Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cold distant steps echoed in an enormous cave. Shoes with untied shoelaces walked over pink-ish red vines. Air was warm and damp, drops of water rolling down the mold covered walls. 

Tommy pulled his blue carding closer around himself and looked up with a snort.

Before him stood an enormous round thing that looked more like some sort of strange abomination of flesh and muscle than an egg. Around it stood four big gloving leaves(?). And the annoyingly warm air was filled with little gloving balls of various sizes that he nearly mistook for fireflies.

So this was The Egg everyone was talking about? It was big, sure. A big piece of shit.

Everything here was so dull and just- Not alive? 

He couldn’t quite place what told him that but he couldn’t deny it. The bright red leafy vines that were hanging from the cracks in the ceiling were curled up and dry. The ground was also dusty and crumbly. As if the soil was drained of all its life just to sustain that thing.

You could plant something in sand and it would survive more likely than here.

Same as the plans of the Eggpire didn’t survive in action. The collective effort of Sam, Puffy, her son Foolish and king Eret put a stop to them. Bad, Ant, Punz, Ponk and Skeppy were put into a special confinement part of Pandora’s Vault while Sam and Foolish try to figure out treatment.

He wasn’t there to see what exactly The Egg had done to them and Sam nor Puffy were willing to give him more than sparse details. They said that it was to protect him. From fucking what ? He was a Big Man! He saw the fucking Void! He survived Exile and multiple wars. He survived Dr-

Well he didn’t entirely survive that one, but hey! He was here. Still intact, still himself. Even if the cracks in his new strange skin would quietly disagree.

“So… How does it feel?” he asked mockingly. 

The Egg didn’t answer in any way. Of course. It was An EGG. It couldn’t talk. So it also wouldn’t try to make him shut up.

“It sucks, doesn’t it? Bitch!” Tommy smiled. 

He felt new found power surge through him. He could shout at this thing! And it wouldn’t shout back. It wouldn’t hurt him for it. It wouldn’t hit him and kill him. It will just silently watch and let him get his point across.

Freedom of speech. Oh, he forgot how much he missed it.

He took a step closer, a smile not leaving his lips. “You tried to fucking control them.”

Just like Dream and his fucking manipulation. Like a lull of a mind blinding song that spun threats around your neck and limbs and made you dance to his whistle across a chess board of pain and suffering. 

It wasn’t like Wilbur’s songs. Yes, they would also wrap around your mind and make you see pretty images, but at least they gave you hope. Hope to see that lie become real. Hope to feel safe and feeling the brotherhood of people who wished for the same thing as you.

“And where did it get you?”

But where did that get them? Through landmines of sacrifices, worthless pain and death for nothing. And when they won, it was only temporary. Then they lost a stupid election. And where thrust into a new form of war. An internal fight to preserve their minds in the winding paths of caves of Pogtopia. 

A fight one of them lost. And the other had to watch him lose his life to insanity.

And then, when he thought he was safe again, he got betrayed once more. Again and again.

“It got you nowhere. Fucking nowhere.”

Anger burned in his veins. He wanted to show them all- Show them all how much they hurt him.

“You are fucking pathetic! Locked in this shity isolation chamber. That's what you get, bitch!”

No one should have power to control others. No one should have the power to turn friends against each other. No one should have that power at his disposal. It was just as Techno said. Power corrupts. Power corrupts and destroys, rots the person’s core until they are nothing but a puppet of their own desires.

Apparently, this shitty Egg used the same tactic. It promises a desire to be fulfilled and then crawled into others’ minds. It was no better than Dream. It was no better than Wilbur-

Wilbur.

Was Wilbur really that bad? He gave him home and made him feel safe. He created L’manburg for others, not only himself. Yes, he maybe made them fight in a war. But he didn’t order them to do it. They had free will. They could have chickened out.

But that was before.

In Pogtopia, he acted like a self-crowned king. Like he was the main character and everyone was living in his world. Like his loss in the election was an arrogation against the gods. Like a child in his little sandbox, who after getting upset will just take the whole thing he built down.

With himself.

And with everything that gave Tommy stability. With everything that was his home.

But where did that insanity start? After election? Before election? After Eret’s betrayal?

Or was he always like this, only Tommy didn’t notice.

Sometimes he still woke up at night, Wilbur’s old songs flooding his mind, wanting nothing but his home back. Wanting Wilbur back.

But he was gone. In more ways than one.

The man he met in Limbo was different. It was still Wilbur, but changed to nearly no recognition. But even through his strange demeanor and attempts to push Tommy away, he could still see the Wilbur he knew under all that. 

But reaching to him was like sticking a hand into a thorn bush. No matter how careful you were, you would get hurt. Over and over. Thorns of invisible walls around the man would sink deep into your skin. They would tear your flesh and muscle. Draw blood upon the promises you gave each other, now knowing you can never keep them.

Wilbur was like a poison. And he knew it.

But Tommy just couldn’t let him sulk in the dark subway station, waiting for a train he would rather not see. 

He wanted the old Wilbur back.

“You are isolated from Bad. And Skeppy, oh I heard how much you liked him - And Ant. And all the other mindless puppets of yours.” He spat with venom. 

Unbeknownst to him, some root vines behind him started stirring up.

He smiled widely. “You fucking lost. Because you made one stupid little mistake.”

There was no answer, so he continued.

“You took away too much of their free will. You erased their strengths in order to erase their weaknesses. You lost because you don’t understand how useful people’s personalities truly are.”

One of the floating lights landed on his hand, before abruptly stopping to glow and falling to the ground dead.

The blond looked down on it and frowned. He picked up the little ball and looked it over. It wasn’t actually a singular ball. It looked like a bunch of some yellow dust holding together. Upon even the weakest squish, it fell apart into a small cloud of dull yellow. “Yeah and you forgot I am immune, too. But that is just a nitpick.” 

Tommy pulled out a pickaxe from his inventory and raised it above his head.

“You are fucking useless scum. Sadly I didn’t bring any soul flame. You really look in need of a tan.”

As his hand was coming down, vines sprung into action and wrapped around his arms from behind.

The blond let the pickaxe thumble to the ground and smiled brightly. “Oh, and I was starting to fear the tales I heard about you were wrong. What a relief!”

The vines pulled away. Tommy took upon a little more serious expression. He bowed down and quickly rose up. Wilbur always said that politeness gets you places. Hope he wasn’t wrong. “Sorry about the stuff I said earlier, I just wanted to make sure you can hear me before- Uh, no, scratch that. You are still a bitch so you don’t deserve an apology.”

The vines may have pulled away, but still lurked. Ready to strike if The Egg felt in danger again. It didn’t bother Tommy.

He flexed his cracks covered fingers and fixed his clothes. It was time. And it was exciting! He didn’t do anything like this for a while. Hopefully, he hasn't gotten rusty.

The blond paced around a little. “Contrary to what you might think, I am not here to make fun of you. It is tempting though, not gonna lie. No, the reason I am here is to make a proposition.” 

He pointed at The Egg with an accusatory finger. “ You want to get out of this shitty hellhole.”

Then bore a thumb into his own chest. “And I just want back what is mine .”

There was a hint of something predatory when he said the last word.

Wilbur was like a big brother to him. He didn’t deserve to sulk. He didn’t deserve to be stuck on that shitty train station. He belonged with Tommy. He was the last person Tommy had even a little trust in. And he won’t let death seperate them. He won’t let anyone seperate them.

Tommy needed him. Because now, shortly after his revival, he suddenly realised how cold his house actually was. How empty everything felt. He wanted his voidmate back. He wanted to rest his head against his chest as circles were rubbed into his back. He wanted Wilbur’s songs and stories from his travels. He wanted back those eyes that always looked at him so warmly. 

He will get it all back. And since no one else is of help, where else to turn to then to a defeated mind controlling weed. 

You always have to find them when they are on their lowest. And offer them the thing they have an undeniable need for at that moment. Give them an offer they can not miss out on. But your side has to be vague. The more you actually want off them, the vaguer you have to be. Or else they will ask for more in return.

“I will get you out, and you will help me get back what belongs to me.” he proposed.

“What does that exactly entail?” said a monotone woman’s voice.

Tommy quickly turned around. Before him was standing Hannah. She was dressed in her usual clothes, but discolored. Instead of roses, blood vines were wrapping some parts of her body. There was a crown of the thin leafed vines adorning her head. And her tired eyes were blood red.

The blond’s brows jumped up for a second, before his face settled into a speculative smile. “And I wondered where Hannah disappeared to. Taking away the daughter of the man who took away your freedom? What a fitting revenge.”

Hannah stared at him unblinking. Her eyes just bore into him. It was a little unsettling. “What kind of help do you want from me, Tommy?”

The boy put up a finger before they continued this deal. “Wait wait wait. Like- I know people call you The Egg, but that is a kinda shitty name if you ask me. Do you have any other name I can call you?”

The girl still didn’t blink. Now, this wasn’t just unsettling but also concerning. His own eyes were burning from looking at that.

“Ova.” muttered the girl.

Tommy took a deep breath in. With a breath out, he was back to his contract persona. He clapped his hands together. “Okay, Ova . And to answer your question. What I ask for is just a liiiiiittle piece of you. A seed straight from you would be perfect.” 

They tilted their head. “Not more?”

The blond shook his head. “No. One seed is enough.”

“Are you sure?”

Tommy thought about this a little. If he asked for more, he could execute his plan quicker- but the risks were too high. He wasn’t even sure if it would work the way he thinks. What if Ponk’s notes weren’t entirely correct? What if all he is doing is a big mistake?

No. He has to try this. He has tried everything else and it didn’t work. This is the only way. The only way that doesn’t require him getting hurt.

He nodded.

Ova nodded.

“So it's settled then?” he asked, offering them a hand.

The girl looked at his hand. “One of my seeds, for you to get me out.”

They were close to grabbing his hand. Tommy stopped them.

“But! I will get you out only after I get back what is mine. Do you understand?”

Ova looked up at him, studying him. He felt cold sweat roll down his face. If they get the slightest clue, he is fucked. 

They grabbed his hand. “Deal.”

“Deal.” Tommy smiled as they shook hands.

He did it. First part of his plan done. He just needs to get the rest into motion. And for that, he needed the seed.

One if the vines started moving towards them. But this one was different. It had a huge bulb on its side. Soon it was in front of Tommy, right under his hands.

Ova let out a strange sound and the bulb shook. The flower opened, revealing a miniature version of the part of The Egg people called the egg. Bunch of the firefly-like lights came out too.

“Is it ripe?” he asked.

Ova frowned at him. “We made a deal. I wouldn’t give you an unripe seed.”

After one last look their way, Tommy stuck his hand into the flower and plucked out the seed. He looked it over in his hand. It felt weird to touch. It wasn’t like any fruit seed he had held before. 

“So this is what the thing that spread all the vines around the community house looks like. Fascinating.” he said with a genuine fascination. Something so small, yet it made half of the server shake in their boots. Wonder if it can deliver on its reputation.

The thing puppeteering Hannah’s body smiled. “I am glad someone is able to appreciate that.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and threw the seed into his mouth. And swallowed. 

He felt his face scrunch up. God, he should have brought some water, swallowing it was a fucking pain. Or not. That would kinda defeat the whole point of this.

Ova looked at him with wide eyes. They didn’t comment on what he just did, but he could read the confusion and concern in their borrowed eyes.

The blond snorted. “Oh, Ova. Don’t be concerned about me. I am a Big Man, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

And then he turned around, aiming for the exit. His job here was done. He got what he wanted. And they still had no idea what they actually gave him.

Well, except one last thing.

“And Ova? Blink please sometimes. I don’t want my step-sister to go blind.”

He didn’t wait for their answer, he had places to be, after all. The most important part of his plan has to get set into motion. And he wanted everything to go smoothly.

Chapter Text

Cold afternoon settled in the icy tundra of the Antarctic Commune. Phil was sitting on the couch, warth seeping from the crackling furnace.  

It was freezing outside today. The poor creatures of the tundra must be suffering. But he wasn’t. He was in his nice warth, covered in fur blankets Techno insisted Phil would surely freeze without. 

It made the blond giggle a little. 

Phil had been through harsher weather than some cold. He had seen winds that could throw wardens around like dolls. He had flown through summer storms so harsh, that he could swear seeing a bird that flew beside him get shot out of the sky by lightning and burned alive. 

He wasn’t new to dangerous environments, but he appreciated how much Techno cared. Maybe it was not just because of the cold-

It was six months. Six months, twenty three days and twenty one hours without his son. People say that grief fades away after some time. Or that the feeling goes to the back of your mind and quiets, so you can focus on moving on.

But neither happened.

He sighed, taking another sip from his tea. It was some herb tea he read would make him calmer. It was not really working.

All he felt was the same thing he felt for hours on end. Grief. Fucking great.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door that pulled him out of his thoughts.

He blinked. Was his mind playing tricks on him? They did not expect any visitors for the next couple of days.

But no, it wasn’t a trick. There was another series of knocks. 

Someone was really at the door. 

Phil puffled up his feathers and unwillingly left his tangle of blankets. He made his way to the door and frowned. Who could this be? Not many people knew this place even existed. In total, just six. 

Niki, who lived pretty far from here, in a city of solitude deep in the depths of earth, so visited mostly only for Syndicate meetings. Tommy, who is living his dream life in the main SMP, with all his ‘women’, ‘money’ and self-centered arrogance. Dream, who is currently stuck in prison. And Ranboo, who is living in a house close behind here.

Which meant that it was most likely the enderman hybrid. Maybe he ran out of something? Or he came with some new enchanted gear? Even though his young age, he was a master of enchanting. He even came up with some enchants himself. Like the armor enchantment that protected him from water. 

Phil had warm memories of him and the boy sitting in the living room, sipping a weakness potion while explaining how he figured the enchant out. It was very interesting and complicated. If you changed some runes while making known enchants, you could get entirely new outcomes! The same way you can get Thorns from changing some stuff while making Protection.

Maybe he came up with something new? Philza wondered what it could be, then.

He opened the door with a smile. “Hello, Ranb-”

Except, in front of him was not standing the lanky hybrid teen. No. It was another teen, except this one was human and wore a faint tired smile.

A crow landed on Philza’s shoulder as he tilted his head to the side. “Tommy. What the fuck do you think you are doing here?”

The younger blond was dressed in a long blue cloak and old worn clothes that could not protect him from the chill. At least he put on some high boots. A little miracle that the brash teen even thought of that. A scarf was hiding the lower half of his face.

“I came to visit! I wanted to see how you and Techno were doing.” he said with a smile in his tone, “I even brought a present. That is like- a part of the etiquete, innit?”

And to prove his words, his gloved hands came out from below his cloak and above them flashed the light of inventory magic. A pot appeared in his hands with some strange plant inside.

The plant was black like ink, a strange tangled thing. Its main body was a bulb the size of a chicken egg exactly in the middle of the pot. The rest around it looked like roots. They were out in the air and around. Either assimilatory roots or air roots. Well, too thick for air roots and they did fade into a bright blue color at the tip. So assimilatory then. What a strange plant.

Even so, it changed nothing about Tommy’s current situation. “You know you are not wanted here. Not after what you did.”

Tommy blinked.

“I thought that was settled-? You have taken your revenge, you have helped out with burning the thing I have betrayed you for to the fucking ground. You have taken away all I had left and it’s still not enough?”

Phil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This kid. “Tommy. You have betrayed Techno. Us destroying L’manburg changes nothing about that.”

The boy’s dull blue eyes pierced Phil with such unfiltered terror that it nearly made the man flinch. How naive was this fucking child?

The boy was frozen in place, staring at Phil like he just introduced him to some world breaking concept. Maybe it was world breaking, to him. He lost their trust. Did he expect that to get magically erased by something like Doomsday? That even changed nothing. And even if he’ll try as much as he can, he’ll probably never gain their trust back.

“You reap what you sow. And now get out of my sight, before I send my crows to tear you to pieces.” Phil said coldly and started closing the door.

Before he could close them fully, a boot stuck in between the door and the frame.

“What if there is a reason why you should let me in?” Tommy asked. Philza failed to notice how different the teen’s tone suddenly was. How cold it became, how it no longer expected deny as an answer.

Phil kicked at the leg, trying to get it out of the way. It wasn’t working. They boy was too stubborn.

“And what would that reason be?” The older blond asked mockingly. 

He didn’t expect any good answer. Rather something in line with: ‘cuz I am a Big Man’, ‘oh come one, Phil!’ or the pitiful ‘Phiiiiiiiil, pleeeeeease, pretty pleeeeease’. But instead, what awaited him, felt like a bucket of cold water.

“I know you are trying to revive Wilbur.”

Phil froze. He blinked twice. 

What?

“How do you know about that?”

Black gloves reached through the gap in the door and curled up around the wood.

“I am a very perceptive person. I notice a lot.”

Phil stared at the hand. It was slowly climbing down to where the older blond was holding the door.

“And Eret told me.” Tommy said in a cheery tone.

The avain let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Of course.” he muttered bitterly.

This boy nearly gave him a scare. For a short moment it felt like he was talking to someone else for a second. Someone older, someone who was dangerous to play any game with. But then it was just Tommy. Just the annoying naive brat who didn’t even bother seeing others’ perspective in stuff.

“If you thought that would let you in, you have to be really naive.” the avian sneered. 

“Oh. I didn’t think that.”

“Then what did you think?”

“That you’d be interested in some information about The Revival Book .”

Phil took a sharp breath. This kid can’t be serious. The avian had searched far and wide for a book that would be able to bring people back. Even with help of other ancients like Eret and Foolish, he wasn’t able to find anything more than some old fables and dead ends. 

The Revival Book was mentioned in some scriptures here and there. It was said to be this all powerful item gifted by the god of Overworld, Prime. A lot of blood was splashed to obtain that thing. And then one day it disappeared. Not a trace. Anywhere. Most assumed it burned together with the Library of Alexandria or that it is nothing more than a made up magical item from a forgotten folk story.

But if Tommy heard about it, which should be impossible , is there a chance that book is actually real? But how would Tommy have any useful info about it?

“You are bluffing.” he growled.

Tommy giggled. “Oh, I assure you, I am not.”

The gloved hand was now near Phil’s own.

“Did Eret tell you I was looking for it?”

“She didn’t have to. She doesn’t even know I know about it.”

The hand was now slowly wrapping around Philza’s. 

“Then Foolish?”

Tommy tutted. “No. I know, because I would not even believe such a thing exists, if I haven’t seen it with my own fucking eyes.”

This was- This was a lot. Not only did he know about it, he had seen it.

Phil needed to know more. If Tommy wasn’t lying, maybe this was the thing he had been waiting so long for. The step in the right direction, the first in a long time.

“But I won’t tell you more if you don’t let me in.” Tommy’s hand squeezed his own.

Phil swallowed. Techno was going to kill him if he finds out about this.

The door opened. Tommy’s eyes shined with joy. The older blond stood to the side so the teen could step in. 

He didn’t even have to be warned to take off his boots. But the rest-

The avain closed the door, curling the wings around him closer due to the cold he let inside. Tommy was looking around excitedly, the strange potted plant still in his arms.

“You can put it somewhere in the corner.” he instructed him.

The younger blond nodded. He switched his hold on the plant and started making his way to probably the darkest corner of the room. Maybe the plant likes more shade? That reminded him-

“What even is that thing, anyway?” Phil asked, sitting back on the couch. The crow had left him, instead flying up to one of the many perches up on the rafters.

Tommy put the plant down very gently. His fingers traced the black bulb. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” the avian raised an eyebrow. From what he remembered from Wilbur’s letters, Tommy was good with flowers. He had a green thumb and could name so many flowers that it left people baffled. Even during his stay in the Antarctic Commune, he would spit out random facts about plants and their meanings. Some stuff even Phil didn’t know.

“I found it near my house a few days ago and it reminded me a lot of you. So I thought you might like it.”

Phil studied the boy. His voice was sincere. It didn’t seem to be anything hiding behind his intentions. Which put Phil a little on the edge.

“But one thing. Do not water it. It's like a succulent or something.” Tommy added.

“Okay.” Phil nodded.

The two sat down on the couch. 

“And now-” Phil started. they can finally get to the thing why he even let the teen in.

But the other wasn’t listening. He was staring at one of the crows with an odd look in his eyes. The human’s stomach churned.

It took a moment for Tommy to realise. He looked down on his stomach and frowned. “Did I forget to eat today?”

Phil frowned. “But you brought some food with you. Or did you forget?”

Tommy looked up at him, offended. “Of course I didn’t! Trip here is long. I made sure to bring like two stacks of carrots.”

And to demonstrate, Tommy outstretched his hand, inventory magic flashing around it. But nothing appeared. The boy was visibly trying, flicking through his inventory, but unable to find what he was looking for. 

After a few minutes, he gave up. He lowered his hand and looked at it with confusion gracing his features. “That- That doesn’t make sense. I remember eating some on the way-”

Then he abruptly stopped and closed his eyes. The younger blond sighed and looked up at Phil. “Can I take something from the fridge?”

Phil looked down at him coldly. Did that little shit only come to steal food from them? “Only a little. Pick something Techno would not notice missing.”

Tommy nodded vigorously and quickly dashed to the fridge. He opened it and skimmed through the insides. That didn’t come without some unneeded commentary, of course.

“Ew. You eat cows? Gross!” Tommy fussed, his face twisted in disgust.

Phil sighed.

“And chicken meat? I didn’t know you were a cannibal, Phil.”

Phil sighed.

“And pork-”

The avian couldn’t take it anymore. “FOR FUCKS SAKE, TOMMY! Take some potatoes or something.”

Tommy’s eyes widened and he slowly backed away from the fridge, frightened look in his eyes. His lower lip was wobbly. One of his hands coiled around the other wrist, twisting and digging into his white sleeve. “I- I’m- I’m sor-”

Then he shook his head and blinked. He looked away, and when he looked back, he didn’t look scared anymore. Rather pissed. He snarled and snatched a chicken wing.

After fishing up bread from one of the nearby chests, he settled himself back on the couch, chewing upsetly. 

He really was a child. Phil could not understand what Technoblade used to see in him. 

“So, now, before I lose my patience and throw you out, tell me what you know about The Revival Book.”

Tommy took a big bite. His teeth sunk into the meat, tearing it off the bone with a little struggle. “It’s real.”

The human bit down into the bread, yanking his head to the side, tearing the piece off. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “And in the worst possible hands.”

Phil frowned. “What do you mean?”

The younger blond looked away. He took another bite and continued. “The one who has it is a crazy sociopath. He didn’t even know if the book was the real thing. When he told me he had a book that can bring back the dead, I laughed him off. So he-”

Tommy took in a sharp breath. He stood up, not meeting Phil’s eyes. His voice was suddenly cold like the tundra outside. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

The human was walking straight towards the door. The younger blond was turned away, so Phil couldn’t see his face.

He was going to leave without telling him anything of sustenance! A part of Phil wanted the brat to leave at once, he was probably just baiting him. He only came to steal from them, or some other selfish goal. But for him to chicken out so suddenly? Something was not right.

Tommy never chickened out, even against the odds. There was nearly this hero complex lacing all his actions. The same hero complex that made him betray them. The boy used to seem like a puppet of his own strict ideologies, with a clear black-and-white vision. But this seemed nearly- detached.

Like a puppet with cut strings, clinging to the last string with all his strength. 

Phil noticed the first few snapped strings after Exile. The boy was so quiet the first couple days. But the moment he regained himself, regained his footing in this cruel cold world, strings grabbed a hold of him once more.

But this- His whole demeanor up to this point. The etiquette, the remorseful expression, the plant- 

Something happened.

Something that snapped nearly all his strings.

“I am just a nuisance to you, after all. I am better off.” Tommy muttered. He was pulling on his boots.

He wasn’t wrong.

It took Phil a very long time to pull Techno out of the spiteful mood Tommy’s betrayal put him in. Even nowadays, he barely left his room and the few words that came out from his mouth were bitter remarks. Tommy hurt him. And by extension hurt Phil.

The avian wasn’t even sure why he let him in. 

“Bye.” Tommy rasped and walked out of the door.

Phil didn’t stop him. Even when the other, traitorous part of his mind, wanted the boy to stay. The one that didn’t see the teen as the prideful human he was, but as a small, wounded bird.

---  

Tommy walked until he was out of sight. When he was sure no one could see him, he slumped down against a tree and curled up on himself.

Going there was such a big mistake.

He knew he would have to talk about what happened in the prison. He knew that Phil wouldn’t probably believe him otherwise. He though that he was prepared-

Yet the moment he was about to tell him about it, he found himself back in the prison. Back in that stupid tiny room, screaming his lungs out and pleading for Dream to stop. The smile the green-eyed man gave him was forever carved into his mind.

He couldn’t.

As much as he tried, he wasn’t prepared yet.

And that hurt like another arrow through his torso. Like another dagger between his shoulder blades.

Will he be able to talk about it ever? He wasn’t sure. And that scared him more than anything.

Something wet touched his knee. He looked up, surprise blowing his eyes wide. A deer. A young one, if the size of his antlers was anything to go by.

“Hey there, Big Man.” he smiled at the animal weakly. He caressed the creature’s long neck. Its fur was soft, if a little cold from the fresh snowflakes tangled in it.

Tommy looked up at the cloudy sky. Huh. He didn’t even notice then it started snowing. 

The deer took a deep breath through its nose. Its warm breath left a cloud in the air. The animal also looked up, making a strange grumpy sound. Then it moved its head up, as if nodding and nudged Tommy.

Tommy frowned at it. What did it want?

It nudged him again. And again. 

“Hey, hey, mate! What’s with you?” he giggled. It licked his face and then moved away.

The deer gave him one last strange look and then turned and walked away. Tommy watched it disappear in the thick forestry.

The blond sighed and got back to his legs. He shook the snow off of him. Tommy has to get moving. Sun was already setting and he remembered well how deadly were the nights in the tundra. And he wasn’t talking just about the cold.

He was making his way through the layering snow. It was close under his knees now. His legs ached and his cloak was wet. His hair was covered in snowflakes and was cooling him uncomfortably. Once he gets to the Nether, he can heat himself up. Up until then, he has to handle this. He just wished it would stop snowing.

Sadly, the gods had to really despise him, because it started snowing even more. In a span of minutes, he wasn’t able to see further than a few feet. And that too soon became a luxury. 

Wind was howling in his ears, flapping his cloak around and shooting snow all over his face. He held his cloak close with one hand and scarf over his lower face with the other. His bones ached from the cold and fingers were slowly turning purple.

He stuttered out a swear. His teeth chattered uncontrollably. His eyes burned. And even if they didn’t, they were no use for him currently. 

This was like the polar opposite of the void. Everything was white and loud. Wind was trying to whistle his ears away and an ever-present cold preyed on his flesh. Snow was everywhere and anywhere, making him shiver and curl up.

Who could have guessed that his luck is so terrible that he will end up in a snowstorm?

After just a couple minutes, he felt his body starting to slowly give up. He wanted to scream, but he no longer had the strength to do so. 

It has to move! It must move! Because if it doesn’t, if he stops-

The tundra is always hungry for another one.

How many bodies laid deep below this snow? How many unfortunate souls had lost their lives on these plains? Forever lost, forever forgotten. Was anyone even looking for them? Or did they too meet the same fate?

Tommy felt another shiver crawl up his spine.

And is this what will happen to him too?

Will his body slowly decompose under the thick covers of snow? Will the cold take away all his energy and inprosson him in a body too far gone for saving? Or worse, will his own mind become the prison? The prison of whispers and thought so loud he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. A shackle clasped around his neck, a rope tightening and choking him a bit by bit.

Even if being able to see Wilbur is tempting, not like this. He already died once, he felt how excruciating it was, how departing tore his soul apart. He didn’t want to go through that again. He didn’t want to go through that ever again.

But it looks like the gods were dead set on righting the wrong, to balance life and death once more. He was meant to be dead, all things must eventually die. Yet that bastard Dream brought him back. Tommy wished he rather stayed dead.

Life and Death hold a balance. Balance that has a meaning. 

And his existence was breaking that precious balance.

He barely noticed, when his body tipped over and bore into the snow.

He could barely feel cold anymore. He could barely feel anything anymore.

He sighed, the weight of his fate heavy on his chest. He was going to die. Again.

“I am so sorry.” a soft voice spoke above him. 

A cold hand cupped his cheek and let him meet the figure’s face. It was a woman, dressed in a long black dress and a veiled hat. 

It felt like he had seen her somewhere before. Though, he couldn’t place her.

“W-who-?” he shook.

Her thumb went over the frozen tears on his face. She didn’t speak, merely looked him over. Her gentle fingers traced the cracks on his face, 

“I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. No mortal should go through what you went through.”

Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks.

“But you won’t die today. I can’t let him hurt you again.” 

A kiss was pressed against his forehead.

The next words were spoken in a hushed whisper. “Stay strong, Tommy. The path you chose won’t be easy.”

There was a flap of wings and the woman was suddenly gone.

There was more flapping of wings and a loud caw. Footsteps crunched in the snow. They sped up, coming towards Tommy.

Before they reached him, exhaustion already pulled him under.

---

“-hil, you can’t be serious!”

He was laying on something soft. He was warm, uncomfortable tingling spreading through his body. He could hear the crackling of a fireplace in the distance. It was nice. Even if he wasn’t wearing-

Wait, why wasn’t he wearing a shirt?

His eyes popped open. He recognized his surroundings pretty easily. He was back in Techno’s house, on his couch, tucked in in thick blankets. His clothes were drying by the fireplace.

“He was going to freeze to death!” Phil explained angrily. 

Tommy looked around. He couldn’t see him. Maybe he was in the kitchen?

“And you should have let him.”

“Techno-”

“No! It's his fault that he is such an idiot.”

“How was he supposed to know there would be a storm? Did you know there was going to be a storm?”

The piglin hybrid stayed quiet.

The avian sighed. “Believe me, I don’t like this either. But it's going to be only a few days at most.”

Techno let out a deep growl. “A few days until he can go back to the traitors he chose over us? If they were so amazing, why aren’t they looking for him now? Huh? Why aren’t they with him to take care of him instead of us?”

Something hit something hard. There was a sound of shattering.

“I don’t know, mate. I feel like-” Phil started but hesitated, “Forget it.”

Techno grunted. 

“Just a few days. The moment he is able to make that trip, he is to be gone.” The piglin’s voice was strained and badly pushing back anger. 

Tommy heard him so angry only once.

And that time, the smell of withering filled the air. Screams of fear and pain rang out in his ears. Unstable ground was cracking and falling apart under his legs, the line of explosion wasn’t even on its end. Techno’s laughter was angry and hurt, as he pointed his crossbow at any moving object in his vicinity. The day they won and the day Phil drove a sword through Wilbur’s chest.

They used him. Still, he was willing to give Tommy another chance. And then Tommy betrayed him.

Betrayed him for the same people that hurt him. 

Tommy made a mess, didn’t he?

Maybe that’s why hybrids hated humans so much. 

The blond didn’t know if it was from hypothermia, but he felt something very heavy settle on his chest. He needed to have a conversation with Techno. He needed to fix what he had done. If there even was a way still.

Chapter Text

Tommy barely slept that night. Not that the warmth of the fireplace wasn’t nice, or his exhausted body wasn’t resting on one of the softest things he ever felt. He simply couldn’t relax.

It was like Techno’s words were breathing at the back of his neck. Every time he tried to forget about them, some stray thought would bring them back. It was a vicious cycle and he was stuck in the middle of it. 

“ The moment he is able to make that trip, he is to be gone. ”

It was said with so much venom. 

And hit too close to home.

Tommy didn’t even want to be there! He wanted to go home. He wanted to be away from these fuckers and progress his plans. There was just so much he had to do before he would become even close to getting Wilbur back.

Why did he come there in the first place?

Maybe exactly because he expected this to happen. For them to be so angry and dismissive. A smile crossed his features in the thought of being shouted at, of being hit and hurt. His dull eyes widened at the glee of being punished.

Tommy felt Dream’s phantom hands around his throat and wished them to squeeze. 

‘ You are nothing without me, Tommy. ’

And he was nothing without Dream’s guidance. Dream was always helping him to be better. Dream was his best friend. His only friend -

And the same fucking person that killed him just over two weeks ago. The same person that violently chased him around the cell and kept hitting and hitting him even when Tommy screamed for him to stop. The same person who caused him so much pain, and still had the audacity to be rooted deep in his mind. A fucking worm. Tommy wanted to squash him.

If there was a switch that would get all this junk out of his mind, he would flip it. He thought that after Exile, he was back to himself. But these thoughts kept fucking coming back.

And in the past few days it hasn't been getting better. If you asked him, it was shit even. Spending so much time with Dream again did nothing good. 

Tommy wanted a break. Just for one fucking second. Away from his mind, from this shitty body, from himself.

But he is Tommy. He is the one who went through all of this, thinks all of this, feels all of this, is all of this. 

And lately it just feels too much.

But it’s the result of a path he had built himself. A baggage meant for him and him only . No one else would care anyway. They would just see it as an exploitable weakness or worse, tell him its just some stupid self-mourning.

Self-mourning.

That's what Dream always said when Tommy couldn’t make himself crawl out of the bed sometimes. Or when Tommy wasn’t able to put even a single bite of food into his mouth without feeling he'd vomit. He hated the word. 

He hated what it implied about the person who said it. He hated what it implied about him. And he hated that he believed it.

If anyone will say that word in front of him ever again, he will slit their throat. And not neatly. No. The way that it will hurt. The way they will slowly die, curled up on the ground gasping for air. And he will smile. Smile as they realize there is no helping them anymore. Grin as their chest stops rising.

He will slaughter them.

Like you should, Tommy.

The blond gasped. What the fuck was that? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

Did he just- Did just have a fantasy of violently murdering someone?

He felt bile rise in his throat. His nose burned. Fuck. He was going to vomit.

Tommy bent over and swallowed thickly. If he pukes here, on this beautiful fluffy carpet, Techno will definitely throw him back out into the snow. He has to move somewhere else.

His stomach churned.

He quietly untangled himself out of the thick blankets and put his foot on the floorboard. He put down the second one. His body was still tingling annoyingly. He rose from the couch and in a span of seconds felt his numb legs buckle under him.

He fell to the ground with a yelp, falling onto his palms. 

He bit back a loud swear. His knees ached and palms burned from the friction or whatever the fuck. Plus he had to subsequently endure another wave of nausea.

It took him a couple minutes to get himself off the ground. His stomach churned and sulfur burned the back of his throat. His mouth was dry and teeth were aching.

He rose back to his feet, this time catching something to steady himself and made his way towards the bathroom. He kneeled next to the toilet, face over the bowl. 

The first wave caught him a little bit off guard. It was quick, sharp and made his mouth burn like a witch in the sixteen hundreds. But when he peeked at it, before flushing, he had to take a double take. It was all orange . Unprocessed pieces of carrot floated about.

He tried to not think about it and flushed, just before another wave came crashing down.

---

When Phil went to check on Tommy the next morning, he quickly noticed that Tommy wasn’t in his temporary nest. Or bed. Or whatever humans call it. The blankets were all over the ground, leading up to the bathroom. 

The avian found the human sprawled on the ground, gravely pale and shaking. In the morning light, he looked thin like a stick. The stench of sulfur filled the air.

“Tommy?” He addressed the boy.

He didn’t move. He seemed to be alive though. His chest was rising and falling.

Phil nudged at him.

The younger blond seemed to be out like a light.

The avian sighed. He couldn’t just leave him laying there. The boy's body was exactly in the way. What if someone wanted to use the toilet? Plus, the tiles were cold. Techno always protested about that. And not once did Phil have to put out an accidental toilet fire.

The chick might catch a cold.

“Oh shut up.” he hushed his instincts. 

Tommy wasn’t a chick, he wasn’t even a hybrid! He was like any other human. Unsurprisingly shit at survival.

Philza picked Tommy up with surprising ease. He seemed even lighter than the day before. As he carried him back to the couch, Tommy’s lips parted a little and-

The avian nearly dropped him. The smell of rotten eggs was sharp and fucking strong. He quickly placed him on the couch and took a few steps back to calm his senses.

Something was seriously wrong with the boy's stomach. What was he eating? The trash? And raw eggs? In his many years, he had never met a human smelling so awful. 

The smell nearly reminded him that one time he had visited these very nice medical baths to heal himself properly after some human hunter shot him out of the sky. His neck hurt again just from thinking about that.

Man, he really needs to revisit that place sometime. If it still stands, that is.

Tommy’s stomach grumbled and the teen’s face scrunched up as a gag escaped his lips. The boy slowly opened his eyes and gave Phil a confused look. Deep dark circles were under his eyes and his hair looked like a tangled mess. He blinked a few times and swallowed.

“Did I pass out?” he slurred, his voice hoarse and croaky. 

He looked so small and weak like this. The old clothes Phil gave him were so big on him, he was drowning in them. The fire in him was shushed into a small flame that looked like it would get blown out by even the weakest breeze. 

It would be nearly cute. 

If he didn’t smell like he had taken a bath in a sewer.

“You smell.” Phil muttered, a good distance between them with a hand over his lower face.

Tommy moved on the couch to be able to rest his head higher. “You noticed, old man? I was afraid all your senses were dulled by now. You know, with you being old and frail.”

Then the younger blond gave Phil a more awake look. His eyes narrowed as they landed on the hand Phil was leaning against the wall with.

“Did you forget your walking stick, old man?”

The avian snorted. “Oh, shut.”

Tommy snorted too and then yawned. His dull eyes were closing again.

“How much sleep did you get?” the older asked.

The younger one took some time to answer. 

“I- I don’t know? I remember seeing the dawn- I-” yawn “I think I passed out shortly after that.”

Dawn here was at about six, it was nine. 

“Just three hours of sleep aren’t much.” the avian commented.

Tommy blinked and him sleepily. “Are you patronizing me?”

Phil raised a brow. “I am just saying you must feel like shit.”

The human waved his hand and gave him a tired smile. “Nah. ‘ts normal, old man. A Big Man like me doesn’t need sleep. Sleep is for babies.”

The chick is taking such a bad care of himself. 

Phil shook his head and blinked his instincts away. They weren’t very helpful today.

Tommy came here hungry as fuck yesterday with no recollection of eating anything. So probably the only thing he ate was that piece of chicken and bread. That wasn’t enough to make anyone sick. It wasn’t even enough to be considered a full meal.

Maybe the chicken was already spoiled?

Phil checked the fridge. No. The chicken wasn’t smelling wrong yet. And the bread wasn’t moldy either.

“Did you eat something odd lately?” Phil asked. He was quite curious what could fuck up a human’s stomach so hard.

“No.” Tommy muttered and swallowed. His stomach grumbled once more. His eyes were following the various crows in the rafters above their heads.

“Or something that smelled odd? Or something that you ate that tasted wrong?”

“No.”

“Maybe you didn’t notice that something in your storage had gotten moldy-?”

Tommy’s eyes shifted to him and suddenly felt like piercing needles. “Did you lately touch something moldy?”

Phil pressed his lips into a thin line. “What does it have to do with anything?”

The younger blond rolled his eyes. The tension fell away with that. “I don’t know- I just- You smell strange, Phil.”

The avian closed the fridge and raised a brow at the teen. “What do you mean by that?”

“I was helping Sa- Nook. I was helping Nook to get rid of the blood vines around the hotel and, let me tell you, that shit stinks! Like a fucking mold and a swamp and- bleh.” he made a face.

Strange. Blood vines never smelled bad to Phil. They even smelled fragrant, like flowers fresh in bloom. That’s why he was more than happy to plant one behind the house a few months ago. Sadly Techno didn’t share his sentiment. Maybe if he had planted more , Techno would understand !

Maybe then he wouldn’t be so grumpy anymore. He would be happy , like Phil was. And all the other people from the Eggpire. Maybe then Techno would understand that The Egg isn’t that bad.

Maybe then would everyone understand. And they will. One day. Even if that means he will have to make them. It's all for a good thing in the end, isn’t it?

While Phil had his little internal tangent, he failed to notice the look Tommy was giving him. The wide, terrified and angry eyes.

---

“Let's start with something that would be easier on your stomach.” Phil explained to the pouting Tommy.

The teen was sitting at the kitchen table, hands boredly outstretched on the table. “But Phiiiiiiiil!”

The avian didn’t waver. “No buts, Tommy. A little bit of rice won’t kill you.”

The human rested his chin on the table. He looked up at Phil and narrowed his eyes. He picked up his spoon and dug it into the bowl of rice. His grumpy face persisted even after sicking the food into his mouth.

“It’s not even seasoned! This is no food for a Big Man like me! This is baby food!” he whined. 

Phil couldn’t help but feel a small smile creep onto his face. It kinda reminded him from when Wilbur was small. All squawky and hissy. 

Why does time move so fast?

“You shouldn’t have eaten some shit from a dumpster.” Phil grinned.

Tommy’s frown deepened. He was staring Phil down like he just offended his whole bloodline. “I didn’t! I am not a fucking racoon!”

“You do look like one, tho.” a new voice chimed in.

Phil turned around. Techno was standing in the doorway, his long pink hair braided back and arms crossed on his chest. His red eyes were watching Tommy with understandable resent.

“I do not!” Tommy shouted, offended.

“You do.”

“I do not !”

“You smell like you took a dive down a trash chute. I wouldn’t be surprised if you actually did.”

“Shut up, bitch!” Tommy growled, hugging himself angrily.

His body was tense and mouth pouted. 

“What did you come here for, anyway? To make fun of me? Like you did in Exile?” Tommy spat and furiously locked eyes with Techno.

The piglin hybrid gave him an unamused look. He passed by Phil, muttering a quiet “good morning, old man” and opened the fridge.

“It might come as a surprise to you, Tommy, but I seem to live in this house too.”

The young blond’s face went red as he quickly looked away.

Phil chuckled to himself.

He was searching through the fridge for a few more minutes. He pulled out some bell peppers, eggs, ham, cheese and cucumber. As the time ticked by, Tommy looked more and more nervous. Like he was going to jump out of his skin.

“I- I should- I should go take a shower.” the teen tumbled over his words.

The boy pushed himself up to his feet and quickly darted away, his stiffened legs tripping over each other. Neither of the hybrids stopped him. Phil watched him go with a little concern. Techno didn’t spare the younger blond a look.

The the nonrhythmic patting of thick socks faded out, Techno sighed and closed the fridge.

Phil tried to catch the look in his eyes, but the pinkette turned his back to him and placed all he pulled out on the counter. Techno pulled out a big plate, took a cutting board from the back of the counter and a long thin knife from the knife holder.

He fished up a decent loaf of bread and cut four slices of it. The smell of the garlic pastry filled the air. Then he pulled out some tomatoes from the side and cut them into circles. The knife slid through the cheese, chopped up some vegetables and sliced the ham. 

All the pieces were placed onto the plate and Techno took it to the table. With the four slices of bread.

It was a lot of food. Phil knew Techno could eat a lot, but this much?

The avian smiled widely. “Techno, you didn’t have to.”

Techno frowned a little and offered two pieces of bread to Phil. His eyes traced Phil’s hands until the bread was securely in the clawed grasp. 

Phil picked a few tomatoes and cucumbers and put them on his bread. It was a nice soft but crunchy one. A side of the crust was smeared with a pungent garlic screed. 

Techno was tense beside him, watching his every move. It might have come off creepy or rude to most people, but Phil wasn’t one of them. The way Techno watched him with anticipation of a child showing their drawing to their parents made him feel warm. 

He took a big bite and made sure to smack loudly. Techno’s pupils dilated slightly and Phil squeezed his shoulder encouragingly. That made the piglin chuff a little. 

The blond smiled and chirped fondly. Flock-did-good-job.

Techno could not understand bird sounds, but the two knew each other long enough for him to remember the meaning of this one. 

The piglin made another chuff that turned to him quickly clearing his throat. 

He drank some water and gave Phil a suspicious look. Phil only smiled back.

When Techno and Wil were younger, the three sometimes held whole conversations without using human speech. It started when Techno’s anxiety about the voices sometimes got the best of him and was unable to even form human speech. After Tech got older and more sure of himself, they still continued to use it to help all of them unwind a little. 

And sometimes slip into instincts. 

Not that the younger two realized that.

Phil decided to change the topic. He took another bite and smiled. “Niki’s bread is so good! We should ask her for more at the next meeting.”

It was an unspoken order. Techno hadn’t touched his food yet and Phil didn’t like that.

The piglin nodded and took some ham and cheese and started eating himself. Phil’s eyes followed him and hissed. Techno rolled his eyes and added some vegetables too.

One of the crows flew down from the rafters and landed on Phil’s shoulder, observing Phil’s food. Another one flew down onto the back of the chair on the opposite side of the table. Another one clumsily landed on the edge of the table.

“Is it the time of feeding already?” Phil asked the birds.

A loud cacophony of caws was their response. 

Phil chuckled.

“Okay. Let me get you the seeds.”

---

When Tommy finally got to the bathroom, he felt like punching someone. A bunch of new bruises were blooming all over his knees and arms. His legs were still stiff as fuck, as if they were relearning how to do their job. 

Shity cold, shity snow, shity fucking hypothermia. He had it before. From his experience, he should be back to normal by now. But he isn’t. And he didn’t understand why. 

Plus the indigestion. What a lovely combo.

He sighed loudly.

His stomach churned.

Prime, how much he is starting to hate that sound. 

Tommy took a stray look towards the mirror. He was met with a boy with greasy blond hair and dull blue eyes. His face was covered in dirt and dust, enough for the cracks on his face to seem nothing more than a trick of the light.

He turned on the faucet and drank a whole palm of water. He used the second and third palm to wash his mouth. 

He really smelled of sulfur. The stench was awful. How was Phil able to stay so close to him for so long without throwing him out for that stench? He is probably stupid or something.

Well, stupid he was. Really fucking stupid.

Tommy took a deep breath. He needed a shower. Those thoughts would otherwise continue to clog his mind.

He slipped out of his clothes and got into the shower. The water was hotter than lava, turning his skin to a nice shade of red, but he didn’t mind. It made his tense body relax a little. 

Was it healthy? Not for his heart. But did he care? He had already died once. And Schlatt mentioned that a heart attack wasn’t all that bad. 

The thoughts in his mind were pretty loud. 

The way Techno watched him, the way his voice sounded when he was talking to him- All Tommy felt was threat. Like a knife on his throat no one other than him and the piglin could see. And the blond felt that any wrong move, any wrong breath can make the butcher’s hand move.

It was infuriating! He didn’t want to be scared of Techno. He didn’t want to feel like his life was fully in the hands of that fucker. He hated how small Techno made him feel now, how much anxiety just being in his proximity gave him.

And he thought that maybe Phil wouldn’t be as bad- But when he tested him and his eyes went red , Tommy felt like screaming.

One of them sees him as an enemy, the second is infected.

Tommy can’t possibly make it out of here alive.

If he makes a single wrong move, Techno will execute him. If Phil somehow notices what Tommy has done to himself, not only will he probably try to kill Tommy, Ova will know too. And they will take it all into their own hands.

This was one fragile fucking situation Tommy wasn’t planning to end in. 

But in life, you aren’t always winning. So maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

No. The fuck is he thinking. He went so far. He can’t back down now. He sacrificed so much, put himself on a thin ice, struck a deal with an ancient plant, created all those-

There was only one way he could walk out of this scot free. 

It wasn’t even that hard. Yes, it required a little snooping around and putting himself into slightly dangerous situations, but nothing his non-existing filter wasn’t doing either way.

The problem was, he understood the consequences of that idea well enough.

Even thinking about doing that made his skin crawl.

He closed his eyes.

“What do I do, Wil?”

What would Wilbur do?

He would find a way to speak himself out of it. He would find a way to twist truth and reality around him for his gain. He would fill their minds with beautiful fantasies and make those desires and ideals swallow them. 

Reality was a subjective mix of thoughts, feelings, senses, decisions and memories. If one was to twist it, how hard would that be?

How could Tommy tilt this whole mess in his favor?

He had all he needed. It wouldn’t even be that hard.

The blond just wished he wouldn’t have to use it at all.

Chapter Text

(“You should have seen Gogy’s face! He was so puzzled. Like ‘ uhhh, I remembered the chest full, where did all my food go?’.” Tommy rambled and giggled.   

It was a warm July evening. Sun was high in the sky and birds sang in the trees. White fluffy clouds wandered the sky. Tall emerald grass rustled in a warm breeze and the air was filled by the caramel-like aroma of ripe strawberries.

The avian beside him shifted his dark wings. He shifted the guitar in his lap and strummed a few chords. 

Tommy listened in, resting his back against the big weeping willow. In a close distance, he could see Tubbo, Fundy and Niki making flower crowns. Niki’s fingers were working quickly, red clovers dancing in her hands as Tubbo praised her progress. Fundy wasn’t doing so well. The poppies seemed to have their own mind and struggled against him. His grip on them was slippery, and his progress was slow and tiring.

Eret was laying beside them in the grass, their signature sunglasses were sitting on their nose and a grass stem hung out of their mouth. They were lazily reading through some old book.

The avian’s melody spread far and wide. It mixed with the bird songs and crickets in the grass. The song enveloped the meadow in a light veil of melancholy.

Niki stood up from her place and made her way to the avian. Her small white wings puffed up as she offered the crown to him. He smiled at her, and slightly bent over. Her cheeks flushed red and she put the crown of red clovers on his head.

Tommy looked away and sighed. Only after Niki was out of the earshot, did a brown wing protectively curl up around his shoulder.

“Is something bothering you, Toms?”

The blond took in a sharp breath. “No. Nothing.”

He wanted to cut it right there. Wilbur didn’t need to listen to his stupid childish thoughts. But the avian wasn’t going to let him. 

“Is it about the others?” Wilbur bugged him.

Tommy shook his head and faced away. A long silence fell over the two.

…

“Or is it about me?”

The human sighed. This man just wouldn’t drop it, would he? 

After more internal debate, he gave in. “Both.”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow at him. It was not pressuring in any way, rather curious. What Wilbur found so interesting on a ragged street kid like him, he would never know. 

Nobody ever asked him about his opinion on stuff. Nobody worried for him, or was concerned for him. He was a Big Man! He could hold up on his own just fine. After so long of no one asking, he felt like asking was wrong. The only right answer was pre-written and his honest answer would not be that.

Why would anyone bother to know Tommy’s mind? A cog in a machine is there to only comply with society, work for a higher common goal. Self gets swept under the rug and forgotten. Yet Wilbur pulled away the rug and looked at his ashes with a warm smile and an offered hand.

And Tommy was confused. So utterly confused by this random hybrid bard he tried to scam just a few weeks back. The same man who saw him and didn’t feel disgust. 

The first person to truly care for him.

His eyes were burning. 

“I am scared.” he whispered. He choked back a sob. 

The blond let the man pull him closer and hold him against his chest. Dark pair of wings curled up around them, shielding away the sun. Wilbur’s yellow sweater was soft and warm. And the eyes that settled on the boy were even softer.

“I- I- It just- It just feels wrong. It feels wrong to be here. It feels wrong to demand independence- I- I don’t think- I-” his voice was shaking like dry leaves in autumn. The strength he always prided himself in was nowhere to be seen. The armor had crumbled and his fragile core was on display for all to see.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

A hand was offered to a pile of soot.

“Society makes us afraid of freedom. To make us stay in line, to make us slave away for snobby rich human fucks. People can’t see that.” 

He spat the word ‘human’ with so much venom, it made the boy flinch. Wlibur's sharp, wide and focused eyes were staring off. They burned with anger and hurt, forged by centuries of mistrust, hate and wars. 

But then they looked down at the boy and softened. “But the two of us can.”

Familiar clawed hands entered the boy’s hair and scratched his scalp. 

“Humanity can’t even treat its own young ones right.” the brunet tutted with disgust. 

There was something in those brown eyes Tommy couldn’t quite decipher. An unspoken question, a promise of sorts. 

“We will be different.” Wilbur mused. His smile was determined, but the rest of his body told a different story. His wings were curled up protectively and fingers trembled.  

“Will we be better?” asked Tommy.

Wilbur swallowed. He blinked and sighed. Many emotions flashed in his eyes before the storm in his head settled. But it took a bit longer for any words to actually come out.

He looked down on Tommy with those warm chocolate eyes and uttered. “Only with you by my side.”

Tommy looked like a deer in headlights. He had to hear wrong, he had to understand wrong, Wilbur couldn't be implying- 

"Tommy, I've been thinking about it for a while and-" 

No. No. No way. No. This can't be- 

"I would like you to be my right hand man." 

Tommy stared at the man with eyes wide like saucers. Heavy tides crashed against the cliffs of his mind. Fear and happiness mingled and ships sank at the hands of a vicious storm and- 

"It would be an honor." he said, still surprised, but happy. 

A little phoenix's head cautiously peeked out of the morning pile of ash.)

---

Tommy dried his hair with a towel. He gave himself one look into the mirror and scoffed. His hair looked like a mess. Sticking out in all the places. Sides of his bangs even stood up and looked like a pair of horns. 

The shirt he was given was all baggy. It was always slipping off of his shoulders. No matter what he tried, it wouldn't stay. This shirt had to belong to Techno. Wilbur's shirts were also baggy on him, but since they had a similar body build, never this much.

Conscience was chewing his mind. 

But he had to persist. For Wilbur and for himself.

He sighed in the empty tiled room. 

It was so easy. It was so wrong. 

Tommy hated himself for this. When he came here, he wished the solution would come in a simple conversation and an agreement. That didn’t happen. They didn’t trust him, they seemed to not even consider forgiving him.

His shattered reflections stared at him from the puddles on the floor. Many eyes and many mouths. Many faces of a single one. Cold and distant, poor imitations of life.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was a bitter-sweet taste of metal in his mouth. His cracks ached.

His stomach rumbled.

He wished he could lock himself in this room and not come out. To hole himself up like a little racoon and pretend he can hide away from the world forever. A lovely pipe dream. 

But the damp air was no good. His old wounds from the wars made themselves known again. The thin scar on his throat from the Final Control Room incident stung and the badly healed rib that broke during the Duel ached. Even his head that was so gracefully slammed against the wall by Dream only a month ago asked for attention.

All these wounds were from the same fucking person. 

As if Dream was trying to reach him even here. 

The bastard’s stupid porcelain mask flashed in front of his eyes. He wanted to smash it, and break it, and shatter it and gauge those stupid green eyes out- rip his throat out, cut his tongue out, feast on his lu-

Tommy’s eyes flew open with a gasp. 

It happened again. Whatever that was, it happened again .

There was a hard knock on the door and Tommy was still too shocked to hold back a yelp. If his cheeks turned red, no they didn’t!

“Are you done yet?” asked a gruff voice laced with annoyance. 

Oh Death, that was Technoblade. He had finally gotten tired of him and came to rip him into pieces!

He choked back a scared cry and steeled himself. You can do it Tommy, that piglin isn’t that scary.

“Give- uh- Give me a moment!” he shouted. Thank gods his voice didn’t shake too much.

He ran a hand through his hair to make himself look at least a little presentable and opened the small window above the bathtub to get the damp air out. Phil always stressed what damp air could do to the walls of a house. And bringing even more fungi into this house would be a bit of an overkill.

Tommy grabbed the door knob and took in a deep breath through his nose. And with a shaky breath out, he opened the door.

He was faced with the towering frame of the piglin hybrid. Techno looked down at him with narrowed eyes and Tommy glared back at him. 

“Took you long enough.” muttered Technoblade. His pink hair was perfectly braided back. And his blood-red eyes looked as sharp as ever.

The blond growled and even if the voice on the back of his head told him to cower in fear, he stood his ground. “Have you rather wanted me to not shower at all?”

The brute sighed. “I haven’t said that.”

Tommy scoffed. “You didn’t even have to.”

He sighed even louder and Tommy crossed arms on his chest. 

The blond felt the red eyes blink and go from the boy’s face, to his shoulders. The shoulder his stupid shirt would not cover. Over the bruises, burns, the scar tissue, the cracks-

The human quickly grabbed another towel and threw it over his back, hiding the marks. Tommy had a strong urge to just slam the door in Techno’s face. As a treat.

“What are you staring at, bitch!?” he barked. 

He had exactly enough. Fear was clawing at the back of his mind and he didn’t like it. He felt too exposed, too weak. You shouldn’t look vulnerable in front of a predator.

Or they’ll attack the weak spots.

“Tommy, who did that?” Techno asked sternly.

Tommy shrunk back. No. No. He can’t tell him. He can’t tell him in a million years ! He will just make fun of him. Call him weak. 

He could hear Techno's cackly laughter on the back of his mind. 

The phantom sound twisted around him like a snake, squishing his lungs. He wanted to get away from this situation. It was too much. He wasn’t ready.

“Not your business, bastard!” he snapped.

Techno made a move towards him. To stop him perhaps. To grab his hair and pull it just like Dream would do. 

Tommy stared up at him in frozen shock.

The piglin was towering over him, so much bigger, so much stronger. He could squish Tommy like a bug. And something in Tommy craved that. That feeling of despair, the sweet taste of chocolate on his lips. 

It made his head spin. 

Pain was bad, and hurt and burned for a long time. It clung to him like a cloak, translucent colorful fabrics floating in the air and wrapping around his throat. Something in his mind sang for that. 

A mournful broken song with a too wide smile on his face.

“Now get out of my fucking way.” he shouted. He heard his voice once, twice and not at all. something urged him to go further, to slowly tear the chocolate wrapper off.

“You are creepy when you stare at me like that. What did I do? Upset the piggie ?” 

The wrapper was coming loose. He could see the chocolate inside.

Techno stared down at him with an unimpressed look. It wasn’t enough! He had to go further, he had to press more.

Tommy was an idiot, a weakling. That's what Dream always said. And Dream was always right. And if he was right in the one thing, then he was right in the next.

The only way to teach is through pain.

The blond’s fingers were tracing the unraveled dark sweets. He could nearly feel their taste on his tongue. He’ll take a bar, just one bar -

Another hand grabbed his own. It tore his hand away from the sweet chocolate and made him stumble back.

“Theseus, what are you doing?”

He was so close! He was so close to silencing them! To get it over with. It was coming either way. Why stay in crushing uncertainty if you could just feel it right now and get it over with?

“Fuck you!” he spat in the man’s face. 

He was meant to punish him! If he wouldn’t punish him, then who would? Tommy knew he deserved it, he knew he wanted it.

“Tommy, look at me.” Techno ordered.

But Tommy couldn’t. He could never look into their faces. Not when he knew what he would see. Hate. Only hate. Pure hate and disgust.

He shook his head vigorously.

“Gods, you haven't been taking good care of yourself since you left.” 

“What do you have to say about it? Don’t act like you CARE! You HATE ME! After what I did, I doubt there is anyone that doesn’t feel the same.”

Not even I.

Tommy scrambled for the chocolate bar. What can get Techno riled up? What more can he do? Is there something that can really really upset him?

“I HATE YOU!” he screamed.

The piglin hybrid's eyes flashed with hurt.

Yes! Yes! He could almost taste it. The chocolate was so close. He was nearly touching it-

A strong hand griped his shoulder. There was no pressure, but Tommy had gone through this song and dance many times already. It would be here soon. Dream just had to explain what he did wrong. 

Te-Dream looked down at him with a smirk on his face. Eyes glitched between blood red and lime green.

But instead of rough touches and pain, he was enveloped in a hug.

Tommy was confused. What was happening? Why would Dream -

The person holding him smelled of spruces and netherward. It was nothing like Dream's smell. Dream smelled of mushrooms, rot and rust.

This was not Dream, then who-

"Tommy. I have no idea what happened to you the past few months. Hell, I don't even know what happened to you in Exile." A deep voice murmured into his ear.

The blond felt something click into place. 

Techno?

"You need help. And I should have seen it sooner." The brute said and Tommy didn't understand. What was he talking about? Tommy was okay! He was totally dandy. Poggers if you will.

But that wasn't fully true, was it?

No. No, he was fine. He was the Biggest Man. He couldn't be- He couldn't be needing help!

Techno let go of him.

His mind was a mess. Conflicting thoughts were swimming about. He didn't need help. He did not deserve help. 

But you do!

Tommy gripped his head. It was too much. Too much. Toomuchtoomuchtoomuch-

And Tommy darted.

---

Did he have any chance of getting out of this one? Probably not. Humans might have been fast and adaptable, but piglins were instinctual, the top of the food chain in the Nether. To them, humans were mere children trying to rule their little cold sandbox. 

His wet bare feet left hasty footprints on the carpets and wooden floor. Techno was gonna kill him for that later, but for now, he didn’t care.

He could hear loud heavy footsteps behind him. They were even, slow, echoing. The grand march of his inevitable doom.

The floor was slippery. He was like a race car, quickly slowing down before an upcoming corner and then drifting and picking up speed again. His aching joints didn’t like any of that.

Something in him, a small traitorous voice in the back of his mind beckoned him to turn around. To face the punishment, to just get it over with. 

Where was the bite he used to have? Heck, he had fought in actual wars before. Yet in the face of the smallest danger, now he just ran . Ran like a coward . 

And because of what? Because of some words. 

Tears burned in his eyes.

His younger self wouldn't be like this. What had happened to him?

The question was simple. But answering would mean admitting it. Giving the ghosts haunting him power.

Tommy couldn't let that happen.

Suddenly, he collided with something solid.

A door. The door leading to Techno’s alchemy lab. Maybe he could snatch something there that would help him.

He pushed the door open, quietly closing it behind him. Then he waited for a moment. Heavy footsteps passed. Tommy waited for a few more moments. After the steps didn’t come back, the blond let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The lab was a pretty small stone room. In the middle of the room was a huge table with a few burners and potion stands. By the walls were big cupboards full of lab equipment and jars full of ingredients.  And on the other side, below the window, was a chest.

Tommy sighed and made his way towards it. He easily undid the lock and opened it up. To his surprise, it wasn’t full of potions. No, it was full of golden apples.

He put his hand into the chest and pulled out a gapple. It shined beautifully in the candlelight. The teen haven’t seen them for a while. He didn’t know how to make them himself and the only shop selling them was destroyed during Doomsday. SMP didn’t sell them, because Dream fucking banned them. Despite using them in a fight himself. 

What a hypocrite. 

Tommy brought the gapple to his mouth. The blond gripped it tighter in his hand. 

“Time really fucked me up, didn’t it?”

The teen knew he couldn’t go back and couldn’t change what had already happened.

“Life is not fair.” Techno spoke up behind him.

The blond turned around to face him. The man was standing in the door, a strange look on his face that Tommy had never seen before.

“You know nothing.” Tommy growled.

Techno took a step into the room. Tommy took a step back. 

“You always spout those big fucking words. Justify your actions by myths. Pretend like you are better than all of us. You cry of how we used you, how we hurt you, how I hurt you.”

The piglin hybrid glared.

Tommy smiled bitterly. “I know I can’t justify any of that. I was forced to choose and I’ve chosen the comfort of home over blood and war. Because with you it's nothing but that. Your life is a constant fight against everyone and everything .”

Techno took another stride forward. “Do you think I want that? Do you think I want to fight in never-ending battles? I am forced to!”

The teen tilted his head. He narrowed his eyes and looked back at the apple. His reflection in the gold was unrecognizable.

“I might not be as old or experienced as you, but even I could notice a lie in those words.”

Something flashed in Techno’s eyes.

Tommy looked behind. He pushed back a grin and jumped up on the window sill.

“What are you-” the piglin started but did not finish.

“You love fighting, don’t you?” Tommy balanced on the unsteady wood. The gapple went to his left hand, while the right was twisting the knob on the window, “That’s why you took Wilbur’s offer. You crave blood. You can’t live without a constant struggle.”

“Tommy, get off that thing.” Techno warned him in a stern tone. But Tommy wasn’t listening.

“That makes us the same, in a way.” he snickered, “We can’t live until our enemy is dead. You know, what I recently realized is that what we want is not to actually defeat the enemy. Fighting gives us meaning. Fighting gives us purpose .”

Tommy gripped the apple in his hand. 

“You are no better than any of us, Technoblade. You are no better than those Egg Cult bitches. You are no better than me . I am sorry me and Wil made you feel used. But you also used us. What better justifies violence than a revolution?”

Techno stood frozen in place.

“I can save us. I can save both of us. But I doubt you even want to be saved.” Tommy rolled his eyes.

The window flung open. Freezing breeze hit Tommy’s face.

He turned around to Techno, their eyes meeting. Tommy showed him his tongue and flipped him off. “Catch me if you can, bitch!”

As he jumped out of the window, bit down on the apple hard.

Chapter Text

Phil was sitting in the kitchen, sipping his tea and watching the blasting winds outside. Despite days that passed by since the day Tommy came, the snowstorm would not settle. Only a psycho would go outside at this crazy time.

Quick footsteps passed by. Some time later, heavy slower footsteps followed. The avian didn’t pay it much mind. 

A couple minutes later, a scream was heard. 

“TOMMY!” Techno shouted from the other room.

The older blond pressed his lips into a thin line. “Welp.” He took another sip.

That sounded like Tommy was acting up again. A very Tommy behavior. He will be healed and ready to leave soon anyway. One less problem for them.

Phil smiled. His eyes traced the white blanket stretching towards the dark spruce horizon. Spring only slowly crept into the frozen tundra. 

A stag herd was chewing on some yellow, beaten down grass. He knew that herd. They usually came by the cottage to chew on their grass as the Techno’s plot was warmer and soil well cared for. 

Needless to say, this winter wasn’t kind to the herd. One of them died of exhaustion from running from the wolves. Phil found it weeks later, half dead, buried in snow. Sadly there was nothing else to do than put it out of its misery. Another was left shaken from the event. Probably contracted some sickness, poor thing. CWD possibly. Phil would have to kill it then, before the other stags contract it.

There were two more stags. A strong old one with beautiful big antlers. And a smaller one, barely an adult, its body covered in scars and badly healed broken bones. It was too weak. Phil was surprised it had survived for so long. But it won’t survive for much longer. In a week or two, or even a month, the poor creature will die. 

“Phil.” Techno’s face appeared in the doorway. He was out of breath and clutching the door frame tightly.

Phil took another sip from his tea and put it down on the table. “Yes?”

He turned around to see Techno’s eyes were wide. 

“Tommy, he- He jumped out of the window.” he blurted out.

Phil’s eyes widened. The avian looked at the windows. The winds were still blasting outside. The snowstorm was so heavy now, he could no longer see the stags.

Oh, Death.

The fledge- Tommy. Tommy can’t possibly survive in a storm like that. Phil needed to go after him. What was Tommy thinking?!

What are you thinking?

Huh?

Don’t you care about yourself?

True, the snow would be a bitch to get out of his wings but he is an Angel of Death. He can’t die so easily. Tommy on the other hand is a frail human. He will die.

He has to go right now . Who knows how far had Tommy gotten. What if the snow is already claiming him? Sinking deeper and deeper, screaming in fear and pain. Phil had seen many men die in the snow. He can still remember their purple ears and contorted faces. 

The man choked back a chirp. Death, Tommy will die. 

What about Techno?

Techno…

Phil deflated and stared at the ground.

Techno was still very much mortal. That storm- That storm could kill him. He- He can’t lose him. He can’t lose him so soon after losing Wilbur. He- 

The avian closed his eyes. The man could still see it. The warm body laying in his arms. Blood pooling out of a wound in the stomach and seeping into the white turtleneck. A face covered in ash with a mess of brown unkept curly hair. The wide smile that might have been unsettling, but not as much as the eyes. Those a little too wide amber eyes gazing up at the holes in the ruined ceiling. No. Not at them. Through them.

Unfocused amber eyes staring at the crimson sky of sundown. 

Uttering three last puzzling words. 

‘ He is free. ’

Before the voice went silent. Before the blood stopped rushing out. Before the birds in the trees quieted to mourn the loss of one of their kind. A bird with a broken song whose last symphony will forever be left unfinished.

Phil bit his lip hard. 

He can’t.

He just can’t.

Gods, he is such a coward.

If he goes out, Techno will go after him. Surely. And he can’t live with that thought.

He can’t.

Phil swallowed.

“There is no way to go out at this moment. The storm is too strong.”

Techno took a harsh step forward. “Phil! Tommy is gonna die out there!”

The avian looked up. “And you? You will die too!”

“Phil-” Techno took another step forward. trying to explain, trying to sway Phil’s judgment .

Phil glared and slammed his hand against the table. “No. Not a peep.”

“Phil you can’t possibly-”

The avian’s feathers puffed up and wings stretched threateningly. “I. Said. NOT A PEEP .”

Techno froze in shock.

Phil snickered bitterly. “Do you think that that is an easy decision for me? No it fucking isn’t. But that storm is too wild, too strong. Even if you go out, I doubt you will be able to find him. In the best case, you will just get lost.”

The avian clenched his fists tightly to hide he was shaking. He averted his eyes away from Techno. The man couldn’t look at him. He didn’t want to see what look was in his eyes. Techno wouldn’t understand. 

No, he wouldn’t understand.

No one in these shitty lands would understand.

Tears burned in his eyes.

Wilbur was his everything. His little fledgeling, his son, the light of his life. And he was gone. Too early. By his own fucking hands.

He could feel the phantom feeling of blood dripping off of his hands. 

Do you want to kill Techno too?

No.

No. 

No, no, no. Nononononono-

No.

Phil’s face froze. His wings drew back and posture relaxed. He looked up at Techno, his eyes hidden in the shade of his hat.

The avian licked his lips. “ I am not heartless, Technoblade. Once the storm subsides, I’ll send out my crows. If they find the boy, you will know right away. ”

Technoblade looked like he wanted to object. He glared at Phil but after intense thinking that felt like it took an eternity, the piglin backed down.

Phil smiled a little.

Techno sighed and looked out the window. Big snowflakes were aggressively thrown against the window with loud thuds. The winds roared. 

“You are right, Phil.” The piglin hybrid muttered and turned to leave.

Phil watched him go with narrowed eyes. “ I am always right.” 

I feel like more people should realise that.

When Techno left, Phil blinked a couple times. Nausea suddenly hit him and he leaned against the table to steady himself. His blinks were slow and his head was spinning. 

Had he- Had he eaten anything today?

The avian definitely remembered drinking. His cup of tea was still right there on the table. But had he eaten? He- He could not remember. 

The man shrugged. Guess he forgot.

“Am I actually going senile?” He giggled to himself. The avian got up and made himself a breakfast. 

---

The snow storm was persistent. Snowflakes furiously drummed at the windows for the rest of the day, for the day after and the day after. It wouldn't let up.

He was sure the area around the cottage was covered in snow. Ranboo got blocked in inside his house. Lucky enough, the hybrid was a skilled enchanter and had enchanted the walls of his house with bunch of heating enchantments beforehand. 

Techno and Phil weren't so lucky. Their cottage was huge, no enchantment would be enough. So they had to be oldschool. They had some wood logs stocked up in the basement. 

Phil made his way down the stairs and peeked into the small dirty room. Wood cutlings and dust were everywhere. On the ground, the walls and on Techno's clothes. 

The piglin hybrid raised an axe up and struck an innocent log. The weapon slid into the wood deep. Techno struck down with the axe again and the wood split. The three pieces fell off the log they were placed on and joined their brethren on the ground.

Techno pulled another log off the wall and placed it down. He raised his axe and struck down hard. Anger flashed in his eyes and the log split instantly. 

"Idiot." Techno huffed.

Phil bit his lip and sighed quietly. And here we go again.

Another log splintered. Another log was harshly put in its place.

"Idiot child." Anger was boiling in the hybrids voice. The lid rattled and vibrated like the tides of a stormy ocean.

Phil's eyes dropped in worry. 

Techno was back there again. Back to how he was when Tommy betrayed him. Back to that simmering fury that took Phil months to calm down.

Phil's months worth of effort was torn down in a few days of Tommy's presence.

Despite trying to find out what happened between them, what led to Tommy jumping out of the window, Techno said nothing. Phil didn't want to pry. Techno didn't want to tell. So the two were now stuck in a standstill neither of them knew how to break.

"Stupid." The axe descended and dug in, "Self-destructive." axe dug in again, "Child." and again.

Techno had looked like he was doing so well, like he would get over the Green Festival soon. Now it was worse. Much, much worse. Whatever Tommy told him, it struck something inside Techno. And not many things can do that.

Tommy was a strange person, Phil could never quite get him. When you thought you knew all about him, when you thought you could predict what he'll do, you were promtly proven wrong.

The young blond was many things, too many things. But never was he a person of truth. 

Whatever was going on in his head and what strings controlled his limbs was a mystery to Phil. 

But one thing he knew. 

Tommy had only very few strings left.

---

Tommy swayed on his feet. Chilling wind rippled through his thin oversized clothes and hurled icy pin picks against his skin. He was shivering, painfully so, as he felt frost settle on his cheeks. The blond’s legs felt funny. His knees were buckling at the seams.

The magic effects of the golden apple were already wearing off. And that left him cold, bitter and angry.

Nothing was working out! Nothing .

He had a plan. A good one for once. Yet life once again told him a big fat ‘no’.

The teen sighed. His shaky breath turned into a cloud of steam.

Phil and Techno were so ignorant, so self-centered. They really had no clue what was happening, did they?

Tommy took another shaky breath and shuttered as the freezing wind filled his lungs.

He was a tired, cold idiot stumbling his way through unforgiving tundra. The storm was a thick, deafening fog. It pressed down on him like a rushing river on a stone. It eroded him, cut into his skin, chiselled at his failing body and fueled the whirlwind of his crumbling mind.

The blond screamed. The blond choked.

His mouth had filled up with snow and the storm downed out his voice.

Tommy coughed out the snow, only for his sore throat to erupt with another scream.

Life didn’t love him, death rejected him.

What was he?

Who was he?

If not a man of baseless fate, if not a soldier of defiled destiny, if not a pitiful worm in the dirt- What was he?

“ You are Tommy .”

Tommy sharply looked up. Tears filled his eyes. 

There he stood, right before him. A man in a brown trench coat with a smile ever so loving.

“Wil-?” it was only a small breaking peep.

“You are my Tommy.”

The blond bit his lip. Scalding warmth wormed its way into his heart.

“I- I failed you. I- I-”

Cold hands cupped his cheeks. Tommy closed his eyes and greedily pressed into the touch.

“ Shh. I know. I know.”

The boy wished he could hug him. He wished he could hold his brother and never let go.

But he knew that this was just a mirage. 

It made his insides curl in pain.

“ Do you remember what I told you? That evening, in the pit? ”

Tommy let a sob escape his mouth.

Wilbur cooed.

“ There is so so much hate locked down in that chest of yours. What should you do, Sunshine? ”

The blond slowly opened his eyes, finding nothing but an empty tundra.

He blinked. Something shifted below the soil.

Tommy’s eyes glowed blue. A manic smile spread across his face.

“Time to throw it all at the world.”

As he said that, his knees finally buckled and his unconscious body sank into the snow.

Chapter Text

( Cracks. Roots. Flesh. Hunger .)

Tommy jolted awake. He heaved in a breath and clenched at his tight chest. His mouth felt dry. 

Small steps approached him, before suddenly stopping and dashing away. "Mom, they are awake! They awoke!"

The blond swallowed and focused on the blurry ceiling above him. He could make out wooden rafters, probably spruce, and an oil lamp hanging above the feet of the bed.

Where the fuck was he? This didn't look like Techno's house.

Tommy pressed his palm against the mattress and tried to pull himself up. Except, when he put his weight on the arm, it started shaking violently. Before he knew it, it buckled under him and he was back where he started.

"Fuck." he swore wheezily. He was all out of breath. This quick? What the hell?

Two sets of footsteps approached. One with louder footsteps, the other with quicker ones.

A face came into his vision. He could make out dark hair and a simple bonnet.

"Kid, can you hear me?" The figure above him asked. 

Tommy nodded.

The figure let out a sigh of relief. Then their face shifted away and addressed someone else in the room. "Rowan, go get water."

"Yes, mother." The quicker steps left.

Tommy licked his dry lips and attempted to speak. His voice was raspy and wheezy due to lack of use. “Who- Who are-”

Coughs erupted in his chest. His throat burned.

The person above him huffed. “My name is Margareth. My husband found you out in the snow. What were you thinking, kid?”

“Not-” he coughed some more. “Not a kid.”

Margareth shook her head. She muttered to herself something about ‘kids these days’. Tommy frowned at her. “You have been out for five days. I wasn’t even sure you would wake up at this point.”

Five? Damn. That would explain why his body was so weak.

He tried to sit up again, but the woman stopped him. “Too soon for that, kid. You have to rest.”

Tommy leaned his head back against the pillow. Like shit he would. He needs to go and- Go where exactly? Back to Techno and Phil? They already proved they won’t help him.

Then what should he do? 

He needed the revival book. Which was in possession of Dream, who was stuck in Pandora’s Vault. Tommy doubted Sam would ever let him back inside. 

The blond bit the inside of his cheek. 

There had to be some way to get around Sam. To sneak past Sam or-

Oh.

Oh.

Saliva was filling his mouth. A smile was pulling at his lips and he pushed it back with some struggle.

The woman fixed his pillow and checked the barricades covering the window. He could hear the wind still howl outside and slam the window shutters.

“Do- you have meat?” Tommy asked with a tilt of his head.

Margareth rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Meat? During the storm season? We are lucky if we have any food at all.”

Tommy pouted.

Well that was a problem.

“I take it that you are not from around here, then.”

The blond shook his head.

The quick steps from before, ‘Rowan’ or how the woman called the child, came back. Tommy looked over and tried to focus on the blurry image of the kid. All he could make out was that he had the same dark hair his mother had and held something in his hands. After further inspection, it seemed to be a mug.

Margareth took the item out of the kid’s hands and pressed it against Tommy’s lips.

The fresh taste of water hit his tongue and slid down his sore throat. He greedily drank the whole thing. The woman pulled the mug away and put it on the window sill.

“Have been here be-” cough, “before, though.”

“Really?” she asked and gestured for, what he assumed to be her son, to leave. The kid nodded and disappeared somewhere down the hallway.

Tommy yawned and stretched his arms in front of him. His bones and cartilages popped loudly. His backbone sounded like a creaky door. He must have slept in a bad position.

“Yes. A while-” his voice died and he needed to clear his throat, “back. No one here might be ab- able to recognize me anymore.”

The woman looked down at him with a not-so-convinced but curious look. “What is your name?”

Tommy froze. 

If he was where he thought he was, that question might be dangerous. The villagers had a good relationship with Techno. If he caught a wind of Tommy being here, the piglin hybrid would find him right away. 

But revealing his identity would also bring some benefits. After all, the name Theseus meant something here. They would treat him well. He could get all he needed. Maybe even meat .

The blond took a deep breath.

It was tempting, but the risks were currently just too high. Techno would drag him away the moment he would spot him and ruin all he would build until then.

Tommy had to make some safety measures first.

Tundra wasn’t the best environment to begin executing his plan. Sadly, his weak body can’t take him much further currently. 

The woman left to tend to her cooking and Tommy was left alone. Silence spread in the room, only slightly broken by voices and sounds of pans in the distance.

Million thoughts swam in his head. Some form of game plan was forming in his head to tackle the climate issue. He needed warmth. It wouldn’t work in the cold.

But if he conquered the cold first?

Then they would have nowhere to run .

A small round face peeked into the room. Tommy turned to the kid with a warm smile. It was the kid from before. Another face poke out next to him. With a sibling it seemed.

“Are you sure it’s him?” the new kid whispered and frowned at Tommy. The blond raised a brow.

Rowan nodded vigorously. “I am! I can recognize the blond hair anywhere.”

The other kid pouted. “But Theseus didn’t have a white streak in his hair! And-”

The new kid noticed him looking and gave him a hesitant wave.

Tommy waved back. A smile spread across his face.

Something wrapped around his hand under the covers.

He had to start here.

Then why not help himself out a little?

“Hey big men, now that you’ve figured me out, do you want to help me out with something?”

Tommy pulled an innocent smile as he pulled out a little black egg-like object from below the covers.

The kids watched the motion with confusion and awe.

And Tommy knew that this can all work out after all.

---

It was only on his second (conscious) day at Margareth's household he was able to join them at dinner.

The man of the household was bracing him as he traveled down the hall. Tommy's weakened muscles making each step really awkward. His knees kept buckling.

It was annoying having to rely on others. He wished he could do this alone. Hell, he would have been able to just a few days ago. But now, he was this. A dead man walking with a body that simply wouldn't listen.

It was infuriating!

Dragging his feet step by step, he finally finally tripped his way into the kitchen. The man helped him onto a chair and took a seat next to his wife. Man of the house leaned in to kiss his wife and ruffled Rowan's hair.

From what Tommy had seen so far, their house was very simple. Everything had its use and place. Including in the kitchen. Unlike Techno’s kitchen that housed like a hundred different nether spices or Niki’s kitchen that had ten spatulas lying about, the family had only as much as they needed and no more. 

The dining table was a testament to that. It was a simple furniture made out of spruce, damaged and degrading to time. One of the legs was cracked, some edges were blunt from use. But it was all they needed so replacement was not sought after.

Each person at the table was given a bowl. The bowls were all damaged and cracked, but just as loved. The utensils were bent. 

Tommy peeked inside his bowl.

The amount of food inside was pitiful. Four fourths of a potato swimming in broth water. 

“It isn’t much, but it’s all we can offer.” said the father of the family, seeing his expression.

Tommy bit his lip.

It reminded him of old painful memories. Of a woman with blue eyes and blond hair and of a man with short brown hair. Of a distant time and place. It reminded him of wooden toys, warm hugs and evening walks on the beach. If he closed his eyes, he could see blood red sun setting, and flames rising with the screams of a woman condemned for being the daughter of her mother.

And a little boy dragged away by his father, so he would not meet the same end.

Suddenly, Tommy didn’t feel hungry anymore.

Utensils were clicking, gulps of brother swallowed. Small chatter rose among the family. It felt all too loud, yet somehow muted to his ears. 

Tommy stared at his reflection on the surface of the broth. 

His eyes burned with unshed tears.

His mind was quiet.

He can’t let it happen again. He won’t let it happen again.

Wilbur was his . And Fate can go fuck herself. Wilbur was his and Tommy will never let him leave his side ever again.

Well, he just has to get him back first.

The blond pushed back a giggle.

“-id?” 

Tommy blinked and looked up. The family was looking at him expectantly. Oh shit, did someone ask him something?

The teen smiled nervously. “Sorry, I zoned out. What were you asking, big men? And women.”

Margareth looked concerned. The kids were whispering something to each other and probably were not listening either.

The man of the family cleared his throat. “I was wondering why you went into the storm. What silly idea brought you there?”

“I-” Tommy swallowed dryly.

His eyes shortly moved towards the kids. And then he closed his eyes.

“I was running away from someone.”

“Who?” asked Margareth. Her voice betrayed concern. But there was underlying fear. Tommy could smell it like blood in the water. 

Turns out, the kids were helpful in more than one way. So gullible. A few stories about the ‘Great Hero Technoblade, wielder of The Axe of Peace’ and information simply poured out of them. He was caught up on the village history and lore, on the current drama and social ladder. He knew every little rumor the kids’ ears came in contact with. And also some quite- Well lets say unexpectedly juicy info.

Apparently, A duo of horse riders would come into the village from time to time. A girl with brown eyes, pink dyed hair and small grey wings. And her company, a hybrid of sorts no one could settle on the origin of. Nobody here knew them, nobody trusted them .

Coincidentally, while Tommy was at Techno’s house, he overheard a conversation. Something about something called Syndicate and had to do with Phil, Techno, Niki and Ranboo. And when Tommy took Techno’s anarchist tendencies into account, it couldn’t be anything other than an organisation Techno made. Niki and Ranboo were part of it.

They visited this town a lot. If they noticed him around, they would notify Techno right away and his plan would fail.

He couldn’t do anything to stop them from visiting. But why do that, if they would be more useful for him in the town?

The blond just had to play his cards right.

Tommy bit his lip. 

“I- Do you promise to not tell anyone?” he asked earnestly. He looked at the parents.

After they both nodded, Tommy began.

“She- She used to be my friend. I used to help her out in her bakery. But- then she changed.” he weaved.

It was fascinating to watch the expressions of the adults. They looked conflicted and confused. 

“I- One evening I saw her conspiring with a witch. And she dragged my friend Ranboo into it! They don't even know who she works for. Poor guy was always very gullible.” he muttered mournfully with stutters and heavy breaths.

The faces in front of him switched into shock and horror. Margareth looked to her children protectively, her husband looked out of a window.

“A witch? Are you sure?” the man asked.

Tommy looked down and nodded slowly. He let all his sadness and painful nostalgia seep into his face.

“She- I saw too much. I saw her with the witch and so- she- She decided to kill me.” He looked up at the adults with watering eyes and breathed out.

The man didn’t seem as convinced or serious, but Margareth looked sad. But most importantly, Margareth looked angry .  

“What does that girl look like?” she asked with a rush in her voice. Fear and worry for her children was already eating away at her logical brain.

Tommy looked away. He fiddled with his fingers. The teen took a deep breath. “Pink dyed hair, brown eyes, small grey wings.”

Margareth gasped.

Tommy marveled at her expression. The absolutely horrified look on her face was like a work of art. Tommy’s art.

He wondered how much more beautiful fear can look on other humans. Will they shake? Will they plead? Will they bow down at his feet and promise to give him everything he asks for just to chase that feeling away? 

The blond bit the inside of his cheek and schooled up his expression to hide his own worry.

Those thoughts again. 

No. He couldn’t think about that. They were just thoughts. He had more important stuff on his plate than let himself delve into what was causing them.

“Why did you ask us to not tell anyone?” the man asked.

Tommy blinked and pressed his lips into a thin line. “I- I guess that, despite everything, I still have a sense of loyalty towards her.”

The woman let out a mournful sound.

“Don’t worry, no one will know.” she promised.

Those words might have been spoken, but her eyes told of something else. They burned with hatred on Tommy’s behalf. And they burned with a desperate need to protect her children.

The blond was pretty sure that in a few days, the whole village will know. 

And an entire army of mindless pitchforks will be ready.

Because who cares what the truth is. A few pretty words and pulled heart strings and the reality will bend just for you.

Chapter Text

Tommy lazily opened his eyes. Being stuck in bed and the restless storm outside really fucked with his perception of time. Was he here for days? Weeks? He didn’t know.

But, some weak residue of a circadian cycle told him it was morning.

The teen snuggled in his blanket and closed his eyes. 

He should exercise. If he’ll just lie all the time, his leg muscles won’t get stronger.

“But I don’t want to.” the blanket muffled his voice.

Tommy felt so tired lately. And exercise wasn’t making it any better. Sleep wasn’t making it any better. 

Some days were better, while some were worse. Some days he was able to stand for more than a few seconds, some days he couldn’t find the energy to even pull himself out of the bed. He never voiced his issues to the family. But they must have noticed. If not all, then at least some of his problems.

The food was running low.

It was just a matter of days.

If the storm doesn’t stop until then, they won’t have another choice.

Some may have cried when meeting such a predicament. Tommy only blankly stared at the ceiling.

The blond took a deep breath of cold humid air and sighed. He begrudgingly pulled the blanket off.

At first he didn’t notice anything strange.

The moment he looked down onto his chest, his eyes opened wide. 

There, on his centre of his torso, about where his ribs should be starting, was a small black stain. Tommy frowned. 

That was weird.

What could have stained his shift like that?

Curious, he grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt. He slowly started to pull the shirt up. There was nothing but slightly pale skin at first. Understandable, he hasn’t seen the sun in days. But then, as he approached the spot below where the stain was, his skin turned paler. Visibly paler. Until a point, it turned black. 

Tommy gasped.

He quickly pulled his shirt higher.

There was no denying.

There was a pretty big black stain in the middle of his chest, with smaller stains around. All surrounding the spot where his stomach should be. 

He gently touched the skin. It was warm. Warm and wet . He pulled his fingers away and looked at them. A thin layer of some dark viscous liquid coated them. The liquid almost looked sort of blue.

“What the fuck.” he whispered.

The shape and color of the stain reminded him of a molten stale bread he found during spring cleaning of his house. 

He slowly pulled the shirt back down.

The teen blankly stared into space.

He felt hungry.

The door clicked.

Tommy’s eyes instantly snapped to the door. It was the father of the family. His hair was messy and clothes hung off of him. 

“How are you doing, kid?” he said from the doorway.

The blond stared at him for a moment. It was as if his mind was jammed. The man’s question was replaying in his head, yet he couldn’t understand it. It was as if it was spoken in some alien language.

“Okay.” the blond answered mechanically. The word lacked any sort of taste. It was more like ash naturally crumbling away from his insides and falling out.

Tommy looked at the boarded window. Shine of the white outside was seeping in through the boards.

“What about your legs?” 

Tommy opened his mouth to answer, but again, his mind felt jammed. As if the question was drowned out by static. Tommy felt no emotion in it. Only the same cold blue feeling that seemed to cover the walls, floor and ceiling. 

It was as if this room wasn’t real. Just some construct, a holding cell. Instead of obsidian, the walls were made out of cracked stone and wood. Like a new Logstedshire, but with no sun or sand.

A prison none the same.

A prison of invisible glass walls that he couldn’t break no matter how hard he tried. There was nothing that could penetrate them. And there were no living beings around. Only mannequins with plastered human faces.

A small smile crept onto Tommy’s face.

It was kinda funny.

Where were the humans? Where was humanity?

There was no life, no death, only this . Stupid glass box. He banged at the walls and screamed yet his voice didn’t even fucking echo. As if the void outside ate it. Consumed it. Lived off of it. Lived off of him .

But he wouldn’t die. No he couldn’t die. The box didn’t allow it. The box protected him. It held him. It held him like a mother holding her child. Tenderly, softly, securely, so he wouldn’t get hurt.

The cold class walls caressed his face. His bruises and his drifting mind. His constant banging at the walls made the glass sing. A lullaby, a beautiful lullaby of no words.

There was no love in that place, no hate in that place.

Only this .

Only him.

And the constant nagging feeling at the back of his throat to scream. To bite. To scratch at the walls like a rabid animal.

His eyes slipped to the man in the doorway.

Saliva filled his mouth.

Phantom taste of blood and flesh played on his tongue. 

The man’s face was covered by glitchy static.

Tommy’s eyes easily found his throat.

What would it feel like sinking his teeth into it? Would it be soft and tender? Would his teeth breath through the skin quickly? 

The phantom feeling of warm fresh blood slipped down his lips. He licked them to preserve the feeling a little longer.

“-t not getting better?” the man spoke.

Tommy blinked a couple times.

A wave of nausea hit him like a truck.

Blinking a few more times, he found the man’s face again. He was looking at the boy with something edging on concern.

What was the man asking again? Tommy couldn’t seem to remember. Thinking about it, Tommy couldn’t remember almost anything from the conversation. Was he spacing out?

The blond cleared his throat and smiled nervously. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

The man rolled his eyes.

“Are your legs recovering?”

Tommy blinked.

“Oh. That. Yeah, kinda.” 

The father of the family sighed and dragged a hand down his face. He looked out into the hallway, as if making sure about something, and then entered the room. The man quietly closed the door behind him.

Tommy watched him get closer to the bed and pull out a chair to sit on.

As he settled himself down, he started talking. “It is taking you a lot of time to recover. My wife thinks- My wife thinks that that pink haired witch associate you’ve mentioned- That that girl got you cursed.”

The blond blinked.

The man continued. “I- I don’t exactly believe that. Recovery from injuries can take long periods of time after all. But…”

“You are worried?” Tommy concluded.

The man didn’t answer.

The father’s eyes looked sunken and tired. 

“Would it be rude to say that I didn’t believe you, when you said your friend was conspiring with a witch? That I don’t believe witches exist?”

Tommy tilted his head.

“You didn’t have to believe me,” the blond muttered, “are you implying your wife’s worry is changing your opinion?”

The man didn’t answer.

Minutes ticked by in an uncomfortable silence.

“I just think no gods would bring a storm like this . Only something cruel, something vindictive could bring upon such a catastrophe.”

Tommy looked up at the ceiling. 

“Perhaps you are right,” the blond closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was looking at the man again, “or perhaps you know nothing about the gods you worship.”

The man was taken aback by Tommy’s sudden act of blasphemy. 

“Kid-” he whispered in an alarmed voice.

“Famine happened, wars were fought, sickness swept cities. People suffered and suffer every day. Time moves forward, graves rot, once great civilisations fall to ruin. World is cruel, sir. Living is cruel. Being a mortal human is a fucking curse. And those fucking illuminated uncaring all powerful bastards we worship and sing odes to do nothing but watch .”

Tommy’s eyes and nose burned.

The man stared at him with horror. He was frantically looking at the ceiling, around the room, out through the cracks in the planks covering the window. He was expecting an agent of punishment. For gods to smite Tommy for such a bold blasphemy. Yet Tommy knew it would never come.

Tears slid down his cheeks. 

“Those are the gods we worship.” Tommy spat with venom.

It took the man some more time to come in terms with the truth. That no punishment is being sent Tommy’s way, that no gods are going to enact their retribution.

“The system is rotten to the core.” It needs to be torn down.

It needs to be destroyed. And rebuilt. 

“Gods don’t understand our pain. They don’t understand death.”

Why should they have any say in our fate?

Tommy was sure after a calamity like this, many in this village are going to forsake the gods. 

If there came someone else that would offer them help? Who would save them? Who would end their suffering?

The blond’s head hurt.

It was as if the world was slipping away from him. 

The stain on his chest throbbed.

“This storm needs to end.” Tommy spoke. 

Static was filling his ears.

He pressed his hands against the mattress and started moving himself around on the bed. It hurt like a bitch. His muscles were loudly protesting. So loud, his vision was filled with stars. But he didn’t care.

The teen turned on the bed and one by one pushed his legs off the edge.

“What are you doing?” the man asked, mortified.

“What I should have done days ago.” was all Tommy answered, before his words were replaced by screams.

It hurt. It fucking hurt. But it was nowhere as bad as when he was revived. It hurt nowhere as bad as seeking the sword sticking out of Wilbur’s chest. It was painful. Sizzling overwhelming pain.

A testament to the fact he was alive. A testament to the fact he was human. A testament to the fact that he really had to be fucked up somewhere in his head to find a smile on his lips.

But at the end of that pain was a sweet respite.

He was standing.

Tommy was standing.

And Tommy was walking.

“Miracle.” the father gasped.

“Miracle!” the mother gasped as she saw him storm through the house and grab a knife from the kitchen.

“Miracle!” the children stared as he stumbled his way all the way down the stairs and to the front door.

It was no miracle. It was something else. Tommy couldn’t describe it. But he felt it. Under his skin. Wrapping around his bones. Around his spine. 

It was the same thing that colored the skin of his chest black.

Tommy threw a random coat over himself and put on the first shoes he found.

“I am ending this nonsense now.”

The mother was horrified. “Are you crazy?! If you go outside, you will die!”

The blond stopped. 

He looked at her and gave her a wide smile. Like the one he used to give his own mother before going outside.

“I will be okay. You don’t need to worry.”

The woman looked completely pale.

Before she could stop him, Tommy swung the door open and harshly slammed it behind him. Freezing winds immediately blew through his clothes and chilled him to the bone. The winds were harsh, like razors scratching his skin. He could hardly see.

He heard voices on the other side of the door. They were shouting at him. He couldn’t care less.

Clutching the knife tighter, He felt the skin of his palms sticking to the handle.

There was no need to say how fucking risky this was. He heard about this spell only once, a while ago, when Phil had randomly mentioned it during one long evening.

All spells of this size needed a sacrifice.

He didn’t have much to his name anymore.

But he could still sacrifice one thing.

His shaky hand conjured a ‘e’ symbol.

Two round items appeared in his hand.

The warm tears trailing down his cheeks were freezing quickly.

He pressed the two disks to his chest and choked back a sob.

“I will miss you.” he muttered into the howling wind.

Even after so long, he didn’t want to part with them. They have been through so much. But maybe this was better. No one will be able to hold them as leverage anymore. Dream won’t ever threaten him with their destruction anymore.

“But I think it is time to go.”

Reluctantly, and through uncontrollable sobs, he pulled the disks away from his chest. 

“For Wilbur!”

The knife struck down.

---

Unknown to him, a goddess has been silently watching this all play out. And all she could do was weep. Weep for a child so determined to fight his fate. 

“My child. My little boy.”

She wanted to hold both of her sons in her arms. To love them and cherish them like she always should have. But that same determination to defy fate took that away from her.

So she can only watch.

Watch, ridden with guilt and hoping that perhaps one day, she would be able to make up for all that lost time.

---

When Phil woke up the next morning, he found the sky clear. Not a cloud. Not a hint of the destructive wind.

He put his hand together and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Lady Death, that the storm had passed.”

As he looked upon the stupidly thick layer of snow covering the tundra, he pondered. Something at the back of his head told him that he promised someone something. But what was it?

Forget about that silly thing .

Huh.

What was he just thinking about?

Hm. Techno will be happy the stupid storm is gone.

Chapter Text

As you might know, a lot of things had happened in the past month. And as I stated on that topic before (on my social media, other places, and here on ao3), I no-longer support Wilbur Soot. He is an awful person and I hope universe will bring a harsh punishment upon him for what he (allegedly) did to all his victims.

I took some time to think about what to do with my fics that have a character created by this person in them. I have never been, don't, and never will be writing fics about real people. I think that concept itself is weird as fuck. C!Wilbur and the cc who created him have always been in my mind two separate people. That doesn't mean though, that I can ignore the things the cc did.

Writing is a very personal thing to me. I like getting into heads of characters and trying to explore what makes them tic. For pretty much understandable reasons, I find myself utterly disgusted any time I try to do that with C!Wilbur now. And so, I can not write his character anymore.

I waited for some time, my opinions of what to do with my fics next had been constantly changing but I think I had come to a conclusion I feel strong about.

None of my fics will be deleted. I have seen a lot of writers I know delete their works. But as for me, all the works on this account are MINE. I wrote them for MYSELF and were created in MY head. I feel proud of how I've written them and how much writing fics in this fandom made my overall writing skills much better.

As for my ongoing fics, it's a little more complicated:

Gospel of Dismay - on hiatus/discontinued (aka. fate not yet decided)

Sprouts of a Dead Log - on hiatus (will end earlier than originally planned, plot will be changed slightly - you won't even notice)

French Vanilla - discontinued

Just a Drip - rewrite

This fic, "Just a Drip (am I dumbfounded when I slip)", will be rewritten. Which means this original version will stay up and get discontinued. A new fic, under a new name, that will follow the same plotpoints (mostly) that had happened in this fic so far will be posted. The difference will be that Tommy's motivation will be changed. Instead of making a convoluted plan to try and bring someone back for the dead, he will try to take revenge on all the people who wronged him instead (its a bit more complicated than that but that is the simplest way I can describe it). The new version of this fic will also be a little darker with more prominent horror elements (which I wrote out of this/original version of the fic for one reason or another). Once I post the first chapter of the rewrite, I will post a 'not chapter' here that will mention it.

The same day I'm posting this, a new one-shot will be posted which will have similar vibe to what the rewrite of this fic will be like. The name of this one-shot is "Witness me, old man, I am the wild". It is not a part of the Festering Vines AU, but it will give you a good idea of what I will be going for.

I will be fully back to writing starting May 16 or May 20. I might post some smaller things before that tho.

Also, I have been branching out to other fandoms lately, Life series and TMA mostly. Plus I have been working on my original works. And also, I am writing a few video essays, one about unfiction and another a pretty extensive iceberg video. So yeah...

Also, if you had seen some Rather weird thinGs on my twitter, don't worry about it too much! (my twitter is @bitterfruittea, if you'd want to check that out. most stuff that is there hasn't been cracked yet as far as i can tell)

SO TLDR.: none of my fics are getting deleted. Some of my ongoing fics are getting discontinued, most are still going to be on-going. Just a Drip is getting a rewrite (this version of the fic stays up, new will be made). I am posting a one-shot today which will have similar vibes to the rewrite. I'll be fully back to writing in the second half of May.

Thank you everyone so much for reading this and for your patience. I hope you hydrate and take care of yourselves guys <3

-Tea

Chapter Text

After a couple weeks of rethinking and writing, the first chapter/prologue of the rewrite of this fic has been released! The fic is named "Ever since I could remember (everything inside of me just wanted to fit in).

You can find the new fic -> here <- (to cut you some time looking for it on my page)

On another news, I have my final high school finals next week and I'm pretty scared. But I'm gonna try to do my best! And afterwards, I should have much more time to write.

Have a great rest of your day! Don't forget to hydrate <3

-Tea