing took place.

It was a grand structure held up by multiple pillars, though it was still much smaller than the hotel.

Ranboo pulled a phone out of his pocket, and began typing.

“I might have to pass you guys off to Eret for a bit.” he said.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate.” Said Jon.

"We have a plan in motion with Tommy and my husband, we'd be discussing that tonight, if that's okay."

"Of course, I'm sure it's important."

"It is! Things will be much better after this, trust me. We'll catch up later, I'll be able to tell you about it by then." He looked back at his phone, then sighed. “Looks like it’s pretty urgent.”

“Who’s Eret, by the way?” Asked Martin.

“Eret is the king. But you don't have to worry, they're super nice!"

“Wait, there’s a monarchy?”

“Yes, but as I said, Eret is nice. If they weren’t we’d have had a war about it by now.”

Martin nodded.

“They do take taxes though, which is why I got married.” continued Ranboo. “Anyway, you guys should go in!”

“I guess goodbye for now, then,” said Jon.

Ranboo opened his mouth, before his phone started ringing.

“Oh, that’s Tubbo. I really have to hurry.”

The boy quickly said his goodbyes, then walked back on the path, taking noticeably larger steps than when he had to guide the two men along.

This was probably his natural way of walking, thought Martin. He was much taller than both of them, at the very least three meters, most of that height being thanks to his legs.

He couldn’t help but empathize with the kid, even though growing up, his difficulties weren’t anything like Ranboo’s. He still knew well how weird it was, having to adjust when everyone around you is completely different.

He almost felt bad for trying to stab him.

Well, he was trying to protect himself, so he wasn’t completely sorry. He liked Ranboo, though.

“Come on.” Said Jon, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go inside.”

The two men walked in through the large entrance, looking around for the person their guide spoke about.

The first thing they noticed was the smell of plastic, probably coming from one of the displays.

In the middle of the room was a minivan surrounded by stanchions, standing on top of faux grass.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that there’s cars here.” Said Martin. “I haven’t even seen proper roads since we’ve arrived.

Jon kept walking along the exhibits, until he stopped a person in a bloodied ballgown, working on a golden sculpture.

They had a ferret laying over their neck that they were whispering to, as they pushed two pieces of emerald into the statue’s eye sockets.

“You could do it, but I don’t think Foolish would appriciate that.” The king said to the ferret.

It hissed in response.

“Oh, go touch some grass.” they said, trying not to laugh.

“Uh, hi. excuse me.” Jon said.

Eret flinched at his voice, snapping their head to look in his direction.

“Oh shit.” they muttered, scrambling to put on the sunglasses hanging by the ballgown’s neck. “Hi!”

“My boyfriend and I are kinda new here, Ranboo said you could tell us some things about this place.”

The ferret leaned into Eret’s ear and made a small noise.

“Sure thing, just a second. Just some finishing touches.”

They turned back to the sculpture, and pulled a couple pieces of gold out of their inventory.

“Do you think this looks okay?” they asked.

“I don’t know what this represents,” admitted Jon.

“Right, shit, you’re new here.”

Eret thought for a second.

“I actually don’t think I want to talk about this.”

"Would you mind teling us about the rest of the exhibits?" Jon asked. "If you want to. I'm not forcing you. This isn't a-"

He stopped himself before saying statement.

Martin caught his eye from the other side of the room, silently asking him to not do anything stupid.

Eret raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, we can go look around. I'm sure none of this will be plot relevant later."

Chapter Text

The king looked back at the golden statue for a second, with something like sorrow on their face, then adjusted their sunglasses.

"Uhm." They began. "You kinda put me on the spot here, I don't even know where to begin."

"Wherever is fine for you, really." said Martin.

"How much do you know about L'manburg?" asked Eret.

An image flashed in Jon's head. Men in blue, standing at the foot of a wall, celebrating.

Ah, great, he thought, I really missed you, Ceaseless Watcher.

"We walked across the crater, if that's anything." He said.

"Fuck it, actually." Eret exclaimed. "We can start with that."

They lead the men to the van in the centre, then climed up the stairs and entered it.

From its window, Jon saw them pick a book up from the driver's seat, carefully cradling it to their chest as if it had the worth of all the gold in the world.

"It's a photo album." They said as they descended from the vehicle. "It's not complete, but Tubbo said he will lend a couple missing pictures."

They opened it on a page showing a young man with cat ears drawn on him.

"Oh." Jon said.

"Yeah, that was the wrong picture." Eret apologised and quickly flipped the page.

The next photo must have been taken inside of the van. It depicted Eret and Tommy, and three other men that they've yet to meet. One either wore a fox mask or had the head of one, either option was surprising to Jon.

One of the unknown men had a faint blue stain over his figure, like someone had tried to wipe wet paint off of it.

Eret smiled at the picture, with the same sorrow as he had looked at the statue minutes earlier.

"This is when we founded it." They said, "Right in this van!"

"Why would a king help found a separate country?" Martin asked.

Eret's smile faded.

"Yeah, you have a point." They said, nearly a whisper.

A dark room. Walls opening like a hungry animal's jaws.

Jon did his best to keep The Eye out of his head.

The traitor king,

No, just Eret, walked them to a fragment of L'manburg's wall, and flipped the page to reveal another photo of Tommy and the same group of people, with two new figures.

Eret however, was missing from this one, and the paint stain covering the tallest of the men seemed to be more opaque this time.

"That is Wilbur Soot." Eret said, as if reading his thoughts. "He was a good man."

"I'm sorry." Said Jon.

"We weren't close, not towards the end."

He nodded.

The smell of plastic was stronger here than when they arrived. With a new wave hitting Jon everytime Eret flipped a page.

It was clear that something was off about this museum, with the way it awakened the weakened powers of The Eye.

Maybe because this was a place full of things that beg to be archived, remembered, seen.

"How much do you know about L'manburg?" The words echoed in Jon's ears.

There was a pressure building behind that old door that again hid the sea in his mind.

He squeezed his eyes shut. No one would ever miss a feeling like this, no matter how horrible the apocalypse was.

Eret was still talking, about walls and something about a blackstone shortage, but he couldn't bring himself back above the water enough to listen.

"Martin." He choked out. "I need to get out."

Chapter Text

Of course something went wrong the moment Martin let his guard down.

It always does, it's beginning to feel like a pattern.

Jon turned around and started taking quick steps towards the exit, covering his eyes with a hand.

Eret checked their sunglasses.

"I'm so sorry they must have slipped," they muttered.

"They didn't, it's not your fault." Said Martin, not caring to clarify that the sight of Eret's eyes were in no way enough to creep Jon out, no matter how messed up they may be.

He sprinted to catch up with the man, who grabbed his arm tightly, and started pulling him along.

His body was shaking, his breath labored and shallow.

“Hey, slow down.” Martin pleaded.

He gasped for air as he attempted to respond, to no avail.

As they reached near the entrance, Jon leaned against a wall, uncovering his face to reveal his unseeing, glazed over pair of eyes.

He slipped down to the floor with a cry.

Martin knelt down in front of him, laying a hand on his shoulder to help ground him again.

“Can you try to calm down for me?” he said.

Jon nodded.

“I’m going to help you up, and we’re going to leave.”

The king caught up with the men, picking nervously at their hands.

“This could have been really bad.” Jon heaved, voice shaking with horror.

Martin wrapped his arms around him, and pulled him back to his feet.

He locked eyes with Eret.

“You don’t even know, do you?” He rubbed his eyes. “You were just the architect, you had no part in what became of this building.”

They took a step back.

“Please, listen to my warning, your majesty. This place will draw in horrors never seen in this world before.”

“What?” they said, almost laughing at what they perceived as absurdity.

“Thank you so much for the tour!” Martin interjected. “I’m so sorry it had to be cut short like this, but we have to leave.”

“I’ll get you something, just wait.” they said, before running back into the building.

“Really?” Martin said after the king left. “They could have been our ally! Why did you do this?”

“What would you have done?”

Martin pinched his nose.

“I don’t know, maybe not put them on the spot like that immediately?”

“I’m so sorry, maybe next time I won’t get spoon fed mass amounts of knowledge by the all seeing eye that I’m forced to serve!”

“That’s not the problem!” Martrin argued. “You could have been so much more subtle with them!”

“Really? So how would you have gone about that?”

The taller man buried his face in his hands.

“I don’t know!” He yelled. “This is just like back at home! We’re lost, we’re alone, and-”

“There’s Ranboo.” Jon said.

“I literally held him at knifepoint!”

“And he returned the favour with his fucking trident!” Snapped the man. “Then he showed us around! We have yet to ruin anything permanently!”

“Where are we even going to live?” Martin laughed. “We can’t stay in that hotel forever, how are we even going to pay?”

He heard footsteps approaching.

“You could get a cottage in Snowchester.” said Eret, handing a small stack of papers to Martin.

They were maps, all of what looked to be nearby areas.

“I wanted to show you the larger one but…” They shrugged.
He flipped through the pages until he found the map of a coastal village, labelled Snowchester.

“Thank you.” said Martin.

“If someone tries to mess with you just tell me and I’ll get their ass.”

They shook hands with Martin.

“And uh, no hard feelings about the warning thing. We all get panic attacks around here.”

Jon lowered his eyes.

“I do know of some horrors!” They added. “I’m sure you have seen the red vines, I’ve dealt with those.”

“Just be very careful,” he said. “If anything strange happens…”

“I’ve dealt with worse, probably.” Eret shrugged. “I’m going to get back to the statue.”

They waved goodbye, before leaving the two men in the doorway.

Martin caught the smell of cigarette smoke in the air.

“Oh, no.” he said.

A grey figure appeared out of the air.

“You could not have left us alone, could you?” Jon asked.

“I was waiting for my ex. Do you know how boring that cave got?”

“What do you want?” said Martin.

The ram horned figure shrugged.

“Don’t know. I could play the Cheshire cat in your fucked up rendition of Alice in Wonderland, if you need me to.”

“We really, really don’t.”

“You know, I kinda wanna know what that was just now.”

“Don’t you have a pub to cause a scene in?”

“I’m from America, shithead.”

Jon rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, if you’re going to Snowchester say hi to Tubbo for me.”

“Can’t you do that yourself?”

“Sun’s coming up, it’s bad for my skin.”

“You know, Ranboo said being a prick is out of character for you,” said Martin.

“I’ve never known Ranboo. He has style though, I like his suit.”

The ghost squinted his eyes and stared east, watching the sun come up.

“Have to leave.” He said.

“Thank god.”

“Bitch.”

He dissolved into nothing.

“Are we entirely sure this is Ghostbur?” Asked Martin.

“Ranboo seemed certain.”

They walked down to the wooden path again, staring at the pink sunset.

“Snowchester, then?” asked Jon.

Martin checked his map.

“There’s a bridge across the sea leading there.”

Chapter Text

The road to the village looked longer on the map than it was in person, thankfully.

Before long, they were back near the hotel, then after a short walk, next to an elegant, intimidating structure of blackstone, that was bigger than anything the two men had seen in a long time. It made Martin’s hands grow weak just by the sight of it.

Well, either that, or he was getting tired. It was hard to remember that humans need to sleep, now that the apocalypse was behind them.

The structure's purpose was a mystery from the outside. The red glow emanating from the barred windows, and Jon's averted eyes suggested that it would be wiser to keep it that way for now.

There was a tunnel above the water where their map spoke of a bridge to the village, either flooded, or purposefully filled with water.

There were birds standing on top of it, chatting cheerfully as if speaking their own language.

Martin heard a faint clicking noise coming from next to it, almost like there was a dolphin hidden somewhere.

Even if they could get a boat, there was no way either of them would be rowing all the way across, as that "across" was not even visible from where they stood.

They climbed on top, scaring a few crows away in the process. The two made sure it's stable enough to walk on, then started their way towards their destination.

After not so long, it started to get colder.

First it was easy to blame it on the ocean, then the dropping temperature became increasingly worrying as Martin's breath became visible.

"This is not normal, is it?" He questioned.

Jon adjusted his cardigan.

"I guess so." He said. "The place has snow in its name, afterall."

There was a boat in the distance, with what looked like a man in full-body plate armor inside of it, a thick blanket thrown over his shoulders.

He waved as they got closer, then set his fishing rod aside, and rowed closer to the bridge.

"I don't know you two do I?" He asked.

"No," answered Martin. "We're still new. That hasn't changed in the less than 24 hours that we've spent here."

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss then!"

"Our loss?" Said Jon.

"So you're yet to be traumatized?"

"Well, not exactly." He said, then refused to elaborate.

The man didn't ask him to clarify.

They started walking again, the man rowing alongside them.

"Have you found a place to live?" He asked.

"We're actually headed to Snowchester right now," Said Martin.

"Oh, that's cool. I have family there."

"Really?" said Jon.

"Yeah, it's a smaller world than you'd think, there's like uh, fourty of us here at most."

"On the whole planet?"

He laughed.

"No of course not."

The bobber on his fishing rod sunk under the water's surface, and he began reeling it in.

"Oh it's Sally." He said in a joking tone.

He pulled out a salmon, which then flopped miserably in the boat before it was put in a bucket.

Martin and Jon looked at each other with the same question in mind.

"Oh you don't get it, it's a joke cause-" he stopped "My son's ex-"

"Do we want to hear this one?" Asked Jon.

"No it's fucking gross."

"We'll… we'll try not to keep this in mind if we meet your family."

"Oh no, you won't see Wilbur."

Oh, his son is the dead man from Eret's photo album.

Oh shit, thought Martin. The world really is that small.

He spotted the shore emerging from the fog.

Wooden cottages dotted the landscape, their roofs covered in a thick layer of snow, but all were in the shadow of the huge mansion that loomed in the distance.

And the air was so, so cold.

The stranger pulled the blanket tighter around his back, and for a second it looked as if something moved against his back.

"Say hi to Tubbo while you're here!" He said.

He reached his hand up, and Jon knelt down to shake it, before they both realised that they can't reach each other.

"Welp, I've gotta get back home, I need to feed my roommate's polar bear."

"Their what?"

He waved, then wordlessly rowed into the fog.

Snowchester looked empty, completely devoid of people. Torches and lanterns were lit all around, yet it all seemed to be just a ghost town.

Where do they even start?

Chapter Text

They started walking through the town looking for any sign of life.

The snow was undisturbed, there were no footsteps to be seen anywhere.

Jon frowned.

"Does this give you any bad feelings?" Asked Martin, voice barely above a whisper.

"No, not yet it just smells like plastic again."

"Plastic?"

"Back at the museum the smell of plastic was… overwhelming."

"I can't smell anything."

"It's a lot fainter here."

"Do you think it means anything?"

Jon shrugged.

"I don't know. There could be a recycling plant close by, but it could easily be something bad."

In front of one of the cottages was a pile of blue flowers, ripped straight from their stems.

Jon stopped to inspect it.

Martin looked around, and spotted three figures walking, though the distance was too big for him to see who they were.

They didn't come their way, instead opting to use a different path out of the village.

By the time he looked back, Jon was gone.

"You know, you could have told me you were gonna leave!" He half-shouted.

He sat down next to the flowers.

Where did they come from anyway? It's not like they could have grown here, it's far too cold for that. Did someone bring them over here?

The answer couldn't have come sooner, as an echoey voice called.

"Excuse me, sir." It said.

Martin looked up to see a person wearing a yellow jumper. His skin was unnaturally pale, almost grey in colour.

Probably a side effect of living in a place like this, Martin thought.

"I was collecting those for my Friend, please don't touch it."

"Oh, okay." He said.

It was strange that he didn't hear him approach, as any footsteps in the snow would have made a sound.

He walked over to the pile and thew a few more cornflowers on top, then sat down next to Martin.

"What business do you have here?" He asked.

"I'm just waiting for my boyfriend."

The pale man's eyes lit up.

"Does he live here? I don't think I've met him!"

"No, but we might try moving here if we get to speak to whoever is in charge."

"Tubbo just left, but I'm sure he'd allow you to live here!"

"I'd prefer to discuss it with him anyway."

"Aren't you cold by the way? I can't really feel heat but I know it's freezing out here!"

"Thank you, I'm good."

"You know my dad was just fishing here, and he had a blanket over his wings because he was so cold."

That was quite the sentence.

It was the kind of sentence that you hear someone start, then continue, but you don't even recover from the first part after about five minutes of processing it.

"Right, let's skip over the part where he has wings and get to where you said he's your dad." Martin said.

He nodded.

"Aren't you dead?"

"Yeah."

"How many ghosts are there around here?"

"I only know of me!" Wilbur said.

"Right, yeah, that prick blesses no one but us with his presence."

"Did you expect me to he someone else?" He asked. "I get that a lot, i'm sorry to disapoint."

"What? No, it's fine, I wasn't expecting anything."

"Oh, maybe that is even better, you know, people don't really have good things to say about my alive counterpart."

"I mean, Eret did."

Wilbur's expression fell at the mention of their name.

"Did they?" He said.

"They also said you weren't really close towards the end."

Wilbur stared to the ground. He leaned his face into one of his hands.

"Are you alright?" Asked Martin.

He didn't get a reply.

"Hello?"

Wilbur jumped up from where he was sitting.

"Hi! You startled me a bit there! I'm-"

"We were just talking, I was here this whole time."

"I think I forgot what we were talking about."

"You seemed upset about it."

"Oh." Wilbur said. "I forget things that make me sad. Sorry about that."

"You don't have to apologise for that."

"You know my Friend's been away for a while, I think I should go looking for them!"

"Yeah I think I should do the same."

"Well goodbye, then… what's your name?"

"Martin?"

"Goodbye, Martin!" Said Wilbur.

They shook hands. His touch left Martin's palm feeling cold and wet.

He waved as he left, still not making any noise as he walked.

It made more sense now that he knew he's a ghost.

Still not a lot of sense as his body was solid, but sense regardless.

Martin put his hand against the cottage's wall as he stood up. It left a blue print that he stared at in concern for a second.

He should really be looking for where Jon has gone.

Chapter Text

And there it was again, that awful, choking smell that made his eyes water

A pile of cornflowers sat on the ground, which seemed to be the only thing out of the ordinary in this snow-covered village so far.

Then the smell probably came from one of the houses? Surely not these flowers, though it would not be the strangest thing Jon has encountered on this day.

He looked at them as if they could answer, but the flowers, of course, stayed as silent and unhelpful as ever.

He choked back a cough.

Whether or not the source was supernatural, and whether or not this was a good idea, he felt he needed to know the source.

Such a familiar feeling, this was.

Or maybe he was overthinking it and what he was experiencing was merely legitimate human curiosity.

This was a new world with new rules, and though The Fears were present, this could easily be just another thing that happens.

Then he thought of the museum and the flood of information that filled his senses there, right after he noticed the scent of burning plastic for the first time.

So chase the smell and find an answer, or stay in the dark?

He will follow the mystery. Not like doing that ever ended well.

He cursed himself for giving in as he started walking in the first direction he felt he'd have luck with.

His feet lead him to the forest surrounding the village.

The dense canopy of evergreens made sure the forest floor was covered in darkness, leaving Jon to rely on his hands to not walk into a tree.

He should have at least looked for a path, or taken a torch off of a house, but he did no such thing, and hindsight was no help now.

Jon heard footsteps from not far behind.

"Martin is that you?" He called, hoping to hear a familiar voice in response.

He heard no such thing back, and decided it would be better if he picked up speed.

The steps kept approaching, eventually changing into the sound of someone running, then in a matter of seconds, they changed again to the sensation of a person's hand being slammed into Jon's back.

He closed his eyes to brace for impact as he hit the ground.

He may have started screaming.

"Who the hell are you?" Asked the person, most likely a teenage boy, who was pinning him to the ground.

Think fast, Jon. Who are you?

"Jon Archivist, head S," He yelled.

Through his shut eyes he saw light, causing him to contemplate if after surviving both death and the apocalypse the thing to kill him was really just some kid out in the woods, before he realised that the kid had most likely lit a torch.

There was a gasp, then pressure suddenly disappeared from his back.

He looked around to confirm to himself that the boy had indeed lit a torch.

Another thing he managed to confirm was the reason he's been let go of so suddenly.

By the dim light he could see that the sides of the trees all around him were covered in blue handprints, with chunks of the bark missing as if someone had been clawing at them.

"What?" The boy asked, raising his torch up in hopes of seeing better.

Jon got up to his feet, and carefully touched the handprints.

It dyed his finger blue. He smelled it.

"I found it." He said to himself.

"Ghostbur?" The teenager called out into the darkness.

No answer came, but somewhere in the distance a sheep could be heard making the call of its kind.

The boy replicated it, rather loudly, then he waited in silence.

A sheep with a blue coat came running towards them.

He leaned down to pet it.

"Where's your owner, Friend?" He asked.

The sheep didn't give an answer. A joke popped up in Jon's head, but he wasn't sure if people here had horror films.

"I'm Tubbo, by the way." The teen said, looking at him. "What were you doing in Snowchester?"

"Well, I'm new here." Jon said.

"On the smp?"

"Yes. My boyfriend and I are looking for a place to live, King Eret told us to come here."

Tubbo nodded, still petting the sheep.

An arrow flew past the two of them.

Jon ducked.

"That's just a skeleton." Tubbo said. "We should go back to the village. You'll tell me a bit about yourself on the way, okay?

Jon didn't feel like saying no.

He was more preoccupied with the blue stain on the trees.

He knew this was a lead, but towards what conclusion? Why did Tubbo call out Ghostbur's name?

Chapter Text

Things got considerably quieter after this. 

No more leads, no more unusual happenings that could not be explained by their newfound friends.

Snowchester was still a Ghost town, of course. The only residents were Jon and Martin, Ranboo and Tubbo, and their strange little son who would peek out his room's window every so often.

So, just five people and some occasional visitors with a whole village to themselves.

Jon enjoyed this quiet life. He was certain Martin did as well. If it wasn't for the cold it would feel almost like The little cottage they had in Scotland.

And yet, he felt weak. 

He was still a fool, refusing to take statements from anyone, and instead trying to come up with the best alternatives that don't involve further harming innocents.

But for now, until he found a way, he barely left his room.

Ranboo gave him and Martin a little brown kitten when they first moved in. It was laying on his bed now, fast asleep.

They've named it President, after a long debate over whether or not it would be a good thing to call a small cat.

 It licked its mouth in its sleep, no doubt dreaming about food.

Jon petted its head gently to avoid waking it up, then stood up from the bed and stared out the window.

It snowed for the 5th night in a row. 

He wasn't really used to it snowing in the end of April, but as long as the fireplace was warm he could live with this side effect of living in the tundra.

Summers here were just a little kinder, he's heard. Perfect weather to shove the winter coat into the closet, and pull out a thinner one.

The thing that he was looking for in the window was Martin.

He left in a hurry just before sunrise, after receiving a message on his new communicator.

Jon was checking his constantly.

The little device looked a lot like one of those modern wristwatches, except to type, the user had to pull out a little keyboard from under the screen.

The display showed a universal chat, that notified of everything from someone Jon's never met falling asleep, to any small message sent out, which was really mostly requests for help with small things.

He usually doesn't bother to look at it, if there is anything important on there, it always just gets lost in the noise.

But right now, it was painfully silent, as if the world was recovering from some great shock.

Then it buzzed.

MartinBLCKWD whispered to you: They won't tell me what happened. I'm bringing them over.

Chapter Text

You whispered to MartinBLCKWD: Do you need any help?

MartinBLCKWD whispered to you: Please get some firewood inside if you have the energy. XOXO

Jon smiled a little upon seeing the end of the message. 

Only Martin would ever end a concerning conversation like this with kisses.

He forced himself to put on a serious face. Right, guests. Guests who had something happen to them. 

He put on a coat and headed out to the woodpile by their cottage. 

President, woken by the noise, bolted out the door as he opened it. 

"Well if you like the cold!" He said to the cat as it ran under a bush, disappearing from view.

Jon gathered some logs and carried them inside by hand. He still hasn't figured out the whole inventory thing, but he had no doubt it would be useful.

He still wasn't sure if they actually needed the wood, the fireplace never seemed to burn out, no matter how long they forgot to tend to it.

Still, better be safe than sorry. He knelt down and threw some logs on top of the embers.

Standing up, all strength left his legs and he fell forwards, panicking for a second before catching himself.

Oh, this could have been very bad. 

He slowly backed to the sofa to sit down, head tilted downwards, hands on his thighs.

This could not go on like this for much longer.

It would be nicer if he didn't have to deal with all this, if Martin and him had been left behind in their old world, the one that they remembered how to live in.

It would have taken some time to get used to the old normal, and they would have needed to find a new job eventually, but it would have been peaceful, safe, and devoid of all horrors except those experienced by the average person.

However, the rules that govern their lives are cruel, so he should be happy they even got to see another day.

Besides, they were welcomed with open arms, so it's not like there was any reason to complain.

They just needed to stay out of trouble, hopefully get married sometime, after sorting out the whole Archivist thing.

But for now, his strength has mostly returned, so he got back on his feet, just in time for President to start meowing at the front door.

He made his way to the front door.

The kitten meowed again. Then a very obviously human voice responded to it.

Jon stood frozen in place. Not quite in fear, he didn't think a man meowing back to his cat was enough to be concerned about, but in surprise.

He opened the door.

"Who's there?" He called. The whoever was meowing stopped.

One of the sweet berry bushes along the edge of their garden shook a little.

President ran out of it, trilling as it made its way into the house.

It jumped on top of a chest, then settled on it, in direct view of the window.

Jon also stood there for a minute, staring out into the snow.

Then a tall, sickly pale man emerged from the sweet berry bush.

He looked around nervously to make sure he wasn't seen, then pulled some leaves out of his tangled, greying hair.

He picked some berries off the bush, each of them disappearing in his hand, into his inventory.

Then he stopped, ducking behind the bush again.

Jon got closer to the window to see what scared him, before he heard the front door opening.

Oh. This was probably what scared him.

"Really, thank you for helping us. I have no idea what was going on back there." Ranboo spoke. His arm was around Tubbo, who was silently staring at the ground.

Tommy was in a similar state, although his movements seemed a lot more unsure, as if he was not sure how he was supposed to walk. 

As he passed through the door, it became obvious that bringing in more firewood was really a good call.

"Do you have any idea where he went?" Asked Martin.

"No, he just ran when the fog first descended. I think it freaked him out a bit." Continued Ranboo.

"You know, you were really brave for sticking around. There's a solid chance that you saved Tommy's life."

"I mean, I wouldn't have died or anything." Said Tommy, almost laughing at what he thought was the least likely outcome. 

Martin nodded. "Just make sure to do what you did now if this happens again, okay?" 

"I will." 

The boy's voice was uncharacteristically soft. 

"I understand if this shook you up. Just tell me if you need something."

Tommy nodded.

"I'll go make some tea." Said Martin.

He grabbed Jon's hand on his way to the kitchen, gently pulling him along.

"I'm sorry I left so suddenly." He said. "I know you barely check the chat, but look."

He scrolled back a little on his communicator.

Chapter Text

WilburSoot was slain by Dream
WilburSoot left the game

[WilburSoot] Hello there.

There was an empty period of time here, roughly from sunrise to sunset, where no one wrote a word.

[TommyInnit] tubbo
[TommyInnit] tubbo where are you i cant see shit
[Ranboo] wilbur's gone

[TommyInnit] who the fuck cares about wil where are you guys

[Tubbo_] okay, what do you see right now?

[TommyInnit] Thjs isnt a panic attack you d▨nt have to d▨ this

[Tubbo_] i am are trying to find you shithead

[TommyInnit] oh
[TommyInnit] th◈re's rubble.

[Ranboo] could you be a bit more specific

[TommyInnit] I c░'t see th◈ ◈nd ▨f it is th░t sp◈cific eno⇚gh

[Ranboo] okay i can kinda read that
[Ranboo] What is the highest point you can climb to?

[TommyInnit] I s◈◈ ░ t▨w◈r

Another timeskip, this time shorter.

[Ranboo] there you are!!

Martin closed the communicator.

"They were shivering in the crater when I found them."

"Do you think we can save him?" Asked Jon.

"I thought you'd know."

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Do you remember how…" he hesitated to make a comparison. The distortion, Michael, was hard to make sense of, applying its logic to the Lonely was foolish at best. "Do you remember how Helen Richardson was taken?"

Martin nodded.

"It let her go first." Continued Jon.

"Christ, Jon."

"I know, it's just the worst scenario."

"Okay sure, let's assume Tommy is taken again. Someone can just go in to get him out, right?"

"I don't want to risk losing someone else to it."

"Then, we should talk to Tubbo. Tell him to avoid leaving him alone or something."

5hey stood in silence waiting for the water to boil, only hearing fragments of the teens talking in the living room.

"There was a man outside before you got back home." Said Jon.

"Oh, Is it someone we've met?"

"Well, I have never seen him before."

"Uh, describe him to me."

"He looked tired. Greying hair, thin frame."

Martin's concern turned into a smile for a second.

"Jon. Are you entirely sure someone didn't just put a mirror in the garden?"

"He did not look that much like me!" Replied Jon in a fake offended tone.

"I was just kidding, sorry. Did he take anything?"

"A few berries from the bush and I… I think he meowed back at The President."

Martin nodded.

"That sounds relatively normal to me, then."

"I think we should get a fence built."

"I really don't think that would stop any mildly determined thief. You know with these physics and all."

"But it would make me feel safer."

Martin took the teabags from the mugs.

"I'll talk to Foolish about it later."

He picked up all three mugs, with one finger through the handles of two.

Jon followed him out of the kitchen.

The kids were in the middle of a conversation about Primes, which as Jon has learned was a religious thing, although to him it sounded more like a free trial offered by some website run by a shady company.

"Look, they're back!" Said Tommy. "One of you should have actually stayed behind, I could have told you about my church. Why do you follow each other everywhere anyway?"

"It's because they're married!" Said Ranboo matter-of-factly, then thanked Martin for the tea.

"Whatever, they should be getting remarried at church prime anyway."

"We are not actually married yet," said Jon.

Martin looked up at the end of the sentence. "Yet?" He whispered in disbelief.

"Uhm, yeah so anyway." Started Ranboo. "Can you tell me anything about what happened to us today?"

The mood in the room plummeted.

"That's quite a long story, I don't think you want to know all about it right away." Protested Martin.

"Oh, don't worry." Tubbo spoke for the first time that night. "We have plenty of time."

Chapter Text

When the teens left in the morning, their faces looked paler than before, and Jon was considerably more nauseous than before over to be the one to tell three not yet adults about concepts he could barely comprehend at thirty-two.

But they took it better than he expected, nodding along like they were already experienced with the worst the world has to offer.

It was unsettling, watching Tubbo's expression harden and not even flinch for a second as Jon spoke of The Slaughter and how it manifests.

Tommy's face shifted into an emotion he could not quite put his finger on when they got to The Forsaken. Anger, perhaps, or realisation.
Ranboo remained stiff and silent throughout the whole conversation, occasionally blinking away a purple film from over his bicoloured eyes.

Tubbo tapped his shoulder whenever this happened.

He seemed to be the force holding the three of them together, although he himself did not look stable enough to carry all this weight.

But at the end, all three boys clearly cared for one another, and they had no idea how lucky they were for this.

Jon wondered where he'd be if he had trusted his friends like this early on.

Probably right here, as The Spider always has its ways. This thought made him uncomfortable, so he dropped it. He'd be at home, at his real home, discussing the societal structure of a beehive with Tim or something along those lines. He nearly convinced himself of this.

"I'm heading out to talk to Foolish." Said Martin a while after the boys left. "Are you coming?"

"I would prefer to stay." Replied Jon.

"Oh come on. You're never going to get used to this world if you stay cooped up in here all day."

He shook his head.

Martin shrugged.

"Well if I don't come back I hope you'll at least look for me."

The silence spoke for itself, hopefully in a lighthearted manner.

"Okay i'm just joking. I will definitely come back." He added.

"Martin, if you move away you know I am keeping the cat, right?" Said Jon, teasingly.

"You know, the President is not the only reason that I'm staying." Martin smiled.

The two shared a hug.

"I love you but I'm actually leaving now."

"Stay safe."

"I'll try."

Martin stepped out into the cool air of Snowchester, scaring a fox out of a nearby sweet berry bush.

It was gently snowing, so he pulled on the hood of his wintercoat.

The village did not feel that much like Ghost town since they've moved into the cottage, although it was still a little too quiet at times.

This was expected, as the whole area was more comparable to a small community than to an actual country or settlement; even the most populated centre of it was sparsely inhabited, with most of its buildings only existing because the builders felt bored one afternoon.

He was off to see Foolish, then.

Foolish, who lives in a blazing hot desert, roughly a half an hour walk from the freezing tundra.

Martin Blackwood was fast at adapting to new things, but the chaotic climate was decidedly not one of them.

Chapter Text

The temperate plains that laid between the two biomes did precious little to ease the whiplash that Martin felt when entering the desert. He really, really hated this part.

He shed the winter coat way back before it got too hot, but he knew by now that it's no use, as even in a t-shirt he was not built for the desert heat.

Fortunately, the god's oasis was not far from here, Martin could see the outline of the grand temple faintly in the distance.

He realised in that second that he had not asked Foolish if he would be at home.

It was okay, though. He needed to get out of his home anyway, to clear his head after all that.

He did not know how Jon did it. Even back in the archive, his main way of dealing with things seemed to be locking himself in his office for the day and doing his job like a machine.

Old habits die hard, don't they? Martin himself was not much of an exception, even though he was trying his best to act the way a person with a more stable upbringing than him would.

Going shopping, Consulting with an architect about a new addition to his home. Saving teenagers from the monsters he and Jon unleashed upon their world.

And there he went, ruminating on the source of his suffering again. Another nasty habit to fix.

He had reached the temple by now. The air was thankfully cooler around here, due to the shade.

Though he has seen it before, he could still not believe it was built by a single person: the height and detail of the building looked as if it would take decades even for a team, if it was to be constructed in a world like the one he came from.

There was a new statue, one that glimmered in the light, probably bronze or copper. It almost looked golden.

He looked up to the top of it, and he swore that it looked almost like-

The statue moved its head to look down on him.

"Oh, god." It said, voice ringing out like an earthquake.

Martin was absolutely not dealing with this. If everything he's seen has taught him anything, it is that he did not come this far by staying in sight of creatures that could crush him like a soda can made of flesh for no good reason.

He took off running, barely hearing the increasingly quieter calls of the giant for him to stop, slow down.

He considered eventually, that there is no way he ran far enough for its voice to become so quiet.

He stopped and turned back to see the man he came to talk to running up from behind him, out of breath.

"Was that you?!" Martin yelled.

"I had no idea you were coming!" He panted."I could have been naked!"

"But instead you were what, a 20 feet tall giant?"

"I was going to visit Eret! Do you know how much faster that is with long legs? No, you don't! Because you have little human legs!"

"Oh, fuck, whatever." He cried.

"Sure, fine I am sorry for scaring you. What are you here for anyway?"

"Just give me a second." He made an attempt to finally catch his breath. "I wanted to thank you for building us that house"

"No probs. Tubbo paid."

"Oh no, were you a giant while building that too?"

"What? No."

"Oh okay I really don't I could look at it the same way if you were. And also, one more thing I wanted to ask, if you would be up for building us a fence? Jon said he was someone stealing berries from us and he's a little worried."

"Wait, you mean some fancy type of fence, right? You can just craft the simple one and put it wherever you want."

"I think anything is fine for us! As long as it keeps people out."'

"I absolutely cannot build you a fence that keeps people out. You have to talk to Sam for that."

"Okay, and where can I contact him?" asked Martin.

"Oh, don't actually do that, I was talking about his, uh. Prison."

"Yikes."

"Yeah that's really the only thing that can keep people out. I can still do a little decorative one for you if you'd like."

"Yes, that would be greatly appreciated!"

"I'll drop by sometime this week to show you some designs, but now I really have to go to Eret's, if you don't mind."

"Oh! Alright, have fun."

"Do you want to come along?" Foolish said. "I heard you've met them before. Also I've been dying to finally tell you how to use a crafting table."

Oh. Now that he put it like that, Martin did need help with that. He knew as much as he's been able to copy from others in his time here, but that's really not much.

Besides, it's not like he had anything better to do.

Chapter Text

Alright, maybe Martin did have something better to do.

Although the weather conditions were great near spawn, at that moment he would have gladly been in Snowchester, instead of walking down the creaking planks of the prime path.

Which is to say, "crafting" is the most baffling thing he has ever attempted to learn, and whenever he attempts to ask how it works beyond "you just arrange it in the pattern of the thing you are making!" Foolish just shrugged.

But still, he has avoided learning it for long enough, and it was starting to weigh on him like his mother's native polish in his youth.

Okay, well. It wasn't quite the same, but he was starting to feel a little bad about it.

Martin stared at the ground as they walked, listening to the totem god's explanations, counting the missing nails in the planks.

His eyes came across a small smear of blue. It was faint, it would not have been visible if he wasn't paying close attention to the path.

He remembered the substance that was left on his plan after shaking Wilbur's hand, at that moment. It looked to be a similar shade.

It took him so long to get the stain off of his hand once it dried, he swore he could see it in the creases of his skin several days after.

"Hey, what are you looking at?" Asked Foolish.

"It's a stain." He said.

"Yeah. Do you think someone's been painting? I thought about using paint some time ago but solid lapis fit the temple more."

The stains became more frequent as they progressed, becoming more and more opaque until Martin was having to avoid stepping into still wet puddles. He eventually failed, splashing his boots with the liquid.

An uneasy feeling washed over him.

"I don't like this." He mumbled.

Foolish shrugged.

"I mean it is kinda sus." He said. "But you weren't here when those bloodvines were everywhere, were you?"

"I saw a few."

"Well, trust me. You do not want to know how bad that was at its peak. At least it's not that stuff!"

"Ranboo said it was a 'fresh wound' for a lot of people."

Foolish shuddered.

"Yeah. I was there. I died."

Martin raised his head to look up at him.

"Remember, there's that three lives stuff. I keep forgetting you didn't have that before, my bad."

"It is a little hard to keep in mind." He said. "Do you think it would work if I died?"

"I kinda hope we don't find out soon, actually."

"I mean, since I was born in a different… universe, I guess."

"I don't see why it wouldn't work."

Martin nearly slipped in a puddle of blue.

"Woah, don't go and find out that fast!" Joked Foolish.

"Shouldn't we go find out what this is?"

"Is it our business? I don't really wanna get caught up in someone's prank war." He objected. "Not that I don't love a good prank war."

He wondered for a second.

"I mean it's not like Eret's gonna die if they have to wait a few minutes for us!"

Martin nodded.

"We need to split up. I go search the path, you look into some of the buildings."

"Oh like in Scooby Doo?"

"I never watched it."

"That's actually a little sad."

"I know. I had a bad childhood. Let's focus."

"Okay so if I find anything I will send you a message." Foolish said.

"Great."

The two shook hands in agreement, before parting ways.

Martin headed onwards, trying to shake off the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

Foolish seemed to not notice it at all.

Although he was a great friend, it often seemed as though he came from a different genre than Martin, if that makes sense.

Soon, he reached their initial destination: Eret's museum.

He took it to question why both of them took it so naturally that they would be there. It's not like the king did not have a castle, afterall.

The giant stone pillars rose that held up the structure still amazed him as much as they did on the first day.

Amazement was not the only thing he felt upon seeing it, however. Its presence felt oddly familiar, like settling back into a routine he had a long time ago.

It was a strange feeling, but it did not seem to draw him in, so he felt content just coexisting with it.

The stains of blue tore off from the path at this point, trailing off towards the museum's entrance, the puddles widening.

He hastily walked up the stairs, and saw that the lights were off.

Most of the interior was lost to darkness, only showing some detail where the roof let sunlight in.

Still, he made his way inside, calling out Eret's name in case the king was nearby, working in the near darkness, for whatever reason.

He made sure not to slip on what he presumed was more of the same substance on the floor.

As his eyes adjusted he spotted stains on the walls, sme resembling finger markings, then what seemed to be signs of a struggle involving whoever was spreading it.

He called for Eret once again, then continued the search.

There was a faint glow emanating from one of the displays: the stone room that, to Martin's best memories, housed a single wooden chair.

There was the sound of laboured breathing coming from within.

Martin stepped closer.

Eret was laying on the ground, chest coated in the same blue fluid that Martin saw on the path. Their head was rolled to the side, away from him. Their chest was heaving.

He gasped, then ran towards them, before noticing the other figure stood inside of the display.

He was a little hard to recognise at first, but he was sure it was Wilbur Soot, with a blank expression on his ghostly face.

Instead of the yellow jumper Martin last saw him in, he was wearing a crudely sewn together, torn revolutionary uniform, not unlike the one he saw in the photos Eret flipped through upon his and Jon's first visit to the museum.

The room smelled so, so strongly of plastic.

Wibur's head shot up, a glint of recognition faintly appearing within his eyes.

"Martin! It's been a while!" He exclaimed "I seem to have gotten a little lost, I don't know what-"

He took a step ahead, tripping on his victim, seemingly unaware that they are even there.

He fell, letting out a small cry.

"What did you do?" Martin asked, not failing to notice that his voice cracked as he spoke.

"I think I've gotten lost." He repeated.

"Did you hurt them?"

"I don't remember." He said.

Wilbur stayed still on the ground, drops of blue liquid dripping from his mouth.

Martin slowly stepped forward, to which he attempted to raise head again.

"It's so strong now." He said. "I think it wants me to get more lost. It doesn't want me to be me."

He made a couple jerky movements to raise his hands to his ears. He hekd them there tightly.

Martin watched in petrified silence.

He watched as the already ghostly form stopped making sense to him, shifting into something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, before completely vanishing.

He reached for his communicator before he could even think, sending a short message to Foolish.

You whisper to FoolishG: come to the museum FAST

Chapter Text

Eret was, against all odds, not injured. They did not speak though, which was worrying. 

Foolish was quick to reassure Martin that their eyes have always been milky white, so that particular thing was alright, thankfully. 

From there, he was stumped. Wilbur had clearly been in pain, and he wanted Martin to help. 

But he hurt Eret, even if not physically. Maybe he can't be helped anymore, at least not in a way that wouldn't just be putting a bandaid over a gaping hole in his soul. They were late. 

"I don't want to kill him." Said Foolish, pulling Martin aside after making sure that Eret will be fine. "But I don't wanna let him hurt my friend and get away with it." 

"I don't know if we have much of a choice." Martin replied. 

"Are you sure it was Wilbur Soot? Quackity told me he's super weak." 

"Yes, for the millionth time," He said. "Tall, thin, Yellow jumper, dark hair." 

Foolish nodded solemnly. 

"We can always just beat him up and hope that does it." He said. 

"It..." Martin began "it won't. He's not what he used to be." 

"Well, maybe the things you've brought here work differently here." 

Martin let out a weak laugh. 

"It's anyone's guess." He shrugged. "I haven't noticed anything different about it though." 

"I think we should try!" Said Foolish. "'I'll protect you if it goes wrong." 

"Okay." Martin sighed. "Just don't say I forgot to warn you."

"Great! Let's find Wilbur then!" Said Foolish, awfully enthusiastically for such a mission. 

Martin opened his communicator to message Jon, just to make sure he knows where he is.

"Quackity said Wilbur has a van parked around Las Nevadas, but there are a lot of places where he could be hiding."

Jon awoke with no memory of falling asleep, but it can't have been long, since Martin was still not home. 

His body ached,  as if The Eye was threatening to tear him apart in its hunger. 

He slowly sat up in bed, straining to focus his vision. 

Something felt off, he could feel it even past this tired haze. 

Maybe he had forgotten to feed The President, or left food on the stove before falling asleep. He could smell smoke if that were the case, couldn't he? 

Jon got out of bed and started looking for the source of the feeling. 

The cat had left roughly half of its food in its bowl, so the chances of it starving were nonexistent. 

Everything seemed fine in the house, yet the feeling grew. 

That is until Jon checked the clock. 

It has been over 24 hours since Martin had left. The fact that he'd slept that long didn't bother him that much, he had his constant fatigue to blame for that, but Martin has never spent the night elsewhere since they've moved in. 

Jon had one last thing to check. His communicator laid on the table.

The feeling of dread intensified into terror as he opened it with his hands shaking slightly.

There were two messages sent, one 22 hours ago, the other 20.

MartinBLCKWD whispered to you: Wilbur hurt eret. Foolish and i went after him.

MartinBLCKWD fell from a high place while trying to escape WilburSoot

Chapter Text

This was a mistake, a glitch in the communicator. Martin did not die, thought Jon, as he ran outside, trying as hard as he could to know where he was. 

He ran as far as his feet took him, before stopping for breath. 

The sun was shining brightly above spawn. It baffled him, how the sun could keep shining like nothing is wrong. Did it know who just died? Was it aware of what the world had lost? 

Jon wiped the tears gathering in his eyes. He couldn't break down yet, not before he found Martin. 

His eyes drifted to the horizont. There were storm clouds gathering over the L'manburg crater.

He had no proof that this was it, yet he started walking towards the storm.

When he arrived there, he knew Martin had died here before he found his body. 

The glass that once covered the crater was gone, shattered into a thousand pieces over the bottom. 

Foolish knelt in front of the hole, arms wrapped tightly around his torso, his breathing quick and uneven. 

His head snapped up as Jon approached. 

Neither of them said anything. 

His eyes were tinted with red, with silent tears still flowing from them.

Tears started to flow from his eyes, and the sky began to cry with him. 

Jon left him to it. 

He descended to the bottom of the crater on the least steep edge he could find, calling out Martin's name in vain. 

It was then that he spotted a couple of bloodstained rocks, and there he was. 

There he was, his skin pale and covered in debris and half-dried blood where the glass had cut him. 

His eyes were covered in a layer of gravel and glass. 

Jon knelt down and gently laid his hand on the man's cheek, gently sweeping some of the debris away. 

Martin was as cold as ice. 

Jon let himself cry, then. 

He let himself sob until he couldn't swallow, until his body shook and all the pain he'd ignored caught up with him. 

All the history of mankind, all the losses of a million lifetimes, all the visions of a hungry god like dripping into his eyes like venom from its fangs, telling him too much, yet too little about the world to make sense of it, and yet, he has not felt pain like he felt laying there, with all his power drained, head rested on his lover's no longer rising chest. 

Jon kept his eyes open for just long enough to watch as the gentle rain began to wash the dirt out of Martin's eyes. 

There he stayed amidst the shards of glass, drifting in and out of consciousness, until his fingers went numb from the cold, until he thought he'd join him in the grave.

That is, until he felt someone gently nudge his back with their foot. 

He flinched away. 

"Oh, you're alive." 

It was Tommy. 

Jon struggled to pull himself up, only to notice that his head was laying on stone, and the ground around him was covered in dust. 

He lost his balance, but before he could fall into the glass, Tommy caught his arm. 

"What the hell Jonathan, don't fall into that." He said. "Why were you even lying there?"

"Martin is dead." 

Saying it out loud felt as if the knife was back in his stomach. 

The teen's face softened. 

"Does he have any lives left?" He asked. 

"I don't know." Jon said, all too aware of his voice breaking. 

"Well, for all it's worth I thought he was nice." Spoke Tommy. "How'd he go?" 

"He fell."

The teen shuddered.

"You know it's going to get easier eventually." He said. "Sorry I fucking suck at grief counseling."

Jon sighed. Tommy spoke again.

"When Wilbur first lost all of his lives he left us all his shit to deal with." He stared into the distance, focusing on the edge of the crater. "But it eventually got better. And now he's back"

"He was here when Martin died, you know." Said Jon.

"Oh. I didn't know they've met."

"I think that-" Jon stuttered. "I think that he pushed him."

Tommy went silent. 

"He wouldn't have." He said, scrambling for his communicator. "Wil doesn't kill people!"

His breath formed a white fog from the cold as he continued with a softer voice.

"He's a dick, he's done bad things, but he's not a murderer!" He took a ragged breath. "Jonathan you have to know he's not a murderer. He's not."

Tommy's form began to flicker, his breaths coming out short and ragged.

"Tommy-" called out Jon.

The boy's eyes snapped back to him, wide in panic.

"No, you don't get it, this- you- this can't be right!"

He took off running, the sound of glass crunching beneath his feet following him, before he got an enderpearl out of his inventory and threw it towards the horizon, then disappearing to wherever it landed.

Jon could not do anything to save him, not on his own. 

Still, there were things he needed to do. For Martin, for Tommy, for the good of everyone in this world.

Wilbur Soot, no matter who he was before he turned into a monster, before he hurt Eret, before he killed Martin, would cease to exist.

Chapter Text

The first thing that Jon did was trace back Martin's steps.

He went to Eret.

The museum looked significantly worse than the last time he had seen it. Blue stains covered the floor, and he could still barely bring himself to ignore the plastic smell.

Eret sat on the floor, by Foolish’s side. The two were talking in hushed tones, until they saw him.

Foolish froze.

“I’ll talk. Just go.” Eret said to him.

“Are you sure?” Foolish asked.

“The shock’s worn off, just worry about yourself.”

Foolish nodded, then stood up and left the room, avoiding Jon’s gaze.

Eret stood up as well.

“My condolences for what happened to Martin." They said once they were alone with Jon.

"I'm fine. Let's just get to the point."

Eret let him speak.

"I'm going to kill Wilbur Soot."

The king's expression darkened.

"I won't help you."

"Just tell me where he is." Jon said, static building on his tongue, before dying down again.

"I understand your concerns." They said, "But I won't give out information. Not on Wilbur, or on anyone else. I owe them both that."

In their eyes was the burden of knowledge. Knowledge that Jon, the archivist, the pupil of the eye, did not possess. It made him want to scream. It made him want to go to sleep.

“You’re like me.” Jon said.

Eret nodded.

Something was blocking Jon from knowing, he was sure by now.

Knowledge always came in flashes, when it did come. Painful, brief flashes that showed him only the outlines.

Pictures of events in his mind, sensations of what is off. Never anything more.

His inability was no excuse as far as The Eye was concerned.

Eret stood tall in front of him, back straight despite shivering ever so slightly.

"I hope that you understand my stance." They said, their tone soft yet determined.

"I don't." Jon hissed. “He killed Martin. He almost killed you.”

“My first priority is defending my friends.” Eret explained. “And if Maritn doesn’t return on his own, I doubt that revenge would bring him back, let alone revenge enacted on the wrong man.”

“And I suppose I can’t ask you what you mean by that?”

The king sighed.

“There are things that you don’t know.”

“And why is that?”

“Do I look like I’m the one pulling the strings to you? I have no idea! Everything about you is a mystery to me!”

“So help me find Wilbur Soot!” Jon yelled.

“Absolutely not!” said the king.

They took a second to regain their composure.

“I can’t let you kill him. I will help in any way that I can. With the grief, I mean.”

“I don’t need your help.” he said.

“You should go home, then."

Jon left in a hurry after that.

The cottage would have been cold by now, with no wood placed in the fireplace in hours, so he did not return.

He wasn't sure if he would return for the night either, but he didn't know where else he could go. Martin had friends here, he spoke to people, fit right in, in a way that he never did at the institute. Jon didn't.

Maybe it was his headache constantly creeping around the corner, or the neverending heaviness of his limbs, but he could not find it in himself to play the role of the nice neighbour for longer than a few minutes.

And with Martin gone, well, he had no one to turn to, and the thought of returning home made him shudder.

He would keep looking, he decided. He would keep searching for Wilbur, for the source of his limitations, until… Well, until something happened. Jon was unsure.

For now he sat on the stairs of a half-finished house, presumably long abandoned by whoever started it. He leaned his forehead against his knees.

He'd make sure something happened. Something to end all of this.

Chapter Text

With his powers limited, his options for finding a man he's only ever seen one blue-stained photo of were not many.

He could ask for where he lives in the chat, but that would give away his plan, wouldn't it?

He knew Tubbo and Ranboo, but not well enough to know if they'd protest like The King did.

There was no guarantee he'd be able to get a hold of Tommy.

The now setting sun diverted Jon's attention away from his revenge plan.

He got on his feet again, looking for shelter.

Jack Manifold's hotel stood tall in the distance. He could ask to spend just one night.

Jon stumbled his way to the building.

The reception was empty, the owner nowhere to be seen.

He saw no harm in staying, he was half sure he'd have gotten scammed if Jack had been there anyway.

So he climbed the ladder that led to the rooms, and, in the corridor stood a man, his hands in his coatpockets.

Jon grew still for a second before he moved foward.

It was the man he had seen from his window, all skin and bones and greying hair. He was muttering to himself, though no words could be made out. He paced the corridor, wringing his hands.

“Good…” Jon said “Good evening.”

The man stopped and glanced towards him.

“Oh, Hi.” he said. “You’re uh, you’re the one that owns the cottage out in Snowchester. Jonathan, yeah?”

His voice seemed to die down towards the end.

“That would be me, yes.” answered Jon.

“Well this is going to sound cliché but I have been expecting you. Sort of? I wanted to see my dad first.”
"I don't think I get it."

"He's dead, isn't he? Your- your partner. He's dead now."

The words died on Jon's tounge.

"And I know what it's like to want revenge. Really I should have never been brought back."

"Wilbur Soot?"

"Just do it. Please."

"You said you wanted to see your dad first."

Wilbur whinced.

"Better to get it over with as fast as possible."
"Alright, well," Jon began, words dying failing him once again.

Wilbur knelt down on the cold tiles of the hotel's corridor.

Jon got a better look at him. He was perfectly ordinary, no traces of any of the powers clinging on to his his form.

A regular human murderer, then?

Jon sighed.

"What do you serve?"

"What?" Wilbur asked.

"Is there any god or entity or... concept, that promised you something in return for your servitude?"
"Dream brought me back to life but he never asked for my servitude i think. I don't know if he even fits into those criterias."

"Then why did you kill Martin?"

Wilbur pressed his lips together.

"I didn't mean to." He said.

"How did it happen?"

"I was walking on the glass plain over L'manburg again. I know it's not good for me but often i find myself going back there just to clear my head or think about what exactly lead us here. That's where your Martin and foolish approached me. Foolish was demanding to know why i hurt Eret, but when I told him I haven't, he didn't believe me. It's not that I don't have a history of hurting Eret but I think I would know if I had knocked them out and left them unable to speak. We have quite the history together, did you know they-

"Get to the point."

"Martin told him he's got the wrong guy and they started screaming at each other. Foolish is sort of a god I think, he generated a storm on accident."

"And then what happened?"

"Lightning struck the glass and it shattered. I tried to push him out of the way but he fell down the crater. Then I ran."

"Why did the communicator say he was running away from you?"

"I shoved him away as hard as i could."

Jon sucked in a deep breath.

"He didn't respawn so I assume this was his final life." Wilbur continued.

"We don't do other lives where we come from."

"I'm sorry. Anyway you can kill me now if you want."

He rubbed the space between his eyes. Wilbur was innocent. Wilbur was there when Martin died. He was the cause of it. He had tried to save him.

Every painfully human inch of Jon's body was screaming at him to kill him, to take revenge, because it cannot be this simple, but... Wilbur had yielded to his questions without resisting, all his intentions laid bare in front of him.

And Jon knew what it felt like to feel as if he had blood on his hands.

"You didn't do anything."

Wilbur's posture tensed.

"But I have."

"Not as far as I am concerned." Jon sighed.

Jon slumped down in front of him.

"I had asked Eret to help me find you but they refused to do it. They told me they 'owe it to both of you' whatever that means."

Wilbur's mouth twitched upwards.

"How charming of them."

"They didn't tell me who the other person was."

"Why didn't you ask? I've noticed you have quite the way of making people tell you things."

"It doesn't work when they also serve the eye."

"Ah" Wilbur said with the intention of sounding like he's aware of what Jon said.

"It's fine, you don't have to get it."

They sat in silence as the door downstairs opened, probably Jack returning.

"Jonathan, for all this talk of death and gods I think we are forgetting something important."

He looked up at Wilbur.

"I used to be dead, remember? Both Tommy and me."

"But you're back."

"All we have to do is get Dream to bring your Martin back!"

"Where is he now?"

Wilbur laughed.

"It's not like he can go anywhere from Pandora's vault. I'm sure you knew he's in jail."