#and Ghostbur is having a rough night and Wilbur

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

WIP Game!!

Thank you so much for the tag @brown-little-robin :D

Rules: make a new post (or reblog from this one!!!) and post the latest line in your WIP & tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)

Wilbur watches from the corner of his eye as Ghostbur slowly peeks out, gazing at the screen with a face Wilbur can’t read.

No pressure tags: @thatfriendlyanon @biathediamond @cryingtulips @bee-dot-exe @salineroses @kanerallels @thisistheendtimes @icyfox17 @approximately12lbs-of-ducks @fairytale-lights

[crimeboys]

Ghostbur: And I decided, right? Right, I thought, TommyInnit, what does he like? And I thought, he likes, women. He likes, uh-

Tommy: Have you brought me a woman?

Ghostbur: No, I tried, but they don't- they're not as keen on you as you are on them. So I- I- I-

Tommy: That's not true.

Ghostbur: I left them where I found them, I left them where I found them. Uh, but what I did think was like what else- what else does Tommy like, he likes the discs. I couldn't get you the discs I'm afraid. I did try. Uh, and I thought, what else does Tommy like? He likes, uh, pasta. I assume you like pasta, I- I wasn't entirely sure but I wrote it down. Uh, I have a list, now, of things that you like and I'm just trying to remember them so it was pasta-

Tommy: Well, what is it you brought me? I'm here, Wilbur, where are you?

Ghostbur: Yeah, I'm- I'm- I'm coming, I'm coming to the- I'm coming to Logstedshire, right.

Tommy: What, are you getting through the nether? I'm at the Bastion.

Ghostbur: No, no, Logsteshire! Logstedshire!

Tommy: Shall I just go to the Logstedshire?

Ghostbur: Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Tommy: Okay [Jumps into lava]

Ghostbur: That's where I am now, that's where I just got to. [Tommy dies to lava] Oh. [Ghostbur laughs a little] That's an easy way of getting around. You're a bit of a fast traveler.

Tommy: [Shouts] Hello!

Ghostbur: Hi! Where are you? Oh! Come here, come here.

Tommy: I haven't looked you dead in the eyes today.

Ghostbur: Come here, come here, look, look, look! So I thought, what else does Tommy like? Right. What does TommyInnit- What's he a fan of, okay? He likes- he likes democracy. That's another thing I had down- your shirt's lookin' a bit-

Tommy: Yeah.

Ghostbur: You're looking a bit worse for wear.

Tommy: I've had a rough few nights.

Ghostbur: It's okay, come in here, right. Stand here, right. I want you to get ready for this because you're gonna like this gift.

Tommy: I'm ready.

Ghostbur: So I thought, what does Tommy like? His favorite thing in the whole wide world [Ghostbur throws something to Tommy. Tommy hovers over the gift and sees it is a compass named Your Tubbo] is Tubbo! Tommy, I know you really, really like Tubbo. And I know you really, really miss him. So I went out of my way and I made you this. It cost me, like, one netherite, and, like, loads of iron and stone and it basically points you in the direction of Tubbo! At all times. More specifically, L'manburg, Tubbo's White House. It points you right towards it at all times so no matter where you are on this bitch of an earth, you'll know exactly where Tubbo is. And I thought you'd really, really appreciate that.

Tommy: [Stares in silence for a few seconds] Thank you.

Ghostbur: No problem! Anyway, have fun ending your stream, buh-bye!

[Tommy walks silently back to Tnret, making happy/emotional faces at the gift he has just received. He opens his Enderchest and puts the compass inside]

Tommy: Right next to the discs [He lets out a sigh as he closes the Enderchest and smiles]

[lonely-lost-soul]

1,000 Follower Special

Members of the DreamSMP simping for you:

Dream, GeorgeNotFound, Sapnap, Technoblade, Phil, Wilbur, and Fundy

~No minor members obviously~

Dream: 

When the both of you started dating he knew he couldn’t let anyone know about you.

The only two people who he trusted to know about you were George and Sapnap, solely because they knew who you were before the both of you dated.

Dream met you during Wilbur’s revolt against the SMP, you were a member of one of the villages he frequented.

Dream would constantly trade with your grandparents for ender pearls. They happened to sell the cheapest ones.

One day instead of them you were standing in their place.

The both of you clicked instantly, you laughed at his jokes, and were filled with a certain spark and fire, that had him hooked.

It was safe to say he was addicted.

He adored you, when the time came for him to cut off all the things he loved he couldn’t leave you behind.

Therefore you were the only person he’d allowed himself to have when he had to get rid of all personal attachments. 

To him you were a goddess who could do no wrong, he’d kill for you.

If anyone hurt you all their lives would be gone in an instant. 

He still remembered the first kiss the both of you shared, he had just gotten back from a rough battle. 

Dream was practically bleeding out on your floor, you were screaming at him calling him an idiot. 

You were fretting over him like a mother hen, he just felt so warm and cared for, he took off his mask to give you a crooked smile before falling into your arms. 

He couldn’t help but think you looked gorgeous in your grey sweatpants, hair all messy, eyes glassy from sleep.

Another string of curses fell from your mouth as he leaned forward and captured his lips with yours. 

He felt fireworks pop against his lips and you for sure tasted the blood staining in his teeth. 

He then promptly passed out in your arms.

Dream woke up wrapped in your arms and on a cushy bed. 

He knew you tended to his injuries he also knew when you woke up you’d beat his ass.

At the moment, he felt nurtured and tended to, Dream buried his face in your chest and smiled to himself. 

You were his good girl.

GeorgeNotFound:

Waking up in the woods to a girl standing over him was certainly not how he envisioned the next stage of his life going. 

She glared down at him and he hesitantly adjusted the glasses on his face, he greeted her meekly and she huffed. 

She introduced herself to him and called him a pretty boy in such a condescending manner that it made his stomach wrap up in knots. 

Oh no she was mean and hot. 

You apparently lived very far from the SMP and had no idea how he got to where he was, maybe he slept walk or something. 

You knelt beside him and grabbed his cheeks between your fingers eyeing him like you were trying to see into his soul.

He passed whatever test you had because you helped him to his feet and offered up your home to him. 

Having no other options he agreed to go with you.

As months went by he realized you weren’t all that bad. You could cook, and let him sleep all he wanted. 

(Mostly to try and get his energy back, but still)

He learned you knew a lot about nature and loved animals probably more than anyone else he knew. 

You really were soft under that tough exterior and George loved that it was him who could make you like that.

As much as he enjoyed himself he couldn’t help but miss Sapnap and Dream.

Were they even looking for him? Dream had to care at least...right?

He felt guilty for being happy here, for being happy with you.

It took another month for George to recognize his feelings for you and as soon as he did Sapnap and Dream found him. 

They both seemed to like you after he clarified that, no you didn’t kidnap him. You were a kind soul who opened your home up to him.

Dream and Sapnap looked at one other with a smirk and George’s face turned red. 

The two of them left the house to let the both of you say goodbye to one another. 

George wrapped you in a hug and pressed a soft kiss against your lips, much to his surprise you kissed him back. 

It was hesitant and he could feel the nerves radiating off you. 

He pulled away and rested his head on your forehead, he loved the flush on your face. 

“Don’t be a stranger, pretty boy.”

“I won’t my savior.” 

Sapnap:

At first, his flirting was just good fun, after all, he flirted with everyone. 

What he wasn’t expecting was for you to flirt back just as hard and confident as he did.

It was Karl who pointed out that he’d get a faraway look in his eyes whenever he talked about you. 

Sapnap didn’t get his point and Karl glared at his denseness. 

“You like her Sappy Nappy.”

“What no I- Oh shit.” 

That’s how Sapnap knew he was fucked, cause now all he could ever do was think about his crush on you. 

Sapnap at first tried to avoid you and Karl had to knock some sense into him, saying that, that was not the way he would win you over. 

Ironically, you pinned him to a tree and confronted the fire demon about his behavior.

Out of pure panic, he pressed his lips to yours, when you kissed back he was so flustered his hair caught on fire. 

You had to help him put it out with water because he couldn’t calm down enough to stop the flames from shooting out of his head. 

He was so flustered when you said you’d never let him live this down, but got over it the moment he felt your lips on his cheek (His hair almost went up in flames again).

From that moment on the both of you started dating.

You never minded his constant flirting with other people, he was glad too that was like some weird form of a love language to him. 

When Dream betrayed George and him you were there to comfort him. 

You assured him that you’d never leave his side no matter what happened. 

You would kiss him all over his face and whisper sweet nothings to him whenever he looked too lost in thought. 

He loved it. He loved being spoiled rotten.

When Karl and he moved to the Konoko Kingdom you were right by his side, you helped build your shared home from the ground up. 

You were his little Firecracker. 

Technoblade:

You were Phil’s little helper.

For as long as Technoblade knew his old friend you were by his side, you were quiet and tended mostly to the angel’s flock of crows. 

At first, The Blade thought nothing of you just the girl who always followed Phil around. 

Until he saw you stab through the chest of one of the Butcher’s army soldiers like they were butter. 

The blood that splattered your face and the unbothered look shook him to his very core. 

Oh no, you were hot. 

Technoblade was shaken out of his stupor by you handing him one of the weapons he had lost in the fight. 

You softly asked if he was alright to which he responded with a soft nod, his face was red and you raised an eyebrow.

He noticed a cut across your shoulder blade and reached out to touch the wound. 

You flinched at the touch and cradled the wounded shoulder with your hand, with a soft grumble he offered to patch up your shoulder. 

In the bathroom of his house he stitched up your shoulder, you let out of whines of pain.

The voices liked that way more than they should’ve and it made his face turn beat red. 

You looked up with him through your long lashes and he melted, the voices assuring him that he was ‘down bad.’

Phil came home and caught the both of you staring into one another’s eyes and he gave Technoblade a knowing smirk.

 The glare he sent his old friend was piercing. 

As days rolled into months his feelings for you never faded, especially since the both of you had grown closer. 

Eventually, Phil had forced Technoblade to at least ask you on a date, you dropped the birdseed at your feet and flushed up to the tips of your ears. 

You agreed eagerly and Technoblade was relieved. 

He had kissed you that night under the stars, it was a spur of the moment thing, the moonlight illuminated your best features. 

The voices couldn’t help themselves and he just listened impulsively 

Technoblade was relieved when you kissed him back, he’d protect you from all the horrors of government. 

You were his Princess. 

Philza: 

He’s lived for decades, seen those he loved grow old and pass away. 

That’s why he liked Technoblade, he lived as long as he had, had the same experiences as the angel of death. 

Phil swore he’d never love again, then he met you.

You lived next to him when he was living in New L’manburg and thought you were very pretty as well as very friendly. 

He didn’t know much about you only that:

You were fond of Ghostbur and he seemed to be fond of you.

It made Phil happy that someone else was looking after his dead son when he couldn’t.

Ghostbur had officially introduced the two of you a few weeks before Technoblade’s execution. 

After that moment, you both were practically inseparable.

You bonded over your love for building and all things shiny, he broke his own rule. 

He fell in love with you. 

When he caught wind of what the butcher army was planning on doing to Technoblade he frantically sent a crow to his companion. 

He was promptly placed under house arrest. 

You snuck in through his window once everyone departed for Technoblade’s retirement home and helped Phil disable his ankle bracelet. 

Phil pleaded for you to join him when he went to check up on Technoblade and you agreed wholeheartedly. 

The both of you flew towards Techno’s but it was already too late, they had him. 

You and Phil didn’t intervene. 

After the execution, he introduced you to Technoblade and he seemed satisfied with you sticking around.

Anyone who helped Phil out was a friend of his

You both acted like an old married couple.

Technoblade was dumbstruck to find out the both of you hadn’t had a first kiss yet let alone started dating. 

Phil hit him upside the head for that comment but it urged the old man forward to make his move on you. 

He set up a lovely dinner date, a homecooked meal by the fire was just what the both of you needed. 

You kissed him at the end of the night. 

It was soft and sweet just like you were, his hands tangled in your hair as he pressed close to you. 

You were his angel

Wilbur:

After Sally, he was sure he’d never love again.

That mantra lasted years, but after he won freedom for L’manburg, he had met you. 

You were a crew member of Captain Puffy’s ship and he always did love watching the boats come and go from the ocean. 

You had arrived in L’manburg alongside Puffy and he fell for you hard and fast.

He was a blushing, stuttering mess as you smirked over at him. 

You were strong and tough and he wanted nothing more than for you to pin him against a wall. 

After talking with Puffy you decided to stay in L’manburg and get a feel for the country, Wilbur was ecstatic. 

He showed you around all proud of what he created, you interlocked your hands with his and he felt faint. 

The two of you were an item not soon after.

Fundy approved, happy his father was finally moving on plus he loved your take no shit attitude. 

They both loved when you sang the best. 

You always had a wide assortment of sea shanties to share, and a plethora of stories to tell. 

You had taught a few of them to Wilbur so he could play them on his guitar, another great bonding moment he remembered fondly. 

When you sang it was the only time he ever considered you soft. 

Before Wilbur announced the results of the election you had done the very thing he hoped you would do when he first met you.

Grab him by the hair, pin him against a wall and give him a heated kiss that made his knees weak.

“Go get them, Wilby.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

Losing was not something either of you foresaw. You ran away with him and Tommy to join Pogtopia. 

You were by his side in his slow descent into his eventual madness and stayed by his side up until his inevitable death. 

As he slowly died in you and Phil’s arms you sung to him one final time.

He told you he loved you on his last breath.

You were his muse.

Fundy:

Being left at the altar was one of the most horrifying experiences Fundy had ever had the displeasure of going through.

You’d been there when Dream left with George, you had threatened to stab out the man’s eyes. 

You stayed beside him the entire night, you refused to take no for an answer. 

Fundy had never been more vulnerable than he was with you that night.

He was embarrassed at first but you shushed him and assured him it was alright.

Fundy flushed and felt guilty for doing so, he shouldn’t feel that way around you. 

Your hand reached up to pet his ears and he began to purr loudly in your arms. 

Eventually, Fundy realized he had feelings for you.

Much like Sapnap, he went to immediate Panic Mode.

He didn’t want for this to end up like Dream again, not that you were anything like him, but at the same time, he didn’t want to ruin your friendship. 

However, much to his surprise it was you who confessed to him. 

Fundy said he felt the same before you even finished your confession. 

His tail was wagging rapidly and he had to physically hold it down to stop it from wagging 

Which was something you laughed at but he felt embarrassed about, you had to assure him that you thought it was the cutest thing in the entire world.

He whined at that but you kissed all over his cheeks so he had to immediately forgive you. 

Fundy introduced you to Wilbur who grilled you about your love for Fundy, he wanted to kill his dad. 

You assured him that you loved Fundy, and would never want to hurt him. 

Wilbur seemed satisfied with your response and wished both of you well. 

After Wilbur left, Fundy kissed your lips softly, his tail once again wagging rapidly.

As he pulled away you leaned back in and kissed him back, your hand gently stroked his ears and he purred again. 

He knew for sure he was going to marry you, and it wouldn’t end up like Dream and his wedding.

However, that was still a long way away.

For now, he just had to settle for you being his dream girl.

~~~

Hey guys! Thank you so much for 1,000 followers??? I am honored and shocked thank you all so much! Thank you to everyone who send me supportive messages and my amazing anon’s who member fail to cheer me up. Many more stories and projects are in the works but I wanted to do something special and different for the big 1,000. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy 😊

[peninkwrites]

the dead don't dream - ch 37 of 37

Tommy gets to jump. Wilbur still smokes. Maybe there's a party too. And there's music. Of course there is music. They're going to be okay.

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 36

~

Some nights Tommy will wake up screaming, feeling so clearly, so certainly, that he is there again.  He never got out.  Dream is still waiting just around the corner and dying will never be an escape.

Those nights are not spent alone.

Maybe there was a time where Tommy would have awoken, alone in his home and found a corner to curl into until he could stop himself from shaking, and maybe Tommy still wakes up alone, but he doesn’t let himself stay that way.

It depends on the night, on the nightmare, but Tubbo and Ranboo will always wake up and open their door to him.  Someone will make hot cocoa.  Someone will put their arm around him.  And they will both listen.  Some nights Tommy stumbles to Wilbur’s rough equivalent of a house in the remake of the camarvan, and there will be a fair chance that Wilbur is already awake, sitting outside, as if waiting for him.

“Ayup,” Tommy announces himself, cane thudding against the wood as he emerges from the darkness, following only the orange glow of Wilbur’s cigarette.

“Ayup,” Wilbur replies.  He puts out the cigarette on Tommy’s approach.  Tommy appreciates it, even if the smell lingers and sours in his nose.

Tommy sits beside him on the narrow steps up to the door, shoulder to shoulder with him without invitation.  “So.  I sorta thought it was like, some cosmic shit that every time I came over here you were already awake, like you knew I was coming, but just occurred to me that’s fuckin’ nuts.  So.  Do you ever sleep?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur says completely unconvincingly.

“Wilbur,” Tommy says scoldingly.

“Well, I must sleep some time,” Wilbur huffs.  “And I do, really.  Like.  I go to bed like an hour after sunset like an old man.  I just don’t… I don’t sleep heavy.  So.  I usually wake up a couple hours later and… sit around until it feels worth trying to go back to sleep,” Wilbur shrugs.

“That sounds bad for your health.”

Wilbur laughs.  “Yeah, because if I got a solid eight hours a night I’d be in fantastic shape.”

“I mean, not as strong as me,” Tommy says haughtily.  “But couldn’t hurt.”

“Right,” Wilbur rolls his eyes, hands fidgeting restlessly without a cigarette.  He looks over at the lanterns over New L’Manberg.  “I remember making those.  When I was a ghost sure, but when I was younger.  I guess that’s why I did it.”

“Yeah.  Things were… things were looking better here.  When I was exiled– When I was… taken away,” Tommy says.  Tommy is still working on saying that properly.  There are so many frivolous little shifts in language that change so much.  Tommy was exiled, sure, but really he was kidnapped.  Just like when people got nervous about Wilbur and said that he left instead of saying the truth, that he killed himself.  It’s harsher, but Tommy thinks the more they call these things what they are, the less power they have to hurt them.  “Not like I did much to help, but Tubbo and Ghostbur, or, you I guess, made this place a lot better.  Last I saw there was a huge fucking wall around it, so.  Definitely improvement.”

“Right.  It’s strange, you know.  I mean, I’ve said it before, the double memories, sort of, but I remember being here and… and building that crane,” Wilbur nods over to the crane hanging over the water.  “And setting up the lanterns, but at the same time, I’m sort of… sort of in awe of it.  Whatever I did, whatever that isolated part of me did, I think… I think Tubbo is the real reason all this made it here, you know?”

“Yeah.  Tubbo was… he was real tough.  About all of it,” Tommy nods.  “I mean, he wasn’t alone.  At least at the start, he wasn’t alone.  Quackity and Fundy and even like, Phil and Ranboo.  I should’ve been there for him more.  I was…” Tommy glances to Wilbur.  “A bit caught up in my own head.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur understands immediately.

Tommy waves him off.  “We got through our shit in Limbo, no need to drag it back up now.  But Tubbo was mourning too.  And I was supposed to be his VP.”

“If I remember right, you were a pretty great VP.  Not your fault shit hit the fan on your second go of it,” Wilbur shrugs.

Tommy scoffs.  “Of course you’d fuckin’ say that… But you’re right.  I was a pretty great VP.  The best VP to ever fucking VP.” Tommy nods solemnly.  “I guess Big Q can be the best substitute VP.  Definitely not gonna give his Manberg days any credit.”

Wilbur laughs, “how generous.”

“Thank you.  I am very generous.”

“And humble too.”

“Obviously.”

A pause.  Wilbur still feels restless without a cigarette.  He knows he should stop, at least try to wean himself down to only smoking on rare bad days.  It just made things easier sometimes, it was a hard thing to let go of.  “So, nightmare?”  This is usually how nights like these go.

Tommy nods, but doesn’t reply.

“Look, you don’t have to talk about it, man, but usually when it means you walking all the way over here it’s pretty bad,” Wilbur keeps his tone casual.

“Yeah.  Well, you know.”  It’s strange.  When Tommy has nightmares about Limbo, he’s more inclined to go knocking on Tubbo and Ranboo’s door even if they have no way of understanding.  It’s almost easier that way.  That he can talk things through with them without the knowledge that they know the suffering he refers to vividly.  Better than Wilbur knowing too well and getting pulled down with him.  When the nightmares more heavily feature Dream, Tommy goes to find Wilbur.  It’s easier than trying to describe it to Tubbo, who still feels weighted with the fact that he’s the one who let Dream take him away the first, and Wilbur had been his only beacon when Dream had him, so Tommy can’t help but feel a bit safer from Dream beside him now.

“It’s alright, man.  You don’t have to,” Wilbur repeats.

“Not much to say, really.  You know how it goes.  Dream comes back.  I try to run.  A-And he– I don’t–” Tommy pauses.  “It fails,” Tommy decides to stop there.  His subconscious has quite the repertoire of violence to draw upon in his memories.  Sometimes nightmares feel a little too real.

Wilbur nods.  “Yeah.  I don’t remember my dreams much.  But you know when it’s a nightmare and your feet get stuck to the floor?  I hate not being able to run in dreams.”

“Yeah, but they’re never like that.  Not these ones.  I can run as much as I want, as hard as I can, and it doesn’t matter because… Well, the real trouble is I don’t have anywhere to run to.  I’m always alone and… and lost.  And Dream never gets tired,” Tommy sighs.  “Aw, now you’ve done it.  I’m talking about it,” he groans.

“Hah, you wanna talk about your feelings, Tommy?” Wilbur puts on a patronizingly endeared tone.  “Aww, Tommy, you come to your big brother to talk about feelings?  What does your heart say?  Tell me.”

“Fuck off.”

Another pause, Wilbur unable to stop his worries from surfacing.  “But… the nightmares are getting better?  It’s been a while since you last had one.”

“Well, no.  I had one a couple nights ago, just went and bothered Ranboo and Tubbo instead,” Tommy says dryly.  “But… actually, before that, it’d been… I dunno.  At least a week since I’d had one.  That’s something, right?”

“Yeah!” Wilbur nudges him.  “Progress is progress, right?”

“What about you, then?  Shouldn't you work on sleeping?” Tommy gives him a look.

“Yeah, probably,” Wilbur shrugs.

“You should ask Ponk.  They offered to give me something to help me sleep.  It’s mellow something,” Tommy says.  “I dunno if it works.  Before we knew Dream was gone, I didn’t want to take anything that was gonna make me out of it if I had to run.  You know,” Tommy shrugs.

Wilbur ignores the unsettling nature of the latter half of that statement and focuses on the former.  “Mellow something?”

“That’s what it’s called.  ‘Cause it mellows you out I guess.”

“Melatonin, Tommy,” Wilbur smiles, unbelievably fond.  “They offered you melatonin.  It’s… It’s the thing our brain makes to make us sleep.”

“I fuckin’ know what melatonin is,” Tommy bursts out.  “I just didn’t– I didn’t connect it, what it was.”

Wilbur makes no effort to suppress his giggles.

“What’re you laughing about, bitch?!  You’re the dumbass who can’t sleep right,” Tommy snaps with little bite.

“Oh, then what’re you doing up in the middle of the night, hm?”

“Besides the point!  We’re talking about your bullshit,” Tommy pouts.  “I am trying to show concern,” Tommy says with dramatic patronization.  “You just get some of that melatonin shit so you sleep better.  I am telling you to.”

“Sure, for you Tommy, I will,” Wilbur is far too genuine in his endearment.  “You know, I’m really glad you come over.  That you feel like you can do that, like, after nightmares.  That you can talk to me about… about things, all this,” Wilbur gestures vaguely to the air.

“Yeah, well, we’re supposed to talk about this shit, remember?” Tommy almost doesn't know what to do with Wilbur’s thoughtfulness.

“Yeah, that,” Wilbur scoffs.  He raises the unlit cigarette out of habit before irritatedly putting it back down.

“D’you wanna play cards?” Tommy notices.  He always does.

“Bit late for cards,” Wilbur gives him a look.

“Yeah.  Bit late for a lot of things,” Tommy shrugs.

“Yeah.  I don’t want to…” Wilbur grimaces.  “I don’t want to fall back on the cards.  Like, for you the discs were something to you when you were alive as well.  I didn’t give a shit about cards until Limbo and I don’t want them to… it might sound weird, but I don’t want them to mean something to me.”

“Oh.  Sorry.”

“No, no, I like playing cards with you, Tommy,” Wilbur says quickly.  “But what I like about it is just doing something with you.  The cards aren’t the part that matters and that’s– that’s better, right?”

Tommy nods.  “Yeah.  I think I know what you mean.  I do think… I think I still need the discs in a way.  Not like I did before, but I need to know I can still get to them if I want them.  Dunno how healthy that is or whatever, but… I dunno,” Tommy mutters.  “Better than it was.”

“Yeah.  I don’t think there’s anything wrong with using a crutch.  I mean, look at me,” Wilbur nods at his unlit cigarette.

“Hah,” Tommy says dryly, tapping his cane on the stone steps.  “A crutch.”

A pause, Tommy continuing more carefully, “sometimes I still don’t feel like this is real.”

To an onlooker the thoughts might’ve seem disconnected, games and vices and crutches and questions of reality, but Wilbur followed Tommy’s train of thought exactly.  They cling to these things because they need something grounding.  “Yeah?  Like what?”

“You know,” Tommy nods in the general direction of nothing.  “Most of it.  All of it.  Being here.  Being free.  Like, sometimes if I think about it too long, I get half convinced this is all a dream or Limbo or something.  And one of these days I’m gonna hear his stupid fucking voice say wake up and I’m back in a fucking cell.”

Wilbur nods, understanding.  “Oh, yeah, I get you there.  Like, I know logically Limbo never had dreams or hallucinations to escape into, unless the vague Ghostbur bits count for anything, but sometimes I think this must be some happy illusion.  I try to logic my way out of it, Limbo always being brutally honest was one of its key features, but it doesn’t always beat back the paranoia.”

“Fair.  I mean, Limbo not having illusions and shit, that doesn’t really cover my bases.  Wouldn’t put it past Dream to do some shady magic shit that makes me hallucinate,” Tommy says bitterly.

“Well, I’m quite sure that I’m real, so if that’s true, we’re in the same illusion together, right?” Wilbur says.

“How’re you so sure I’m real, then?”

“Not exactly a comforting thing to say to an undead, paranoid wreck, you know,” Wilbur gives him a look, amused and maybe a bit concerned.

“Ah, sorry, sorry.  I am real, by the way.  Sometimes I sort of drift and I’m not totally sure that’s true, but generally speaking,” Tommy knocks on his own head.  “Ow.  But see?  3D and everything.”  Tommy reaches out toward Wilbur’s face to prove his point.

“Oy, get your grubby hands off of me,” Wilbur bats him away.

Tommy nods, satisfied.  “Well, there you go.  We’re both real.  So if it turns out all this shit really is still with Dream or in Limbo, we’re not alone, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur humors him.

“And if somehow it turned out you were still in Limbo alone, I’d never stop until I got you back.  Or it would mean I was still with Dream so I’d see you sometimes, right?”

Wilbur nods, taking that one a bit more personally, he goes to reply, before stopping himself.  He doesn’t know how to cope with Tommy’s loyalty.  Maybe a bit more easily after everything, but it’s still strange.  Wilbur goes with the easiest reply.  “Thanks, Tommy.”

“For what?”

“Not giving up,” Wilbur is so tender.

Tommy feels as if the air had been pulled from his lungs.  “But I did give up,” he says with the intonation of someone whose ribs were being constricted.  “I was gonna bury you.  After I knew Dream was gone- I hinged all my fucking hope on what that evil, stupid dickhead could do for me.  I did give up, Wil.  Don’t put that kind of faith on me.”

Wilbur doesn’t take it back, he doesn’t even argue, he just looks at him with a quiet sort of pity.  “Say what you like, Tommy.  You never gave up.”

“But I did, I fucking told you I did-“

“You said you were gonna bury me.”

“I- What?”

“You were going to give me a grave.”

Tommy stares at him, like he doesn’t know what to make of him.  “Yeah.  Yeah, ‘course we were.”

“Not of course you were.  I didn’t get a grave last time, Tommy,” Wilbur says with this slow, intent certainty Tommy finds difficult to challenge.  “You were still gonna take care of me.  Only way left.  That’s what normally happens when someone dies.  When resurrection isn’t an option, because it shouldn’t be an option, that's how you take care of the dead.  That is not you giving up on me, Tommy.  I know you’d never do that.  You were going to keep living.”

Tommy laughs a little weakly, “was I?”

Wilbur shrugs, “that’s more your area of expertise, but in those last months of Limbo, I never felt you growing closer.  Not after that last time.”

“Oh.  Cool.”

“Cool?” Wilbur gives him a look, eyebrows raised.

“What d’you want me to say to your magic death sensing powers from beyond the grave?” Tommy says with sarcastic melodrama.

“Right, fair,” Wilbur laughs.  “You might want to turn in soon.  I’ll probably try to get some sleep too.  Promise.”

Tommy nods, but he doesn’t move.

“I also don’t mind staying up,” Wilbur continues.  “Pretty sure I’ve got insomnia at this point.”

Tommy gives him a reproachful look.  “You said you were sleeping sometimes.”

“Yeah.  Sometimes,” Wilbur teases.  “Go on, then.  What’s banging around that empty skull of yours?”

“Oy!” Tommy pouts.  “I’m a fucking genius and you know it!”

“Hmm I think genius might be a stretch,” Wilbur says with the air of a big brother who knows just the right buttons to press.

“Oh yeah, sure.  Mr. Big Brains over here doesn’t even know how to sleep.  Psh,” Tommy scoffs.

“I mean, I do know how to sleep.”

“Oh yeah, then why aren’t you?”

Wilbur grins, “I actually don’t have a counter point to that one.  Maybe you’re right.  I just don’t know how to sleep.”

“Of course I’m right.  I’m Tommyinnit, I’m always right.”

“And humble too.”

“We already did this bit.  Yeah, and humble too,” Tommy says patronizingly, like Wilbur is being stupid.

Wilbur laughs.  Tommy fucking loves it when he makes Wilbur laugh like that.

“So, you wanna tell me why you aren’t sleeping then, oh wise Tommyinnit, genius of all things?” Wilbur says teasingly.

Tommy frowns.  “Aw, why’d you have to ruin it and go back to the boring stuff?”  He whines.

“Does boring just mean something you don’t want to talk about?”

“Obviously.  Why would I wanna talk about something boring?” Tommy rolls his eyes.

Wilbur gives him another moment to continue on his own.  Then he pushes.  “Is it the nightmare?  Still haven’t quite gotten rid of the cobwebs?”

Tommy’s gloom grows more blatant, shoulders hunched inward.  “Yeah, cobwebs.  He is like a little fuckin’ spider, inne?  Just crawlin’ around in the corner so I can’t shake him out…”

Wilbur’s amusement fades.  “Still feels like that, does it?  That stuck?”

“Well,” Tommy grimaces, mulling it over.  “Kind of?  And also not?  Some days I don’t think about him at all.  But like.  Objectively, Dream still scares me and I know he’s never gonna hurt me again.  And those two things don’t somehow cancel out.  But… maybe that’s okay.  Because I do know Dream can’t hurt me, and me remembering the fear, I like that better to thinking Dream was my friend and shit.  And I like that I can like something better and have it go my way, yeah?”

Wilbur nods.  “I guess that makes sense.  I remember getting caught up in the details in Limbo in a sort of similar way.  Not the friend part, but the… the thinking it was something it wasn’t?  Just trying to figure out why I was like that.  Why being dead was like that.”

“Ever find any answers?”

Wilbur laughs bitterly. “No.”  A pause.  Wilbur has a question he doesn’t know if he should ask.  “Now, I know his logic means absolutely nothing.  It’s not justifiable or logical or anything near fucking human, but…”

“What?” Tommy pushes when Wilbur’s rambling trails off.

“Do you ever think about why he did it?”

Tommy goes quiet and Wilbur immediately regrets it.

“Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have, I dunno why I asked anyway–”

“No, it’s… it’s a fair question,” Tommy says maybe too mildly.  “I’ve thought about it, obviously.  Somewhat then, but not really.  Back then it was more of the same shit, ‘it’s probably my fault I should just keep my head down bla bla this is probably what’s best, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit,’ you know,” Tommy waves it off dismissively.  “And now that I know that’s all bullshit, I guess…”  Tommy knows this isn’t the answer that will make Wilbur feel better, but Tommy doesn’t really care.  “Tubbo thinks– and, well.  He’s probably right.  Dream said he wanted to be immortal.  Tubbo thinks he…” Tommy stops and Wilbur notes he doesn’t actually looks upset, rather just disapproving.  “Must’ve done it for fun,” Tommy shrugs.

Wilbur yet again thinks he really shouldn’t have fucking asked.  “Fucking christ, man, I am–”

“If you say you’re sorry I’m gonna punt you into the sun.”

“S-so… uh.  Okay, I don’t have a smooth recovery from that one,” Wilbur’s shoulders hunch inward, a hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah,” Tommy scoffs.  “Well, since you have asked.  I also think… it’s better, that there wasn’t some grand reason.  For Dream or cosmically or whatever the fuck.  I don’t think anything could’ve justified what he did, but… I’m glad there’s nothing to try, yeah?  Like, no one’s trying to put a bow around my trauma so it’s wrapped up all neat and other people can pretend that makes it manageable when I’m the one whose finger gets caught in the ribbon.”

“You– what?”

“You know,” Tommy gestures to his one good index finger.  “When you… when you tie a bow and shit and you accidentally tie your finger in it.”

“...Right,” Wilbur pretends he follows.

“And, I know this– Okay, this isn’t me justifying shit, so, don’t try to fucking therapize me,” Tommy says warningly.  “But if I have to ask myself what it was what for and shit, well.  I’m glad I got to keep you,” Tommy leaves no room for argument, eyebrows furrowed together, somehow looking so much older and also exactly his age.

“Tommy…”

“Don’t you try it, man.  I’m serious.  This isn’t me finding a fucking silver lining or some shit.  Nothing about it was good for me.  For either of us, but– but, if it weren’t for all of this horrible– horrible shit, you’d still be dead.  So.  Maybe by a fucking fluke, it cleaned up your…” Now Tommy falters, unsure of how to put it.  Your mess just seems cruel.

“My mistake,” Wilbur finishes for him, so sure and understanding it’s almost like another apology.  This one Tommy won’t protest.  Wilbur sighs, leaning back against the cool stone steps, not caring as it digs into his back.  “I’ll… I’ll let that all fall into place, okay?  It was a mistake.  And this somehow undid that mistake.  And that doesn’t justify what happened to you, but…”  Wilbur looks at Tommy, dark eyes with something like a storm stirring behind them, but it’s not the kind of storm that leaves Tommy fearing a lightning strike.  “If you want me here, I should be here.” 

Tommy smiles, calmed and maybe a little proud.  “Good.”

Wilbur hesitates, mulling something over in his head, he sits up again, elbows resting on his knees.  “Okay.  This is… probably not constructive, but I keep on getting caught up thinking… well, okay.  First off, me being here at all, getting the chance to live again feels like something lucky.  So it feels a bit shit to complain, and stop me if me roping you into this isn’t fair, but,” Wilbur pauses, still staring out at New L’Manberg.  “We’re never going to get properly all the way better.”

“Real genius, you are,” Tommy says dryly.

“I know, I know, stating the obvious,” Wilbur brushes him off.

“No, no, well, I mean, yeah, but really half-assing it is what you’re doing,” Tommy says scoldingly.  “You think I haven't had the same fucking stupid thought forever now?  Nah.  You’re right, we are never going to be properly all the way better.  Not gonna be who we were before.  Think that bit is pretty typical, though.  I mean, you’re not still a baby.”  Tommy points out.  He sighs, but without weight, rather put at ease.  “But as for us, I’d argue we’re never going to stop getting better, eh?  And when we slide backwards and shit gets rough, that’s just more getting better-ing that we’ve got to get doing.”

Not for the first time, nor will it be the last time, Tommy has stumped him with something so simply and genuinely profound.  Wilbur stares at him and Tommy doesn’t know what to do with his brother looking so amazed.

“What?” Tommy says defensively.

“When’d you get to be such an optimist?”

“Um, fucking always?” Tommy scoffs.  “You think I could’ve survived all this shit, any of it, if I weren’t an optimist?”

“Guess not,” Wilbur is still staring at him.  Maybe he should’ve known better.  Tommy has never given up before.  “You’ve grown.”

Tommy stares back, unwavering.  So much weight behind two simple words.  “That’s what happens when you keep living.”

Wilbur expects this, finally breaking away and looking back into the dark.  He’d been prepared for something painful; why else would he have said it again?

Tommy continues, “so have you.”

“What?” Wilbur looks back at him, his first thought being he's misunderstood, but of course he hasn't.  His expression softens and that instinctive bitterness Wilbur has fought so hard against is washed away by Tommy so easily.

"Come on, don’t look at me like I just asked you to the fucking ball, I mean it,” Tommy breaks the tension in that typical way of his.  “I mean it.  So have you.”  Unspoken, because you kept living.

“I can try not to be sappy, but…” Wilbur makes a decision.  Not an easy one, but it comes to him as naturally as breathing.  He decides to believe him.  “I’m glad I’ve grown.”

Tommy smiles, proud of them both.  “Yeah, me too.”

It’s cooler out the deeper the night has wore on.  It’s nice.  Helps Tommy clear his head a bit.  This close to New L’Manberg’s lanterns he can’t really make out many stars, but the view is pretty either way.

“You know, not gonna lie, New L’Manberg is probably prettier than the OG,” Tommy admits.

“Really?” Wilbur glances at him, surprised.  “Even with the crater?”

“Yeah, actually.  Maybe it’s prettier because we had to make more of it.  To make up for the,” Tommy gestures in the general direction of the crater, whose waters glisten in the light of the lanterns, but their depths remain dark.  In the day it will look far more alive, but for now it’s just a reflection of what they’ve built above it.

“I’m proud of you all.  For doing this.  I should tell Tubbo that too,” Wilbur says, looking back to the wooden houses, the city on stilts.  “You all made something new.  And… okay, I stand by what I said on the 16th.”

“What?” Tommy is puzzled, giving him a worried look.

“Bear with me here,” Wilbur knocks shoulders with him gently.  “I said L’Manberg could never be what it once was.  That I think is still true.  But in other ways, you and Tubbo and all the rest beautifully proved me wrong.  The world is not better off without L’Manberg.  In some form.”

Tommy feels a warmth growing brighter in his chest.  He hadn’t realized he needed to hear Wilbur say that until he said it.  “Just like the world isn’t better off without you.  Right?”

Wilbur laughs softly, eyes already shining.  He’d just barely kept it together so far, and here Tommy goes and makes it impossible for him to hate himself.  Not on a night like this.  I’ve grown.  The thought persists, not a fire burning in his chest, it’s a relief, the calm after the storm.  “Don’t say that, I’ll cry.”

“Then cry, bitch.  I won’t take it back,” Tommy teases him.  “And come on, it makes sense.  L’Manberg didn’t stay dead and neither did we.  Might be too good a metaphor, actually,” Tommy sighs, almost wistful.  “Never gonna be the same, but still here.  Just… on stilts,” Tommy taps his cane on the stairs again, both to emphasize his point and just something to do with that restlessness still ill contained inside of him.

“We should try to get some sleep,” Wilbur stands, stretching until his bones crack loud enough to make Tommy wince.

“Yeah,” Tommy stands as well.  He pauses, staring toward the prime path, but he doesn’t leave.

“You wanna crash here tonight?” Wilbur says before he can walk away.

“In your little shithole?  Where?” Tommy tries to stay aloof, but he hasn’t said no.

Wilbur shrugs.  “You take the bed.  I’m a big boy, I can sleep on the floor for one night.”

“Old man, more like it,” Tommy scoffs, but he follows Wilbur into the camarvan.  “I don’t think your bones can take it.  I can take the floor.  Not like it’s obsidian.”

“No, no you don’t do that, especially not saying ominous stuff like that.  You let me be the super generous and cool big brother and take the bed,” Wilbur tries to be stubborn.  He’s lost his touch.

Tommy gives him a look before dragging Wilbur’s mattress off the wooden frame and onto the floor.  Wilbur stares, far too tired for this and baffled.  “So.  Who’s sleeping on the floor now?”

“We both are, dipshit.  We’ll lay on it on the short side, so.  Our legs will be on the floor, I guess, but it’s fair,” Tommy is far too proud of himself.

“Right.  So neither of us sleep well.”

“We don’t sleep well already,” Tommy says pointedly.

“Fine.  Now shut up and go to sleep,” Wilbur doesn’t even bother taking off his coat or grabbing a blanket.

“You’re like a fucking animal.  Do you ever change out of that coat?” Tommy rolls his eyes, laying down across from him.

“Shush.  Sleep,” Wilbur mutters.

Tommy doesn’t sleep just yet, he finally gets settled, but a slow dawning thought takes up space instead of rest.  Tommy stares at the roof of the camarvan.  At the blue tinted skylight.  It really is a perfect copy.

“You… you remember this, yeah?” Tommy says a little hoarsely now.

“What’re you talking about, man?” Wilbur groans, burying his face in his pillow.

Tommy reaches out and hits Wilbur’s arm.  “You know.  But… we’d only sleep in here when it rained because it got too crowded.”

Wilbur rolls over, following his gaze to the skylight.  He understands.

“The table was in the middle then.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, me and Tubbo were squished between the table and the counters with the brewing stands on…” Tommy lifts his head up, “on that side, right?  And you always slept up front.  And… and…” Tommy sits up now.  “Eret slept by the back wall.  And Fundy took the other side.  And… I guess me and Tubbo didn’t need to sleep next to each other, one of us could’ve gone up on the other side of the table, but we… I dunno, we didn’t,” Tommy flops back down.  “By the time… after the war when we had Niki and Jack we also had more places to stay, so.  We didn’t get that with them so much.  But… you know.  You remember,” Tommy almost says it like a question.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I do,” Wilbur says quietly.  He remembers sitting in the front seat, and that early he did sleep some, instead of staying awake wondering how they would all survive.  Before the war really began, when he was still radiant with hope.

“That was good,” Tommy says.  It’s so simple, those three words, but Wilbur feels the weight of them, a gentle ache in his chest.

“Yeah, it was.”

Tommy smiles softly, he knows he’s changed and so has everything else, but at least he can still look up at that skylight, and remember looking at those same stars.  Nostalgia is a kindness again, even if it cannot be untied fully from grief.  He knows Wilbur is still staring at him, understanding him even.

“Go to sleep, man,” Tommy rolls over away from him.

They sleep until after dawn.  Tommy doesn’t have another nightmare.

~

Tubbo and Ranboo go by Tommy’s house near noon, but he isn’t there.

“Huh,” Ranboo shrugs.  “Maybe he went on ahead?”

“Yeah, probably.”  Tubbo feels a quiet undercurrent of relief, barely a thing of note, that Tommy not being where he’s expected to be is no longer a thing of terror, and instead a wonderfully meaningless one.

They’re approaching New L’Manberg still without sign of Tommy, but Wilbur is awake, sitting outside the Camarvan.

“Hey, Wilbur– you seen Tommy?” Tubbo calls ahead.

“Yep,” Wilbur jabs his thumb over his shoulder back toward his home.  “That kid could sleep for a week, I swear.”

“He slept over here?” Ranboo asks.

“Nightmare?” Tubbo cuts in.

“Yeah, you know how it is.  Slept better once he got here, though.  Do you want me to grab him?” Wilbur stands, stretching, his knees cracking.

“Nah, we’ve got him,” Tubbo steps up, pushing past Wilbur and into his home like he owns the place, Ranboo following a bit more apologetically.  Tommy is barely on the mattress laid out on the floor, his head hanging off of it, mouth open as he sleeps.  He’s back to his old ways, Tubbo notes.  A blanket hog taking up as much room as possible.  Perfect.  “Tommy?” Tubbo announces himself first, before gently nudging Tommy’s shoulder.  He knows how this goes by now, he has to announce himself first, and Tommy might still jump and you do not under any circumstances say wake up.  A muffled noise of discontent comes from underneath the blankets, Tommy’s half visible face scowling, eyes shut tight.  “Come on, bossman, you’ve already slept half the day away.”

A hand emerges only to halfheartedly swat Tubbo away like an annoying fly.  Tubbo steps back before Tommy can accidentally slap him.

“It would be too mean to take him down to the docks and throw him in, yeah?” Tubbo whispers.

“Uh.  Yes.  Unless your goal is to actually terrorize him,” Ranboo replies dryly.

“Hm.  Maybe not terrorize.  Just annoy,” Tubbo says thoughtfully.  Tubbo thinks over the odds of Tommy swinging a knife at them if he’s startled.  They’re relatively high, but the odds of Tommy actually stabbing one of them are a bit lower.

Tubbo has a water bucket.

“You’re not gonna..?” Ranboo is more reluctant.

“No, I’m not gonna dump it on him,” Tubbo whispers back.  “Just…” Tubbo gets his hand wet, stepping up beside Tommy, flicking off the water onto his face.

Tommy makes a noise somewhere between confusion and outrage, sitting up sharply and almost smacking his head against Tubbo’s.

“Did you just spit on me?!” Tommy shouts.

“No!  No, I did not!” Tubbo is torn between defending himself and laughing.

“No– No you just spit on me!  My face is all wet– fucking gross, man!” Tommy whines.

“It’s water, Tommy!  It’s just water,” Tubbo’s efforts to bury a laugh grow weaker.

“You’re laughing?  You laughing at me?”  Tommy tackles Tubbo, the bucket of water flooding Wilbur’s home.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Tubbo wheezes without an ounce of guilt.

“Come on, guys, just– oh no–” Ranboo jumps up onto the counter before the water can reach him.  This was supposed to be a relaxing day where he wouldn’t need armor.

“What the fuck are you all doing to my house?” Wilbur ducks back inside.  He stares forlornly at the now drenched mattress on the floor.  “Oh.  Oh this sucks.  Look– Look, you guys got the Enderman up on the counter like a fucking cat– you ruined my bed, so how about you all take this outside?”

Tommy and Tubbo stop, limbs tangled together, Tubbo with Tommy half in a headlock and Tommy definitely about to bite down on Tubbo’s arm.

“Actually, Tubs, could you– Not around my neck, don’t– don’t–” Tommy feels a flicker of panic, tapping against Tubbo’s arm rapidly, who immediately lets go.  “J-Just not trapped– I can’t–”

“Oh, yeah, no problem, Tommy.”

Tommy calms easily enough, the two of them still falling over each other on Wilbur’s now soaked floors.

“Fucking christ– Just– Just–” Wilbur sighs.  “Drag this shit out into the sun so maybe I’ll get some actual sleep tonight, yeah?”

They exchange a look, staring from Ranboo crouched on the counter very much like a cat to each other and their soaked clothes.  They collapse into giggly hysterics for reasons somehow only known between the two of them.

Wilbur scowls.  “I’m never letting you stay over again.”

“Aw, you don’t mean it,” Tommy scrambles to his feet.  “Come on, Wilby–”

“Wilby!” Wilbur’s irritation sharply becomes vicious delight.  “You did it!”

“What?! What, no– No, I didn’t–”

“You called me Wilby again! You did!” Wilbur cackles.

“I did not!” Tommy chases him outside.

“It was a puddle, Ranboo.  You’re wearing flipflops.  You would’ve been fine,” Tubbo teases him.

“I would not, flipflops are barely shoes!” Ranboo pouts.

“Do you want me to carry you safely away from the terrible flood, Ranboo,” Tubbo says with mocking sympathy.

“As if you could,” Ranboo scoffs.

Tubbo gives a look of perfectly calm innocence.

“You…” Ranboo stares at him.  “Whoa– Hold on– waitwaitwait– put me down, oh my god, put me down!”

“Nope!  Not until you’re safe and far away from the water.  You’re not getting hurt on my watch!” Tubbo says smartly, Ranboo helplessly thrown over his shoulder and so tall it’s a miracle they haven’t both fallen over.

“Okay, okay, we’re outside, we’re away from the water, you can put me down–”

“But surely we should get to higher ground first!  The ground could be damp!”

“Oh, you are sooo gonna pay for this,” Ranboo grumbles.

“Am I really?”

“Yep,” and with that, Ranboo makes sure they both fall over, throwing his weight to the side and taking Tubbo down with him.

“Ow,” Tubbo lies flat on his back.  “You’re so mean.”

“I’m mean!” Ranboo laughs, clambering off the ground.

“Yeah.  So mean,” Tubbo lays an arm across his eyes, full of self pity.

“What’d you do to Tubbo?” Tommy stops his efforts, throwing Wilbur’s mattress onto the grass.

“Just on the ground?!” Wilbur blusters.

“Where the fuck do you want it, then?!” Tommy shouts back.

“On the– On the wood or something, not in the mud!” Wilbur snaps, grabbing the mattress, hauling it much more pathetically onto the wooden platforms.

“Quit your nagging old man, we’ve got important shit to do,” Tommy leaves him.  “Come on, Tubbo, you’re not tired already, are you?”  He grabs Tubbo’s arm and tugs him off the ground.  Now they head toward their original destination over the hill.

They take off shoes and socks and Tommy lays his still bloodstained green bandana beside Tubbo’s faded and frayed red one and Ranboo stays fully clothed, albeit not in armor, intending on getting some sun and reading or some other boring shit that Tommy has no interest in, if not he’ll go bother Wilbur or Phil or something.  Ranboo is definitely not suited for Tommy and Tubbo’s plans for the day.  The three of them stroll down the dock and Tubbo and Tommy both keep Ranboo between them so he isn’t anywhere near the edge of the water.

Tommy had agreed to this.  They were in the height of summer heat now and at the time it had sounded like a good idea.  The water in the crater underneath New L’Manberg was too still, it was more occupied by fish, but out in the cove around the docks the water is clear and cool, stirred by waves.

The thing is, in recent memory Tommy hasn’t had the best time swimming.  Especially not in salt water.  If he thinks about it too hard, he can already taste it, the burn, the weight of it filling his throat when all he wants is air.

He’s had happy memories swimming too.  One’s that he can recall untainted, because it hadn’t been salt water.  It had been rivers and lakes and easy days, their L’Manberg coats left to dry on a rock as Tommy and Tubbo tried to get Fundy to join them.

It all comes back to the salt.

“You know, we don’t have to jump in.  We can go around the pier, to the sand, you know,” Tubbo sees him staring over the edge, transfixed, and he tries.

“Okay, bitch, feel free.  Don’t forget a fuckin’ pool noodle too,” Tommy says haughtily.

“Oh yeah?  Jump in, then,” Tubbo teases him.

“From here?”  Tommy scoffs.  “Nah– I’m jumping off from the top and I’ll beat you there,” Tommy pushes him lightly, just enough to make Tubbo yelp as he teeters a bit closer to the edge, but by then Tommy is sprinting toward the wooden platforms built up over the water.  He doesn’t notice that his leg doesn’t hurt, and that is its own victory.  The absence of pain is no longer a surprise.  He still has his bad days, it requires constant maintenance with physical therapy or his progress just disappears, and long trips he keeps his cane close, but he no longer expects it to always hurt.  That’s more than enough.

He can hear Tubbo right behind him and now the sound of footsteps at his heels does not send sparks of terror through him.  He knows Tubbo’s footsteps as well as his own.  Tommy stops sharply, three storeys up, the sky is so big and so blue and it touches the water so easily there is only a thin line between above and below and it’s all so big, but Tommy isn’t scared of it.  He looks down.  The waves are gentle, still, it’s quite the drop.

“Look,” Tubbo pants, catching his breath.  “I’ll jump if you do.”

“Yeah?” Tommy doesn’t look at him, only straight down at the sea.

“Yeah.”

Tommy can’t bury a smirk, crooked delight overtaking him for reasons he can’t quite name.  “Countdown?”

“Ten,” Tubbo steps up beside him, their shoulders touching.  “Nine.”  Tommy steps up even closer to the edge, his toes over open air before he steps back again.  Not yet.  “Eight.”  Tubbo sounds a little nervous.  Tommy doesn’t tease him for it.  “Seven.”  Tommy feels like there’s just a spark of lightning inside of him, he is remembering when a touch of adrenaline meant fun.   “Six.”  He’s ready.  “Five.”  Tommy isn’t wearing his goggles, and the sun is still too bright, but he’ll manage knowing he can block it out if needed.  “Five– Wait, fuck–”  

Tommy laughs, barking and sharp.  “Four, Tubso.”

“Right,” Tubbo laughs, a giggle almost under his breath.  Tommy glances up from the water over at him.  Tubbo is young.  He is eighteen years old.  He looks it too, scars and all.  Tommy must look seventeen, scars and all.  Tommy is seventeen years old and the days will pass as days and nothing more until he will turn eighteen, and then he’ll keep going.  Time is no longer something that can be stolen or pulled apart or bottled.  He’s quite alright with that.  “Three, two, one.”

Tommy doesn’t hesitate when he steps off this ledge, and maybe it was naive of him not to realize the parallels he was drawing, but the comparison feels so feeble now.  Falling doesn’t feel like dying anymore.  Tommy is in freefall, he shouts his joy into the wind tugging past and the water rushes up to meet him, catching him none too gently, the bottom of his feet sting and the taste of salt is overwhelming, he’s sinking through the water and this pace is familiar, this sluggish gravity hints at limbo but any comparison stops there.  Here there is still dappled sunlight pressing against his closed eyes and there’s water annoyingly in his nose and it’s not silent.  Not silent by a longshot with the easy current stirring against his skin, just like it isn’t empty.  Tommy is back in a beautifully mortal sea, but he doesn’t drown.  He breaks the surface and breathes.  

He’s with Tubbo again and it’s summer.  Tommy feels alive.

~

Wilbur still has a hard time knowing what to do with himself, especially when he can’t follow Tommy around.  And without Tommy around to tell him off, he does end up smoking more when he’s alone.

Although, he’s not always alone.

“Light?” Quackity, at least to Wilbur’s often distracted mind, seemed to almost appear beside him.

“W-What?” Wilbur stares at him.

Quackity raises an eyebrow, taking the unlit cigarette out of his mouth, glancing to Wilbur’s own lit one.  “I uh, I was wondering if I could borrow a light?”

“A–? Oh!  Oh, yeah,” Wilbur fumbles in his coat pocket.

Quackity still looks curiously amused as Wilbur lights the cigarette.  “Still wearing that thing, are you?”  He says as Wilbur shoves the lighter back in his coat pocket.

“What?”

“That coat, man.  It was kinda gross before the… everything that happened after Pogtopia, and now…” Quackity grimaces sympathetically.  “Could use a wardrobe change,” he turns half away, looking over New L’Manberg.

Wilbur’s current favorite smoking spot is up on the hillside, in the shade perhaps too close to Ghostbur’s sewers.  Wilbur hasn’t gone back there– or, he supposes, in this state of being, in this living body, gone to the sewer for the first time.  But there’s something peaceful about being up here.  He can look out over New L’Manberg in its entirety.  Things have changed so much around here that Wilbur almost forgets not too far from here is where he first tried to end things.  Tried.  It no longer counts as a successful attempt, not really in the long run. Good.

This coat still has a hole in the back.  The exit wound of a sword outlined in tatters.

“Yeah.  I probably should,” Wilbur admits.  The coat is comforting, somehow.  It’s heavy, the material soft from being so heavily worn, but stiff and sturdy in ways that, if Wilbur really thinks about it, probably has to do with how disgusting the coat probably is from old blood and dirt.  “I like having all the pockets,” is the feeble excuse Wilbur settles on.

Quackity laughs in that dry, charming way of his.  “You can get another coat with pockets.”

“Touché.”

They haven’t really talked since Wilbur became alive again.  Wilbur knows he must have at least seen Quackity in all that time, the guy has hung around often enough, kept New L’Manberg together.  Although, New L’Manberg hardly needed a leader, or even a government, when everyone who had tried to destroy them was either gone or had grown up, Quackity and Sapnap being prime examples, but he still seemed to want to check in.

Wilbur attempts to catch up.  “How are Karl and Sapnap?”

“Good, you know, they’re good,” Quackity says with a temperamental level of authenticity, nodding.  Quackity gestures with his cigarette vaguely.  “Sapnap…” He takes a drag, exhaling too heavily, Wilbur waits while he clears his throat.  “He’s still kinda… trying to make sense of it all.  In a way, we all are.  But especially for him.  I mean, he was his best friend.  Feels like a lifetime ago, but I guess not for him.  And it’s not like he’s conflicted or some shit, it’s just, he thought he knew him and he turned out to be a fucking monster.  That takes some processing,” Quackity shrugs, Wilbur hums in agreement.  “And Karl is…” Quackity trails off, clearly lost in a deep thought that Wilbur is not necessarily privy to.  “He’s got us both a little worried, but we’re all trying to figure it out together.”  A weighted pause, Quackity returning to some old conviction kept close to his chest.  “We’re making it up as we go, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur follows his gaze back out to his former city-state.  From here, he can’t see them, but he knows Tommy and Tubbo are just over the hillside.  Ranboo has returned to the main platforms of New L’Manberg and is chatting with Phil.  “I think that’s all any of us are doing, really.”

“Yeah,” Quackity agrees, still musing.  “Just a couple of fuck ups doing our best, right?” He sighs, not bitterly, but almost content.

It’s been a long time.  For Wilbur, at least, it’s been a long time, but he hasn’t forgotten everything.  He and Quackity, they’d understood each other in a particularly ugly, vicious way.  And it looks like they’ve both pushed past that ugliness, but Wilbur knows, at least for himself, some parts of that stayed and will probably always stay.

“So, do you talk to them?  To Karl and Sapnap.”

“Talk to them?  I mean, obviously.  What’d you mean?” Quackity is cautious in an instant, sensing Wilbur’s shift to something a little past smalltalk, and Wilbur knows if he wants anything from the man he’ll have to show some weakness and offer up part of himself first.

“I mean, I’ve tried.  I’ve talked some.  With my own family, you know, Tommy, Phil, all them,” Wilbur talks like he’s pulling teeth, he would know.  “It’s hard.  You said it, we’re both fuck ups, and at least for me, that means the… the shitty things I’ve done, yeah?  And…” Wilbur doesn’t know how he’s doing this.  Being vulnerable in his first chat with former-friend, former-rival, former- something, Quackity HQ.  “Even dead, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Tommy how fucked up I was.  Even when it was pretty clear Tommy already knew.  But I’m trying, yeah?  And… I think you might understand some of that.”

Quackity looks genuinely surprised, even startled.  “Y-Yeah, I… I think I know what you mean.”  This is different from miserably rubbing elbows with dry sarcasm about whatever is wrong with the two of them.  Quackity knew Wilbur came back different, but this was… well, Quackity had admired Wilbur a long time ago for reasons as far from this as they could get, but maybe for a moment, maybe for longer than a moment, Quackity admires Wilbur again, for something Quackity is only just learning to appreciate himself.  Wilbur is trying.  And yes, they’d just been over that, they’re fucked up and they’re making it up as they go, but it’s not just for their families.  Wilbur is trying for himself as well.

Maybe Quackity should elaborate, explain his own side of whatever this is, but instead he just stares over the hillside and says a soft, “huh,” of understanding.

Quackity is hard for Wilbur to read now.  He doesn’t remember him being this way, then again, maybe Wilbur had been younger and more inclined to make assumptions than actually try to figure out what Quackity was thinking.  Quackity has grown too, and is more inclined to tell him what he’s thinking, and to give Wilbur something kind enough to take his breath away again.  “You know, I think it’s really good you’re back.  That’s probably… a kinda redundant thing to say,” he laughs, half under his breath, still not looking at him, like he hasn’t just handed Wilbur something precious.  “And I dunno if they still need us, if you know what I mean, but I think they should still have us, you know?”

Maybe Wilbur shouldn’t be able to follow such a vague train of thought, but he does.  He isn’t sure how he’s going to manage Quackity being happy to have him back, so he’ll deal with what he can manage.

“Thank you,” Wilbur says.

Now Quackity looks at him, puzzled.  “For what?”

“For taking care of them,” Wilbur explains, soft and almost apologetic.  He doesn’t know if there are the words to properly tell Quackity how grateful he is.  “I was gone, and– and you took care of them.”

Quackity almost winces.  “Maybe don’t thank me, alright?  Did a pretty shit job of it, though, considering.”

“I don’t give a shit how good you were at it.  You were there, weren’t you?” Wilbur says more fiercely now, and with it, unspoken, and I wasn’t.

Yet again, Quackity knows exactly what’s unsaid, on whatever peculiar shared wavelength they’ve always had over the years, staring at Wilbur with wide eyes.  The pause extends, heavy between them.  Quackity breaks the stare.  He nods.  “Yeah.  Well, if that’s all it takes to make the grade nowadays, you’re here now.  Thanks for coming back,” he smirks, like they share an inside joke.

Wilbur laughs even if he doesn’t quite know why.  “Any time.”

They both know they shouldn’t, but they keep smoking, and maybe it’s a little less pathetic with company.

~

Tommy had forgotten that exhaustion could be peaceful.  Late afternoon, they’ve left the water behind, instead finding a place in the sun in New L’Manberg to sit wrapped up in towels.

“I’ve been thinking of some shit,” is how Tommy begins.

“Good for you, man.  That sounds hard,” Tubbo teases him.

“Fuck off,” Tommy’s retort is almost instinctive nowadays.  He continues, “I’ve been thinking about doing something.”

“Okay, that’s terrifyingly vague,” Ranboo raises an eyebrow.

Tommy looks at both of them.  A very old friend and a far newer one who had helped to save him.  He had told Tubbo and Ranboo that he didn’t know how to choose for himself anymore.  He didn’t know what to do with himself, because he’s not used to anything like free will.  Tommy knows what he wants to do.  Maybe it’s a foolish thing, a desperate ignorance, even something childish.  Tommy is stubbornly proud of his ability to want something that might be unreasonable.

It isn’t easy, Tommy trying to explain, but Ranboo and Tubbo listen all the same.  “I want to do something.  We’ve got… I’m here now.  And I want to… I dunno.  Have an event that doesn’t end bloody.  Kind of to… to thank everyone for all the shit they’ve done, but also for…” Tommy forces the words out, they feel like such a delicate thing.  “For L’Manberg.”

“Yeah?” Tubbo’s voice softens, but he understands.

“I want it to be all of us,” Tommy says.

“Who’s all?  That’s also a bit vague.”

“Well, at first I thought just the originals, but that felt unfair, you know?  Like, Niki and Jack are obvious.  But even then, there’s more to it, yeah?  No offense, Ranboo.”

“Nah, fair enough,” he shrugs.

“I get what you mean,” Tubbo considers this carefully.  “There are a lot of people who helped us, but who weren’t there.  Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, but I think them too.  Which… sot of defeats the purpose of a thing for L’Manberg, but even if they weren’t there there, they were still there, yeah?” Tommy offers as explanation.  “And it’s not a festival or some shit,” Tommy says quickly.  “I don’t think we should have another one of them.  It’s more just…”  Tommy doesn’t know how to describe what he wants.  What he really wants is a return to the old days, sitting around a campfire with people he trusted with his life, eating the same food, singing a new anthem.  He knows it won’t be that.  He just wants something, even if he can’t fully describe what.  “We just need a reason.”

~

Wilbur doesn’t know how he got here, but he feels incredibly lucky.

Tommy wanted everyone and they would have everyone, but he also wanted it to be them first.

That is how Wilbur found himself sitting on the floor of his Camarvan, Tommy and Tubbo chatting away, sitting on top of the counter right behind him, Tommy as always talking the loudest, and Fundy and Eret familiar with learning to have their own conversation around him.  Jack looks somewhat bored, sitting cross legged across from Niki, holding a mirror as she puts on makeup.

Wilbur wasn’t sure whose idea the dress code was, but it had been decided everyone would dress for a party.  Not fancy necessarily, the goal was more meant to be fun.

Wilbur has on a clean white button up on, faded to grey, striped with pale pink.  He’s also wearing a long brown coat.  A new long brown coat.  Quackity had turned up with it, it wasn’t a gift, wrapped up and offered with a card, it wasn’t even a favor.  Quackity had just shrugged and handed it to him and said “If you want to keep wearing that nasty old coat, fine.  But you can’t say I didn’t try.”

Wilbur still has that nasty old coat, buried in a chest somewhere.  He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.  The thought was like tearing off a limb.  The one Quackity had given him wasn’t identical, but it was close enough that Wilbur could find comfort in it.  Maybe it helps that there isn’t a hole in the back, a constant reminder of an old exit wound.  It’s summer, no one is wearing a coat.  Out of the sun, Wilbur finds a way to be cold no matter what.  The coat helps.

Maybe his attire isn’t as put together as Jack’s blazer, and definitely not as fancy as Eret in a gown, but it’s all clean, not a stain or hole in it, and that’s as fancy as Wilbur gets nowadays.  Even Tommy had cleaned up, in his own Tommy-ish way.  That being he’s wearing a white button up underneath his usual red and white shirt and has a green bowtie on as well, Tubbo following his lead with his usual green shirt buttoned up correctly and a red bowtie to match Tommy’s.

Wilbur only half attempts to tune into the conversations.  A decade ago, or a bit over a year ago maybe, he’d always had something to say.  He’s still not used to conversation being an option, but it’s okay to just listen.  He does notice the way they’ve fractured off.  Tubbo and Tommy together of course, always, but Eret and Fundy have chosen their corner even if they don’t seem especially at ease with one another, just like Niki has dragged Jack aside with far more certainty.  They’re all together, but Wilbur sees the lines in the sand of things still left changed.  Even this lot is a fracture of history.  Eret being here maybe should seem wrong, but Niki and Jack don’t really know to feel that wrongness, and if Eret wasn’t meant to be here, Wilbur most definitely wasn’t.  If the lines get any blurrier, they should get Quackity and Ranboo back here as well, maybe even Phil.  They’ll come eventually.  This feels like a good start.

“Good?” Niki sits up, looking at Jack.

“Yeah.  I like the colors,” Jack says with halfhearted interest.  “Can I put the mirror away now?”

“Yes–” Niki seems to reconsider.  “If you let me put eyeshadow on you.”

Jack stares at her, reproachful.  “Will this take another twenty minutes?”

“I will just use red and blue.  Like your glasses, okay?” Niki teases him, lightly punching his arm.  “And it did not take twenty minutes.”

Jack shrugs, “I don’t care, but dunno what’s the point if it’s behind my glasses.”

“The point is fun, Jack, if you might recall,” Eret joins in.

“Yeah!  It doesn’t have to be just regular makeup,” Niki sifts through her bag.  “Actually, I have a bunch of old facepaint– I could paint something on your face as well, if you want?”

“Could you draw a bee on my face, Niki?” Tubbo perks up.

Niki laughs, endeared, “sure, Tubbo.”

“Yeah, alright, then– I dunno what you’d draw on me,” Jack shrugs.  “Do what you like.  My handsome face will be your canvas.”

“Good,” Niki nods smartly, scooting closer and leaning against him.  “Now, close your eyes.  And can you can you sit still?”

“I can’t if you’re gonna knock me over,” Jack grumbles.

“You can sit up for a few more minutes, Jack, I’m already done with the eyes,” Niki teases him, digging out something else from her bag.

Tubbo hops off the counter, sitting behind them, watching her work over her shoulder.  “What’s that supposed to be?”

Niki’s right side is toward the back wall, so the rest of them can’t see what she’s painting on Jack’s cheek.  Tommy hops down as well, “I want to see.”

“Just wait a second, I just started,” Niki rolls her eyes with little actual irritation.

“You should draw a dick on his face,” Tommy offers wisely.

“Who says I’m not?”  Niki shrugs, much to Tommy’s delight and Jack’s chagrin.

“Niki, please,” Jack says with genuine desperation.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Niki says mildly.

“Oh, I see!” Tubbo says brightly.  “That’s lovely!  Could you do that on mine as well?”

“What, you want a dick drawn on your cheek, Tubso?” Tommy makes himself look scandalized.

“Sure, Tubbo.  And if you’re not careful, Tommy, don’t think I’m above painting that on your cheek,” Niki is all mischief now.

“No, no I want to match Tubbo,” Tommy says quickly.  “And Jack Manifold too, I guess.”

“What is it?  You’re making me curious now too,” Fundy hops past Jack to join the rest of them.

“It’s getting too crowded,” Niki gives them all a look, making the three boys scoot back.

Fundy winces.  “Oh, no, Jack…” He sighs.  “I can’t believe you let her paint that on your face.”

“What?!” Now Jack is panicked, scrambling for the mirror.

Fundy cackles.

“Oh my god, Jack, you’re fine,” Niki laughs.

“Oh,” Jack sounds pleasantly surprised.  “Well, that’s alright then.  Actually, that’s great!”

“I told you they were messing with you, Jack.”

“No, no you actually didn’t, what you did say was much more ambiguous,” Jack says pointedly.

“Okay, Jack, just turn around, will you?” Eret speaks up.  “You all have actually got me intrigued.”

Jack turns to face the rest of them, and on his left cheek is a L’Manberg flag.

“Oh, Niki, that is awesome, dude!  What if–” Eret’s excitement turns more hesitant. They’d been a bit unsure since coming here, an invitation extended to them for L’Manberg is something that feels like a delicate thing.  “I was thinking, what if we all…”

“What if we all matched?” Fundy says for them.  “I’d… Yeah, I’d be down with that.  That was a good idea, Niki.”

Niki looks so proud, cheeks just a bit pinker.  “I think that sounds like a really nice idea.  But I’m not doing all the work.  You all can paint, can’t you?”  She dumps out her bag, Tommy and Tubbo immediately fighting over a brush.

Fundy avoids the pair of them.  “Eret?  I promise I won’t paint a dick on your face.”

“I don’t!” Eret replies cheerfully, seeming more at ease at Fundy’s easy agreement; that this was something for all of them, together.

Wilbur has been in a sort of daze, almost.  He’s been perfectly content to watch them all moving around him, but it’s like he isn’t quite sure how to cross back over, to be with them properly and completely.

“Wil?”

That is definitely his name, but it takes Wilbur a few seconds too long to realize Niki is talking to him.  “What?”

She turns to face him, patting the ground in front of her.  Her eyes look almost surrounded by fire.  “Do you not want to?”

“N-No, I do, I definitely do,” Wilbur quickly joins her.  “I just–” Wilbur doesn’t know how to explain.  That Wilbur had felt like his job was to be a silent observer.  Maybe just a holdover from Limbo, even as Ghostbur, he’d never let himself engage fully.  He’s alive and better in so many ways, but not in every way.  “Yeah, I do,” is all he says, sitting cross legged in front of her, staring at his own hands fidgeting in his lap.

“Wil,” Niki laughs.  “I can’t paint your face if you’re not looking at me.”

“Right, right,” Wilbur looks up.

Niki goes to say something, before thinking better of it.  Wilbur doesn’t know why she’s holding back.  She’s more than within her rights to make fun of him for looking like a nervous tourist in his own home.

“Can I put stuff on your eyes too?  Like I did with Jack?”  Is what she says instead.

Wilbur manages a teasing tone, taking off his glasses.  “Er, well, maybe not on my eyes, but on my eye lids I might allow–”

Niki gives him a look, brushing her hand over his face, against his eyelashes, so he’ll close them.  “You know that’s what I meant.”

“Right then, okay,” Wilbur laughs softly.  He lets his eyes close.

“Bend closer.  You’re sitting down and you’re still too tall,” Niki’s hand on his shoulder makes him shift his posture to something probably not ideal for his spine.  Wilbur didn’t mind.  The brush against his eyelids almost made him jump, but Niki’s hand on his shoulder stays, it keeps him steady.

Tubbo and Tommy are not keeping still, each trying to paint the cheek of the other.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to do it one at a time–?”

“No, no we’re doing great,” Tommy dismisses it.  “Look, my hands are already gonna shake, this way yours do too so it’s even!”

Tubbo laughs, “yeah, alright, then.”

Tommy bites his tongue, trying to focus on the brush enough to make a straight line.  “Stop smiling!  It’s all crooked when you smile,” Tommy pouts.

“You’re not holding still either,” Tubbo’s brush taps him on the nose.

Tommy leans back, gasping in offense.  “How dare you!”

Tubbo sticks his tongue out at him.  “I told you we should’ve taken turns.”

"Fine, you sit still, I paint,” Tommy nods smartly.

“Don’t draw something weird.”

“Fine, fine, but I am gonna make a bee.  And I make no promises on how that will turn out,” Tommy could have easily chosen mischief, instead, on Tubbo’s left cheek, he tries.  His hands don’t look so badly scarred alongside Tubbo’s own scarred face.  They fit together so nicely, even if Tommy’s skills with a paintbrush could use some work.  It looks more like a fly than a bee, but it’s a yellow fly, so Tommy thinks that should count.

“Are you done?”

“No, no wait, I wanna make flowers to go with it,” Tommy says, searching for more paints.  “A blue one… and a white one.”

“Oh–“ Tubbo’s tone softens to something far more delicate.  “Oh,” a gentle ache resonates in his chest.

Tommy knows what he’s said.  He leans against Tubbo, who remains steady.  He knows exactly why Tubbo is looking at him like that.  Tommy exhales a laugh, teasing and gentle.  “Just thought I’d return the favor.”

“Tommy…”

“No.  Hush.  You’ll distract me,” Tommy says.

Tubbo relents, content to let Tommy have his way, Tommy close enough that he’s breathing in his face, but how could Tubbo ever mind?  Tommy is breathing.

“There we go!” Tommy leans back, satisfied.

Jack seems mildly bored, his part of the craft already done, he leans forward.  “That looks–”

“Amazing– why yes, thank you, Jack Manifold, you’re too kind!” Tommy cuts him off.

“Looks like just blobs on sticks.”

“Yeah, not sure if you’ve noticed but all flowers are are blobs on sticks,” Tommy pouts.

“Can I see?” Tubbo asks, fidgeting restlessly.

“Jack Manifold!” Tommy says like an announcement.

“What?” Jack replies wearily.

“Get the mirror!” Tommy commands him.

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll get it then,” Tommy clambers to his feet.

“Wait, no, you’re supposed to keep nagging me until I do it– sit back down, I’ve got it,” Jack waves him off.

Tommy settles, looking pleased.  “Aw, I’ve missed your charm, Jack.”

“Have you?” Jack says, teasing if not suspicious.  Tommy seems to mean it.

“Yeah, Jack Manifold, your charm.  No need to be so shocked,” Tommy rolls his eyes dramatically.  Since Tommy’s return, his snark had held less bite, but Jack almost felt relieved nowadays to find a Tommy that’s both snarky and joking again.

Niki remains focused only on Wilbur’s face as the rest of them chatter around her.  “Okay, done with the eyes!” She leans back, satisfied.

Wilbur opens them.  “What color did you put on them?”

“You’ll see, you’ll see, I still have to do the flag,” Niki searches for what’s left of the facepaint.  “Alright, tilt your head, pick a side,” she says.

Wilbur doesn’t need to shut his eyes for this part, but he’s glad he has to turn slightly away, so instead he can just watch the others rustling around the van.  Fundy has a flag on his cheek now, but Eret has also decided to add whiskers.  Fundy now painted Eret’s cheek with intent precision, the flag half finished.  Jack had joined Tommy and Tubbo, Tubbo whose right cheek had the flag, and his left a messy scene of flowers and bees that Wilbur could recognize as Tommy’s endearingly shoddy handiwork.  Wilbur hadn’t realized how much he had missed this.  He hadn’t even been sure if this was his to miss anymore, but somehow Wilbur feels like this makes sense.  All of it, including him being here.  Things had been unsure for so long, Wilbur can’t figure out when he lost this feeling, or if he ever had it.  Wilbur is nobody’s president nor hero nor villain nor martyr.  Instead, he just gets to sit and let Niki paint on his face.  It’s the only job Wilbur wants anymore.

Niki sits back, brushing her thumb gently across her handiwork, fixing up the edges.  “Good!  I think it’s done,” she smiles.

“What color is it, then?” Wilbur asks.

“Hold on, hold on– Jack, can I?” Niki leans away from him.

“Oh, Niki, I– I dunno,” Wilbur says hastily as she takes the mirror from Jack.

Niki stops, looking puzzled.  “Do you not want to see it?”

“No, I–”  Wilbur pauses, staring at her, glancing to the rest of them, none of whom pay him any mind.  He’s not a corpse anymore.  “Y-Yeah, yeah let me see.”

Wilbur says this, but he’s still looking at her, not at the mirror in front of her.  Wilbur had, with almost impressive conviction, avoided his own reflection devoutly for weeks.  He’s let himself remain trapped with nothing but a horrible distortion of his own dead face for a self image.  Wilbur has not seen his own face beyond a corpse in over a decade.  He’s scared that he will see his own face and find that nothing had changed.  If lucky enough not to see dead eyes, then maybe something worse; the cruel, dark expression of the man who had haunted Pogtopia until he could find a way to die bloody.  He doesn’t want that for himself anymore.  And he won’t get any better by looking away.

Wilbur looks at the mirror, at his own painted face.  And the first time he sees his reflection alive it is with Niki’s handiwork, her– maybe not her forgiveness, but her love, painted on his eyelids.

“It’s… It’s a sunrise,” Wilbur’s voice is hoarse and small and utterly in awe.

“Yeah!  You can’t really see all of it with your eyes open, of course, but I thought it suited you,” Niki beams.

Wilbur stares.  Blue that almost dusts his eyebrows, blended into a soft purple, to orange, to yellow.  Those colors resting on top of brown eyes.  Eyes not left glassy or out of focus or filmed over, eyes that have a soul behind them, eyes that crinkle up in the corner as he smiles.

“Thank you, Niki,” Wilbur’s hand brushes up to his own cheek, stopping himself before he could smudge the flag painted there.

“Wil!” Fundy breaks the spell, pulling Wilbur back into the room with them.  He has his guitar case.  “Where the hell did you find this, man?”

“Oh, uh, I-I mean I have it, yes, but I–” Wilbur doesn’t know how to explain.  Fundy has his guitar, he knows what sort of request happens next.

“I dug it up out of Pogtopia,” Tommy answers.  “I don’t think it’s in great shape, so.”  Yeah.  If it is the person who might play it, not the guitar itself.

Fundy takes the hint with surprising delicacy, putting it back. “It’s… It’s cool you have it again, Wil.”

Just from those words Wilbur knows no one here expects him to play.  Somehow that doesn’t make Wilbur feel relieved.  Tommy had defended him, because he knows as well as Wilbur does that this– all of it, it’s progress and that progress matters.  But things still aren’t what they once were and they never will be.  But there has to be a line, a delicate balance of finally moving forward and remembering, despite everything that’s changed from what was once their family, there was love there, and there is love here again, broken and repaired or maybe just changed, but love persevering.

~

Their plans for the evening are not a festival.  There will be no speeches or fireworks or decorations beyond the flags always hanging on the platforms of New L’Manberg.  Tommy had loosely described it as a party– and if he lets proximity be enough, a beach party.

Tommy’s only expectation had been a campfire like the ones they had back in the day, the invitations had been vague and unofficial, no set list merely word of mouth, the details hadn’t mattered, just something to push them all together.  They gather outside New L’Manberg, in the grass adjacent to the Camarvan, where it’s safe to have a fire.  Tommy puts down his jukebox just as the sun began to set.

He plays Cat.

The first to arrive make sense.  Phil and Ranboo merely cross the stream from New L’Manberg.  Then Quackity follows and where Quackity goes, Sapnap and Karl are never far behind.  Technoblade’s attendance is more of a surprise, him serving as a nervous shadow for Phil, the great Blood God felled by a social gathering.  Eret invited Foolish, Niki invited HBomb and Puffy.  Tommy had spur of the moment asked Sam and Ponk to come, it only felt right after what they’d done for him, and he couldn’t invite one without the other.  Tommy wasn’t sure how the Badlands found their way over, it could have been Sapnap or Sam or anyone else, but they come too.  And so on and on and so it goes.  It becomes such a messy web of friends and friends of friends but none of that really matters, because really Tommy is just triumphant in how utterly unalone they are.

Tommy stays close to Tubbo, and Wilbur close to Tommy, and Tommy finds himself drifting away from the Jukebox and Cat and that doesn’t scare him anymore.  Maybe he shouldn’t be so trusting, or maybe it’s not even a matter of trust.  Tommy is tired of being scared.  And whoever there’s left for him to mistrust is overshadowed in those who will protect him.

Wilbur used to always find himself at the center.  He talked well and he talked loud and people would listen.  He was charming and confident and he would let the world focus on him just a bit more sharply.  Wilbur doesn’t know anymore.  He likes to be there.  He likes to listen, and he likes it when other people look at him when he speaks, because he’s really there, but it’s been harder for him to find anything worth saying.

So eventually he both retreats and pushes himself a little further.  He goes back into the Camarvan and returns with a guitar case.  Now they gravitate in on him, Wilbur Soot with a guitar and all the magnetism of a black hole, people take notice.  Just like they used to and if that doesn’t fill Wilbur with the excited, terrified static of being alive, he doesn’t know what will.

Tommy looks away for a minute and Wilbur has his guitar again, startling sure, but for a moment Tommy feels both hopeful and almost hurt, but Wilbur isn’t playing it, Tommy hasn’t missed his brother's glorious return.  He’s sat by the fire, holding it just out of the case, but not nestled neatly against his chest like it usually would be.  He’s not getting ready to play.  He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with it.  Already people are looking his way, curious.  Tommy is going to get there first.

Tommy taps Tubbo on the arm, nodding in Wilbur’s direction.  Tubbo follows his gaze and for a moment he lights up, but he sees as well as Tommy that Wilbur seems stuck.   Wordlessly an understanding is exchanged, Tubbo nods, and they join him by the fire.

Tommy is on Wilbur’s right side.  “Alright?”  He asks him.

Wilbur stares at those gathered around him.  And he cannot bring himself to move.  He wants this.  He wants to play again.  He just doesn’t think he can, so instead, he speaks.

“Quackity.”

“What?” Quackity stares at him from across the fire, looking startled.  “What’s, uh, what’s up?”

Wilbur stands, and offers him the guitar.  “I’m… a little rusty.  Would you do the honors?”

Quackity hesitates for another moment, brown eyes careful if not understanding as he accepts it.  He understands, maybe not personally, but he knows the weight of the thing as he takes the guitar from Wilbur’s hands.  “Yeah, yeah sure.  Uh.  What am I playing?”

“Come on, Big Q, you know what to play,” Tommy says.

The anthem.  If Tommy is singing too, this Wilbur can manage.  And it’s not just Tommy.  It’s not just L’Manberg, at least not just as Wilbur knows it.  Tommy and Wilbur meet each other’s gaze, each with the same startled contentment and pride.  Tommy hadn’t realized how many people knew the anthem either.

The rest of the night comes easily, a gentle thing.  Tommy is happy.  That had been the point of it all, surely.  This moment, late at night, old friends and friends of friends leaving after time spent willingly and wasted joyfully, it’s exactly what Tommy had wanted.  Tommy had gotten what he wanted.  It's almost more surprising that that doesn’t seem so strange to him anymore.

Their numbers dwindle.  Tubbo, Ranboo, Phil, and Techno are still in New L’Manberg, talking under the glow of the lanterns, but Tommy and Wilbur are the last to stay by the dying fire.

Tubbo isn’t far, neither are their other close friends, but they’re not here.  Not within this moment between two brothers who kept living; who kept living and wanted to keep living, even if they took the long way round to get to this point.  Quackity had returned the guitar, not to its case, but very deliberately to Wilbur’s unsure hands before he left.  Wilbur hasn’t set it down.  He’s no longer holding it like it’s a bomb, it’s resting in front of his torso.  All he needs to do is put his hands on the strings.

“Hey, Wil?” Tommy watches as Wilbur stares into the fire, unfocused.

“Yeah, Tommy?”

“Do you want to play?”

Wilbur glances over at him, not surprised by the question, not really.  He’s maybe more surprised by how sure he is in his own answer.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” Tommy nods.  “But you can’t.”

“I know what you’re thinking, and– and I don’t think it’s about deserve,” Wilbur is rambling and emphatic in an instant, like he’s just been waiting for the right push, talking more to the fire than to him.  “I don’t think– It’s not that I don’t deserve to play it, and in Limbo I couldn’t because… because there was no one to listen, so it just hurt, and now I just– I actually… I…”

“Hey, we’ll figure this out,” Tommy is so steady.

Wilbur takes a breath, the heat of the fire, the brightness of it, overwhelming and comforting at the same time.  “You don’t know how to play the guitar.”

“Yeah.  You do.”

Wilbur laughs, almost embarrassed.  “That’s the thing, isn’t it?”  A pause, Tommy just waits.  “It’s gonna sound different.  No matter how much I remember, a-and I know it’s because I’m out of practice, and not practicing isn’t going to help, but it’s not gonna sound right.”  It feels like such a ridiculous thing, yes, Wilbur playing the guitar for the first time in over a decade will not sound right.

Tommy doesn’t judge him, he doesn’t tease him or tell him to just try, but he doesn’t give up on him either.  Wilbur never gave up on him.

“Could you show me?” Tommy asks.

“What?”

“Show me,” Tommy nods to the guitar.  “I want you to show me how to play.  A demonstration.  Come on, I’ve wanted you to show me for ages now.”  A pause, Tommy giving Wilbur a moment to reply.  He still hesitates.  “Please?  Come on, I’m giving you my best puppy dog eyes, you have to say yes!”

Wilbur stares at him, putting on an exasperated front, even as Tommy makes all of this easier for him.  He knows Tommy won’t quit and no matter how unsure he is, he’s grateful.  Wilbur looks down.  It’s almost like watching someone else at first, hands still so naturally finding their proper place.  He plays.

Wilbur knows hes not playing it well, that he’s all but forgotten how, but the look on Tommy’s face when he watches him, radiant and joyful and so amazed by whatever Wilbur manages, it makes him want to try again.

It’s bad and messy and hesitant and it’s the most amazing thing Tommy has ever heard.  He never thought he’d hear this again, his brother fumbling with the strings, but playing nonetheless.  Fuck symphonies.  His brother is alive.  He’s home.  Tommy has known for a long time now he deserves a kinder world, they deserve a kinder world, but what they deserve doesn’t matter, deserve is a feeble game, a set of rules for dead men.  Tommy is tired of cruel games and stupid rules.  He wanted his brother, he wanted to feel okay again.  And here he is, resting easy just outside the Camarvan, not in the L’Manberg, but a L’Manberg that has stood up out of the ashes and breathed again right alongside them, just as scarred and changed and just as alive.  He got what he wanted.

The notes fade, almost as unsteady as when they began, and they’re left with the dim crackle of the fire, crickets and cicadas like an endless applause, and just faintly, the gentle hum of voices of other people they love just across the water.

Wilbur looks at his brother and can't help but feel honored to be worth whatever look Tommy is giving him right now.  “So, uh, not too bad?”

“Nah,” Tommy says, his efforts at being blasé are weakened by the way he’s looking at Wilbur, the kind of awe that only a little brother can have.  “Not too bad at all.”  Tommy sounds so proud.   “Play it–”  The light has not faded from behind his eyes, blue standing out against the darkness.  “Play it again?”

Wilbur does as Tommy asks.  He keeps going.

[griffintail]

Finding a Forgotten Memory

Summary: A happy ending for this post and this one. 

Pairings: Parental! Ghostbur x F! Child! Reader

Tommy x F! Child! Reader

Warnings: ANGST! But there’s a happy ending.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         Tommy swept his gear on the floor as he paced the length of his bedroom in his hotel, warm tears rolling down his face.

         He remembered the day Ghostbur had stormed into his home, balling, his tears creating smoke, that he couldn’t find his little blue. He had assured the ghost, she was fine. Probably hiding or she wandered a little farther than she should have.

         Grabbing his sword in case the search took too long, he followed Ghostbur into his sewer he’d moved back into after Tommy’s freedom from exile. Inside, Tommy had a few doubts as he looked at the bit of wreckage around the place.

         “Did you do this looking for her Ghostbur?” Tommy asked, sitting a barrel upright.

         “N-No. I-I s-s-s-he…” The ghost couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

         “I’ll look outside. Stay here in case she comes back alright?”

         Ghostbur nodded rapidly, clutching onto an already full piece of blue. Tommy nodded before leaving the sewer calmly then booking it to Phil’s.

         “Phil!” Tommy shouted, slamming the door open, startling the man and his crows. “There’s something wrong with Ghostbur.”

         “What? What’s wrong?” Phil immediately stood up.

         Tommy explained the situation and they both gathered everyone they could, a search party formed. (Y/N)’s name was shouted into the wind as everyone separated into many corners of the Dream SMP land and the L’Manberg land. Even people like Sapnap and Punz helped them look in their more familiar areas.

         But they couldn’t find the little girl and mobs had started to come out. Tommy, Phil, Techno, Fundy, and a few of L’Manberg citizens continued their searches. Techno and Phil went into more in-depth searches or rather questionings. Yet…there was no word of her…

         That was the night Phil fabricated the lie.

         “We’ll only use it till we figure out what happened. Ghostbur will have to believe it because Fundy refuses to talk to him but he likes (Y/N).” Phil assured the younger as he fidgeted in worry.

         They’d try to figure out what happened in the next few days!

         …

         Then a few days turned into a few weeks. And a few weeks turned into two months…

         They’d lost hope and even though there was no message on the walkies, they knew the magic had a range and (Y/N) …she had to be gone…They didn’t know what happened, could only speculate.

         Time had to move on and people grieved, Tommy taking it hard as the little girl had helped him through hell without knowing. She was part of his family and she had made him smile when he needed it the most, not even knowing he had needed her little games and laughs. He wished he had those when he had gone through the final battle with Dream, yet even after his victory, he continued to grieve and now seethe as Dream dangled a fruit of revival in front of him.

         Listening to the same horse shit, day after day…

         They had told Ghostbur once or twice in the beginning but Phil told everyone to keep up the lie when the ghost would just break completely, unable to function at all. Tommy couldn’t handle it anymore that Ghostbur didn’t remember the one thing he thought the ghost would never forget. That he wasn’t grieving like him. The little girl only helped Tommy through a rough time but that same little girl was Ghostbur’s entire world! It wasn’t fair to her memory that Ghostbur simply forgot the end of it!

         He knew the ghost couldn’t help it and that the ghost would break if he actually remembered but it frustrated him to no end because Tommy didn’t forget and broke at his own memories and he couldn’t live like this anymore! He…he couldn’t let the little girl be gone any longer…

         He looked at the prison from his window, before clenching his hands. He needed to pay an “old friend” a visit.

         …

         Tommy stood on the other side of the netherite blocks as the lava behind him finished cascaded down and the barrier was gone between him and the smiley masked man.

         “Tommy! What do I owe the pleasure?” Dream asked, spreading his arms as he laughed.

         “Business. I want that revive book Dream.”

         “The revive book? You know I can’t just give that to you Tommy. I won’t revive Wil—”

         “Not…Wilbur,” Tommy muttered.

         Yes, the boy wanted his older brother back but he wanted this little girl back first.

         “Not Wilbur? Who would you want? Not Schlatt.” Dream mocked and Tommy clenched his jaw.

         “Just shut up you bastard and listen!” Tommy shouted and Dream stopped, watching. “You’re going to bring (Y/N) back or I’ll never visit you again and we both know how much you want me to visit.”

         Dream stood there before grinning wickedly behind his mask. “(Y/N)? Huh. You’re going to have to remind me who they are…”

         “YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO SHE IS!” Tommy snapped, doing his best to keep his tears in. “She was the little girl you hated because she made me happy during exile!!”

         “Oooh, right. Ghostbur’s kid.” He chuckled, turning from him. “How’s he doing?”

         Tommy restrained himself with great difficulty.

         “Such a bad memory, his child going missing, I’m sure he’s practically been destroyed…”

         Tommy felt the warm tears in the corner of his eyes as he took deep breaths.

         “Or did he finally forget the little brat?”

         He lost it.

         He pinned Dream to the obsidian wall and barked at his smiley mask.

         “YOU’RE GOING TO BRING HER BACK RIGHT NOW YOU GREEN FUCKING PRICK!”

         Then Tommy saw his wicked grin under his mask.

         “I’d love to Tommy, but I can’t bring back what’s living.”

         “W-What?” Tommy sputtered, confused.

         Dream laughed as Tommy let him go.

         “You never saw the message because there was no message to have! It wasn’t my goal after all to kill her.”

         Tommy’s world stopped before his heart pounded. She…She was still alive?! But Dream had been in prison for three months after they finally decided she was gone. She…She wouldn’t have survived…

         “And now that you know, the clock is ticking Tommy. Will you lose her and have to deal with another ghost? Of course, I can make it simple. Let me out and I’ll give her right back.”

         Tommy shook. He had mourned for her. He had stopped…looking for her…

         Shaking his head, Tommy stepped behind the barrier, it going up, shocking Dream. No, Tommy needed to make this right.

         “I’ll find her. Suck it, green boy.” Tommy snarled, before stepping onto the bridge.

         “YOU WON’T! SHE’LL DIE BEFORE YOU FIND HER TOMMY! ONLY I KNOW WHERE SHE IS AND SHE’LL STARVE SLOWLY!”

         But Dream underestimated Tommy’s determination…

         …

         “PHIL!” Tommy shouted on the walkie as he sprinted back for his hotel for his gear.

         “Don’t talk to me, Tommy! How could—” Phil started to yell at him.

         “(Y/N) IS STILL ALIVE!”

         “W-What?” Phil stopped.

         “I went to Dream to revive her and he admitted to taking her. She’s still alive. We need to find her now!”

         Tommy slid slightly as he got to the entrance of the hotel before dashing in.

         “H-How, what?!”

         “IT’S A LONG STORY NOW WE NEED TO LOOK! We need to every fucking place Dream’s ever been!”

         They had figured she had been kidnapped. They just hadn’t known by who. Dream had been prime suspect, but even then, he had an alibi; and at the time, they couldn’t exactly search the most powerful man’s places.

         “O-Ok. Ok! I’ll get everyone!”

         Tommy grabbed his gear and went to meet with everyone else. The search was back months later but they had new information. Dream was tricky with his hiding and everyone had to be clever as they went into different corners of the world…

         Tommy didn’t sleep for two days as they searched everywhere they could as his thoughts went rampant. What if Dream was just messing with him again? Lying to get him to let him out! What if Tommy had just given everyone false hope…

         Then as the sun just breaking into light purples on a new day, Tubbo cried out on the walkie.

         “WE FOUND SOMETHING! WE FOUND SOMETHING IN DREAM’S BUNKER!”

         Fear didn’t even grip Tommy as he sprinted for the nether portal. Tubbo, Ranboo, and a small crew of others took to the task of taking the bunker physically apart in hopes to find anything.

         Tubbo justified by saying this was where Dream had held his biggest cards. He wouldn’t have kept (Y/N) too far from there.

         Tommy stumbled into the room as he saw Ranboo standing back to be there if someone got stuck as Tubbo, Foolish, and Jack carefully digging around a mechanism they had destroyed. Tommy pulled out his own pick and joined them.

         After some time, they managed to crumble away stone into a hallway.

         “I’ll go,” Tommy muttered.

         He hated the tight space of the hall but he had to know and if it was a trap, he wanted to take it. Carefully going down the hall with his axe instead, he didn’t go too far before he found a door. Opening it slowly, he found a plain room and…a little girl in a dirty blue hoodie spinning around bored in the room.

         “(Y/N)!” Tommy choked on a sob before dashing into the room and hugging her tightly.

         She yelped in surprise before grinning widely. “Uncle Tommy! I told Dream you’d visit!”

         Tommy cried as he squeezed her. She was so naïve as always. She hadn’t changed in the missing months…He missed his niece so much.

         “Your crying! I don’t have any blue.” She said, looking around the empty room.

         “I-I’m ok (Y/N).” He laughed quietly. “They’re happy tears…but there’s a ghost that would love to see you…”

         She gasped. “I missed daddy! Is he here?”

         “No…but I know he’d love to play a game of hide and seek…”

         “Ok, do you have any food? The tall man hasn’t brought me any.” She explained as he stood up.

         He frowned in confusion before his eyes went wide. The person that had been helping Dream while he was in prison.

         “(Y/N), what did she look like?” Tommy asked quickly.

         She shrugged. “He was very tall and he wore funny clothes and he wore a mask.”

         “Like Dream’s?”

         She shook her head. Tommy frowned deeply. Who the hell had been helping him?

         “I don’t have food on me but I’m sure Ghostbur will gladly give you dinner.”

         She grinned as he carried her out. The others cheered seeing the pair, sharing hugs with her as Tommy continued to hold her. Everyone over the radio celebrated as Ranboo made the announcement. Phil nearly collapsed in happiness when they got to L’Manberg, relieved he hadn’t lost another child he had helped care for.

         Reluctantly, before Tommy brought her to the sewer, Tommy told her not to tell Ghostbur about her “trip”. It was a little secret between the two of them. She promised not to tell and Tommy brought her into the sewer, seeing Ghostbur was doing his daily morning to find his little blue. He hid (Y/N) in a barrel he knew Ghostbur checked before rushing out.

         He waited by the door as he heard a cry of laughter, smiling lightly before leaving, his work done.

         “There you are little blue! It’s breakfast time, not time to play hide and seek!” Ghostbur laughed, hugging the little girl tightly, not really understanding why he had before he gasped hearing her stomach rumble. “You’re starving! Let’s have a big breakfast!”

         She giggled, agreeing with him as she snuggled into him.

         “Your hoodie is getting dirty, we’ll wash that before we go visit Phil and Tommy, ok?”

         “Ok, daddy. I love you.”

         “I love you too my little blue. I love you so much.” He muttered without thinking, nuzzling the top of her hoodie.

[stellaricwriting]

i was talking with @vilwil-brr the other night about ghostbur and it’s led to this

It feels like agony, when you first meet Ghostbur. The smiling face of your dead lover, the pain clenching your heart only doubled by how long it had been since you last saw Wilbur’s genuine smile.

The same can’t be said for him. The moment Ghostbur sees you, his entire demeanor lights up, beaming at you from where he’s sitting in the grass, hands tangled in the wool of a blue sheep.

The more you interact, the clearer it is how bad Wilbur was doing, in those last few weeks, in the months prior. It aches every time you see him, but the way Ghostbur always knows you, can remember little conversations you had when Wilbur was still alive, it’s enough that you find yourself lingering with him.

Ghostbur is… sweet. Carefree in a way you never saw Wilbur be, but despite the way he insists he’s not Wilbur, that he’s different, you can’t help but see them in each other. Memory makes a person, he murmured to you once, late at night when you were in his library, so we’re not the same. I’m not him.

He’s not your Wilbur, but the way he presses close when he kisses you is so similar you could cry. He giggles when he curls a hand over the back of your neck, bites at your lip as he pulls away, presses his fingertips into the pulse at your wrist as he steps by you.

It’s easy to get caught up in Ghostbur’s cheerful energy, and you can see it in the way people treat him. You see it in the way his father, the murderer himself, treats him now, a kind of condescending bemusement. Like he’s lesser, or a child again.

Watching it, you think of late nights spent with the ghost, long talks and laughter over books. It’s sad, you think, how people seem to view positivity as childish.

Because Ghostbur is anything but a child. He’s optimistic and sweet, so so caring, but not a child.

There’s nothing childish about the heat in his eyes when he’s pressing you into blue stained sheets, hands pinning yours as he croons filth into your skin. He leaves marks that have you wearing high collars, dark lovebites that cause him to turn smug whenever he sees them.

There’s nothing naive in the way he fucks you, rough and deep, leaving you gasping for air between desperate moans. He brushes his thumb along your pulse point, hand resting on your throat, and laughs when you keen.

He praises you and degrades you in the same breath, telling you how good you are, how you’re his, his perfect little slut, desperate and eager to please. His hands are gentle over you skin, but firm as he manhandles you in his lap.

Death hasn’t changed him at all, you think as he runs his fingers through your hair, pressing kisses across your cheeks, making you laugh in the afterglow.

It’s just a shame no one else can see it.

[stellaricwriting-archive]

i was talking with @vilwil-brr the other night about ghostbur and it’s led to this

It feels like agony, when you first meet Ghostbur. The smiling face of your dead lover, the pain clenching your heart only doubled by how long it had been since you last saw Wilbur’s genuine smile.

The same can’t be said for him. The moment Ghostbur sees you, his entire demeanor lights up, beaming at you from where he’s sitting in the grass, hands tangled in the wool of a blue sheep.

The more you interact, the clearer it is how bad Wilbur was doing, in those last few weeks, in the months prior. It aches every time you see him, but the way Ghostbur always knows you, can remember little conversations you had when Wilbur was still alive, it’s enough that you find yourself lingering with him.

Ghostbur is... sweet. Carefree in a way you never saw Wilbur be, but despite the way he insists he’s not Wilbur, that he’s different, you can’t help but see them in each other. Memory makes a person, he murmured to you once, late at night when you were in his library, so we’re not the same. I’m not him.

He’s not your Wilbur, but the way he presses close when he kisses you is so similar you could cry. He giggles when he curls a hand over the back of your neck, bites at your lip as he pulls away, presses his fingertips into the pulse at your wrist as he steps by you.

It’s easy to get caught up in Ghostbur’s cheerful energy, and you can see it in the way people treat him. You see it in the way his father, the murderer himself, treats him now, a kind of condescending bemusement. Like he’s lesser, or a child again.

Watching it, you think of late nights spent with the ghost, long talks and laughter over books. It’s sad, you think, how people seem to view positivity as childish.

Because Ghostbur is anything but a child. He’s optimistic and sweet, so so caring, but not a child.

There’s nothing childish about the heat in his eyes when he’s pressing you into blue stained sheets, hands pinning yours as he croons filth into your skin. He leaves marks that have you wearing high collars, dark lovebites that cause him to turn smug whenever he sees them.

There’s nothing naive in the way he fucks you, rough and deep, leaving you gasping for air between desperate moans. He brushes his thumb along your pulse point, hand resting on your throat, and laughs when you keen.

He praises you and degrades you in the same breath, telling you how good you are, how you’re his, his perfect little slut, desperate and eager to please. His hands are gentle over you skin, but firm as he manhandles you in his lap.

Death hasn’t changed him at all, you think as he runs his fingers through your hair, pressing kisses across your cheeks, making you laugh in the afterglow.

It’s just a shame no one else can see it.

[ray-ray-writings]

drabble idea: after Wilbur is killed by Phil, Fundy finds a smol arctic fox hybrid reader and cuz they're both foxes and the hybrid child looks abandoned, he adopts them. Then Ghostbur shows up and Fundy doesn't want him to have anything to do with his child. maybe some other relationships for fluff??? i'm just craving this rn -💍

So imagines won right? I sit down and go to write the imagine, and I just end up staring at a blank screen for what felt like forever. I know I said I would give you the option but I honestly couldn’t put anything in my brain for it. And because I spent so long staring at it, I lost a lot of time and so this is the only post for tonight…. I feel so bad. I’m sorry guys, I should have more stuff tomorrow. <3

TW: Parental abandonment.

This idea is so cute though. 

So we all know that Wilbur wasn’t the best father. He really messed Fundy up and gave him some of those good good daddy issues to where he has a hard time trusting people. But I think that he would be out on a walk, clearing his mind, trying to think of anything but his father. He’d be in a snowy biome when he hears footsteps. At first he thinks it’s a mob of some kind, so he draws his weapon and creeps toward the sound. He catches sight of something white and at first he thinks it’s a skeleton, but then the thing moves again and he can very clearly see it’s an ear, a white fluffy ear… That’s odd. “Hello?” he finally decides to call out. There is a small squeak and a lot of rustling. When he wasn’t attacked, he figured it safe to move forward. He carefully approached and as he pushed some of the bushes out of the way to reveal a small child. In one quick glance he could tell this was no ordinary child. It was an arctic fox hybrid, the fluffy white ears and tail a dead give away. In his glance, he could also tell this child was in rough shape. Their clothes were tattered and torn allowing him to see just how skinny they were. His heart ached for the poor child, “Hello little one,” he greets softly, “What are you doing out here?” 

You’d been on your own for a really really long time now. Your parents had brought you out here, told you to stay put, and left. You listened and so you waited for them to come back. But as the days went on, you began to understand what had happened. But nevertheless, you sat there and waited. Munching on the berries of the bushes, but it never quite fills your stomach. One day as you’re moving from bush to bush, a voice calls out. It startles you and you can’t help but let out a squeak as you fall to the ground in surprise. The bushes shuffle a bit and from over the top you find an orange headed man peering at you curiously. His eyes scan you quickly before he speaks, “Hello little one,” his voice soft and comforting as he speaks, “What are you doing out here?” You give him a little shrug and allow yourself to look him up and down. You’re heart thuds a little faster as you notice that he is also a fox hybrid with orange and black ears, an orange and white tail, and sharp canines poking out from his lips. “Where are you parents?” he tries again. Again, you give a little shrug and figuring you can trust this man, you speak, “Gone… Let me here.” His heart breaks at your sad and defeated tone. “They left you here? All by yourself? When did they leave?” Another shrug, “Two… three….. Weeks.” you mumble, looking down to the berry bushes, your fingers grazing them carefully. Fundy’s heart burns in anger as he thinks about how horrible your parents were for leaving their obviously amazing child to die in the woods. He’s about to speak when your stomach grumbles loudly causing you to flush in embarrassment. “Hungry?” Fundy asks, then mentally smacks himself. Of course you’re hungry your stomach just rumbled. But you nod sheepishly, still plucking at the leaves. “How would you like to come home with me. I can fix you up some fish. I have lots of fish at my house. You could eat as much as you’d like and you could stay as long as you want.” Not even caring if this guy was lying to you, you accept his offer, simply desperate to get out of the woods. Your head slowly rises from the bushes as you stare at Fundy who is smiling at you ever so softly with an outstretched hand. Carefully you raise your own arm and gently rest your hand in his, shivering at the warmth that spreads throughout your palm. “Let’s get going then kiddo.” 

Fundy leads you out of the forest and towards his house. As you two walk, you two talk… Well he does a lot of the talking and you give small answers here and there. You tell him your name and he tells you his. He talks about where you’re going and how it’s extremely safe there and how he thinks you’ll like it. He leads you inside his house, sits you at the table, before making up some fish for you and him. He places the plate down in front of you and before he can sit to eat his own meal, yours is finished. To say he’s shocked is an understatement, but he quickly remembers you were out in the forest all alone for two to three weeks, maybe longer with nothing but berries. You’re looking at him super embarrassed, like you want to ask for more but are too scared too. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, walking back over to you, setting his own plate down in front of you, picking up the empty one, “You don’t have to feel bad. Like I said, I have plenty of fish, eat as much as you like.” And so you do. You eat until you’re so full you can barely move. Your eyes are sleepily closing and then jerking back open as you try to force yourself to stay awake. Fundy notices this and laughs quietly to himself. Your eyes close for a little while, giving Fundy enough time to put his plan into action. He quickly stands up, moves to you, picks you up, and carries you to his bed. He carefully lays you down, tucks you in, and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep well darling,” he mumbles, not thinking much of it. “Thanks dad” you mumble back, clearly out of it. But the simple word stops Fundy’s heart before a huge smile grows on his face. He decides that he wants you to be his child, if you want. He can feel a connection and a strong desire to care and love for you and he wants to be that strong father figure that he himself did not have. The next morning when you wake up, you don’t remember what you said obviously. You also plan to leave and go back to the forest. You would thank Fundy for feeding you but you already feel you've overstayed your welcome. You make your way down to the kitchen, ready to tell the man who saved you, who you don’t want to leave, goodbye. Fundy is standing over the stove and at the sound of your footsteps his head turns and he grins brightly at you, “Hey kiddo! Have a seat! Eggs are almost done! I hope you like them scrambled!” Not wanting him to feel bad, you do as you’re told and decide to tell him after breakfast. True to his word, the eggs don’t take that much longer and soon he’s served you some eggs. You two eat together, talking a bit about how you both slept and stuff. And after you’re done, you’re just about to tell him but then he begins to tell you about his plans for the day and asks if you want to tag along and you do. You really do. It is then you decide that you’ll stay until Fundy asks you to leave, and if that means you’re staying forever… So be it. 

Okay on to some more general headcanons and less plot type stuff haha

You two help each other in grooming your ears and tails all the time. I feel like they can be hard to get perfectly clean by yourself so you two do it together as a bonding activity. You would do Fundy’s first because it takes less time. Fundy does a lot of it and you just get the hard to reach spots and stuff, and makes sure there is no spot left unclean. However, when it’s your turn, Fundy takes complete control. He will make you just sit there and let him groom and take care of you. He is so careful as he does it. He cleans your ears and your tail carefully, making sure no dirt is left. And then he takes the time to carefully brush out the hair and make it very soft and very fluffy. It feels so nice. I would imagine you didn’t have the nicest parents, they literally left you in a forest to die, so you never got this special treatment or attention for your ears or tail. So the first time you two did this, you would be so confused. You didn’t understand what was happening or why you were being treated so kindly, which broke Fundy’s heart. I feel that’s also partly why he doesn’t let you help because he wants to make sure that you know that you will be loved and cared for as long as he’s in your life. 

So that being said, you two are so affectionate with each other. Like you curl up together and cuddle on the couch all the time. It has a lot to do with the fox side of both of you. It feels really nice to be pressed against family of your own ‘breed’ so to speak. A lot of the time it’s a lot of you sitting on his lap or laying on top him while he holds you tightly. Again, he wants to make sure that you feel loved and wanted. 

I feel like it wouldn’t take you long to call him dad. Like you accidentally did the first night, but you weren’t really awake for it. But I do feel like it would be a slip of the tongue on your part again. Just he does something for you and you give a quick “thanks dad” before you dead stop and stare at him. His eyes are also wide and filling with tears. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. It just that you have taken care of me from the moment I got here and I--” Fundy would cut you off by pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s okay Y/N. It really is. It would be an honor if you called me your father” he tells you. Your heart soars in your chest as you hug him back. “Okay… Thank you dad.” You two go to sleep that night with the biggest smiles on your faces that you’ve ever had.

…….. Speaking of dads….. Ghostbur comes back. One day there is a knock on the door. You’re both confused because no one should be coming over to your knowledge. But Fundy gets up and he opens the door and his confusion turns into anger. “What are you doing here?” He spits out. You slowly make your way to the front room, hiding behind a wall but peeking your head around the corner to see what was happening. There in front of your father stood an extremely pale man in a yellow sweater and a red beanie. “Hello Fundy!” the man greets, oblivious to Fundy’s harsh tone, “I came to visit you! I wanted to see my son!” A gasp catches in your throat, this was your dad’s dad. He hadn’t told you much about him, he just told you that he used to be close with his father but as he grew more obsessed with politics, that bond broke bit by bit until it was completely severed by his death. “Well that sucks because I don’t want to see you. Go away now” Fundy snaps back, waving him off. Ghostbur catches his harsh tone now and a frown settles on his face, “Fundy please. I want to talk. I want to mend what was broken. You’re my son and-” “And nothing. You should have thought about that before you went and blew up our nation and then got stabbed by grandpa… So goodbye now.” Fundy moves out of the doorway and goes to close the door. When he moved out of the doorway though, he accidentally gives Ghostbur a direct line of sight of you peeking around the corner. He lets out a gasp and points, “Fundy who’s that.” Fundy looks over his shoulder and pales a little but because oh fuck. This is the last thing he wanted to happen. He clears his throat and looks back to the ghost of his father. “That’s Y/N… My kid” “I have a grandchild?” “No you don’t because you are no father of mine. Now if you’ll excuse me” and before Ghostbur can respond, Fundy has slammed the door closed. You’re a little worried as to what he’s going to say to you so you speak first after you walk all the way in, “I’m sorry” you whisper. “No, no, no baby. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.” The rest of the day, Fundy is a little off. He tries to act normal but you can tell something is off. You don’t call him out on it though, you just let him do him. 

But yeah. Fundy does everything in his power to keep you away from Ghostbur. He does not care a single bit if Ghostbur isn’t Wilbur, they were both still his father that practically abandoned him and so therefore he will not be around his child. His child will only be surrounded by those who love them unconditionally and will always love them. If you and him are out and public and Ghostbur appears, Fundy will take you back home. He doesn’t care if what he is doing is super important, he will leave and take you home. He also will not let Ghostbur in his home. Ghostbur does show up occasionally, hoping to catch another glance of you, but Fundy barely opens the door to the point where Ghostbur can hardly see him. Fundy will let Phil, Techno, and Tommy see you occasionally which hurts Ghostbur a lot, but there is nothing he can do about it. Fundy does not want his ghost father to be anywhere near his child. 

But Fundy would be an amazing father. He knows what it’s like to be/feel abandoned by a parent and to feel ignored in a world full of family. So he makes sure you never feel like that. He loves you so much and makes sure you know that. Fundy would do anything for you, give anything for you. He loves you so much. His precious baby child. 

Okay that ending sucked lololol. Again, I’m very sorry that this is the only post tonight. I got a much later start than I planned and it fucked everything. I’ll see you guys with more content tomorrow though (hopefully).

[sleepy-dreamers-inc]

Being Exiled with Tommy Headcannons!|| 🥀

irl/ in-game

Genre| angst + comfort

h e a d c a n n o n s||

Sypnosis|

Both you and Tommy ended up getting exiled together.

Artist| OliverSonder on twitter!!

Warnings] mentions of manipulation, character death, spoilers for Tommy’s Exile Arc and the Season 2 finale!!

[can be seen as both platonic or romantic!!]

||gender neutral reader!!||

(also this was not grammar checked and im to lazy to watch through hours of footage so if anything in here is wrong blame it on the DSMP Wiki OKAY LETS GO-)

So i think its pretty established that if you end up getting exiled with Tommy your one of two things.

- Really sweet and loyal friend that will stick up for in-justice and be there when someone needs you the most

Or

- A total fucking gremlin that will steal your kneecaps and toes and eat your shower curtains in the middle of the night.

There is no inbetween here you guys.

I did end up going for Reader A, though. But you guys tell me if you want headcannons for a gremlin!reader because i will gladly do that!!

But anyways just... enjoy exile!

Exile|

- It was about his third day in exile when Y/N appeared through the nether portal, bags, pouches, tools, armor, etc. on their person. Tommy thought they either were here to beat him up or got exiled themselves.

- Tommy was pleasantly surprised when he learned that Y/N was actually there on their own accord, helping him through exile and being his shoulder to lean on. The first few days we’re rough, fighting back mobs in the night and farming crops all day. His clothes we’re starting to get dirty and torn by the time Y/N got there.

- Y/N ended up making a little bunker about 30 blocks from where they’re tent was, where they hid all theirs and Tommy’s valuables, such as armor, diamonds & iron, and rations. Although Y/N never gave into Dream and gave him they’re stuff, Y/N simply refused, they wouldn’t be giving in that easily.

- Most of they’re days are spent in caves mining away, chatting and fighting off Creeper’s as they tried to keep the moral high, always keeping Tommy company. Y/N never let him go anywhere alone, they we’re always with him, like his own bodyguard of sorts.

- One time they both find a Mineshaft though and got lost, they ended up at the surface two dayd later with torn clothes, cuts and bruises and we’re in bad shape. Thankfully Y/N had a brewing stand at they’re camp though, so Healing Potions we’re semi-easy to make/get.

- After the duo end up going to the artic though... things got... weird.

- Techno was not expecting to open his door to find the heathen Tommy and sweetheart Y/N at his doorstep shivering and begging to come inside, bags thrown on they’re shoulders as they teeth chattered from the cold wind and snow.

- Whenever Dream comes to visit Y/N always has to hide with Tommy, reassuring him that its okay and they’ll always be there for him, and protect him at any cost, which he highly appreciates.

- The ‘gapple-eating’ thing Tommy did was a cute, yet depressing thing. Seeing him hasitly munching on golden-coated apples was funny and caused giggles, but the meaning behind it always left Y/N with a lump in their throat and a hole in their heart.

- Whenever Tommy is in danger and calls for Dream, Y/N always has to stop him and bring him back to reality, making Tommy realize Dream isnt his friend, and never was. Many nights have happened where the two talk about Tommy’s feelings with Dream, not only for Tommy to vent and let everything out, but also for Y/N to understand whats going on in his head.

- When going into the Nether Tommy always grips Y/N’s hand, as his fear of lava and heights consumes him whole in that firey dimension.

- When Tommy gets up close to Dream in the cabin? Y/N is scared spineless, if people could see them, they’d see the palest, most terrified and worried being on earth.

- Y/N having a heart attack when Ghostbur slips up

- Ghostbur is just a whole thing and just. Y/N needs a break, okay?

- Y/N begrudgingly helping Tommy build his cobblestone tower outside of Techno’s cabin.

- Y/N apologizing soon after to Techno only for him to laugh and ruffle Y/N’s hair, saying he knows how Tommy can get anyone to any situation.

- Very rarely does Y/N ever leave Tommy’s side, when they do its usually to get supplies or visit they’re friends. So when Y/N was walking back to the Nether portal to see Tommy, Techno and Dream all standing there, looking like they’re about to slit the others throat, well...

- Nobody has ever seen Y/N drop kick a person so fast.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Y/N yelled, they’re sword at Dream’s neck, as he laid on his back, his mask covering his shocked expression.

“Answer. Me.” Y/N gritted through their teeth, pushing their swordfurther against the masked mans throat. Techno soon chimed in, reassuring Y/N that nothing to terrible happened.

“It’s fine, Y/N. He didn’t do anything, why not we head back home? Wouldn’t want that homeless man to be to scared spineless, eh?” Techno said, hand on they’re shoulder as he looked Y/N in the eyes.

The 3 walked back to the Nether portal, purple mist engulfing Tommy and Techno as Y/N stood in front of the portal. Back turned towards Dream, Y/N shifted they’re head and glared at Dream with eyes that could kill.

“Don’t do anything you might regret, you megalomaniac.”

- When Tommy and Tubbo decide to go fight Dream, Y/N is both excited and scared. They hope Dream will finally be taken down, but they dont want Tommy (& Tubbo) to be taken down as well.

- So like any amazing best friend, Y/N brews up a bunch of potions of Strength, Healing + Regen, Invisibility and more. Even if Tommy thought he was going to be walking out of there alone, he wasn’t going to be. Y/N would make sure.

- Y/N watched from afar as Tommy got his disc out of the jukebox, laughing in success. All Y/N did was clap quietly, making sure they’re Invisibility didn’t wear off. They we’re making sure Tommy stayed safe, even if he didn’t realize it. Y/N loved him with they’re whole heart, and everyone knew that.

- At Dreams secret base, Y/N was just getting there as Tommy took Dreams first canon life.

“Tommy. Stop. Dont do anything you might regret.” Dream snarled, looking at the teenage boy, his blue eyes dull, yet full of passion and vigor.

All Tommy did was pursue forward, as everyone waited for what was to come. Tommy took one step to close though, because Dream had decided that he had enough.

Dream brought his arm into the air, hand curled into a fist, he was about to hurl his hand into Tommy’s face when Dream suddenly fell to the ground, arrow in his forehead.

Dream was shot by Y/N

Y/N stood there, enchanted bow in hand, infront of the nether portal that swirled with an eerie purple mist. Y/N lowered their bow, staring at the man who tortured Tommy for weeks now. Y/N simply stepped forward and towered over Dreams corpse before it disappeared in thin air.

Lets just say Dream wouldn’t be hurting the blonde heathen anytime soon.

a/n: howdy everyone how we doing? Decided to do Tommy x Reader for this post, although i am MAJORLY simping for Wilbur atm and i have brainrot so that’ll most likely be the next post (if i dont do a pt. 2 for this one but even so WILBUR).

Anyways i hope i did racooninnit justice, i have no idea how to do headcannons since half the time i ramble (its the adhd) so this was new for me. Definitely not my strong suit but like you live ya learn. Also, sorry if i left out quite a lot, i might make a fic about this and include more events, but this is really long for headcannons (because of my layout) so i didn’t include to much. I dont want people scrolling for like 20 seconds to go to another post (i write on mobile so undercut is not a thing for me RIP)

Anyways have a lovely day and dont let Tommy eat all your gapples!!

[karlnapity]

no children.

ranboo may have his own problems, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid.

he’s an observer. from the moment he finds himself at technoblade’s home, he can see it.

and he sees it. he can see it in the way philza lays his wing over ranboo’s shoulders, he can see it in the way he brushes techno’s hair off his shoulder when the man is working.

philza minecraft is built to be a father, and he, probably, tries his hardest. his efforts travel between hesitant and reckless, from confident to fearful.

he gives gifts to techno and helps ranboo and crafts and blows things up and it’s desperate, ranboo can see it.

and phil pats ranboo on the shoulder, giving him a smile, and it turns painful for a single stuttering moment before he turns away.

ranboo is a replacement. techno is a replacement. because phil can’t look the ghost in the eye and his hands shake when he’s handed blue.

> he keeps a sword on the wall, and he doesn’t look at it. he does, one day, while he’s in the middle of a conversation with ranboo, and he goes very, very still. ranboo pats his shoulder, and after a few long moments he gives him a ghostly, wan smile.

he does not take it off the wall. ranboo doesn’t dare touch it. if he looks closely, he can see a speck of dried blood on the gleaming metal.

he doesn’t look at it much either.

> philza minecraft is built to be a father, and he takes ranboo fishing. ranboo is telling him something or other, and he insults tommy. and he freezes.

phil just laughs. it’s not nice, what he said, and he expected a reprimand, expected phil to tell him to stop, and he doesn’t get it.

he goes very silent. after a moment, he says, “isn’t tommy your kid?”

phil doesn’t laugh, this time.

“no,” he says, and his hands tighten around his pole. “he’s just wilbur’s brother.”

ranboo is an observer, and he doesn’t ask questions.

> techno rebukes phil’s attempts with a gentle and empty hand.

phil will help tuck his hair behind his ear, place a blanket on his shoulder, mumble advice to him. techno doesn’t need it- ranboo can’t imagine a world where he would- but he’s surprisingly gentle as he brushes phil’s hands away. he lets phil take care of him as best he can, even if it’s not needed.

ranboo asks him about it, one day. phil has just passed by, floating like a ghost, and he’s pat both ranboo and techno on the back as he comes by. techno gives him a surprisingly gentle smile, but his expression hardens again when ranboo asks.

“he deserves it, if he wants to,” is all he says, voice rough, and he doesn’t elaborate.

> phil avoids ghostbur at all costs, but he always bends in the end. ghostbur will ask him for something, or need help with friend, or simply want to be in his presence, and phil will always cave eventually.

there’s always a strange mix of joy and complete and utter misery on his face, and it hurts ranboo a bit to see.

at least ghostbur doesn’t come around much anymore, ranboo thinks at first, but soon enough it becomes apparent it’s only worsening phil’s mood.

ghostbur remembers and forgets friend’s unfortunate fate like the weather. one minute he’s happy to see phil, the next he’s shouting.

he’s stopped coming around.

phil has stopped caving.

> phil latches onto ranboo in a strange way. techno is still wary, still unsure about whether he can trust him, which ranboo doesn’t mind. after all, he deserves it, and he’s used to being deemed untrustworthy.

phil seems to hold none of the same reservations. it doesn’t take ranboo long to realize he’s a replacement. for wilbur or tommy, he’s not sure, but all the same phil forces his mentorship onto ranboo in a terribly overbearing way.

ranboo hasn’t quite had a father before, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t quite what it’s supposed to be. it’s strange, a mix of doting and complete and utter neglect.

but phil doesn’t force his opinions on ranboo, and they seem perfectly happy to leave him to his own devices at the end of the day, so he can’t complain that much.

> ranboo asks ghostbur, one day, if he remembers anything about growing up with phil. ghostbur tilts his head, thinking hard, before he says,

“i don’t think he was around that much.”

ranboo thinks about what fundy’s told him, of wilbur’s overbearing parenting and constant diminution. thinks about what that might mean.

ghostbur doesn’t say much else after that.

> ranboo can’t stop shaking. he paces back and forth in his shack, letting out ender noises every couple seconds. he can feel his brain stuttering in panic, hands coming to rest on his face and head. he can’t breathe, can’t do much of anything. he tries not to tear up, only knowing the continued pain and panic it will inflict.

all of a sudden he feels a hand on his shoulder. at first, he jolts away, but soon enough he’s taken into someone’s arms, wrapping around his chest and holding him close. he leans into them, grateful for the contact.

“it’s alright, mate, it’s ok,” phil murmurs, one hand reaching up to his hair. “it’s ok.”

he lets out an ender croak, clutching close to the man.

phil holds him close until he falls asleep, and when he wakes up the next morning he feels a bit less alone.

> “what’s that?” ranboo asks as he enters the house. he’s become a bit bolder, lately, as techno’s started trusting him more and more, and he’s started feeling comfortable within the house.

phil’s leaning against a wall, looking at something, and techno’s looming over his shoulder and pretending not to be interested. “photos,” phil answers, handing him one. techno huffs.

it’s a picture of wilbur and phil, standing outside some sort of house. phil has his arm looped over wilbur’s shoulder, and they’re both grinning. wilbur looks around ten in the picture, gap-toothed and enthusiastic. it seems so uncharacteristic of everything he’s learned about the man, but he supposes everyone had to be a kid at some point.

“that’s when i left for my hardcore world,” phil explains. ranboo stops himself from frowning. he left him that young?

“cute,” is all he says, handing back the photo. phil smiles gently, too lost in his thoughts to notice ranboo’s tone.

> “I gave up on them,” phil murmurs one night, and ranboo doesn’t think he’s supposed to hear it.

he’s an observer, and he doesn’t answer.

[redstoneverdict]

@petrichormeraki brought up how the dream smp would be in shambles after tommy goes “missing” and now I can’t sleep so here we go

It wasn’t no surprise that tubbo was the first one to find out tommy was gone, having found logshire in rubble with a tower standing tall in the ruins. “ No, Surely not!” Was all tubbo could muster before falling to the ground in shock. A thousand thoughts racing through his head at once. Where is Tommy,What happened here, why did he exile him, why didn’t he come visit him sooner. He looks at the base of the tower and notices how there isn’t a scattered aray of items laying around. Tommy was gone long before tubbo arrived. There was no there to hear his desperate scream.

Phillza was the next to learn the news. Tubbo went to phillzas house as soon as he could walk and knocked on the door in a daze. “ He’s gone, t-Tommy’s gone!” tubbo choked out before bursting back into tears. It didn’t take long for phillza to piece what happened together, but he managed to stay strong for the younger boy untill he left later that night. It wasn’t untill after tubbo had left phillza finally let himself cry. He couldn’t believe it. He sat by and watched as he let another one of his sons die. He punched the wall as silent tears fell

Ghostbur went to visit tommy in logshire but was left confused when all he found was a tore up tent, a tower and rubble. The blown up bits leaving him with a feeling of dejvu and a feeling he dosnt want to think about, so he goes to technoblades house. He finds him going though his chest, mumbling about how he swears he had more stuff, and that something must’ve gotten into them. He starts chatting with Technoblade about his day before mentioning how weird it was when he went to logshire. Techno stiffens up when he hears about the crater and the tower, and Wilbur is once again left confused when Technoblade runs out the door towards logshire after the tells him that he couldn’t find tommy anywhere.

One by one the rest of the server finds out about what happened. Most are filled with shock, not believing that Tommy could really do that, that he had to be around somewhere, but as the days went by they come to accept the fact that he’s gone. Some are filled with grief . For not standing up for him more, for not checking in to see if he was ok out there all by himself. He was just a child after all. Only a few knew what dream was doing out there to Tommy, knew of the psychological abuse dream was puting him trough.

Bad stared at the disc in his ender chest, one of Tommy’s original disc and the one he tried to give him for Christmas. The one Tommy had to give back and beg him to hide when dream came. He puts his head in his hands, remembering how he just stood by and watched it happen, being to scared of someone who was once his friend. He wonders if he should tell someone what he saw, what he knew, but the thought of dream coming after him and skeppy next was to much.

It was discussed wether or not they should have a funeral, but there was nothing to bury, instead he got a tombstone next to the lman-tree. Everyone visted at least once, apologizing for not being there, saying things that will be forever left on deaths ears. No one wants to think about how jshlatt died surrounded by people, and Wilbur in the arms of his father, but Tommy had died completely alone in the outskirts of the smp.

Tubbo vists the grave the most out of the sever. Talking to the grave as if Tommy was still there. Telling him about his day, what’s going on with everyone, on bad days he just sits there leaning against the tombstone and listens to the 2 disc that skeppy and bad gave to him, the ones that where once Tommy’s. He looks down at his hand and fidgets with the compass new Wilbur gave him. He had managed to fix it as best as he could, but the arrow spins around wildly. Of course what would you expect it to do when the person it’s supposed to point to isn’t around anymore. He leans back and lets the notes of mellohi fill the silence.

———————————————————————-

Tommy is exhausted, his legs trimble with every step, his eyesight becoming blurry and his head filled with a constant fog. He lost track on how long he’s been traveling, having given up after the first few nights of running, trying to get as much distance between him and dream as possible. He really hopes that dream takes the bait, and believes he’s dead and doesn’t come looking for him. He looks into the bag of supplies he took from technoblades house before he left, having gone through most of them, with only an old steak and a few pork chops left. He doesn’t know how much longer he can go, the last night was rough with mobs and he barely made it out alive, but anything is better then facing dream again. He wonders if anyone misses him yet, but shakes it off. “No” he thinks to himself “ they probably haven’t even noticed I’m gone”. Tommy rejust the bag over his shoulder and continues walking into the wilderness

[somensfw-blue]

Some more thoughts to keep you up at night:

Imagine Ghostbur being turned on by you wearing blue clothing

Imagine God!Wilbur having you as a follower and wanting you to worship him

Imagine being fucked by both ghostbur and Revivebur, the mix of praise and degradation, soft and rough, sweet whispers and harsh thrusts

Imagine roommate Simpbur masterbating outside your room while hearing you do the same

Imagine argbur wanting some slight temperature play so he fucks you out in the cold, the only thing your wearing is his jacket as he wears an extra one while also being heated up by each other

Imagine L'manbur!Wilbur fingering you while you read the declaration of independance and every time you stutter, say a wrong word, miss a line or a word he will take out his fingers and edge you

-🌘 anon

well considering it's past midnight as of writing this... (/lh)

the first time he sees you in blue, he doesn't know why he feels the way he does. but by the fourth time he realises, you in blue turns him on. so he starts offering you blue more often, or buying you clothes (or underwear) that are blue. and it takes you a couple times to realise why he keeps buying you things in blue. you think at first it's because it's his favourite colour and he likes seeing you in it, but then the pattern of "wearing blue then getting fucked against the nearest surface" is recognised. which naturally leads to wearing blue when you're needy because you know you're gonna get fucked

god wilbur, seeing you worship him and other gods, but wanting to hear you beg for him, say his name like it itself was the prayer.

ghostbur and revivebur working together to send you over the edge over and over again. ghostbur telling you how good you're doing, how gorgeous you look for them, but revivebur reminding you that you were such a slut letting the two men fuck you, saying how pathetic you sounded as you begged with broken sentences. one thing they could agree on was that you were their pretty little whore

simpbur didn't mean to listen to you masturbating, but he came home early and you were being so loud. a particularly loud whine as he walked past your closed bedroom door caught his attention and went straight to his cock. he wanted to keep walking, he respected you so much. but he had no idea if he would ever hear those beautiful noises again, and he wanted them burned into his memory. it was only a side effect that his cock got so hard to those sounds, almost painfully so. he didn't realise he was masturbating outside your door to the sounds of you masturbating until he had to fight to keep a gasp quiet, not wanting to interrupt you before he could hear you cum

he suggested it as a joke at first, but argbur was very serious. he didn't really notice the cold, not when he felt it all the time, but he knew that your skin always burned so deliciously when he fucked you, and figured that the temperature contrast would be incredible. and of course you always look so good in his jacket. (he's right about the temperature contrast, you feel everything so much more as your skin flushes and freezes)

i love "read this while i fingerfuck you and if you stutter that's an edge" but something about trying to declare "yoooooooooooooooooooooooooo suck it green boyyyyyyyyyyyy" while being fingered is a hilarious image. but in all seriousness, he would have you on his lap, back to his chest while one had works (fingering you or jerking you off, depending on your anatomy), and the other holds the page for you, leaving your hands free to grasp and scratch at his wrists and thighs

[whitefawnn]

blood letting (pt. 1)

(c!wilbur x reader) - 4/29 dsmp spoilers

warnings: blood, manipulation, vampires, blood loss, dizziness, swearing

pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5

note: read the warnings

A loud knock resonated throughout my empty home. Insistent and repeating. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, careening my head to look at the neon numbers that illuminated my room from the clock on my bedside table.

“12:23” I muttered, “What kind of psychopath knocks on a door at 12:23?” I pulled myself up from my warm bed, padding down the wooden stairs, I shivered as the cold air of the night swallowed me whole. I didn’t hesitate to swing the door open, maybe a foolish choice considering the time. I was met by the sight of a ghost, a walking corpse with a wide smile. 

“Wilbur?” I stuttered out as the lanky man stared down at me with a smile. He had been dead for months. I had been without him for months, the rise and fall of his chest made me feel dizzy. I looked him up and down, haunted by the yellow sweater that resembles Ghostbur’s.

“Are you not going to invite me in?” he cooed, leaning down closer to my face. “We have some things to discuss, y/n.” I blinked at him.

“Wilbur, how are you here?” I rubbed my eyes once again, wondering if sleep had caused me to imagine the charming man stood in front of me. His skin seemed paler, his hands wrapped in tan bandages. He looked like his likeness should have been caught in a painting. Carefully caught with the brushes of an artist. I jumped at the sound of rattling bones and spotted a skeleton behind him. I wasted no time pulling him inside by his jacket, shutting the heavy wooden door behind us. I couldn’t lose him again so quick. “You have some explaining to do,” I said, my back pressed against the cool wood watching as he sauntered over to my dining table, pulling out a chair with a relieved sigh. He collapsed into the wooden chair, one of his legs extended out further than the other. He stretched his arms up towards the ceiling, groaning at the feeling.

“What is there to explain, my dear? Seeing is believing after all.” his smile caused a shiver to run down my spine as he used his hands to gesture towards his present body. His canines seemed unnaturally sharp. I studied the disheveled appearance, one of his arms bandaged and bloody. My eyes jumped up to the snow-white streak that was painted into his hair.

“Holy shit, your hair,” I walked over to him, placing an exploratory hand to feel the new white streak. His hair felt soft, the curly auburn locks feeling familiar between my fingers. He laid his freezing hand on my wrist, pulling my hand from his hair and down to his chapped lips, littering kisses on my knuckles with a smirk.

“Do you like the new hair, my love.” I eagerly nodded as I fell down into the chair beside him.

“How are you back?” I stared at him with a set expression, his eyes a wine red. “I saw you die, Phil he, he stabbed you. I made your grave, Wilbur.”

“Dream,” he smiled “he resurrected me.” my eyes were wide, struck by disbelief.

“I thought he was in prison, the revival book was his leverage to stay alive?”

“and it still is. Though I owe him now, darling.” he rested his chin on his hand with a faraway smile and a predatory look. “He’s why I get to see you again. That being said, not all good things are just good.” I turned my head as he reached out to caress my cheek with his free hand. It was a freezing weight against my face. “There are new consequences after being dead for so long, ones that Tommy had the pleasure to not be afflicted with” he spoke, maintaining eye contact.

“What are you talking about, Wilbur?” a pit began to form in my stomach as the interaction seemed to grow sour. 

“I need something from you, y/n.” his eyes seemed to grow darker “Dream, well he told me about something it said in the revive book. If I want to stay here I need to feed on something less than typical.”

“What do you mean, Wilbur?” he chuckled as he watched me stare at him in horror, I began to squirm under his gaze. “Are you going to kill me?” my voice wavered as I felt my eyes begin to water at the prospect. A pang of hurt ran through my heart at the idea that he thought so little of our prior relationship, that I had felt so happy to see him again. My head was dizzy as I realized what danger I was in, his hand still placed on my face.

“No, no, my love, I could never hurt you. I need you.” he scooted closer to me, now able to feel the way cool air left his parted lips. “In more ways than one,” My relief was rapidly overshadowed. “i need your blood…..” he trailed off, placing his face into the crook of my neck. I felt frozen in fear as he inhaled my scent then ran his sharp teeth along the length of my neck. “You smell sweet”

“W-Wilbur,” I whimpered out as I relished the way the long scratches he left in his wake stung.

“What do you say, y/n?” he asked, pulling away to look me in the eyes.

“Anything for you,” I said, watching as his smile grew at my confession. He returned to his place  near my neck, sucking a bruise. 

“It might hurt, my love.” he whispered in my ear, biting at my earlobe. He placed a hand to rest on the back of my neck, a way to ground me. I braced myself, tilting my head to give him better access to the expanse of my neck. I felt as he opened his mouth, focusing on the feeling of the sharp teeth pressing against my soft skin. He swiftly dug the fangs into me, and a small cry escaped past my lips. I winced at the shooting pain that traveled through my body similar to a wave of electricity. The stabbing pain quickly was replaced by an intense tingling. My head began to feel foggy, my vision less sharp around the edges. I looked down at Wilbur’s head that was stuffed into the crook of my neck. A wave of affection went over me almost overcoming the fuzz. I connected my hand to the shorter hair at the back of his head. 

“Mmhm” I hummed out, my voice feeling tight and stretched. Wilbur pulled away from my neck, heaving. He licked the bite marks, his tongue warm against my neck, lapping up the blood that pooled on the wound.

“You taste so good, darling. Intoxicating.” he sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. His features were now soft as I watched him with watery eyes. I reached up to cup the injury on my neck with hesitant fingers. The bite didn’t hurt, even when I pressed my fingertips against it. 

“Wilbur,” I called out, him rushing to hold me up in the chair, something I didn’t even know I needed. I realized how instead I felt when his hands came up to hold my face.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he looked into my eyes with worry. I watched as he tracked where I watched. “You’re okay.” he scooped me into his arms carrying me to our formerly shared bedroom. I laid limp in his arms, not strong enough to move my limbs or adjust my head. The swaying motion of Wilbur walking made me feel increasingly disoriented. He gently placed me down on the soft mattress. The feeling of the fur blankets on my skin almost enough to overwhelm my addled brain.

“Wilbur,” I whimpered again, grabbing onto his sleeve. The way he seemed to bleed into the rest of the world made me feel like sobbing. “Are you there? Are you real?” I cried out as I watched his face contort into one of confusion.

“Of course I am,” he said with his honeyed voice running a rough hand through my hair. “I’m back and I’m not leaving you.” He sat down beside me continuing to play with my hair. I felt myself slip away still wondering if what had happened was all real. Desperately trying to see Wilbur’s face in focus and commit it to my memory.

[jack-enbyfold]

Little Soldier Boy

egginnit go brrrr

TW: Sleep stuff (I don’t know the term for it), manipulation

 The cold spring air of the SMP felt like knives against Tommy’s skin as he stumbled home. The panicked energy of the revival had worn off and the exhaustion had set deep in his bones. He collapsed onto his bed, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He didn't want to fall asleep, scared that if his eyes closed they wouldn’t open again, but his brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton and his eyelids felt like lead. As he drifted off, he failed to see the small clump of crimson starting to creep up his wall. 

 Tommy yawned, the chilling air and rough wood of the Prime Path setting his senses alight again. He looked around, realizing fairly quickly he was half way to L’Mancreator. For fucks sake, he was sleepwalking again. He hadn’t done that since...he hadn’t done it in a while. Tommy let out another yawn and started to trudge back to his home. 

Sleep this time wasn’t dreamless. L’Manburg stretched out in front of him, untouched. Original L’Manburg. His- Wilbur’s L’Manburg. The starchiness of his shirt and the extra layers he could feel reminded him of his uniform. A sudden hand on his shoulder caused a shock to go through his body and he turned quick enough for it to be shaken off.  

There was some guy. Tommy didn’t recognize him (though a voice at the back of his head told him he should if he was in his dreams). The man looked upset at Tommy’s reaction, red hair falling over wide green eyes. Tommy felt his heart sink a little. Add this random guy to the list of people he upset. The redhead looked over at L’Manburg, Tommy joining him. It’s just a dream, no one can hurt him here. 

“Where are we?” Tommy lets out a heavy sigh. 

“My home. It’s gone now.” The man hummed, sticking his hands in the pockets of the hoodie he was wearing.

“You sound tired. More then you should.” Tommy lets out a groan this time. He could vent here, this was just a dream. 

“I’m always tired, man...”

-----

Tommy’s dreams stopped for a bit after that conversation. Annoyingly, the sleep walking didn’t. Multiple times a week, he’d find himself on the Prime Path, always facing the same direction. Towards L’Manburg. He let out a sigh, walking back to the warmth of his house. He was so sick of this. Sick of being stressed. Sick of always being too tired to do anything productive. He rubbed his eyes, letting out a yawn as he fell into his bed, asleep practically the moment his head but the pillow.

…This time, it was New L'Manburg. He only briefly got to see it in its prime but it was beautiful. Tubbo and Ghostbur did a good job. That doesn't mean it felt like home.

The red head was there again, looking over the country from their shared viewpoint. Tommy cakes to sit next to him, tucking his knees into his chest. The man-Red-gave him a smile.

"Hi again, Tommy!"

"Hey..."

"I missed you! We haven't talked in a while, I hoped you'd come see me so much." Tommy laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, sorry about that, haven't been sleeping too good."

"Well, now you're here! You're safe with me, Tommy. I can't hurt you even if I wanted to." Tommy leans back, getting comfortable on the grass.

"Yeah...Red?"

"Yes, Tommy?"

"Why are you here?" Red just shrugged in response.

"Dreams are just weird sometimes. We both want company and safety, I guess. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"If you say so, man."

-----

Tommy's dreams were more consistent from then. Always at L'Manburg, always on that hill, unable to get any closer. Red wasn't always there, sometimes Tommy would spend nights on that hill alone. He hated those nights.

The state of L'Manburg had been consistent. Until it wasn't.

Tonight, he looked over at L'Manburg's ruins. Tommy bit back the tears he could feel welling up. He could handle this while he was awake, why was it harder when he was asleep? Red walked up behind him, eyes soft.

"I'm sorry."

"... 's not your fault..."

"If there's anything I can do-" Red was cut off by a choked sob.

"I-I just want to rest...I don't even know if I know how..."

"Let me take care of it. You won't have to worry anymore, I promise."

-----

Punz didn't know why the egg wanted them specifically. Normally, it called for Bad or even Ant sometimes, they weren't its most active follower. But the egg called for them and so they had to answer.

There was someone else here. Punz gripped the hilt of their sword tighter as they made their way over to the person curled into a clump of vines. They gently moved some of the vines to reveal-

"Wait, Tommy?!" The teen stirred, confirming that he was actually alive and the pink of his cheeks was pronounced against the new bleached white of his top. Punz felt a cocktail of emotions swell up inside them. The relief the kid they tried to save was back, the sickly artificial excitement that another person had realized the joy of the egg, the quick tang of pity that was quickly suppressed by the suffocating calm the egg provided. They gently shook the sleeping teen's shoulder, encouraged by the echoing voice that surrounded the two of them. Hazy red met bright crimson as Tommy blinked awake.

"Punz, I-" Tommy cut himself off with a yawn.

Take care of him, Punz. This one's important.

[stellocchia]

Uhhhh... Motherfucking au where everything's the same but SBI is canon and techno is a person with morals and empathy.

So the 16th was an overreaction and he actually regrets it. He got really swept away with everything in pogtopia and Wilbur egging everything on didn't help. So when he starts his retirement he actually means it and there's no wither arc

He still forgets to tell anyone he's in retirement so the butcher army kinda happens as it did before. He actually willingly follows them back to lmanberg for a trial (he doesn't just immediatelly comply with them of course but no actual battle Takes place)

He gets executed without trial and wether he has the totem or not he doesn't use it. He loses a life, figuring that if he gives them their show of power this whole shitshow is finally gonna be over.

He finds Tommy and like any decent person but especially a brother he takes him in officially. No raccooning needed. He focuses on helping Tommy recover a bit, both physically and mentally while doing his thing and keeping an eye out for lmanberg, if they decide one life wasn't enough.

Hiding from dream and stuff is p much the same

Phil comes back by himself.

They don't exactly have any reason to go to lmanberg so they don't exactly do.

Well. Mostly. They sometimes sneak around especially when dream is there to kinda scout what's going on. It's a compromise. Techno is gonna support him in getting stronger and getting info for his endgoal of getting the disks back and Tommy will hold back for now and be patient.

Butcher army still moves onto dream anyways because... Idk I feel like quackity would've gotten to him anyways like. Why not yknow.

The festival happens and the community House scene is pretty similar

Dream blames it on Tommy, wants the disc tubbo has, Tommy reveals himself.

The whole thing is just hilarious because. Yknow. People didn't know Tommy was alive. So first they thought dream was insane and then Tommy fckin entered the stage. Techno backs him up. Tubbo is pissed. His reasons are pretty different while also being pretty much the same.

Tommy let him think he killed himself and was okay doing so while going after his stupid discs. He's alive so there's the possibility he actually did blow up the community House and give them trouble with dream. Lmanberg and techno aren't cool or anything. After the execution they were just mutually ignoring each other. Lmanberg thinking he was like. Scared or some shit.

Listen. Tubbos just been having a hard time ok.

They still kinda have their shouting match because both have been bottling up shit

Dream gets the disc

Dream announces doomsday

Tommy sides with tubbo

Techno is ok with that. He didn't have an agenda. He's in retirement. He makes it clear though that this means that that's where they part. Techno's taking his retirement very serious. Techno and him had the compromise that techno would help Tommy get ready to get the disks back before releasing him back into the wild. If Tommy gets involved now, this deal ends.

Techno's Not getting involved with this conflict.

Tommy pretends to think for a few seconds but there was never a decision to be made in his mind.

They hug and part ways

Tommy still rallies the people

It still falls apart after he leaves

People are still pissed at him

So doomsday arrives and it goes pretty much the same except. Yknow. No techno or philza.

Dream releases several withers like. One or two hours early because he's a fucking bitch. (Here he actually has wither skulls himself)

And when I say several I mean several

Once he has enough spreading chaos and keeping everyone busy he builds the tnt grid and yeah.

Lmanberg is a crater anyways.

However. Philza (who in this au actually bothered to learn about the country he helped rebuilt and lived in for weeks) went and got all of ghostburs stuff the night before because. Yknow. I want him to a bit more of a good person in this.

Also. Yknow. Friend.

There's still a lot of shit blown up. The minecraft-blade-soot-innit family ain't saints. They got ghostburs shit. That's it.

So afterwards most of the shit goes the same with dream. The scenes on the grid etc etc etc

When Tommy after a long day enters his house there's technoblade and Phil and ghostbur who've been waiting for him to come home after that shitshow. They comfort him, tell him he can always come visit them in the Arctic or even live there with them if he wanted. He declined but thanks them anyways

They spend the night just to make sure he'll be okay.

The next day they go back to the antarctic

Mostly the same stuff as in canon happens

Tommy and Tubbo still get the gear for the fight against dream themselves. Tommy made the decision to do the disc thing without techno during the community House scene and he wants to respect techno by not going back on that. Though he knows if really necessary he could go and barely need to do any convincing for Techno to help him out with some gear

Getting worried about tubbo he doesn't want to chance it but not wanting to put techno on the spot he tries to steal and very similar to canon techno just pretends to be too busy to care.

When they leave techno Phil and ghostbur are also waiting for them though not on the prime path. They're a bit off to the side and them and the duo don't talk. Tommy's already done that with them after he got dreams invitation. Theyre just there to see him go off.

They're not with the saving group but they don't need to be and one of the first things Tommy does after his victory is private message them that he's safe and they won and dreams in prison.

He comes over for dinner the next day to tell them in more detail so they know what's going on and that's about it for season 2

I'm not getting into season 3 now and probably never but a few tidbits about it

Tommy still has to somewhat earn the diamonds for his hotel from philza. The minecraft-blade-soot-innit family might be semi functional but that doesn't mean Phil just gives them money whenever they ask for it. That's not how you raise kids.

Tommy obviously sends them an invite to the hotel opening anyways and techno asks what the VIP perks are

Tubbo and Tommy still have to work through a lot just like in canon. Add to that that tubbo doesn't quite know what to think about Tommy and his family being this close again. On one hand they weren't involved with doomsday like in canon and have just been keeping to themselves since Techno's execution. On the other Techno's behaviour in season 1 is still fresh in his mind and "he was having a rough patch" kind of doesn't just give him closure on that. Like he's not mad. He just doesn't know what to think of it. Cuz like. Techno's not trying to redeem himself or anything. He started his retirement because after getting out of that ravine and the adrenaline fading and just having time to think and realize what happened he realized that he couldn't let himself be controlled by the voices anymore so it's like. Going from full on alcoholic to no alcohol at all ever within a day. And to make that possible he focuses just on his retirement. This isn't about becoming a better person per se it's about not getting so strung up in shit that you tell your younger brother to die while sicking withers on him. He recognizes that he fucked up. He accepted lmanbergs judgement of executing him. Now he just wants his fckin peace. And that's kinda weird to think about for someone in tubbos position. Because. Yeah.

Thinking about Tommy spending time with his family like everything's peachy irks him because. Kinda makes it seem like everything's resolved. Like he's okay with them just having a happy ending despite them not really deserving one. But with time he realizes that Tommy needs them as a support system and that getting worked up about it just isn't worth it.

Uhhhhh and that's about it I think

Ooooh, semi-functional family sbi and clingy duo angst? Love that!

I do wonder how the whole exile debacle would go if they were actual family, especially considering that Phil was in New L'Manburg and therefore knew about the exile and could go visit Tommy freely, same with Techno actually (except for the being in New L'Manburg part), but, like, for him we can pretend he didn't know. Like, would Phil try and go visit Tommy more then once? Or would Dream find a way to keep him away? Maybe make him think he has no right to meddle with Tommy's life just now?

Also I wonder how Ranboo would be involved in all of this. Because if Techno and Phil were not there during Doomsday I doubt they invited him to live with them and I doubt they made the Syndicate, so would Ranboo live with Tuboo? Would he try to act as a sort of mediator for Clingy Duo?

Like, there are so many possibilities for this....

[griffintail]

She took a breath before nodding, carefully going through the letters. She...needed to know what Tubbo said. 🍋

Dear (Y/N),

I told Tommy the day you shouted and a few hours after I figured out you were gone, that I wouldn't try and find you. It wasn't good for you or me. Yet, almost every day, I still wonder where you are, what you're doing. ..If you're safe. God, I hope you're safe.

I like to think you didn't mean what you said. We were both hurt and I know I said things I regret. I understand if you did mean it though. I'm sorry I wasn't a brother to you like Wilbur was to Tommy. I should have been and that's my fault. I need to sleep, I hope you sleep well.

Good Night.

----

Dear (Y/N),

I stared at the stars the other night and thought about when I used to sneak you out when he was being rather loud and frightening you. You liked to make silly shapes with the stars and I tried to show you actual constellations you didn't understand. I looked at the stars the other night and made the dog you loved to trace out.

I wondered if you were looking at the stars and saw the same things I was. Do you even remember that? It feels like a lifetime ago. I hope the stars still shine bright where you are.

Love you, sis.

----

Dear (Y/N),

Being the president is rather stressful. Wilbur made it look so easy. I certainly feel the pressure but Tommy tries to help me out with it. I thought about how you always used to ask about him the other day when he was helping me out. You wanted to come because you wanted him to be your best friend too.

I think you two would have been great friends if I had actually let you meet him originally. Maybe if I had let you meet him, I would have taken you that night. Fundy misses you too by the way. He pretends I don't know where he sneaks off even though he's part of the cabinet and I pretend that I really don't know. But, we both know he's looking for you. Some days I hope he finds you so I can apologize and beg for your forgiveness.

Love you, sis, maybe one day.

----

Dear Little Lamb,

I've kept track of the days, so Happy Birthday! I hope you're having fun out there. I hope you're seeing lots of things that make you happy. I asked Nikki to make me one of your favorite desserts and spent today alone, eating the cake as I stared at the stars at night. If you come back, I think I'll give you actual Wooly. He's sitting on my desk right now as I write this. Poor guy has been through some things with me but I cried every time I thought about losing him.

It felt like I'd lose you all over again.

Love you, sis. Here's to many more.

----

Dear Little Lamb,

Ghostbur, Wilbur's ghost, is always around and it stresses me out sometimes. What if he came back? What if he's holding you down once more! I hate that thought. You're out there free. Even if I'm not there to make sure you're alright, you're finally free and get to know what it feels like.

It makes me worry though about him maybe being out there once again. What if his ghost isn't like Wilbur's? I just hope he isn't out there holding you down again and you're seeing everything as you want to.

Love you, sis, I hope you're seeing the world.

----

(The paper is extremely crumpled)

Dear Little Lamb,

Today was...rough. Tommy made a mistake, a stupid mistake, but it was an accident.

I had gotten so angry because I've just been so stressed and then...I scared myself. I got so scared of myself. I wondered what you would have thought of me when I first started yelling at Tommy for no reason just like...him.

I remembered the time you spilled juice on the floor after I calmed down and I remembered he had gotten livid because it had been a long day for him. I hated myself and begged Tommy for his forgiveness. He understood thank god. I'll never forget though, I need to do better. I won't be like him.

Love you, sis.

----

Dear Little Lamb,

I'm happy you're not here with me today.

Obsidian walls surround us and we're trapped. We have tunnels of course but it's risky if Dream catches us. We're stocking supplies and all I could think was I was happy you weren't here.

You didn't need to feel trapped again. You didn't need to be in the face of another war or fight. You're finally free and I hope you're happy out there holding that freedom close.

I wondered if you made friends like I have here in L'Manberg. I wonder and I hope you have. Tommy and I will stand strong together no matter what. Dream demanded I exile him, and I said no to his face. That's what our friendship is, I hope you find that one day. Fundy still hopes that friendship is what you two have. He's still searching but now we have large walls blocking those goals.

I love you sis, I hope you're safe. And I hope you're happy. I hope freedom is treating you well. Maybe I'll see you again but for now, I need to give my country the freedom I should have given you. I should have broken down those walls for you and again, I'm sorry.

Hopefully, I can make it up to you one day.

I love you so much sis, I never stopped. Till another letter.