#Tubbo doesn’t have the energy to talk verbally :(

[rozugold]

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[griffintail]

A Day in the Life (Lost Ones)

Summary: A day with the new parents and how some of their friends reaction to their new bit of joy. 

Pairings: Platonic! Parental! Tommy, Wilbur, Philza, Technoblade, Eret, and Dream x F! Child! Reader

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Warnings : (In Phil’s Specifically) Death, Violence. (Generally) Swearing

A/N: Just so you know (F/L) means First Letter of your first name. Hope you guys enjoy! ♥

Tommy

        Tommy didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

        Tubbo was even more clueless.

        When Tommy first came onto Tubbo’s doorstep frantically talking about being a father with a crying baby, Tubbo was in a state of great concern for his best friend. Tubbo knew Tommy as a scammer and a very…bold individual, to put it nicely. He did not think his friend had what it took to be any sort of fatherly figure. He was just too young and he was too…outgoing.

        The first day, the pair worked hard to figure out how to make the infant stop crying. They found out she just needed food and a diaper change. Tommy had groaned in relief, sitting on Tubbo’s floor as he held the baby feeding her the milk. From there, Tubbo questioned where he even found a child.

        “She was abandoned in a basket, in a tree. I decided to be a big man about it and take her in.”

        “Are you crazy? Tommy, you didn’t even know her gender until two minutes ago.”

        “Shut up.” Tommy huffed looking at his friend as he stopped giving (Y/N) milk for the moment. “I can figure it out, I’m still new to this Tubbo.”

        “I think maybe we should give her to one of the other guys. We don’t know what to do, we just ran around my house for five minutes trying to make her stop crying for god’s sake.”

        “I’ll figure it out! Even without your help.” Tommy looked back down at the infant, continuing to feed her.

        So, Tubbo went along with it. Tommy was stubborn and to make sure the baby didn’t get hurt, Tubbo said he’d help his friend. To be fair, they didn’t have to do much, it was just a lot of work to do the few things and barely any time to do the same adventures they use to do.

        Tommy was determined to do most of it on his own, only going to Tubbo when he was desperate for help. Which were a few times a week. He got better and better though, learning what (Y/N) needed and when.

        Tommy had managed to make a crib all on his own (with a couple of tries) and he discovered, (Y/N) liked her crib at the end of his bed. She just liked being close to Tommy often and he actually didn’t mind. He was proud to show off his baby.

        When he had shown her off to the others, they had all been in various bits of shock. Of course, when he first introduced her, the first thing he shouted was always;

        “I’m a father now bitch! Meet (Y/N)!”

        As he would, (Y/N) would giggle and babble, his excited energy rubbing off on her. After their various bits of shock (and Bad telling him to watch his language even more now that there was a baby), they would indeed think (Y/N) was cute but give him the same advice as Tubbo. Give her to an adult.

        “None of them! None of them think I can take care of you.” Tommy huffed as (Y/N) finished her milk for the hour. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”

        Tommy did struggle often. He didn’t get as much sleep as he once did, he stayed inside with (Y/N) more. It was a big change, but he was taking it seriously despite all his jokes. Just, no one could see it because they only saw Tommy as a child.

        “Well, they’re all idiots. I know I have this.” Tommy told the infant as he sat back in bed, holding her. “Right Little (F/L)?”

        (Y/N) squirmed slightly, babbling and Tommy smiled.

        “Right! It’s that time.” He grinned as he stood up, going into his chests next to his jukebox.

        As he pulled out one of his discs, Tubbo knocked on the door as he came in.

        “Hey, am I interrupting?” He asked.

        “No, you’re actually in time Big T!” Tommy said as he put the red labeled disc on.

        “For what?” Tubbo questioned confused as Tommy sat down.

        The music started to play and (Y/N) relaxed in Tommy’s arms. Tommy smiled softly, gently rocking her in his arms as he hummed along to the music. Tubbo was staring in amazement from behind Tommy’s seat.

        “Do you…do you do this often?”

        “Of course.” Tommy grinned at his best friend. “She’s got to learn great music. And look, she loves it so much she falls asleep.”

        He was correct as when Tubbo looked, (Y/N) was giving a tiny yawn as she nuzzled into Tommy.

        “Every day after lunch, I play the disc I got when I found her and she takes a nap.” Tommy quieted down; startling Tubbo as Tommy never quieted down. “I want to find more to let her hear more.”

        Tommy put her down in her crib once she was fully asleep, motioning to the door. They both left as the music kept playing.

        “We should go get more discs tomorrow.” Tommy declared, keeping his voice level as he went through his chests. “(Y/N) needs to hear them all and I want to have them all.”

        “You…do that every day?” Tubbo said, still caught up on Tommy’s gentleness.

        Tommy rolled his eyes. “Of course, I do. (Y/N) likes it and I like it so that’s our routine Tubbo. Sometimes it takes a while though and I have to move around the room.”

        He didn’t mention that he danced to the music with her though, laughing with her as she would giggle, slightly embarrassed about the cute routine.

        “So, are we going to go out tomorrow and get some discs or not?” Tommy grinned at his friend.

        Tubbo stood there, thinking over what he had just seen. He thought about how he was actually wrong about Tommy. His best friend really cared about the girl; his own little girl. Tommy had acted drastically different than what he usually did to make sure she was well and happy. The taller boy was actually taking this very seriously and Tubbo couldn’t help but be proud of his friend.

        “Tubbo.” Tommy snapped his fingers, looking at him disapprovingly.

        “Oh, yeah. Let’s get some discs tomorrow. It’s been forever since we’ve gone on an adventure.” Tubbo smiled.

        He thought Tommy could do this whole dad thing right.

        …

        Then he slightly regretted his words in the morning when Tommy showed up with the little girl and his adventuring gear.

        “We are not taking (Y/N). It’s dangerous Tommy!” Tubbo protested.

        “Nothing will happen to her; I wouldn’t let it. Neither would you. And try and say no to this face.” Tommy showed her off, grinning. “Come on now Uncle Tubbo.”

        Tubbo paused, getting slightly giddy. “Uncle Tubbo?”

        “Of course! Now! Let’s go get some discs!” Tommy took lead.

        “…Wait! You distracted me!” Tubbo called exasperated as he followed his best friend.

        (Y/N) giggled as Tommy grinned wider. Tommy was stubborn but in the case of being a father, it was a good thing as it meant his baby would grow up healthy and happy and he could care less about what others would say.

          Wilbur

        L’Manberg didn’t have many secrets but it had one well-guarded one. That would be the simple fact that (Y/N) existed.

        After the first night with the new baby, Wilbur had gathered all the men inside the van.

        “Time to greet the people little one.” He smiled as he heard the commotion of Tommy trying to command the others.

        Coming out, he put on a serious face as everyone went quiet. Of course, Eret and Fundy already knew. The teenager had his arms crossed, looking away from his father and new sister, as Eret gave a small smile. The other two of L’Manberg…

        “Did you fuck another fish?!” Tommy shouted in exasperation to his brother.

        Fundy gave Tommy an offended glare as (Y/N) squirmed at the sudden loud noise.

        “Tommy, quiet down now,” Wilbur told him as he gently rocked the little girl, Tubbo awing at how adorable she was. “Eret found her left outside the walls last night. I’m taking her in as she was obviously abandoned. So, meet the first woman of L’Manberg, (Y/N).”

        “(Y/N) is a wonderful name.” Eret smiled a bit wider.

        “She’s so cute and small,” Tubbo said, taking a step closer to get a better look at her.

        Tommy huffed, already bored as Fundy simply stayed quiet.

        “That being said, we are in the middle of a war.”

        The weight of everything came back to rest on their shoulders as everyone with a smile stopped holding one. It was a dangerous time for all of them, no one able to leave the walls without a friend. Walls that were supposed to mean their freedom.

        “That’s why no one must know (Y/N) exists. She must be a secret from all of the Dream SMP. They’ve shown how ruthless they can be and I don’t want to think about what they’d do if they knew about her. So, beyond these walls, (Y/N) doesn’t exist.”

        Everyone gave a nod at the same time as (Y/N) had started to play with the ruffles on Wilbur’s uniform. He smiled gently as her as he took her hand, letting her play with his finger instead before looking dead serious at his men again.

        “I can’t have just a nod. I need you to be verbal. This will not be taken lightly.”

        Tommy spoke first as he gave a salute. “You have my word, Wilbur!”

        Wilbur cracked a small smile; he could always rely on his little brother. “Good, now quiet down a bit.”

        From there, it was a chorus of promises and she was their biggest secret that united them. Not even a traitor would dare breath word of her place in their walls.

        The men could see a difference in their leader every day since then.

        He left the van more often, actually going to his own home in the walls. Daily, everyone would see him carrying (Y/N) with him in her own little uniform he made on a walk within the walls. He sang more often like he used to before the declaration of war was made in order to soothe the little girl or simply to make her smile. There was a reason for him to relax and be soft and everyone was rather glad after all the weight he had been forced to hold.

        Wilbur also saw the change in his men as the days went on.

        Tubbo found joy with such an adorable new addition. He would sometimes join Wilbur on his daily walks within the walls to have a chance to hold the small girl. The young boy loved to also give her little gifts, usually toys he thought she’d like. He was very excited when Wilbur told him that she slept with a bee plushie he had gotten her.

        Tommy was curious about her. Such a small thing, he was certain he was way bigger than her when he was that young. Wilbur let him hold her on the occasion if Tommy asked, but wouldn’t wonder if Tommy was holding her. He had faith in his little brother, but his eccentric energy just put Wilbur a little on edge. Often, Tommy would brag to the little girl that he’d be the coolest uncle and teach her many swear words when she got older, much to Wilbur’s dismay.

        Eret did like the little girl, he really did as she was such a precious little thing, but he tried not to put too much attachment to her. He had begun…he had begun a different path and he didn’t want to also betray the little girl. And, the more separation he felt from her, the easier it was to lie about her existence. Though, there was the occasion he would do the same as Tubbo and gave her a toy or two, unable to help it as it put a smile on his face.

        Fundy was different. He had been an only child for most of his life and now he had a little sister? It was only natural that he was jealous and sulked at all the attention she got from their father. Their father did try to include Fundy though; inviting every day on their walks, offering to let her feed instead, asking to play his piano while Wilbur sang. Unfortunately, Fundy wanted nothing to do with his little sister, often saying he hated her, which repeatedly broke Wilbur’s heart but he had faith; he’d change his son’s mind.

        “I’m trying to have a peace talk with Dream today,” Wilbur told Fundy as he shrugged on his jacket while Fundy was sitting in the front seat of the van.

        “Ok, and?” Fundy looked up at him.

        “I’m taking Tubbo and Eret, Tommy’s staying guard and you.” Wilbur handed him a piece of paper. “And you are taking care of your sister.”

        “What?! What the hell?” Fundy exclaimed, jumping up.

        Wilbur put the paper in Fundy’s hand. “I have to go and try and make peace. I have faith in you son. (Y/N) would love to spend time with you anyways. Take good care of her alright? I don’t trust Tommy to watch her for so long but if you really need help, get him.”

        “What…Why do I have to watch the brat?”

        Wilbur gave him a stern look. “Fundy, she is your little sister. She is a part of our family. And family takes care of each other. Now, I want you to be nice to her and take care of her. Understood?”

        Fundy clenched his jaw, shoving his hands in pockets. “Yeah, yeah.”

        “Good.” Wilbur smiled at him now. “She’s still sleeping in my room. That paper is what she needs and when. You can do anything with her in-between. I’ll see you in a few hours my son.”

         Wilbur left; his heart heavy as this was the first time he’d leave (Y/N) alone but hope helping it float as he hoped Fundy could love his sister as Wilbur loved her.

        Fundy went into his father’s bedroom and saw the little girl already waking up slightly. He gave a heavy sigh as he picked her up carefully, holding her close.

        “I hate you.” He muttered as she looked up at him.

        The little girl giggled and he lowered his head. She gave pet to his face to feel the soft fur.

        “I hate you’re too fucking adorable to hate.” He huffed. “Just don’t tell dad. Now, come on dipshit, time to eat.”

        Fundy was jealous, yes. But he could never actually hate his adorable little sister. He’d keep her safe and make her happy too.

        Wilbur got back later than he expected as Dream and his goons had chased their peaceful band like sport but they managed out relatively unscathed. The moon was already up and Wilbur was worried as he hadn’t written instructions for this long in the night for Fundy. After Tommy reported no incidents along the walls, Wilbur rushed home but froze, his heart-melting. In the living room, there was a long finished playing record on the jukebox and on the couch, Fundy laid with his arm over (Y/N) securely as she laid on his chest, both of them asleep.

        “Thank you, my little champion,” Wilbur muttered with a smile, gently picking (Y/N) up before putting a blanket over Fundy. “I’m proud of you.”

        Wilbur held (Y/N) close to him as he walked to his bedroom.

        “And you, my little star, a day won’t go by where you won’t be loved. You’re our little star of hope in L’Manberg. You remind everyone what we fight for and you bring everyone smiles. We will bring peace, just so you can see how bright you shine my little star.” He kissed her forehead before putting her in her crib. “Sleep well love.”

          Philza

        Walking took longer than flying but it was definitely safer for his new little angel. He had tried to find her parents, asking around with the survivors but they weren’t there. So, Phil took her with him to meet his sons. When he started this journey, of the list of things he’d thought would happen, he didn’t think he’d gain a new child. Yet, there she slept peacefully in the sash Phil had made to carry her and keep her warm rather than carrying her in his arms the entire walk.

        She most certainly quieter than most of his other children had been when they were this small, which Phil did not mind one bit. When she was awake, he would talk to her to fill her world though. He’d tell her about her new brothers and how he was sure they’d all love her in their own way.

        “Techno will take a little convincing, he has a thing about orphans.” Phil scrunched up his nose. “But he’ll learn to you like you (Y/N).”

        He hadn’t been able to find a name either for the new baby so he gave her one on his own.

        Finally, after days of travel, Phil reached a crest of a hill and was able to see a beautiful town laid before him. From the looks of some decorations, they had some sort of festival recently. The worrying part was the people in armor down below, but, a large portion of them were celebrating. Phil scanned them over then he grew a large smile. Wilbur was patting Tommy’s shoulder as the younger boy was screaming with one of those celebrating, Techno to the side smirking.

        His sons had managed to figure it all out.

        “Looks like we were a little late angel. Your brothers can be smart when they choose to be.” He chuckled. “We’ll wait here and let them have their moment of victory.”

        He sat on the edge of the hill, giving (Y/N) her afternoon milk as he watched the crowd below and listened to the start of celebratory speeches. As he quickly burped the infant, he frowned as Wilbur left his seat in the crowd, walking away as Tubbo was getting on stage.

        “Let’s go see what he’s up to.” He muttered to the little girl, putting her in his sash securely before carefully flying over.

        He landed as Wilbur walked into a room in a hill behind the stage. His eyes went wide as he remembered one of Tommy’s letters.

        Will keeps saying if he can’t have L’Manberg, no one can. He made a room rigged to TNT under our nation. I’m hoping to talk him down but I don’t know if I can.

        “Shit.” Phil sprinted over, walking into the room after his son.

        Inside were mad scribblings as Wilbur stood with his hand on the wall next to a button.

        “What are you doing?” Phil asked him.

        Wilbur jumped, whirling around to see his father standing there, wearing a sash, unable to see the child it was holding.

        “Phil…?”

        “What are you doing?” Phil repeated.

        Wilbur ran his hands through his hair as he looked back at the button then his father.

        “How’d you…do you know what this is?” He motioned to the room around him.

        “I do.” Phil nodded, stepping carefully forward.

        “Have heard the songs on the walls?” Wilbur asked in turn as he ran his hand over a few of the words. “I was just saying to myself, there was a special place where men can go, but there’s not anymore! It’s not…” Wilbur sighed as he looked back at the button.

        “It is there,” Phil told him as he put a hand on the side of the child to calm her down as she squirmed. “You just, you’ve just won it back.”

        “Phil! I’m always so close to pressing this button, Phil! I’ve been—I’ve been here like seven or eight times I’ve been here.” Wilbur threw up his arms as Phil stood his ground when he saw the crazed look in his son’s eyes.

        The little girl tried to give an uncomfortable babble at the loud shouting but Wilbur talked over her, having yet to notice the extra body in the room. In comfort, Phil put a hand over one of her ears as he pressed her close to him.

        “Phil I-I’ve been here so many times.” Outside of the room, they all could hear the sound of fireworks going off. “They’re fighting. They’re fighting.”

        “And you want to just blow it all up?” Phil questioned.

        “I do I think I—”

        “You fought so hard to get this land back.” Phil tried to discourage one of his older sons. “So hard.”

        “I don’t even, I don’t even know if works anymore Phil,” Wilbur said, his hand hovering over the button, making Phil take a step forward. “I don’t even know if the button works I could, I could press it and might not…”

        Wilbur looked back, grinning like a mad man and Phil squeezed the young girl lightly.

        “Do you really want to take that risk? Wilbur…” He went to continue to say, hoping to bring up his new little sister to discourage the man but Wilbur looked away, staring at the button.

        “There was a saying Phil, by a traitor. It was never meant to be.” Wilbur pressed the button, grinning at Phil as the hiss went off.

        “No!” Phil shouted, quickly pulling his son close as he covered the three of them his wings as the blast went off.

        He winced as the blast and the heat singed and damaged his feathers but he didn’t move as he held his two children close. He wouldn’t let them get harmed.

        The sound of white noise rang in their ears as the explosions slowly stopped. Phil raised his wings slightly to look in horror at the destruction before them. Outside their half-destroyed room, Phil slowly started to hear the voices crying with terror at what they just witnessed as Wilbur stood before the hole holding his arms out as he grinned.

        “My L’Manberg Phil! My unfinished symphony forever unfinished! If I can’t have this no one can Phil!”

        “Oh my god.” Phil breathed, the ringing dying down enough for him to be startled at the cries closest to him.

        (Y/N) screamed out cries in the aftermath of the loud explosions and shouting, her own ears ringing. Phil held her close, trying to calm her down despite his horror and disappointment. Wilbur finally heard the cries himself and looked over to finally notice the little girl. For a moment, he could see through his madness.

        “Who’s…who’s this?” Wilbur muttered.

        “She’s (Y/N),” Phil told him as he put his forehead on the little girl’s. “I came to help you and found her. I brought her to show her what her new brothers made. What great work you’ve done.”

        “What great…” Wilbur looked over at what he had done.

        Behind him, he could hear the cries of his new tiny sister he hadn’t been aware he had. Phil had brought her to show her a place of peace and beauty, but instead, Wilbur showed her terror and destruction. Across the explosion, he could see Tommy’s horror-struck face at the sight of their once great nation gone. This was his fault…

        He pulled his sword, holding the handle to Will. “Kill me, Phil.”

        “What?!” Phil looked at his son shocked, still clutching onto the crying girl.

        “Stab me with the sword. Murder me now. Kill me!” Will demanded as he motioned to the crowd. “Look, they all want you to!”

        Phil was stood in shock as he held a crying child in one arm while looking over at the crowd of terrified and horror-filled faces.

        “Kill me, Phil!” Wilbur shouted.

        “I—You’re my son!” Phil yelled. “No matter what you do—I can’t—”

        “Phil!” Wilbur shouted, shoving the sword handle into his hand. “This isn’t—! Look! Look! How much work went into this and it’s gone! Do it.”

        Phil looked from his son to the crowd, to the child in his arms. He couldn’t…why’d…(Y/N) should get a chance to meet her own brother! L’Manberg had ruined his son. He had gone mad…

        “I’m sorry.” He whispered under his breath before plunging the sword.

        Tears filled Phil’s eyes as he let go of the sword and held his son. (Y/N)’s wails only got louder and Phil cried with her.

        “I’m sorry, I’m sorry both of you.” He muttered

        He wished everything could be different…

        …

        Phil sat by the fire with the L’Manberg citizens, one of his hands shaking slightly as the other gently rocked the no longer crying child.

        Tommy had been speechless since the betrayal he received from both of his brothers, but looking up at his father across from him, he stood and spoke.

        “Who’s she?” He asked.

        Phil looked at him as the others looked over as well.

        “This is your new little sister (Y/N). I found her when the village I was staying at was raided and I saved her. Would you like to hold her?”

        Tommy came over and sat in front of his father. Phil helped him before letting his now second youngest hold her on his own. Tommy’s face had held no emotion after everything today but now it softened as the little girl met his eyes. He hugged her lightly as Phil held onto his shaking hand with his other to stop it.

        “I wish you could have seen what L’Manberg looked like (Y/N),” Tommy mumbled to her. “Wilbur and Techno betrayed me but I promise. I won’t betray you. I never will do that to you.”

        Phil looked at his son sadly as Tommy put his forehead on hers softly. At least Phil knew that she’d be well-loved by the brother she got to meet properly.

        From there, the next few days were made for rebuilding. Phil helped the group as best he could but he had to rest to let his wings heal and he also had to take care of his little angel. Tommy made sure the others built Phil one of the first houses so his sister could be in a proper bed.

        It warmed Phil’s heart that Tommy cared so much about his new little sister. Tommy would visit the pair occasionally just to see her, Phil giving him a little bit of trust to take care of her. Of course, Tommy used that trust to be his usual self and brag about how cute his little sister was to anyone that would listen to the boy’s antics. Though many couldn’t deny the boy, she was a very cute little girl and often brought smiles to other’s faces.

        Phil was glad that his quiet little girl could bring joy to people that had been through so much. He just wished that she had had a chance to bring smiles to those that didn’t walk beside them any more…

          Technoblade

        “Phil,” Techno called on his walkie, trying to quiet down the girl crying in his arms.

        “Yes?” Phil answered.

        “She won’t stop crying,” Techno told him, Phil, able to hear the girl, chuckling quietly to himself. “Don’t laugh at this!”

        “Sorry, sorry. Alright, you feed and changed her right?” The older man listed.

        “Yes.” He had done it a few minutes ago, on his usual schedule to do so.

        “Did you burp her after she ate?”

        Techno paused and huffed before burping the child, the cries dying down after she released the gas that had built up.

        “I forgot, she stopped.”

        “Good. Just relax now, alright Techno?”

        “Yeah.” Techno sighed as he put his walkie away, looking down at the little girl. “What now brat?”

        It was often that Techno called his father to ask what to do. To put it simply, he was worried he’d fuck this all up. He had never exactly taken care of a child before; it had been all anarchy and blood before he decided on retirement. Hell, he barely ever took care of Tommy when he was a child, that was usually Wilbur’s thing.

        He didn’t know the first thing he was doing nor did the voices. They always threw out different ideas contradicting each other. So, Techno always did his best and when it didn’t seem like enough, he went immediately to Phil.

        When he did have things under control though, it was just any other day. Brew some potions out of habit, take care of the animals before collecting food for himself and milk for (Y/N), and trade with some of the villagers close by. The only difference was that he brought (Y/N) with him while he did anything.

        To his relief, she was a quiet child and didn’t mind his quiet nature. She didn’t need pointless noise to be happy so he could just simply work. Techno did get Phil to make her a warmer outfit and Phil took it seriously but also made it a joke. He made her a pink outfit from wool and leather and with a bit extra, put fake pig ears on the hood of the outfit, which Techno would never admit looked adorable on her out loud.

        He most certainly didn’t put it on her even if they weren’t going out that day, why would anyone think that?

        Phil most certainly did spoil her though when he would come over. He’d always have something new for the little girl, clothes, and toys. His father also often tried to discourage Techno from using some of his nicknames for his child when the older man was over, such as brat.

        (Y/N) yawned quietly and Techno chuckled, a small smile cracking on his face.

        “Tired early huh? Yeah, ok, I can use a nap.” He nodded as he went up to his bedroom.

        He sat on his bed, leaning back on the headboard as he racked his brain for their daily ritual.

        “I got a good one today.” He laughed quietly. “Let me tell you about the story of Theseus.”

        Every nap and bedtime, there was always a story for Techno to tell. Sometimes he’d tell her about his adventures around the world, about the places he conquered. There were other days when he’d tell her about myths he had memorized. It was when he’d talk the most to the little girl and he rather enjoyed these moments in his day.

        It was their special little thing and he wouldn’t ever want to miss them.

        Close to the end of the story, he stopped as he noticed (Y/N) was asleep. He nodded as he laid back, resting her carefully on his chest.

        A crib was one thing Techno had not invested his time in. He didn’t move in his sleep and it was rare for the little girl to move in hers. So, he slept with her on his chest, giving him and the voices a better piece of mind. No one knew where he was, but he was still paranoid. This was the safest place for her.

        “Sleep well little goddess,” Techno muttered, a hand on her back.

        Despite the trials, he didn’t mind being a father.

          Eret

        Eret put a small flower crown on the infant’s head that matched the one he was wearing, smiling as she giggled, before picking her up, continuing on their daily walk through the SMP.

        It was a lot of trial and error with the pair but Eret was a quick learner and adapted to the needs of his new child. He didn’t do as much as he once did with his friends, fewer prank wars with Fundy, and less involvement with Tommy’s antics, but he didn’t mind. He spent those hours with his little princess now; taking walks with her, playing with her along the way and in the castle, and making clothes that made her the adorable princess that she.

        Of course, he did still sometimes get involved.

        “Eret!” Tommy yelled on the walkie.

        Eret chuckled as he took it from his pocket. “It seems Tommy is having troubles again princess.” She gave a babble and Eret nodded. “You’re very right. Let’s see what he needs. Yes, Tommy?”

        “I need your help at my base ASAP!” Tommy demanded.

        “It’s nothing dangerous right?” He asked.

        “Of course not, now if you could hurry.”

        He shook his head chuckling. “Alright, I’m on my way.”

        Putting the walkie away, he hugged his little girl lightly as he changed direction.

        “Sorry princess, we need to go check on Tommy. I know you won’t mind though.”

        There were other times that had happened similarly and Eret would take (Y/N) with him to meet the younger boy. The younger boy’s energy would rub off on the infant and she would get excited as well, babbling and giggling constantly. As long as nothing dangerous was going on, Eret was glad to bring (Y/N) over as it always brought a smile to his face at how adorable she’d get.

        Walking onto Tommy's property, he saw the young boy waiting impatiently outside his dirt home.

        “There you are! You brought the brat?” He huffed.

        “Come now, Tommy. (Y/N) loves being around you, at least be kind to her.” Eret smiled, knowing the boy meant no ill will.

        “Right, now!” Tommy said dramatically as he opened the door to his base. “I need to make a plan!”

        Following him in, he saw Tubbo was also there looking over a paper with Tommy’s handwriting on it. Tubbo looked up as they came in and grinned seeing the little girl in Eret’s arms.

        “You brought (Y/N)!” Tubbo exclaimed excitedly as he came over. “Can I hold her?”

        Eret laughed as he nodded, helping the other boy hold her. Tubbo enjoyed seeing the little girl, loving to play with her and spend time with her. There were times when Eret would let Tubbo babysit his princess so he could do a few more dangerous tasks.

        “You got a little crown, you’re really a princess now.” Tubbo grinned as the girl babbled at him.

        “We’re not here for (Y/N), we’re here to plan!” Tommy protested now.

        Tommy didn’t mind the small child, he just got annoyed when the focus would come off him.

        Focus went back on Tommy but Eret left after a little while to give (Y/N) her lunch for the day. She had gotten energetic after seeing the two boys, babbling and giggling as Eret played with her on the walk back. As they got back to his castle, he saw a wrapped package and note at the main door. Picking it up, he saw it was Fundy’s handwriting.

        You stand no chance, it’s for (Y/N)

        He raised an eyebrow, opening the package then laughed.

        “It seems Fundy wishes to make you love him more than me.” Eret showed her the fox plushy, making her eyes sparkle as he gave it to her. “But I know that you’ll always love me, princess.” He booped her nose, (Y/N) looking at his sunglasses, babbling. “That’s right. I think this prank was an automatic failure. I love you princess.”

          Dream

        “Come on (Y/N), you just got to hold out your hands to me,” Sapnap told the infant in the crib at the community house.

        “No, she’s going to me,” George argued.

        The little girl looked between the two as they went between bickering and encouraging her to hold her hands out to them. Then she looked directly between them and held her arms out giggling.

        “What?” George looked behind them and yelped seeing Dream.

        “What are you idiots doing?” Dream laughed as he picked up his daughter.

        “We were trying to get (Y/N) to choose her favorite uncle, but then you ruined it.” Sapnap huffed, crossing his arms.

        “Well, I am her favorite person.” Dream bragged as he pulled his mask up while looking at the little girl. “Peek-a-boo.”

        The girl gave a little squeal of laughter and Dream chuckled rubbing his nose against hers.

        “She loves both of you idiots.” Dream told them, put his mask back on. “You’re her uncles.”

        “Yeah, but I got to prove Uncle Sapnap is the best.” Sapnap pointed to himself.

        “No! I’m better than you of course.”

        The two bickered and Dream shook his head at his friends before leaving the community house.

        “Your uncles are stupid.” Dream whispered to the little girl, tickling her stomach making her giggle. “Why don’t we go look at what the new people have built today, sound good sweetheart?”

        After Dream had taken in the little girl, his life had most certainly brightened more as their world around them grew. She was a constant ball of happiness that always made Dream and his friends smile. Of course, they had to power through learning how to take care of a baby, a lot of screaming coming from all parties the first night they had the child. But they were starting to get the hang of it.

        One thing Dream loved to do that always seemed to please the little girl was taking her around to see the new buildings that were slowly starting to appear as more people joined their land of the SMP. She seemed to like taking in the new sights so Dream took her whenever someone new came or a new build appeared.

        “I don’t know what I’m going to do with your uncles when you get older. They’re going to be falling over each other to get your attention.” Dream told her as he walked. “I think they think I’ll like whoever wins. You’re my special little girl after all. But what they don’t know, is I don’t care as long as you’re happy.”

        It was very true that Dream’s two best friends were always falling each other to get the attention of the infant already. They got her many things to win her over, having similar competitions when Dream wasn’t looking. Right now, the score was even.

        To try and balance the two-out, Dream would alternate on who he took out for dangerous adventures and who would stay with his little girl. He couldn’t send the both of them on their own, unfortunately, least one of them “trips” into a lava pool.

        Dream stopped on the edge of the new property, (Y/N) looking at the colorful flowers decorating it.

        He was a bit hesitant to show her off to others as he wasn’t the most trusting but if they were going to be part of his land, he would introduce her out principle. He did say she was going to be the princess of his land.

        “No new faces today doesn’t seem Tommy is around.” Dream said to her. “We’ll see him later I’m sure. How about we go visit Punz for a bit?”

        He walked away from the property. There were so many people on his land now, he was sure it would become a bright place where his little princess could always be happy.

Lost Ones Taglist: @kakamihasatmblr​ @ialexabsuniverse​ @teaguecosmos​ @chaosofsmarty​

A/N: If you want to be in this taglist I have a post on my page you can reply on or just send me an ask :)

[perriwinklesblog]

I know some people prefer consistent content but I like to take it as it comes and sometimes life happens and other projects need to take priority. 

So right now, I consider this to be a mid season break. Techno going into the prison was like the midseason finale for the Dream Prison Arc and Wilbur and Ranboo’s stuff was like their midseason finale and the Red Banquet where the egg was contained, was a midseason finale and alllllllll the mini episodes we’ve had since there are like specials etc. 

You know, like how in Dr Who you can go a few years without a solid season but get a special at Christmas and New Year? You know like that. 

So like all other programs, stories, videos I watch, I am coming up with ways in which the next bit could go. Some are a bit out there and definitely not happening, others I could see happening. 

This is long and pointless and full or errors both grammatically and spelling wise but I had fun thinking of what could happen next. Read if you want.

Dream escapes prison with Technoblades help. A server wide man hunt comes for Dream but unlike his videos he had stolen the spare armour in the prison and so is pretty OP making it easier for him to put distance between his enemies and himself. 

Technoblade returns to the artic and him, Phil and Will come to an in pass, a slight disagreement. Philza whilst having sided with Dream before, knows he’s not a good guy. Only used him to help destroy lmanburg for his own morals. It was not because he agreed with Dream. In his eyes, he was using Dream for his own goals. Plus, now he’s seen the aftermath of Dream’s terror on the citizens he realises the man perhaps shouldn’t be set to run entirely free. This slightly goes against Techno’s beliefs but the main issue of tension between them is Technoblade willingly placing himself in danger when he didn’t need too and helping release the man who tortured Tommy and clearly has something going on with Ranboo thats bad. 

Wilbur is angry because Techno won’t say where Dream has gone due to an agreement between the two and Technoblade is a man of his word. Wilbur wishes to thank and meet the man who saved him. This also worries Philza because he’s worried he’ll revert back to the man he saw the day he blew up L’Manburg. Over all tension between the three

Niki and Wilbur finally meet and it is as heartbreaking as it is beautifully tragic. Wilbur apologises but misses the mark, misses what hurt her which hurts her more. There’s an explosion with their argument that leaves a stunned silence. Niki asks Wilbur to leave. He does so. 

This leads to a Wilbur and Ranboo conversation where Ranboo tries to reason with Wilbur about Niki’s side. Wilbur brushes it off because much like the blue counterpart we all miss, he’s not a fan of the negative emotion. He tries to focus on the business etc and let’s slip that Dream has escaped somehow. Ranboo leaves. Wilbur is confused but distracted by a confrontation with Quackity.

Ranboo then starts his stream and he’s in the fucking panic room and he’s panicking because there are signs so many signs and they don’t make sense. Theres lesson rules, asking about the missing journal and it’s like every issue he’s ever faced is staring right back at him because Ranboo has never really resolved any issue, just pushed and moved on. He’s tried but that usually failed and for a while he’s ignored all the issues and here they are in front of him, all at one. A big volcanic eruption of anxiety and stress, and it ain’t sitting with him. 

Dream appears. But is it really him? We never know because after a conflict and a back and fourth about everyone in Ranboo’s life eventually landing on a threat about Michael and Tubbo, he blacks out and the stream ends. 

Quackity is livid with everything thats happening, the careful empire he’s building is falling apart and he’s shifting the blame around from person to person. He manipulates everyone around them into believing this is somehow their own fault and that they must make it up to him because he has been nothing but kind and loving to them. He gave them a place, a roof on their head when they had nothing. He misses out the parts where he insulted and or destroyed their homes, but it works and his employee “family” become the main bounty hunters for Dream, with Bad and Ant tagging along since they’re guards. 

Now the streams relating to the manhunt displays everyones wants. They’re all doing this wanting something, and whilst it’s to gain Quackity’s favour back they’re all doing that for different reasons. Their motivations are somewhat different even if on the surface they are the same and so on the man hunts, because there will be many, this is slowly picked apart and through that the manipulation of Quackity is revealed and then we see a parrallel between Quackity and previous people in power where they start to get desperate to keep control over the thing they’ve created. Because that’s been one of (not the only) issues with every leader on the server, the control and their feeling of lack of, even if thats not truly the case. But you get these moments between all the characters where they’re trying to outwit one another, trying to figure it out without blatantly saying it. Maybe Foolish does. He’s a bit of a himbo. 

Ponk always said he’d leave the door open for Sam and I truly think something happens, whether it be a look in the mirror with one of his guards going too far with someone or a conversation with Quackity where Quackity holds the mirror up to Sam maliciously, that causes him to hit the rock bottom and just break and I want that breakdown in front of Ponk. And I want Ponk not necessarily to give him the second chance off the bat but give him that peace offering, give him that hand to pull him up. I want him to take Sam to Niki and explain to Niki we’ve done bad things in the past, this is a safe haven and I believe Sam needs help and a place he can truly feel safe and for a moment Sam does and this begins his raid to redemption in gaining back the trust of the people in his lives. He becomes Tubbo 2.0 spying on Quackity like Tubbo did for Wilbur, but maybe less... bad.

But what of the Fiances? Wellllll,. With Dream escaping him and George meet in secret. George confesses he doesn’t believe it’s real and for a long time has been struggling with reality. He misses the early days, misses when they’d just have fun. Dream says he was having fun and George says I wasn’t. Dream shows true regret for George but says its too late now, can’t change the past. George agrees. Dream asks him what he’s going to do and he simply replies with “Sleep” Ending stream. 

Sapanps stream is a lot more WE ARE GOING ON A DREAM HUNT WE’RE GOING TO CATCH A BIG ONE, I’M NOT SCARED. vibes. He’s gearing up, he’s suiting up and he’s saluting pets on the way. He made a promise and with everything else going on in his life, he’s ready to throw himself into a distraction. He tries to convince George to help him but he waves him off saying, what’s the point? and mumbles something about divine powers and dreams which Sapnap just shakes off. He tries to find Karl in Kinoko but instead comes across Quackity. They have a blow up about how They abandoned each other, both did wrong but neither see the other side of things and eventually he tells him to leave. Quackity says okay, and the place blows up. Foolish cries in the corner. All that heard work but the boss said so. Sapnap ends the whole thing saying at least he’s there for Karl and Quackity pauses and is like why? And Sapnap is all like you care. Just go, you’ve done enough damage, I can’t have you damaging him too. And after a little more but but but between the two, Quackity goes. Sapnap leaves the place to burn, going to find Dream and hopefully Karl on the way. 

Karls in space. That’s where his latest travels have taken him and where the other side decided was his time to visit. Here I see a Wizard in Oz scenario where solutions to some issues will be revealed for Karl in relation to the other side. When it comes to his Dream SMP stuff, he starts confusing names and people more and Sapnap is worried about him, considering keeping him in a safe place. The only place that survived was the library with Karls books. Karl says he’ll stay there. Thats where the answers are anyway. Sapnap is unsure and gets bad vibes but is distracted by a lead on Dream and agrees, he tells him he’ll be back soon. 

They don’t see each other for a long ass time 

I’m not sure on the egg stuff but I do feel Niki and Puffy should have a conversation about all the shit thats happened and Puffy trying to help Niki and vice versa. I feel like Puffy should reach out to Foolish and try and comprehend what the fuck is he doing with Quackity. They have a little argument but it comes to a point where Puffy realises she cannot shield Foolish from harm and that her son ,just make his own decisions. All she can do is guide him where she can and hope that when it comes down to it he will make the right choice. She hopes she didn’t fail this dependant like she did with Dream her duckling. Though only she sees it as failure. 

Jack and Niki finally talk. She goes searching for some things and comes to his new place, he tells her to fuck off and that he doesn’t need anyone. They all abandon him. Niki pretty much does the verbal equivalent of slap some sense into him as she and him discuss how he is not the centre of everything, how he is not the sun. She was hurting, and he didn’t bother, no instead they just fed off each others anger and once he couldn’t feed of her or anyone else he isolated himself. She tries to convince him there are better things in life, there are better ways to place your energy etc. A lot of healing talk with Jack being stubborn. Eventually Jack finds himself at the door of Quackity after sticking to stubbornness, not quite ready to heal and he becomes the next member of Las Nevadas. A big blow to Wilbur too. 

They finally destroy the egg with magic. I dunno how but either destroy or hatch. Either or would be great. Red comes out the thing and I want a gay ass villain please. Bring it Red. Let’s go. Invite him to the server, bring the fire, bring the plant power Red. He can be the villain that unites everyone in a begrudging way. Like they all hate each other but fine i guess we’ll team to stop Red and Ant. 

Skeppy’s dead. 

Tubbo and Ranboo have a fight but Ranboo says “Weren’t we enough?” and it’s in relation to him and Michael (this happens before panic room). Thats when Tubbo realises where the wires got crossed and he immediately rectifies it but explaining he’s happy with the two of them but he wanted a job, something to work towards. Family wise he’s got it all, he’s content with it all but he wanted a project and one that didn’t incite violence. Fun rivalry sure, but he’s done with violence, he’s doesn’t want to add to the nightmares he already has. He wants competition but not one that will put all he loves in danger. So they talk it out and Ranboo feels more confident and Tubbo asks him to tell him if he ever takes anything too far because he can get a little carried away sometimes. Ranboo agrees and then they have a cute playdate with Michael. Then Ranboo does the thing with Wilbur and ends up in panic room.

Tommy and Tubbo discuss everything and lay it all out on the table because Tommy doesn’t want to be on the other side again with Tubbo. Tubbo doesn’t understand why everyone is making such a big deal about his burger business and Tommy tries to explain the issues with Quackity and the level of intensity he’s seen with Wilbur but Tubbo just laughs it off. They eventually talk about Ranboo and Tommy relents saying he likes Ranboo although he does sometimes get jealous of how Tubbo seems to have it all. Tubbo tells Tommy of his nightmares and so does Tommy to Tubbo. They come to an understanding with each other and understand that no matter how long they go apart, there is always a space shaped to fit them perfectly in their lives for them. Tubbo and Tommy then go play some pranks. 

Wilbur is unhappy with the pranks and gives a lecture and they get into a fight. This leads to Wilbur talking man to man to Quackity. Theres some weird sexual tension. Once again they’re trying to outwit one another. That when we get to the crazy stuff. 

And here’s where I get crazy with my stuff. 

Ponk is digging in his lil cave when he accidentally breaks through to a random room buried deep underground. Tommy’s there trying to scam him out of something he has. Tubbo and Ranboo too. When they get to this room Ranboo thinking it’s the panic one and freaks out, but the others calm him down. Ponk thinking theres diamonds in the room storms ahead setting off some traps but surviving. Tubbo opens one of the chests and just says theres a bucket in there. Ponk pulls it out and says it has a named fish in it. 

You see where I’m going. 

They empty the bucket whilst asking what the fish is called. They are interrupted by a voice. It’s Sally. 

Dream had captured her and bound her to a bucket and put her in the chest and hid her from Wilbur. 

She has been released. She freaks out over how much time has past because for her nothing has changed at all. She thought it might have been a couple of hours or something since Dream pulled that prank on her but clearly not. 

They all catch up and the season ends with Sally and Wilbur meeting in front of Quackity, Dream in the shadows and Sally and Wilbur turning to see Fundy who just freaks the fuck out. 

Oh and just a side, Callahan is the last member of the syndicate and God of the server and is having fun playing with the mortals. 

And then I have the next season planned out and how I’d end the whole thing but like until then. This is it. Mid Season to finale. How I picture things happening. 

None of this will happen but isn’t it fun to imagine? 

[businessbois]

MasterList of my compilations

FIC MASTERLIST HERE AO3 HERE

also, all comps are tagged #a comp a day keeps the sadness away or #clip comp and clips are #have a clip

(also also my more analysis type posts are tagged #dsmp analysis)

*A personal favorite

most should have transcripts UNDER THE CUT, apologies if it doesn’t

I MADE THIS INTO A CARRD NOW SORRY BECAUSE THIS WAS KINDA DIFFICULT TO MAINTAIN businessbois.carrd.co < all my comps are there

tommy:

tommy like’a da bees

tommy and the clementines

*tommy being soft for minecraft creatures

tommyinnit: flowerboy

tommyinnit being king of the lesbians for 1 minute and 30 seconds

tommyinnit saying no to straight people

*somethings don’t change

tommy and the sidemen

tommyinnit 6 mil pogchamp

character development

tommy and wilbur:

wilbur talking about tommy in his streams

tommy verbally spamming “wilbuh, wilbuh, wilbuh”

wilbur using his big bro wilbs voice

he will cry

tommy and techno:

tommy and techno having different priorities (and in doing so exemplifying brotherhood)

oh yeah checkmate tommy you really got him there

**tommyinnit missing the blade

techno likes one (1) kid

*tommy and techno being brothers

*tommyinnit being a techno stan: **part 1, part 2, part 3

tommy maybe being adopted

¿AY CARAMBA DÓNDE ESTÁ LA BIBLIOTECA?

tommy and people:

tommy being aww’d

tommyinnit being a child

**people saying nice things about tommy: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

primeboys compilation for 4 minutes and 58 seconds

fundy and tommy having an underrated friendship

niki and tommy having an underrated friendship

sapnap and tommy having an underrated friendship

allium duo during csgo

puffy and tommy during csgo

*tommyinnit protection squad

clingyinnit

*dream team and child

storyline related:

it’s the same song, but the words have changed a bit

“my” vs “our”

dream and techno parallels (exile day)

ha, they’re, uh, they’re best friends... your honor?

wilbur? tubbo? tommy?

first day/exile parallels

annoying little bug

*tommyinnit being betrayed but before the exile storyline so without tubbo

*tommyinnit being BETRAYED for 3 minutes and 54 seconds (w/tubbo and also some scene changes cuz i figured id just update what i didn’t like about the first one)

important tommyinnit clips from january 6th (aka look at all this fucking character development)

look at all this fucking character development part 2

“you can’t be the next wilbur”

*o7 l’manburg

on the path

**bench scene compilation

daddy issues

tommy having mixed feelings about alivebur for 3 minutes and 51 seconds

this is just 3 minutes of tommy saying “i’m sorry”

tommyinnit’s abandonment issues

who do you miss the most?

SAM

wholesome sambro/awesamdad compilation :)

tommy being not selfish parallels

suck it green boy

are you happier?

smpearth:

wanna see how hard i can CRY

*business bay compilation 1 and 2

“me and the boys battling god”

misc:

similar yet opposite energies (dream and techno parallels but not angsty)

wispexe suffering for 2 minutes and 12 seconds straight

quackity being forcibly adopted by sbi

eryn cyberonix being a force of chaotic dumbassery

wisp singing heather

same energy- gogy and tommy

eryn hating the able sisters song

deffo flerting

wisp saying things for 52 seconds

eryn and linu being bros

ksi being ready to throw down with a 16 year old

[mcyt-kalopsia]

Reacting to Your Death

So obviously I didn’t write all of them, but here’s how I interpret the SMP members that are written would react to you dying. 

Warnings: Spoilers for Tommy’s latest stream (Literally like one offhand), obviously death, lots of angst, violence mentions, Schlatt for anyone who doesn’t like him I suppose

Theme: angst, obviously it’s just them and how they deal with your death.

Characters; all the ones with (p) are strictly platonic but the others are up to personal interpretation: Dream, George, Sapnap, Wilbur, Techno, Schlatt, Tubbo (p), Ranboo (p), Tommy (p), Awesamdude, Niki, Karl, Quackity, Minx, Badboyhalo, Phil, DreamXD, Skeppy, Fundy.

DREAM:

- The first few days and nights, all he could do was sit inside all day. 

- No matter who visited to comfort him, he felt a horribly large part of his heart had been ripped away when you died.

- He thought about the day when you finally told him that a dirt shack wouldn’t do for a house, so you two spent days building an actual house.

- After those first few days, he decided he would bring you back. 

- The revive book had worked for Tommy and Wilbur, so it had to work for you. 

- He swore he would bring you back. So he did.

GEORGE:

- He didn’t know how to feel at first. He would get terribly depressed, then angry, and then numb, over and over.

- After a week of this, he then could hardly stop crying. What was he going to do without you? The realisation that he was without you hit him like a truck.

- Whenever he would go out with friends, he made it a habit to pick one of your favourite flowers each day. 

SAPNAP:

- He was crushed. He acted out more and more often out of anger to avoid his sadness and hurt, but when he was alone all he did was try so, so hard not to cry. 

- Bruised and bloodied knuckles were his most worn accessory.

- Often slept in your house, as a way to feel closer to you. He spends a lot more time in your house than his.

- Always remembered your birthday, but every birthday just made him more sad. 

- Eventually he would go to Dream about the revive book too.

WILBUR:

- You had been the only one to see past his flaws in a wary way, and he was heartbroken when you died.

- He often sat on your porch and sang songs he had once sang to you, as well as songs he knew you’d loved, and songs he’d written for you. 

- He was the one to make your grave, and had promised to be kinder.

- Though he loved being alive, he didn’t like that you couldn’t also have a second chance at life as well and felt it unfair.

- Probably resorted to a little bit of violence once he got to the anger stage of grieving.

TECHNOBLADE:

- He was always a pretty quiet guy, but when you died he went silent for weeks aside from when he was alone.

- When he was alone, he went into his library. He found all of your favourite books, worn and bent on pages from you reading them over and over, and he would read them aloud. 

- He hoped you could hear him from wherever you were as he read the books you had loved.

- He spent a lot of time awake as he did this, oftentimes getting very invested in what you had loved.

- If he wasn’t reading, usually he was in bed, wondering about how he couldn’t save you. 

SCHLATT:

- Of course, in public he looked composed as he usually was, as if it wasn’t eating him up inside that you were gone.

- “Who was that again?”

- When alone, he falls apart immediately. 

- People assume that when he’s waking up at near to noon it’s because he’s drinking, but it’s really because your death kept him up all night every night.

- He hardly even drank now, because of the secret promise he’d made to you.

- Though you were dead now, he still wanted to keep his promise, just in case.

TUBBO:

- Was the one who made everyone promise to get along when Wilbur made the funeral.

- Was entrusted with the love and care of your stuffed animals or anything from your childhood.

- Has your old childhood photos framed along with his own, so others often stop by to look at the photos to remember you by.

- Probably has your old horse as well, and takes really good care of them.

RANBOO:

- You two had been really close friends before you died. You were such good friends that he didn’t even need his book to remember you were friends, so of course he was absolutely crushed.

- Though he tried his best to stay stable to avoid certain things, he was upset.

- He definitely gave a speech at your funeral.

- He often sits in your room, talking aloud as if you were still with him.

- He would often repeat old jokes you used to tell each other, laughing softly and trying his best to not get too upset.

- If he wasn’t in your room, he was in your old garden tending to your flowers.

TOMMY:

- He’s also more aggressive like Sapnap, except moreso verbally.

- He blames himself heavily for what happened to you, and he mentally beats himself up about it all the time.

- “It was my fault Y/N’s dead, I get it!”

- He’s not much of a cryer.

AWESAMDUDE:

- All of his pain and sadness get put aside with work. He works harder, he makes it so he hardly has time to think about it.

- When he does think about it, he just feels so heavy the rest of the day, like thinking about your death has sucked the rest of the day’s energy from him.

- Sometimes he’s teased for suddenly being so sluggish and unlike himself, but he can’t even muster the energy to explain that he was thinking about you and how he missed you so badly that it hurt him deeply.

- To say the least, he felt like he had believed too much in you having more time. He should have known not to trust in fate.

NIKI:

- She for sure has any other pets you had. She takes extra good care of them.

- There’s a little spot in her garden dedicated to you.

- She had shut down for a good while after your funeral, where she hardly spoke to anyone and often lay in bed all day to try and remember you.

- Although as time went on, she decided you would have hated seeing her in bed all day like that and started doing her normal routines.

KARL:

- He knew he should have seen it coming, but… somehow, he didn’t.

- He felt a little guilty about this thought, and it often kept him from doing any normal tasks.

- He misses the days when one of you felt bad so the other would do everything in their power to make them feel better. 

- Needless to say, he started writing letters to you, even if it was just to keep himself a little busy.

QUACKITY:

- Laughing Through the Pain™

- He spends a lot more time making sure people aren’t worried, by making really bad jokes as usual.

- The only times he cries are when he thinks too much about you, regardless of if he’s alone or not. Sometimes it makes encounters awkward.

- He’s just sobbing one time while in the midst of a conversation with someone and he’s just like “sorry man I was thinking about Y/N” and they are just like “...oh”

MINX:

- Aggressive but make it threatening and nothing more. 

- “If you don’t fucking shut up about Y/N I’ll knock yer teeth in”

- She just wants to be alone sometimes. She just wants to be alone so maybe the pain will stop being so bad.

- Also not much of a cryer unless it’s late at night.

BADBOYHALO:

- “You little muffin… I told you not to get yourself into danger..”

- He loves to talk about you whenever people bring an old interest up.

- “I remember how much Y/N loved these…” He’s staring at the flowers nearby. He’s smiling sadly. 

- Often shares good memories of you with others to help them cope a little.

- He’s sad, but he knows it would do him no good to be so miserable that he can’t do anything. And he knows how much you would scold him if he stopped being himself completely.

PHIL:

- He names a parrot after you, naturally.

- He’s not gone as often now because he likes to stop by your grave and just talk. 

- He collects things that remind him of you and puts them in a special chest marked with your name. Sometimes it’s things you said were cool, other times it’s just things that he associates with you.

- Drinks your favourite teas.

DREAMXD:

- Would absolutely just go “lmao” in the chat and then leave again

- That’s it, that’s him.

SKEPPY:

- No more silly pranks with him :( no more memeing on others…

- It hits him hard

- Like Quackity, he makes a lot of jokes to mask how upset he is.

- Of course, he has Bad, but damn was it still difficult to deal with your passing.

FUNDY:

- :(

- He’s so sad that he doesn’t even want to do anything or go anywhere.

- It feels like his whole world just stopped and that nothing could hurt worse than this, and he doesn’t even want to face this sadness.

- He often goes out into the woods to climb trees like the two of you used to do.

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 7,618

Chapter Warnings: swearing, referenced past suic.ide, description of past injury, scars, discussion of c!Wilbur’s overall terrible mental health

Chapter Summary: In which Phil and Wilbur finally sit down and have a talk. They both have things to say that the other needs to hear.

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Eighteen: quiet now

They do come up with a plan. A simple one, as far as plans go, but that means less moving parts, less things to go wrong. Sometimes a simpler plan is better. And considering the effort it takes to get them all there, to get them all on the same page, he’ll accept it. But night has fallen by the time they figure it all out,

(and by that time his throat is hoarse and his hands are shaking so he shoves them into his pockets and Tommy keeps shooting him looks and Phil is doing the same and Techno is kind of hovering a bit but he ignores them because he’s fine and he keeps his shoulders straight his shoulders straight set and straight so that no one looks at him and sees his exhaustion the way he’s crumbling and he tells himself that he’s not and that he’s alright that this is nothing but he’s not sure he believes himself anymore and that in itself is terrifying because if he’s not alright then he has to confront the dark confront what he does not want to confront so he tells himself he’s alright but the walls are cracking they’re cracking)

so they’ll set it all in motion in the morning. For now, they retire to bed. Almost all of them; Eret says she’ll keep watch by the gates. Once, he wouldn’t have trusted her word. He’s not sure that he does, even now. But he doesn’t object, and neither does anyone else, so.

It’s night. He should sleep. He is even aware that he needs to sleep, that he’s been dealing with a pounding headache ever since just after the last time he let Schlatt materialize, that every so often his vision swims for no apparent reason. He needs to sleep, because he’s no use to anyone like this, not if he can’t wield a weapon, whether physical or verbal, and he used all the rest of his energy on getting through the rest of the meetings. The collaboration. The planning. The day, plain and simple.

He knows when he’s running on fumes.

Eret gave him a room. She gave everyone a room. Because she has a bloody enormous castle, with rooms to spare. So he’s lying in an unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the moonlight slowly creep in as the clouds outside finally clear, and he can’t sleep. Exhaustion grips him with a thousand clinging hands, and he can’t sleep. He knows exactly where everyone is, knows that Tommy and Tubbo are sharing the room next to him, that Techno and Phil are on this same hall, and he even made sure to locate Fundy despite—everything.

Everyone is safe, in this moment, at least. But he can’t sleep, can’t give his body the rest it’s demanding of him. His mind is contorting in on itself, itching, buzzing, like a swarm of bees that can’t find the home hive. And his thoughts, as have been their wont lately, slip away before he can examine them properly.

(or perhaps he’s letting them go, has been letting them go all along, because he does not want to look at them, does not want to understand, because he wants to achieve that nebulous concept of being better but if he looks at himself too closely then he will have to acknowledge that being better doesn’t only have the meaning he’s assigned to the phrase, doesn’t just mean being better to others but also to)

He can’t sleep. So he gets up. Steadies himself against the bed’s banister until the world stops spinning. And then goes out into the hall. The stone is lit with flickering torches, and the soft crackling of the fire is the only sound. He slips out quietly, footsteps light on the carpet, and just walks. To the end of the hallway, glancing back just once, and—

Schlatt is at the other end. Staring at him. He stares back.

And then the ghost shakes his head and vanishes. The glimmer of blue is still there, still present as a shimmer if he doesn’t look at the spot directly, but the message is clear. Schlatt doesn’t want to talk.

He doesn’t particularly want to talk, either. Not after the mess that today has been. He regrets laying out all of his cards in front of Schlatt in the way that he did. The fact that Schlatt now knows how to make himself solid only adds to that. He’s not fond of the sensation, of his strength leaving him in a rush, pulled away from him without his consent.

(and his heart constricting in his chest)

The ground tilts a bit. He places his hands against the wall, and the dizziness passes. He keeps going. Keeps stalking through the halls.

He’s done this before. He felt like the castle’s passages were haunted, then, a few days ago. He still feels the same. Especially now, at night, when the whole castle is still. When he might as well be the only person alive.

(if he is that)

Except then, he rounds a corner and nearly runs over Ranboo. Or rather, doesn’t run him over, exactly, because Ranboo is exceedingly tall, and he somehow seems even taller now. But it’s him, his skin divided in black and white, wearing that suit he always seems to have on. Wilbur remembers to avert his eyes before meeting his gaze, but not before catching the fact that Ranboo’s are glowing purple. Which is different from usual. Definitely different from usual.

“Wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up,” he says, backing up a step. He fixes his gaze past Ranboo’s shoulder and tries to observe him surreptitiously.

Ranboo is holding a block of dirt. Grass intact. Interesting.

And then, Ranboo chirps at him. An enderman sort of warble, distorted and yet, somehow, gentle.

“Um,” he says. “Are you—is this the sleepwalking thing again?”

Immediately afterward, he realizes the stupidity of asking a sleepwalking person whether or not they’re sleepwalking. But the eyes are new, for sure; in the Egg’s chamber, when he was sleepwalking before, his eyes were just like they’d been previously, one red and one green, just glazed over.

His eyes now aren’t glazed at all, are bright and alert. But purple.

Ranboo vwoops.

“Alright, you know what, good for you,” he says. “I’m just going to keep walking. Maybe you should get some rest later or something.”

It’s not any of his concern what Ranboo’s doing. As long as he’s staying in the castle, he can sleepwalk and be an enderman to his heart’s content. It’s none of his business, and if he really feels the need, he’ll go get Phil. Since Phil seems to be halfway to adopting him in any case. Let Phil deal with it.

So he moves to walk around Ranboo. Except Ranboo mirrors him, and suddenly, the grass block is being shoved against his chest. Lightly, but enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Um,” he says again. Not up to his usual standards of eloquence, but Ranboo likely won’t remember this later if he actually is sleepwalking, so it’s fine. “You want me to take it? Is that it?”

Ranboo vwoops, still holding the block out at him, so he reaches for it, curling his fingers into the dirt. Ranboo releases the block as soon as he does, and the dirt immediately starts to come loose, to lose its shape, and a good bit of the grass starts to fall off. But Ranboo nods in satisfaction, letting out another warble, so he keeps hold of it as best he can. At least until Ranboo has passed by him, evidently content with whatever he thinks he’s accomplished. Wilbur turns to stare at his retreating back until he’s vanished around the corner.

And then he looks down at his hands. At the block, which barely resembles a block anymore. Mostly just a lump of dirt.

“Right,” he mutters, letting it slide through his fingers. Some of it clings to his skin, and he wrinkles his nose, brushing his hands against his coat.

He’s not sure what that was. But alright.

He finds his way out into the open air, eventually, climbing up and up until he gets to the roof of the castle. The sky above is lit with stars, and if he tilts his head and closes his eyes, he can hear them. Humming, always humming. Or perhaps he’s imagining it, his brain filling in a sound he can’t truly hear but that he knows is present. He’s not sure it makes a difference either way. It’s still a comfort. A small one, but a comfort nonetheless.

He’s considering whether to try to sleep up here instead when he sees that Phil is here too. A little off to the side, a dark silhouette staring out over the SMP, sitting on a stone bench. Why Eret put a bench on the roof, he has no idea; or perhaps Phil made it himself. He wouldn’t be surprised.

He should probably leave him be. And yet, he doesn’t want to go back inside, and—

Phil really ought to be resting too.

So he crosses the rooftop, slowly, almost reluctantly as he picks his way across the stone. He hesitates before sitting next to Phil on the bench, leaving a bit of space between them. This close, he can see the bags under Phil’s eyes better than ever, as well as the way his cloak twitches as the wings underneath move.

“Any particular reason why you’re up?” he asks. Phil doesn’t act surprised at his appearance; he knew he was there, then. Heard his approach, most likely, or perhaps just sensed his presence. Hundreds of years have made Phil a difficult man to catch off guard.

(though you did it once, in a different way, in that room, you caught him off guard and broke him in the catching)

Phil snorts. “Nightmare,” he says, clipped, though Wilbur is somewhat surprised to have gotten even that admission out of him. “I should be asking the same of you. You need to get some fucking sleep, Wilbur.”

“I’m well aware,” he says. “I’ve been trying. Thought a walk might clear my head.” He hesitates, not sure that he should push any further, not sure that he wants to, that Phil would welcome it. But then, he’s never been one to let such a small detail as whether his prying is welcome stop him. “Can I ask what about?” he asks, and is satisfied with that. If Phil wants him to fuck off, then he’ll tell him so.

But Phil is silent for a moment.

“You, usually,” he says.

“Oh,” Wilbur replies.

He didn’t expect that. But he feels like he should have.

Phil shifts, then, his clothing rustling as he turns to half face him.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he says. “It’s not your fault. You get as old as I am and you pick up a few recurring nightmares. Persistent little fucks, but it’s not anything to be worried about.”

But this one is bad enough to cost you sleep on the eve of battle, and I know you know better than to let that happen, so it must be bad, he doesn’t say. But this one is about me, he doesn’t say. But there is still an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, one that doesn’t let up no matter how deeply he breathes. So he doesn’t look at Phil, but he says, “Tell me about it?” and immediately curses the weakness of his voice. He almost sounds scared, which is not what he was aiming for. Inviting, maybe. He wants to know.

(he doesn’t, actually, but he feels like he should, so it’s the same thing in the end)

Phil sighs.

“We’re on a cliff, you and I,” he says, sounding tired. “There’s an ocean below us, far down. Neither of us speak. You throw a sword down at my feet, and I—I do it. Just like I did. And then, you smile at me and fall backward. Off the cliff.” He looks down at his hands, flexing his fingers. “I jump after you. And then I remember that I can’t fly.”

Wilbur swallows.

(he has no trouble conflating himself with a nightmare, no trouble at all, but it becomes more difficult when the nightmare is not him but rather losing him and he should have expected as much from Phil because Phil for all his long years has never been good at letting go at giving up on something that cannot be saved but he still doesn’t know what to do with this what to say)

“I thought falling from a cliff was a Theseus thing,” he manages.

Phil chuckles dryly. “Techno does like his myths,” he says, “but life’s not so cut and dry as those are. Not everything has a perfect parallel. We’re not storybook characters.”

It’s not a pointed comment. But his mind still cringes away from the words.

“But stories come from somewhere,” he says softly. It’s not a plea, because he doesn’t have anything to plead, but if that’s so, then he doesn’t know why his voice is lined with desperation, all of a sudden, why his heart is thumping against his ribcage. “Even in real life, we all have roles to play.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing, Wil?” Phil asks. “Playing a role?”

His breath catches, snags in his lungs, like his chest is full of thorns.

(you do not like to be seen do not like to be perceived not like this not in a way that lays out the heart of you your core beliefs those are for you and you alone and you guard them so no one else knows and they receive only what you choose to present and so you do not like this at all do not like to be known beyond what you have explicitly chosen to share)

(you have always been a showman)

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, but it’s stiff, too stiff, and Phil is too perceptive a man to be fooled by it.

“I’ve noticed what you’re doing,” Phil says. “You’re running yourself ragged trying to pull everyone together. To direct them. And I know you’re a leader, Wil, I really do, and you’re damn good at it, too, but you can’t possibly believe that wearing yourself out like this is healthy.”

He shuts his eyes. “It’s not like that,” he says. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

“It needs to be done. But not necessarily by you, mate. A lot of the people here are more than capable of taking on some of  the responsibility. Your brothers included. Also, you didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t hear you ask one,” he snaps, sudden irritation welling up. “It’s not a matter of health, Phil! It’s a matter of what’s important, and what’s important right now is dealing with all of this bullshit. That has to come first.”

Phil sits up straighter. His hands grip his knees, and his eyebrows draw together.

“You come first,” Phil says. “You always come first. Your health is important, and you—you can’t take care of anyone else before you take care of yourself. Wil, how long have you—”

He cuts off, but Wilbur knows what he was about to ask. How long have you thought like this? Or something like that, anyway. This is another thing that he should have expected from Phil, this persistent concern for him. It’s unnecessary, since he

(decided long ago that his health could fall on his list of priorities so long as he was effective, so long as he was getting things done, and he did get things done, in his country, in his exile, he got things done and that was what mattered because he himself has always been so much less important than the things he could create and the things he could do for others)

has matters well in hand, but he doubts Phil would understand if he tried to explain it.

(easier to tell himself that than to admit that he can’t explain it at all, that no explanation he could give would hold up to a moment’s scrutiny, that Phil will see right through it to the real underlying cause, and Phil has already perceived far too much)

“Right, health is important,” he says, placating. “I didn’t mean to imply that it wasn’t. Though, honestly, you’re one to talk. Did you think I didn’t see the state your wings are in? When’s the last time you bothered to preen them?”

It’s a low blow, and he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Phil flinches, his face setting in a harder expression. More closed off, and he really should have known better, shouldn’t he? Should’ve known better than to bring it up like that, because Phil’s wings used to be his pride and joy, and now they’re ruined and it’s his fault to boot, and he can admit that he was looking for a sore spot to hit, but that wound is far worse than a sore spot.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.” He looks away, unable to meet Phil’s eyes, and finds himself looking up again. To the stars.

“It’s alright.” Phil laughs humorlessly. “I can’t say that you’re wrong.” He sighs, posture relaxing slightly. “I caught that, by the way. I know when you’re trying to distract me.” He tilts his head upward, staring at the stars just like Wilbur is, his hat sliding further back on his head. “I’m not trying to lecture you. I just want to understand. Why can’t you let yourself rest, Wil?”

That is a far more complicated question than he knows. That is a question that has its roots in months long past, in a drug van and an idea and a revolution and a nation, in his drive to get recognition and his determination that his country would succeed,

(because if it was not a success then it would be a failure and he too would be a failure)

in sleepless nights spent screaming into his pillow and days pasting on a smile and a confident stride. And then, in relinquishing his power when the people called for it, when he lost, conceding gracefully even as his stomach dropped into his boots, and getting an arrow in his back for his troubles, he and his brother chased like dogs from the home they built. And then, in the ravine, every shadow a threat, every person out to get him, every whisper a lie, every moment settling the despair more deeply into his bones.

But perhaps Phil knows that. Or some of it at least. He doesn’t know how much Phil has guessed. But Phil knows enough to know that the him that he encountered in that room was a far cry from the him that he portrayed in his letters, before he stopped sending them at all, before he could no longer bring himself to pick up the pen, before the thought of lying to his father again left him feeling physically ill, and the idea of telling him the truth was worse.

Phil knows enough to know that something went wrong.

Perhaps a bit of honesty wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps trying to get him to understand wouldn’t hurt. At least, not more than it already does, no more than he already has.

“It’s because I know what I’m like, Phil,” he says softly. “I know what I’m like.”

The stars twinkle at him.

“Okay,” Phil says. Patient. “What does that mean?”

He considers it. Considers everything.

“You know the legacy I left on this server, right?” he says. “You know what I left behind when I died.”

Phil turns his head, looks at him. His expression is slightly pained.

“I sort of destroyed the legacy you left,” he says, and it takes him a second to realize what he’s talking about.

“Not that L’Manberg,” he says. “That L’Manberg wasn’t mine. I suppose it was Tubbo’s more than anything, but it’s hard to say, I think. I can’t really speak on it. Ghostbur—saw things differently than how I would have.” He stops for Phil’s reaction to that, but aside from a slight narrowing of his eyes, there is nothing. “I mean the original. L’Manberg. My L’Manberg.”

Phil sucks in a sharp breath at his choice of words.

“No, Wil,” he says. “No, I didn’t really get to see it.”

“That’s the point,” he says. He closes his eyes, searching for the right words. The stars are pinprick lights dancing on his eyelids. “I destroyed it. I destroyed it all, Phil. I waffled back and forth a lot, for weeks, deciding whether I was going to do it or not. And then I did. I pushed that button, Phil. I made the decision. I destroyed it. I destroyed people’s homes. I betrayed all of my friends. And the thing about that is, even if I regret hurting them, now, I still don’t regret the action itself. I don’t regret destroying it, Phil. It needed to go.” I needed to go.

“Why is that, Wil?” Phil asks quietly.

“It wasn’t good anymore,” he answers easily. This, at least, he knows. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t mine anymore, either, but mainly it was that it wasn’t good. It became—it became corrupt. Bad. And it was never going to be good again, so it had to stop. It had to end. It all had to end. But that’s not my point right now. My point is that that was my legacy, right? L’Manberg? And I destroyed that, but what’s most important is the pain I caused. That was my legacy. That pain. That was what I left behind me. And even before that, even before everything, when I started it in the first place, I brought war to the server, Phil. Suffering, conflict. And the war was a game at first. We were all friends at the start. But then I decided that it wasn’t a game. I declared independence, and I meant it. So in the end, all of the problems on this server can be traced back to me. Something I did, or something I said.” He leans his head forward again, gazing out at the horizon rather than the night sky. “It all comes back to me. I’ve never been good for this server.”

He pauses, waiting for Phil’s reply. None comes, and he glances over; Phil is staring at him, face white as a sheet.

“I haven’t answered your question yet,” he says. “But you need to—you need to understand all of that so you understand why I feel—” He breaks off. His tongue feels clumsy, and his mind suddenly blanks. He’s not even sure that any of what he’s just said makes sense, and if it doesn’t make sense, then he can’t continue, because if he’s really going to do this, really going to put this all out there for Phil to hear, then he needs it to make sense, needs to be sure that he actually understands.

“Why you feel what?” Phil asks. Still quiet.

He takes in a breath. Tries to gather his thoughts. The exhaustion isn’t helping. It’s like wading through mud.

“I know what I’m like,” he repeats. It makes a good springboard. “So I know that I sure as hell don’t deserve to be back here, even if it had been what I wanted. But I am, so I need to do something that’s worth that. I need to pull myself together and get us all out of this. For Tommy’s sake, if for no one else, and for Tubbo, and—and Fundy, and everyone who doesn’t deserve to be pulled into this mess. Another mess. If I have the ability to help, then I have a responsibility to do that. I can’t just—push it off to someone else, Phil. That’s not how it works.”

“Why not?” Phil asks.

“Because then I’m not worth it, then, am I?” he erupts. Why isn’t Phil getting this? “Phil, we’re all measured by the things we create. By the things we’re able to do, our accomplishments. If I can’t do anything that’s worth something, then what the fuck am I here for? Because it’s not because I asked, Phil. I got what I deserved in the end, and that was supposed to be all. I wanted it to be all, Phil, I wanted—”

He cuts off, horror mounting in him. This was a mistake. He never should have said anything at all, never should have started in on this. He should have dodged the questions, the probing comments, until Phil finally got tired and left it alone.

He should have gone back inside.

But Phil still hasn’t spoken, so he presses on, trying to wrap it up in a way that’s understandable.

“In the end, it all comes down to the fact that I have experience with this kind of stuff,” he says. “Someone needs to step up, and I can. So I need to. That’s all it is.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I probably should’ve just skipped to that part.”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t,” Phil says, and there’s a tremor in his voice that he can’t place the reason for. “I’m glad you—I’m glad you told me this. But—Wil, okay, first off, just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should, and it doesn’t mean you have to.”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand it,” he mutters. He really ought to go back inside. But the night air is so fresh and clear, smelling of humidity and petrichor, and the thought of returning to that empty, dark room only to stare at the ceiling until morning makes something in him shrivel up and die inside. If he’s not going to be able to sleep, then he’d rather be awake out here than in there.

“Wil,” Phil says, insistent, and suddenly, Phil’s hands are on his shoulders, turning him toward him with a light but firm touch. He blinks. “Do you not take care of yourself because you think you don’t deserve it?” Something in Phil’s voice folds like wet paper, just as fragile, just as flimsy.

He opens his mouth to respond, and no words come.

(there is is, the crux of the matter, the core of it all, because he is a person built of pretty words and self-loathing, and long before he directed any anger at the world around him, he pointed it inward, lashed at himself until only scars remained, and he called that just, called that right)

He’s not sure how Phil jumped to that conclusion from all of that. But—he’s trying to deny it, trying to refute the point, but the words just won’t form.

“Oh, Wilbur,” Phil says, sounding a bit wrecked, and then, the hands on his shoulders move to his arms, gently pulling him forward and into Phil’s embrace. Phil’s arms circle him lightly, his hands rubbing patterns into his back, and then, his wings rise from under his cloak, swooping forward and closing around him in a motion that is all-too familiar from his childhood, in a motion indicating that even now, Phil is trying to comfort him, trying to protect him with all that he is. It’s a hug that means warmth and safety and love, and Wilbur begins to tremble, because—

He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t. He doesn’t understand what he did to deserve it.

“You don’t need to do anything to be worthy of love,” Phil murmurs. “You don’t need to do anything to deserve to take care of yourself. And—you’re wrong about your legacy. It’s not just pain and suffering. You’ve done so many good things for so many people, and they remember that, even if you can’t. I see it every day. You were missed, Wil. So fucking missed, by so many more people than just me.”

And that can’t be true. That can’t possibly be true, because he remembers his ending certainty, his declaration that everyone would thank Phil for killing him, that everyone wanted him to do it, and he was so sure of himself, then, because he was the traitor, he was the villain, and villains get what they deserve. And perhaps he wasn’t entirely right, not in Tommy’s case, at any rate, because Tommy wanted him back, at least, but everyone else should have wanted him dead.

But no one has. No one has thus far, at least. No one has tried to do anything to him aside from a few pointed comments. No one has tried to lock him up or kill him. No one has tried, even when they should, they definitely should, because he was hated by the end—wasn’t he?

(no. except for by one, and you have never judged yourself fairly)

So, what does that mean, then? What does it mean that he understands far less than he thought he did? What does it mean that he is struggling for control, falling back into old patterns because it’s all he knows, struggling and falling and failing? He thought he knew, thought he understood well how it all ties together, how to measure his own worth by what he can do, but here is Phil saying that that’s not right at all, and what is he supposed to do with that?

He has vowed to be better. Has been trying to be better. Has he been getting that wrong, too?

Or perhaps he isn’t wrong. Perhaps Phil is. He would like to believe that Phil is. It would be so much easier if Phil is. But here, now, held with arms and wings both, the contact chasing all of the day’s chill away, he’s not sure that he can arrive at that conclusion. Not sure he can let himself deny it, deny this.

But if he is wrong about this, he is wrong about so much, and that—that is terrifying.

“I’ve been trying to be better. I’ve been trying so hard,” he gasps out. “Phil—Phil, I don’t think I know what I’m doing. I don’t think I know how.”

“That’s okay,” Phil says. “That’s okay, you don’t have to. You just have to try. That’s all anyone wants. And it’s a process, not a one-and-done thing. It’s okay to not know.” Phil pauses. One hand moves from his back and goes up to card through his hair. Wilbur lets out a sigh. “But part of that is being better toward yourself. You deserve that just by virtue of existing. You don’t have to do anything or make anything. You deserve better things.”

(his own voice: you deserve good things and you can have them. but that was to Tommy, for Tommy, and it surely can’t apply to him, surely, because he is different, is not good like Tommy is, because he may be trying not to be the villain anymore but he was one once and he is not good and even before then he was not good enough so surely he cannot turn that around on himself surely he cannot)

“I don’t know if I can believe that,” he admits.

“That’s alright, too,” Phil says. “We can work on it, okay? We’ll all work on it together. Just, remember that you do deserve better things. No matter what your brain is telling you. Your brain is fucking wrong, okay? In this, it’s so fucking wrong. You deserve to be—to be fucking kind to yourself.” He pauses for a moment, and when he continues, his voice is full of trepidation. “Wil, you are—I mean, you do—you do want to—”

He seems to be struggling to phrase it, but Wilbur knows exactly what he’s asking.

“I don’t know about want,” he says. He’s been honest thus far; may as well continue. “I—I didn’t tell you about the time with the Egg, before you got here. It got in my head good. Really good. And it offered me—rest. I tried to give in to it. If other people weren’t there, I would have.”

Phil’s grip on him tightens.

“But I’ve decided I’m staying,” he continues. “I’ve decided. For the sake of—I mean, some of you people seem to care about me, for some godforsaken reason. And I don’t want to hurt you. So I’m staying here. Alive. I’m going to keep trying.”

“Okay,” Phil whispers. “Okay, that’s a good start.”

If that is a start, then what is the end goal? But he’s too worn out to ask. Exhausted in so many more ways than one.

But his mind is quieter. No longer buzzing. Like a storm has finally passed over, leaving destruction in its wake, but also calm.

He finally brings his arms up and embraces Phil in turn, leaning his weight against his chest. The moment he lets himself, all his muscles go limp, his body finally succumbing to the break he so sorely needs.

“You’re a sappy old man, do you know that?” he mumbles.

“I’m your father,” Phil says. “Comes with the territory.”

He hums, pushing his face against Phil’s robes. He’s clutching at his back, but the cloak has shifted, now that Phil’s moved his wings to wrap around him, so if he inches his hands up a bit, they’ll hit the wings’ base. So he does, slowly, cautiously, and then just lets his hands rest there, against the feathers. Phil stiffens.

“Let me preen them,” he says.

Phil takes a second to answer.

“Didn’t we just have a conversation about not taking on as much responsibility?” he says, and just as Phil can pick out when he’s trying to dodge a topic, he can tell right away that the question is an avoidance.

“This is completely different,” he says. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t. But—” He moves back so he can stare Phil in the face, taking a moment to chew on his next words. “I want to. Please.”

He’s not sure why this is suddenly so important to him. It’s probably something about how the state of these wings is his fault in the first place, about how Phil wrecked them in an effort to protect him, about how he turned around and begged him to kill him a moment later, with no regard for what Phil had just sacrificed. It’s probably something about how Phil is talking self-acceptance at him and yet obviously has not been taking care of himself, not in this aspect, at least, and he hates it, hates to see this disregard for things that he once held so dear, hates to see it and know that the blame lies with him. It’s probably something about how being held like this takes him back to when he was younger, and he always loved running his hands through his father’s feathers when he was still a child, straightening them and cleaning them and taking pride in the fact that he was helping, that he was a part of something, part of a family at last after so long on his own.

It’s probably all of that at once.

Something in Phil seems to deflate. His shoulders slump, which is not exactly the reaction Wilbur was hoping for.

And then—

“Alright,” Phil whispers. He leans back from the hug, stretching out his wings so that Wilbur can get a good look at them. So he does look, and he struggles to keep his face neutral; he’d hoped, somehow, that his glimpse of them in the Egg’s chamber, ragged and bleeding from the thorns, was exaggerated in his memory, that they’re not actually in as terrible a way as he remembers. But as Phil allows him to stare, his heart sinks.

Even in the dim light of the stars, he can see that the wings are a mess. And his stomach rolls as his eyes land on bare, scarred patches of skin, on exposed bone. A few places are still bandaged from the damage the Egg did, though potions have done much in the way of healing those particular wounds.

And only those, it seems.

(the Angel of Death will fly no more)

But there are still plenty of feathers, feathers that Phil obviously hasn’t been looking after, feathers that fall every which way, sticking out at odd angles. There are a few spots that Phil has evidently straightened himself, but not many. Some appear to be overlapping strangely, poking into the skin in a way that cannot be comfortable.

He looks back to Phil’s face. Phil’s expression is odd, some combination of resignation and defiance, as if halfway daring him to comment.

So Wilbur doesn’t. Just scoots forward slightly and runs his hand across some of the offered feathers.

And then gets to work.

Even in his tired state, the motions are familiar, far too familiar to mess up. Straighten the feathers, pick out dirt and other detritus that’s been caught in and beneath them. His hands are more hesitant than they ever have been, struggling with what to do as they near the more obviously injured places, but he does know how to do this. He has done it so many times before.

(and if Phil is allowing him this now, when he obviously has not allowed anyone near his wings in a long time, even Techno, even the son whose side he remained by, then perhaps it is a good sign, and perhaps he can take it as a sign of hope, as a sign that things can be better are getting better no matter the hurts that have yet to heal)

“Do they hurt?” he can’t help but ask, voice low.

Phil hesitates a beat too long. “Not usually,” he says, and Wilbur knows it for a lie.

There’s a lot of feathers loose. A lot of feathers coming out at a mere touch. And Wilbur knows how this works, knows that if the feather is already falling out then it needs to be removed, but it still concerns him, just how many there are, just how many now litter the ground, stirring in the wind.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask if it hurts right now. But another glance at Phil’s face forestalls him. His eyes have drifted shut, the lines around his eyes and on his forehead smoothing out, and the tension has bled from his frame.

(a memory: you have lived in this house scarce weeks and you barely trust these two at all but this boy who will become your brother has sat you down with the man who will become your father and is telling you, determinedly, seriously, resolutely, that if you’re going to stick around then you need to know how to do this, and Philza is laughing at the both of you and you are nervous, because you have never had a home before and you want to keep this one, but Technoblade shows you how to card through the feathers, and Phil chirps at you every now and then, soft and encouraging, and it feels a bit like a home, you think, if you’ll let yourself have it)

For a moment, he lets his hand hover over bone. It’s so very wrong, so very disturbing. Bones should not be extended out of flesh in the way that these are. His stomach flips again.

“This is my fault,” he murmurs. The words slip out.

“It was my choice,” Phil says, opening his eyes. “I’d do it again.” It’s a steady declaration this time, no indication of a lie.

(and he almost wishes that there were, because he has never known what to do with unwavering protection, protection that he does not deserve—but then, Phil has told him that his sense of what he deserves might not be right at all, and he doesn’t know what to do with that either)

(because the protection offered is without a doubt resolute, unquestioning, unconditional, and in that moment, as the explosions went off and Phil shielded him with no hesitation even though he could not have known that a life lost to them would have been his last because he did not tell him did not tell him anything at all)

(you try not to remember that Phil must have waited for you to respawn and try not to imagine the look on his face when your body remained and somebody had to tell him had to tell him that this is a three-life server and the life he took was the last the last the last the finale the ending an ending he surely did not intend to grant and you cannot let yourself imagine the moment he found out you cannot)

He doesn’t have an answer to that. None that Phil would accept, at any rate. So he doesn’t answer at all, just keeps dragging his fingers through his father’s feathers, neatening them, cleaning them where he can, and there’s only so much he’s going to be able to to like this, here and now, but it’s a start. Judging by the way Phil’s eyes are drooping again, he feels more comfortable than before. And really, that was the goal, wasn’t it? To do something? Anything?

(anything to ease the weight to lift the burden and Phil has a point, perhaps, about responsibility and taking on too much but this is not a responsibility is not work this is taking care of family and if Phil is allowing you this then perhaps you ought to consider accepting help in return perhaps letting your loved ones in would not be such a bad idea perhaps you can put a little more of yourself on display and trust them to smooth out the rough edges perhaps perhaps)

Eventually, he runs out of feathers to preen, to fix. There is nothing he can do about the scars, the bones, but he has done what he can, and perhaps that means something, even if not everything.

“We should go back inside,” Phil murmurs. His words slur slightly; he’s listing to the side a bit, obviously just on the edge of sleep. It makes Wilbur glad to know that some things don’t change.

“Probably,” he says. “I’d like to stay out for a few minutes longer. The stars look nice tonight.”

Phil yawns, and halfway through, the noise transforms into a warbling chirp.

“I s’ppose we can do that,” he agrees, and in the next instant, Phil is wrapping his wings around him again, pulling him closer, and he doesn’t fight it. He lets himself lean into Phil’s side, warm and secure. Overhead, the stars spin. And hum. They always hum, even if he can’t quite hear the notes, and for the moment, he feels right with his place in the universe.

He falls asleep like that, finally. His dreams are full of music and feathers and distant birdsong.

--------------------

He wakes up to the clanging of a bell.

“Oh, fuck,” Phil is saying, and the weight of his wings disappears in a split second. Wilbur almost topples over as Phil lurches to his feet, catching himself just in time, bracing himself against the bench and squinting against the morning sun. It is morning; that’s probably the best night’s sleep he’s gotten in the past few days, the beginning insomnia notwithstanding. His weariness is not quite gone, but it’s far less prevalent than it has been.

It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the light. The first thing he sees are the red vines crawling over the sides of the castle, inching toward the roof.

“Shit, fuck,” Phil is still saying, “the enchantments are gone, we need to move—”

The bell clangs twice, then thrice more, and then falls silent. Eret said they had a bell, didn’t they? That they would ring it if something happened, to wake everyone up?

“Fuck,” Phil says, suddenly hushed. “Wil.”

He rises, coming to stand by Phil’s side, peering out toward the gates, the wall, the place where the enchanted boundaries are supposed to be set. The castle itself doesn’t yet seem to be overrun, but the walls are covered in the foliage, and if he watches them carefully, he can see them growing in real time, unfurling toward them like bloody banners.

Dream stands just inside the gates. Behind him, there are others: Bad, Ant, Ponk, Punz, the four they knew to expect for sure, along with a woman he doesn’t recognize, white flowers strewn in her hair and wrapped around her arms. In front of them, Eret stands with their sword held out, and Sapnap staggers to stand beside them, obviously just woken up. Hopefully the others are on the move, too.

But what draws Wilbur’s attention is Ranboo. Standing next to Dream, slouched. Eyes no longer purple, but vacant, staring, dull. Dream has a possessive hand on his shoulder. Ranboo himself isn’t moving.

(betrayed betrayed betrayed even if history does not repeat it rhymes echoes and rhymes and he should’ve known better than to trust should’ve known better than to think that no one would stab him in the back because that’s just what people do)

“I hope you took advantage of the time we gave you to prepare,” Dream says. “We thought it’d be only fair. But it’s checkmate now.”

And the smile on his mask seems to grow.