#because they kept being like ohhhhhh hes so close to death like okay kill him then. im waiting.

[tsubasaclones]

only a few days until i get to see my bestie akiho again

[luna-spacedoodles]

Soooooo I’m I wrote a little something👉🏻👈🏻 It’s a Ghostbur resurrection fic! I know that the resurrection is tomorrow but I hope you read it anyway! It’s 1,877 words and probably not the best but this is my first time posting any of my writing so I hope you like it!💜 Enjoy!

The sky was a deep gray, and as the rain poured down thunder groaned. Long and angrily it groaned, as if it were warning them. Telling them that messing with the forces of nature, of death, are forces that should not be reckoned with. But what could thunder do more but give a warning? The thunder could not stop them in their tracks, thunder could not change their motives, thunder could not stop a sword from slipping through the body of the dead, it could only intimidate. Nothing more. So even though it groaned, it’s attempt to scare them off did nothing but become background noise. No one could hear it over their own thoughts anyways.

What remained of the physical embodiment of L’manburg had been blocked off, there wasn’t much point in going there than just to mourn an area of land and structures that, at its core, only meant memories. Tommy crouched under the barricades he built and the rest followed suit. Not many had come, not many knew, but it wasn’t just Tommy and Ghostbur. Tubbo, Quackity and Eret had all come along as well. Ghostbur stayed close to Eret to hide under their umbrella.

Four days ago he’d stood in L’manburg’s grave and didn’t try to hide from the rain. Melting wasn’t fun, poking in and out to sizzle was fun, but standing still and letting himself melt was not fun. He didn’t really know why he did that, he didn’t really remember why he wanted to be resurrected in the first place. But he knew he wanted it, that was enough for him.

Quackity was nervous, he didn’t know what would happen when Alivebur was resurrected. No one knew, Ghostbur had said that everything he was would be dead and Alivebur would be back. But what did that mean? His memories as Ghostbur would just disappear? What would he remember? Would it end off from when Phil killed him and start back up when he lived again? Well, if that was the case then he couldn’t be too worried about him, they had an alright relationship when he had died so in terms of himself he was safe.

Ghostbur had thought Eret would be able to resurrect him because he was king, unfortunately she didn’t know how. But he was for the fact that if they brought back Alivebur, Fundy would have a father again. He didn’t think he was doing a great job at the moment and that it was too late to start being a good parent. They wanted what was best for him and this seemed to be the best way.

Tubbo wasn’t sure what to feel, around his end his relationship with Wilbur wasn’t very clear. Was it good? Was it bad? What would he say to him? He had a feeling that Alivebur wasn’t going to be happy that they brought him back. He had to admit that he was a little scared of what he’d do, what would he think of what L’manburg had become? Tubbo thought he’d be happy at the sight of a broken and blown up L’manburg, beaten down beyond repair, to see the damage done that he could never achieve.

Tommy was probably the most nervous, his brother was about to be brought back from death’s tight grip. Wilbur would be back, the real Wilbur. The one who bullied him, the one who started L’manburg with him, the one who went mad, the one who died to his father’s sword, and at the end of the day, the one who cared for him. Who even in his destructive decent, still kept him safe, the brother he’d looked up to and lost. He’d be back. After months, he’d be there, in front of him. Would he be proud of him? Would he start to hate him? Just when he’d come back Tommy couldn’t bear to losing him again.

“Tommy, are you going to be alright?” Tubbo placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I- uhm…….yeah. I’ll be alright, I think.” Tommy replied, trying to not to sound as worried as he was. Tubbo looked at him with a slight sense of doubt.

“Okay, big man.”

They all walked down the severed arm of the Prime Path and reached the edge of the crater. For a hole it was very intimidating, a hole with sharp, messy edges that went all the way through the earth, down to bedrock. The more Quackity looked down at it the dizzier he felt, he felt like he was standing on a small pillar that reached build height, looking down into the void. It sent shivers down your spine, as it called out to you. Begging for help, redemption. He shook his head out of the trance and continued walking along with the others.

They made their way around the rubble and climbed their way to where Wilbur’s button room used to be. It had since blown up, there wasn’t even a floor left to stand on. Tommy jumped down and placed some stone down, making a half open crevice, just like it’s been all those months ago. It wasn’t exactly the same, but this’d hopefully be enough, hopefully.

Everyone hopped down to the small platform and waited. They were all prepared for the worst, physically at least, all they had to do now was wait for the person that could do the job. And as if on cue, the sound of flapping wings could be heard over the pounding rain. Everyone turned their heads to see the man of the hour arrive, Phil wore his arctic clothing as he had been for a while now. Most everyone wasn’t as pleased as they’d usually be to see him, not here, not in that outfit.

“Helloo.” He landed carefully and waved.

“Hey, Phil.” Tommy said blankly, it wasn’t a pleasure to talk to Phil anymore. But today wasn’t about hating Phil, for now he had to remain calm, as calm as someone who’s talking to one of the people that blew up his home could be.

“Hi.” Tubbo greeted him quietly. Eret gave a small wave, Quackity said nothing.

“Phil!! Hi!! I’m so glad you’re here!! We haven’t spoken face to face in a while!” Ghostbur cheerfully smiled and waved at him.

“Hi Ghostbur,” Phil gave a sad smile, “I guess we haven’t.”

Tommy gave it a moment before interrupting the awkward silence, “So, you’re going to bring him back or what?”

“Well, resurrecting the dead isn’t just a sword to the chest. It’s more of a ritual.” Phil slipped a brown leather bag off his shoulder and plopped it down in front of him.

“Ohhhhhh is this gonna take long?” Tommy whined.

“Yes it might take a bit depending on what happens, you just gotta be patient.” Phil unpacked his satchel, spreading out books, scrolls and weird looking objects no one recognized.

“What do these things do?” Tommy crouched down and reached out for them to try and get a better look.

“Ah! Don’t touch any of it!” Phill swatted Tommy’s hand away from the strange tools.

“Hey what the fuck! They can’t be that dangerous!” Tommy yelled back.

“When you know what you’re doing, no. But you don’t even know what these things are so for you  they’re most definitely.” Phil scooted the tools away from Tommy and continued preparing his things.

“Meh meh meh! I’m Philza Minecraft and I have a wife! I blew up a country once! Philza Minecraft! Meh meh meh!” Tommy mocked.

“Oh my god that, that was one time!!” Phil chuckled.

“Wasn’t that like four days ago?” Quackity commented, he wasn’t wrong. Phil carefully read through the books he’d laid open and picked up the weird tools. They all sat in silence and watched as Phil carefully picked up and put together the tools, somehow they fit together, clicking and turning and twisting into place. Finally they all snapped in place and stopped moving, the resulting object glowed a purple-pinkish color, like the eye of an enderman.

“What’s that?” Quackity asked, pointing at the alien object.

“It kinda looks like a ghost!” Tubbo pointed out, “It's got a face and is all swirly at the end!”

“Exactly, this is a homemade soul stone! It’s gonna help with the resurrection.” Phil vaguely explained. He attached the object to a leather strap. Then, he pulled out The Sword, the same one he killed Wilbur with. It was netherite now, but still all the same as the one that pierced through his son. Phil wrapped the leather strap around the handle and held it out.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Phil looked up to Ghostbur, who’d been patiently watching him work.

“Yeah!” Ghostbur nodded, ready to die.

“There’s a chance you won’t come back if you die again.” Phil warned.

“That’s okay! I wasn’t meant to be here, but the symphony wasn’t finished, so I had to stay. I think it’s for the best that he comes back.” Ghostbur’s words echoed off the crater’s many walls, this is what he wanted.

“Phil, are you sure this’ll work?” Tommy asked, he started to let his emotions slip, become more prominent than he’d like.

“Tommy, I’ve read all the books I could find on this, everything’s ready, there’s no doubt it’ll work.” Phil reassured him.

“Okay.” Tommy sighed, he still didn’t feel relieved, if anything he got more anxious. It was about to happen, Wlibur would be back, really back. Phil stood up and he and Ghostbur walked into their positions.

“Are you ready?” Phil asked.

“Yeah,” the thunder groaned again, one last warning, “I’m ready.” Phil could already feel the tears welling up, just about a few months ago he was standing here, about to kill his son. Now here he was again, same place, same sword, different intent. Phil raised the sword shakily, he raised it high above his head, he wasn’t ready. Everyone held their breath, they watched as Phil decided whether or not to kill his son again.

“STOP!” a voice tried to intervene in the distance, but it was too late, Phil thrusted the sword downwards and into his son's undead chest. A deafening noise started to rise as Phil fell to his knees, he held Ghostbur in his arms and sobbed. Ghostbur apologetically smiled and closed his eyes as he shed one final tear. The noise grew louder and a blinding white light started to break through the disappearing cracks of Ghostbur. The light grew brighter and the noise got louder to where no one could see or hear a thing, just a ringing white noise covering Ghostburs painful screams.

After painfully long seconds, everything stopped. There was no more light, all that could be heard was the rain, and Ghostbur was gone. Phil was no longer holding a dead man’s ghost, just a sword that killed the same man twice and with it’s new decoration that now glowed a sad cyan. No one spoke except for the voice.

“Wh-what did you do?”

They turned to find a soaking wet fundy. He looked angry. But whatever he came to do, he hadn’t made it in time. Ghostbur was gone.

It was time for the dragon to breathe once more.