mannanoo

[mannanoo]

Doodle dump! I’ve been super active on @gendervoid-zane ‘s discord and here’s a pile of doodles I did in said server! I doodled… so much laurances my beautiful boy

Just a simple zoey doodle + a concept of Gabriel

( if you didn’t know elf’s in my ver. Instead of grey hair they develope colorful parts in their hair it can be any color of the rainbow and hue)

And my Romeave next gen !! I love my kids they’re all so cute (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

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Thank you bang server for sending me this audio

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In light of recent events

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Yuulma… that is all 🥺

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i just want a beautiful hot evil woman that would care for me even if i was a broke trash racoon am i asking too much

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she is very pleased with the reception

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a bunch of ddvau characters requests from the ddvau discord server

I hate doody

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Missed these guys so much so I dre them yipee

Me when I get caught up to the latest updates of ddvau by @kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11 💥💥💥✨✨✨

[mannanoo]

A warm up doodle, which I got carried away with haha! HE!!!!

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I can't move on

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in the storm

doomed yuri. would you look at that. what would their ship name be? veider? schneitin?

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don’t forget me 🍊

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It's not like it's hard to get Tango taking about Decked Out, but buy him a couple of potions in the museum speakeasy and he gets downright confessional.

Grian leans across the stat poker table, his wings rustling eagerly. "Truth or dare, Tango," he says. "Is Decked Out... alive?"

“Aren’t I supposed to pick truth or dare before you ask the question?” Tango tosses back another potion and gives the group a half-smirk.

“We all know you’re going to pick truth because you’re too particled to get up.” Etho’s face is obscured, but they can hear the laugh in his voice and see his fox ears twitch with amusement. “So spill.”

Tango shrugs. "Well," he says, "It's not exactly not NOT alive, if you know what I mean."

Grian glances at Doc on his right and Etho on his left. They shrug at him.

"Yeah, no," he says, looking back at Tango. "I don't think we know what that means."

"Is it like that Grumbot robot that Mumbo and Grian built?" Doc asks, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, his blunt black claws scritching loudly against the stubble of his beard. Grian tries to catch a peek at his stat tokens and gives a sheepish grin when Doc notices and quickly angles them away.

"Hey, now," Doc starts to say, but Tango interrupts.

"Nah, no -- I mean, Grumbot was pretty... Simple. No offense."

"None taken." Grian pulls a token from his stack. "Number of villagers traded with," he offers. "And I'll up the ante to three diamond blocks, gentlemen."

Tango lays down his own token, and taps a finger on it in an aimless rhythm. “The dungeon is… aware,” he says. “Not alive, I guess, but it knows things. It recognizes people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Etho says dryly. “That place hates me.”

They all laugh, but Tango shakes his head. “Does it hate you?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or does it want to impress you?”

“Oh, I’m impressed enough.” Etho drops his stat token on the table with a soft click. “So it can stop glitching and trying to kill me now.”

“Aww, you’re just playing hard to get.”

Doc lays his tokens down on the table and stands. “I will sit out this round, I think,” he says. “I have done almost nothing with villagers this season. Will anyone have more to drink?”

“I’m not playing hard to get!” Etho protested, ears lying flat. “If anything, I’m playing easy to get – I just walk right in there!”

“You heard it first here, folks,” Tango says. “Etho’s easy.”

He ducks, but not in time to dodge the rolled-up napkin Etho chucks at his face. It lands in his hair and goes up in a miniature whump of flame.

Grian snickers, waving away smoke.

“So if the dungeon’s not alive, but it’s not quite not alive,” he says. “How does one maybe go about… making friends with it?”

“That,” Doc says, thunking a fresh bottle of Cub’s custom-mixed potion onto the table. “Is cheating, you pesky bird. No flirting with the possibly-not-not-alive dungeon.”

“You’re telling me you’re above flirting for a few extra keys and crowns, Doc?” Tango asks with teasing skepticism.

Doc sniffs, flipping the cork from his bottle with his thumb. “I don’t need flirting,” he says dismissively. “I have skills. Game strategies, man.”

“He’s already planning how to get the dungeon’s attention.” Etho flips his token over, exposing the total. “Aren’t’cha, Doc.”

Doc tips back his drink and shrugged. “Eh… that is for me to know, and you to worry about.” He winks.

“Tango, what’s your total there?” Grian fiddles with his token.

“Well, I know it’s higher than old three-digit Minecraft master over here.” Tango holds up his token and pinches it between his fingers. “Under three hundred, Etho? What’ve you been doing all season?”

“Not hiding out in a hole for thirteen months,” Etho grumbles good-naturedly, pushing his diamonds into the center of the table.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have been doing and look at that stat.” Tango displays the count. “Seven k, baby – read ‘em and weep.”

Grian makes an exaggerated sad face that immediately morphs into a triumphant grin. “Rookie numbers, fellas,” he crows. “Try over twelve thousand.”

Tango groans and rolls his diamonds toward Grian with a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely not telling you how to flimflam my dungeon, you shyster.”

“Tango, I’m hurt.” Grian, entirely unbothered and very un-hurt looking, scoops the pile of diamonds into his pouch. “My stats are all ethically earned.”

“And that’s how your dungeon runs will be too.” Tango stashes his tokens and stands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”

“Back to your cave, Tango?” Etho doesn’t stand, but his bushy white tail wags a little in barely-contained excitement. “So, Decked Out will be open again… soon?”

“You bet your foxy good looks,” Tango says. “Or… maybe don’t. Not with those stats.”

This time he does duck the thrown napkin.

He exits through the museum, the laughter of his friends fading behind him as he steps out into the cool afternoon air. For a moment, he stretches, shaking out his elytra and clearing his head a bit of the potion particles.

Is Decked Out alive?

Tango grins, sharp teeth glinting. Of course the dungeon’s alive, who’s he kidding? And she’s hungry, too, he can feel it even from here. His friends should just be grateful he’s only ever built friendly monsters that want to devour them.

“On my way,” he mutters to himself. Or the dungeon. “And Etho’ll be coming over soon too.”

He feels the dungeon’s excitement.

“Oh…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tango launches himself in the air and spirals over the shopping district, angling toward Decked Out and laughing so loudly the sound bounces off the buildings below.

His dungeon totally has a crush on Etho.

[mannanoo]

Nothing Changes

No Warnings Apply General Audiences Dream SMP Tommyinnit Word Count: 225 Completed

The waiting room is all that's left.

"Name?"

"Uhhh..."

"Come on, quickly. What's your full name? I haven't got all day here."

"Um, Thomas Careful Danger Kraken Innit."

"And you were last in...?"

"Uh, Dream SMP... Where am I?"

"The waiting room."

"I, uh, what?"

"What are you doing here so early? You're not scheduled here for another few decades at least."

"What exactly is here?"

"The waiting room. Ugh, oh well. Take a number and then sit down. When you're number is called go down the corridor and take the first door on the left."

"I don't understand."

"Listen, you go down the corridor, go in the first door on the left and you'll meet your case worker. Then you get the option to either stay here or go back as a ghost, alright kid? Now hurry up and sit down. You're holding up the line."

"I'm... Dead?"

"Yes. Now go on, you're making everyone else wait. Have your little crisis when you've sat down. NEXT!"

"But... I was just..."

"Kid, I don't care. I have a job to do and you're dead. Nothing's gonna change that. Now go sit down. Your case worker's name is Kristin, just in case you forget which door. Now go sit down. No one's coming to rescue you and you're not going back just because you're sad. So just, sit down and embrace eternity kid."

[mannanoo]

The Crow Father

No Warnings Apply General Audiences Dream SMP Tommyinnit & Phil Watson Word Count: 1,459 Completed

Tommy's brothers had always told him that monsters weren't real.

They also told him that there was a child eating crow monster in the forest which is why he shouldn't take it as a shortcut.

He's never been good at listening to what they tell him.

Or: Tommy finds a father in a forest after a sleepover with Tubbo and Ranboo.

Tommy had been wandering for hours. Or at least, he thought he had. He was hungry and thirsty. He’d run out of water a while ago and he’d rejected Tubbos attempts to give him food. It was dark in the forest and he’d wandering for so long, turning and moving around trees so much he wasn’t exactly sure where he’d started from.

He refused to call Techno though.

Regardless of whether he had his phone on him or not, he absolutely would NOT call his brother. He just knew he’d made fun of as soon as his brother found him and all the way back home. He knew Tubbo would be upset with how long he’d been gone, but he just wasn’t willing to let Techno or Wilbur make fun of him. He refused.

That being said, it was definitely getting darker, and the trees were looking… less than healthy. And it was getting colder, he thought at least. He’d been pulling his cardigan tighter around him as he’d been walking, as the trees started losing their leaves.

He paused. Then sighed. Maybe he could stand some teasing from his brothers if it meant he could get somewhere a bit warmer. He dug his hand into his pocket and grabbed his phone, squinting at the bright screen.

3%. What the actual fuck?

He was sure he put it on charge last night. He made sure to ask Ranboo whether it was charging before he went to sleep.

Wait...

Fucking Ranboo. Damn memory bitch.

Of course his phone wasn't charged. Shit.

He tried to beat it. Sped to his messages and flicked through them, trying to find either of his brothers.

Why did he let Tubbo change his contact names?!

The screen went black just as he found Techno's number. He stared at his reflection in the screen.

He was absolutely fucked.

He sighed, stuffing his phone back into his pocket and turning to kick the tree beside him.

"Fucking fuck!" He hit his head forward, pressing it against the bark as a cold wind blew right past him and made him shiver, pulling his cardigan tighter around him.

He breathed out slowly before turning around and leaning up against the tree. As he looked up, he saw the murder of crows, all staring down at him from the bare branches above him.

"The fuck are you all looking at?" He whispered, brows furrowed in annoyance. They just continued staring at him, all their eyes laser focused on him. Tommy huffed out another breath as he glared at the nearest crow. It tilted it's head to the side as it stared back at Tommy.

"He's going to keep watching you if you keep watching him." Tommy startled at the new voice and turned around sharply.

There stood a figure, seeming like he was part of the fog Tommy hadn't noticed rolling in.

He was cloaked in darkness and Tommy wasn't quite sure where his coat? Cape? Ended and where the darkness of the forest began. His belt and cape details glittered every time he moved slightly and breathed. His cape was fogged with a purple haze and seemed to emanate the cold that was surrounded them. Tommy looked up at his face and found it hidden behind the shadows his wide brimmed hat made. His eyes were glowing though. They shined through the shadows and somehow? That wasn't concerning to Tommy. The crows seemed to halo this man, most of them turning to face him more fully while they still stared at Tommy.

"Who the fuck are you?" The question left his lips before he could even begin to stop himself. The man looked at him and smiled, his sharpened teeth shining through the shadows the same way his eyes did.

"You can call me Phil. You seem a little lost." The stranger, Phil, smiled at him, raising a hand to tip his hat upwards a bit and the shadows receded slightly so Tommy could see his face in more detail. His nose was elongated and slightly hooked and his eyes had slits for pupils.

If Tommy didn't know any better, he'd think this guy was some sort of cryptid.

But he did know better. His brothers had drilled into him that monsters weren't real each and every time Tommy had come to them with nightmares about the creatures in the forest, in his closet or under his bed. He knew damn well that monsters and creatures and cryptids were not real. It was just fact. His brothers had said so.

But seeing this man, with his shadowed clothing and crow like appearance in the middle of a forest with dead trees that Tommy was sure weren't dead when he saw them from Tubbo's bedroom window that morning, he began to think that maybe his brothers didn't know exactly everything.

"I'm not lost. I'm just... Taking the scenic route." Tommy said. Regardless of whether this guy was a monster or not, he wasn't just gonna accept help from the weird stranger in the forest. He wasn't that stupid, no matter what Technoblade said.

"Ah, of course. Well, would you like some company on your scenic route? I've often found I get places quicker with a companion." Phil said, the crow on his shoulder cawing softly in his ear. He chuckled quietly, looking at Tommy and waving his hand at the crow. "She can wait a few minutes more, I'm sure. So, what do you say?"

Tommy didn't speak for a moment. His focus was drawn straight to Phil's hand. It had long, pointed fingers that looked more like claws than a human hand. And it seemed to have... Something red on the tips of his fingers. He wasn't exactly sure he wanted to know what it was.

Phil noticed his gaze and chuckled again, bringing the edge of his cloak up to wipe at his fingers. "Nothing to worry about mate. Ian just had a small injury from a thorn." Tommy looked at the man, who was still smiling gently.

"Ian?"

"The crow." Phil shrugged slightly, jostling the crow how in turn squawked and nipped at his slightly pointed ear. He laughed, louder than he had earlier, before reaching up the brush back some of the crows ruffled feathers. "So, about that walk?"

"Are you the Crow Father?" Again, the question left Tommy before he could think about it, but he couldn't find it in himself to take it back. It was a childish question, but he wanted to know. He needed to know whether his brothers were wrong about creatures and monsters and cryptids. Phil paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly looking confused. "You know? The guy in the forest who can control crows? Wilbur and Techno used to tell me stories about how he'd kidnap kids and feed them to his crows but then they told me it was all fake and that he wasn't real."

Phil smiled. "Do you think he's real?"

"Well, apart from the fact you haven't actually kidnapped me yet, you've got everything else going for you." His mouth was running a mile a minute, not letting his brain catch up for even a moment.

"Well, I can safely say I've never kidnapped a child, nor fed or eaten one. And neither have these crows. But, I suppose I was probably the inspiration. It's not exactly easy to make friends with people in town when they think you're a monster now, is it?" His soft laughter brought a smile to Tommy's face. Somehow, he knew Phil wasn't lying.

"So... How do I exactly get out of here?" Phil smiled, and swept his arm upwards and pointed to just to the side of him.

"Right this way. It's a wonder you even made it this far in. Most people end up on the other side of the forest before ever seeing this area."

"Yeah, well I'm just built different, ain't I?" Phil smiled.

"Of course." Tommy moved towards where Phil was pointing but paused, noticing the man hadn't moved beyond pointing Tommy in the right direction. "Are you not coming?"

"Unfortunately not. I have someone to get back to and I'm already late. If you just go in a straight line, you'll get home though. You have my word." Tommy squinted at him with furrowed brows before nodding once.

"I'm gonna tell my brothers you're not a child eating weirdo." Was the last thing Tommy said before he dashed off in the direction Phil had directed him. In his absence, Phil blinked before letting out a loud, sharp laugh.

"I think we'll see him again Chat." Phil smiled, before sweeping away behind him, delving deeper into the fog. "Yeah, we'll see him again."

[mannanoo]

Everybody has an origin story

Major Character Death (Previous event) Teen and Up Audiences Dream SMP Foolish Centric Word Count: 2,848 Completed

Everybody has an origin story. They don't always have to be bathed in blood, but sometimes there's no other option.

"Dream said to me once that every hero has an origin story." It was startling to Foolish to hear Tommy sound so quiet. The teen had been keeping him company and filling the silence with noise as Foolish decorated his summer home. He'd been sat on the base of the sphinx statue talking up a storm for most of the day, and Foolish had been happy to listen. At some point, Tommy had fallen quiet, after regaling Foolish with another story about how he saved Tubbo from... Something. Honestly, he wasn't quite sure what the teen had been on about in the last story, but he didn't want to burst Tommy's bubble as he seemed to be having one of his better days, especially since Wilbur had been revived.

But the quiet statement made Foolish pause and turn to look at him, only to see Tommy with his head bowed, brow furrowed as he stared at the sandstone floor beneath him. It took a moment for Foolish to answer.

"He did?"

"Yeah... When Tubbo and I were in his vault. Said if I wanted to be a hero, I'd need an origin story, before he threatened to kill Tubbo." If Foolish didn't know the teen better, he would've thought he didn't care, but Foolish could see the way Tommy's brow furrowed deeper, and the minute way his fists tightened to grip the loose fabric of his jacket that was thrown over his lap after he'd complained about the desert sun. He could almost see the cogs turning in the teen's brain as both of them thought of what to say next. There was silence, as Foolish gently put the glowstone back into his inventory and climbed down the scaffolding a bit, to jump down to the base of the sphinx, setting himself down next to Tommy. He was small, smaller than he'd been in a while, but he'd found it was easy to talk to people when he was at a more "human" height. They stayed in silence for a few moments longer before Tommy spoke up again.

"What did you do before this server? Like, before all the wars and fighting and stuff? Puffy thinks that my "origin story" doesn't have to be anything to do with L'Manberg, but I don't know."

Foolish stayed silent for a moment, before leaning back on his hands and looking up at his summer home with a large sigh. "I don't actually remember much before becoming a god. And as a god, I mostly just... Fought. Lots of wars and people killing each other, not I guess not much has changed in the grand scheme of things."

"I thought you were always a god."

"No, I was human once. Or... Shark hybrid maybe? I think I fused with a totem and became a god? I'm not really sure."

"So, was that your origin story then? You fused with a totem and forget shit?"

"Maybe. There's probably more to it than that, but I guess too long story, short; yeah, that's my origin story."

"So... You think Puffy's right?"

"That you're origin story doesn't have to be fighting in a war? Yeah, I mean, Puffy's right about most things. Besides, Dream's the bad guy right? He was probably just spouting some crap to make you give up hope, that's what the villains do. And the worst ones make you think about them after they're gone." He nudged Tommy's shoulder and gently smiled at him ad the teen looked up at him shyly. They stayed in companionable silence as the sun began to rise.

"Do you ever think about what you're life could've been if all the fighting didn't happen? Like... If you never got involved in wars and revolutions?"

"Sometimes. But I also know I probably wouldn't know anyone here if I didn't fight. I probably wouldn't know Eret, probably would never have met Puffy or got Finley and Foolish Jr. I wouldn't have had the chance to build this place, or anything else I've built, I probably wouldn't have even realised how much I love building if not for the fighting!" Foolish let out a small laugh. His face fell again as he saw Tommy's incredulous look. "I know all the fighting seems so much right now Tommy, but I promise it won't last forever. And I promise that you've got people on your side; you've got me, and Puffy and Eret, and you've got Tubbo and Ranboo. No matter what Tommy, you're not alone and we're gonna do everything we can to stop anymore wars and revolution. Or, at least keep you kids out of it. You've all done enough fighting for a few lifetimes." Tommy looked like he was about to argue, before he settled and just nodded at Foolish.

"Thanks Big Man." They continued sitting in silence as the final dregs of night lightened to day. Foolish jumped down from the base of the statue, slightly startling Tommy as his boots cracked against the floor.

"You can stay here and tell me more stories if you want Tommy. My home is yours. But I definitely need to continue decorating. It's pretty empty in here, don't ya think?" He smiled up at the teen, and Tommy grinned before starting off on another of his stories.

"Do you know how L'Manberg actually started?"

"Wasn't it just a drug van Wilbur owned?" Foolish smiled and Tommy barked out a laugh as Foolish climbed up the scaffolding to where he'd abandoned placing glowstone into a mural just to the side of the main entrance of his summer home.

"Well yeah, but first we had to liberate the server of all the dangerous drug stuff, like brewing stands and blaze rods! So we went to Tubbo first because obviously and then..." Tommy continued his story, not even focused of whether or not Foolish was listening, though he had no need to worry regardless.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

After Tommy had left, Foolish stayed sat at the base of the sphinx, looking up at the mural he'd created around the entrance of his summer home. The picture in front of him, the two humans facing away from each other. Neither had any proper facial features and the details of their clothes were extremely minimal, but there was something so achingly familiar about both figures, and not just because he'd made the mural himself.

Truly, if Foolish thought about it, most of the designs he put into his personal builds, he never really thought about them. He'd just go through the motions, letting himself place blocks where he felt was right and it always worked, but it always left a void in his heart. Like something was missing just out of his reach.

He stared up at the right hand figure of the mural, taking in the curled hair that fell just over the face. The loose clothing of reds and whites pushed at Foolish's memories, leaving that void in his heart aching and widening.

He took a breath, leaning his head back against the statue's base, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of the setting sun lull him into comfort and sleep.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

"Foolish! Come on, it's just a little further!" Foolish opened his eyes, taking in the dense trees surrounding him. He looked towards where the voice came from, seeing just a glance of a flowing red cloak. It was partially transparent, revealing the cropped white shirt and low riding black trousers underneath. He moved towards the figure, getting a better view of the person who knew him.

As he pushed a tree branch out of his way, he caught a glimpse of his hand. His human hand. Not a trace of gold anywhere on it. It lacked Foolish's usually rings and chains, as well as any trace of his totem side. He went to turn his hand around, but found his body wasn't moving the way he wanted. He continued on towards the figure, that was still partially obscured from his view. But now, he could see most of the persons figure, only his face hidden from him now. It was like there was a fog in front of this persons face, hiding his eyes away from Foolish's gaze. He tried to speak up, ask who was there, but his body still refused to answer. There was something familiar about this person, and the situation, but he just couldn't remember.

"I'm coming! Just wait a moment ____!" His mouth moved without him. The name that came from his lips, was jumbled and muffled, making it impossible to make out. A deep laugh came from the figure before him, a gentle hand lifting to cover his mouth as Foolish finally caught up. The fog didn't lift, but something about being around this person lifted Foolish's spirits, filling that hole he'd felt in his soul for quite some time. Gently and carefully, like a stream from... He didn't know the name, but he knew it, deep in his heart. This person was his friend, and he knew them. Like they were written directly on his heart and soul.

"You're so slow Foolish. Come on, they're just up ahead! I saw them a few days ago, and I followed them and found this place, and I thought you'd love it! It's such a cool looking place, and I think it's abandoned so you could probably do something with it!" They spoke quickly and excitedly, grabbing onto Foolish's hand-his ungilded hand, it was still so weird to see after so long-and pulling him along, easily weaving the two of them over bulging tree roots and underneath low hanging branches. Their excitement was contagious, spreading to Foolish as easily as water drops from leaves, leaving the both of them smiling and laughing.

Laughing enough that he didn't notice when jumping over tree roots quickly became hopping over red, pulsing vines.

Enough that he didn't notice when the forest grew silent, save from the gentle crackling of near fires.

Enough, that by the time they were in front of this abandoned temple, Foolish could do nothing to try to avert whatever was coming.

He couldn't speak. His panic was welling in his chest, overwhelming the sense of safety and comfort from before. The dread was overflowing, and he started trying to pull their hands backwards, trying everything he could to try and speak, to warn this person it wasn't safe. Anything to get them both away from there and back to safety.

But nothing happened.

He could feel himself still smiling, gazing wondrously at the temple before them, the vines weaving in and out of the marble pillars, blending into the crimson hyphae window frames. He screamed silently as his body moved forward of its own accord, bringing his friend along with him. He could feel their eyes on him as they moved forward, hands and fingers still intertwined. He watched as he free hand brushed over the vines wrapped around the closest pillar, and shivered inwardly as it pulsed beneath his fingers, quickly matching the rhythm of his own heart. He turned towards his faceless friend, and he could feel the grin splitting his face.

"Let's go inside! I want to see what else this place has!" He could feel his excitement, but it was overshadowed easily by his dread. He knew those vines, knew what they were, what they did to people.

He wanted to get away, but he was trapped. Trapped inside his own body and mind in a... Memory? Of before he was a god?

Whatever this was, he didn't want to see it.

He shut his eyes. He knew it would do no good for this past version of himself, but at least now he wouldn't have to see it again.

Their hands stayed together as they explored. He felt more aware of his surroundings. He could hear the far of footsteps, the fire crackling. He could feel the torches light up as they walked down corridors and through empty room after empty room. He could feel the cold sinking into his bones and chilling his skin as they descended together down stairwell after stairwell, curling around and around and leading them further into darkness and damp.

He could tell without looking they were in a basement. He could feel the oppressive force of the Blood Vines, knew that they had been growing and getting more concentrated as they delved further into the temple.

"Woah... What is that?" He heard his friend say, and against his better judgement, he opened his eyes. He knew what he'd see.

He was right. But, Prime how he wished he was wrong.

There in front of them, was the Egg. The Red Egg that had been tormenting the server, had changed his friends and torn people apart.

Had killed him. Had made people he thought were his friends, sacrifice him.

He couldn't move even if he wanted to, as his body and his friend stepped towards the Egg, brushing their hands over the vines. He could hear footsteps moving towards them both, but he knew that neither of them had actually heard them. Knew that neither of them were aware that they weren't alone in that room. That they weren't aware of the danger in front of them and quickly surrounding them.

Foolish's hand slipped from his friend's as they stepped towards the Egg, taking note of the swirling patterns on the Egg and the way the Vines curled around it protectively, reaching out towards their hands and ankles, curling around them possessively.

He felt hands snatch out and grab onto him tightly, yanking him backwards, away from the Egg and the Vines. He looked up and saw his friend suffering the same fate, and felt a knife press against his neck. Their face was still clouded by fog, by Foolish knew they were scared, he could practically feel the fear emanating of them, despite them not having a blade pressed into their neck. He wanted to scream out, to fight against the hands and blade keeping him trapped.

A new figure stepped out of the dark. Their face was clouded like Foolish's friend's, but so was most of his body. It was like he was looking at them through the heat haze and fog in the nether.

"A worthy sacrifice I should think. The Egg does seem to love it's hybrids. Continue with the sacrifice then dispose of the mortal. They're not worth the trouble." The voice seemed to weave and drift throughout the dungeon. Foolish could do nothing as he was pushed forward, chest and cheek pressed against the Egg, facing his trapped friend. The blade pressed deeper into his neck, and just as it cut straight through the flesh, he yelled out:

"Run! Get out of here E-"

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Foolish woke with a start. He hunched over, hanging his head between his knees, panting as sweat dripped down his neck and forehead. His eyes were wide, the moon was high in the sky, shining down and illuminating the sphinx and his curled up form. He held his hands in front of him, flexing his fingers, counting the rings and moving the chains around so they sat properly. The gold tips of his fingers glittered in the moonlight and he focused on the shine they provided as he got his breathing under control.

There was silence in his summer home. No mobs would spawn within its boundaries, and there was no one he was sharing it with.

He felt... So alone. More alone than he'd felt in a long time.

The feeling of warmth from his dream had fled, leaving nothing but the cold reality.

He'd been a human-shark hybrid. He'd had a friend who looked out for him and for things that he'd like.

They'd looked out for him and been the last thing he'd seen.

He'd been sacrificed to The Egg that plagued the SMP now.

The Egg that was tearing his friends apart and poisoning their minds.

The Egg he'd been sacrificed to only a few weeks ago.

The Egg that dampened his god given powers.

He looked up at the mural in front of him, stared at the figure with the curled brown hair falling in front of their face. The warmth from his dream returned. It was small, and barely there, but it gave him some comfort as he slowed stood up and moved towards it. He held his head upwards, staring at the featureless face of the mural, reaching his hand out to brush against the gold detailing at the bottom of the mural.

A tear fell down his face, then another and another, until there were too many to even attempt to brush away. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I'll remember you, I promise. I'll remember you and I won't forget you again. I'm so sorry." His whispers seemed to reverberate throughout the building. His cries and whispered promises seemed to echo as the moon fell and the sun began it's slow rise.

"I promise I won't leave you behind again, Eret."

[mannanoo]

If only you knew

No Warnings Apply General Audiences Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson Dream SMP Word Count: 711 Completed

History will always repeat. But not everything that repeats is sad.

A poem passed through the generations, from Fathers to Sons, from Brother to Brothers, from Children to Adults.

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

In a cottage somewhere long forgotten...

"What does it mean though?"

"Well, it means that if you can focus on other people's needs, then people will trust you."

"Why do you keep telling it to me though? I just want to travel and make music."

"Because I think that you'll be a great leader one day Will. I think you'll be able to bring lots of people together when you're older and they'll need someone to lead them."

"But I don't want to lead people."

"You don't have to. But I think, if you did want to in the future, then you'll be a great leader. And even if you don't become a great leader, it could make a great song!"

"Sure dad."

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

If you can dream-and not make dreams your master;

If you can think-and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

Underneath the L'Mantree, in a time fondly remembered...

"Wilbur! Tubbo's being a bitch!"

"Tommy, you need to be quieter! I'm putting Fundy to sleep."

"But Tubbo's being a bitch and Fundy's already asleep! You're just telling yourself that old poem anyway."

"Well maybe that's because I like it, ever thought about that?"

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

In a therapy office, after years of explosions and anger...

"What's that you're reading Tommy?"

"It's nothing. Just a poem Wilbur had."

"Do you want to talk about it, or Wilbur today?"

"Let's not talk about Wilbur."

"We don't have to. What about the poem?"

"He said Phil used to read it to him all the time. And he used to read it to Fundy when he was a baby. It worked better than the lullaby's Sally taught him."

"Why do you still have the poem?" "I guess it reminds me of when Wilbur was good. Before everything went to shit. Before Dream and the revolution and everything else."

"And you want that back?"

"I don't know anymore."

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings-nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And-which is more-you'll be a Man, my son!

In a mansion in the snow, huddled somewhere within a pile of blankets, hiding from the world...

"Where'd you hear that poem Ranboo?"

"Phil gave it to me. He said he used to read it to Wilbur when he was little. Do you know it?"

"Yeah... Wilbur used to read it to me and Tommy before L’Manberg. And he read it to Fundy to get him to sleep."

"I can stop if it's going to give you sad memories."

"No, it's alright. Besides, Wilbur never used to read the whole thing. I've never heard the end of it before now. And Michael seems to like it." "Alright. Do you want me to start it again? So you can hear the whole thing?"

"Yeah, let's hear it boss man."

"Ok. If you can keep your head..."