#gaunt opening up to sandys and saying he's his friend only for him to die before he could even read that

[ghostprincessworld]

I think about this all the time, and i go insane. This was the first time he called sandys a friend, and sandys never saw it. And he was right they never sent him a telegram

"If you were killed, I doubt I should receive a telegram-our friendship has always been too tenuous for others to be aware of it. Still, in my imagination, I receive a telegram. I see your name and I think, There goes the man I might have spoken to, had I only been able to open my mouth. You say that what is left of you is not worth much. I can only respond by assuring you it is worth a great deal-to me. Your friend, Gaunt."

Book: In Memoriam by Alice Winn

[honeyitallreadydid]

I want Dream and Techno to place all the TNT above L’Manburg and laugh at all those fighting underneath, as there is no way they could lose

I want Tommy to realise this, and look around him. At the friends and family who’ve betrayed him, ridiculed him. At Tubbo, the boy who loved bee’s and laughed with him and Wilbur. At the boy battle weary and broken, angry and vicious, both cruel and weak willed. And he won’t recognise him. He isn’t Tommy’s Tubbo. And this isn’t Tommy’s L’Manburg

Dream will give a speech, ranting about everything he’s done, how foolish they all were, how weak tommy has been. Technoblade is silent,crouched away on top of the walls, staring at Tommy, his expression unreadable.

This isn’t L’Manburg. Not anymore. For starters, Wilburs gone. He was a murderous, inanse, unpredictable son of a bitch, who’s both cold and wild nature made him a caricature of a villain. But he wasn’t. He was funny and loud and teasing and Dream fucking broke him. Broke him with his demands, broke him with his laughter, his taunts. If dream had stayed away, maybe Wilbur would still be here.

My L’Manburg he said. My. It was his, his and Tommy’s. It was never Tubbo’s, never Fundy’s, and sure as shit not dreams. They never laughed in the caravan, never hid away in the ravine. The sharp stab of Erets betrayal was nothing but a sting to the others.

Tommy looked at Dreams frustratingly calm face, his smile just visible under the mask. Victorious, cruel, mocking. He aimed his bow at Dreams neck.

“You think you can kill me Tommy? Really? You can’t even follow sime instructions. Stay away from L’Manburg. Don’t go in the nether. Don’t go against me. Tubbo agrees with me. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, couldn’t stop Wilbur, couldn’t keep me away. You aren’t shit”

Tommy paused, hesitating, rethinking. Was his impulsiveness the reasoning for all the wars? Was it his own insolence, his own betrayals that broke his old home?

Yes. He knew the answer. He knew what he had to do.

He looked at the TNT, overshadowing the city, obscuring the sun. He thought of the hundreds of wither skulls at technoblade disposal. He thought of the crater, the explosion, the terror that had already once before encapsulated the nation.

“If I can’t have L‘Marburg, then no one can” Tommy muttered, but Dreams gloating and the pleads from Niki and Tubbo let his declarartion go unheard.

He focused back on Dreams broken mask,his once Sandy hair turned deep and matted from when he pulled at it with his blood stained gloves.

Technoblade stands tall, no longer crouching. He looks prepared to fight, but there is weariness in the way he unslings his crossbow, fatigue weighing down on the cracked crown upon his head. Where did he get it? Was it stolen from a vanquished foe, or perhaps commissioned from a blacksmith. Was it a point of pride, a spoil of war? Or just an accessory, with no more meaning than a bracelet or necklace. Tommy would never find out.

He looked away from Technoblades intimidating form, and back at the TNT. Slowly, as if not to draw attention, he notched in a flame arrow and aimed towards the center of the canopy of dynamite.

He cast his eyes at the shield Dream had worn. It was a gift of good faith from Technoblade, it was in the style of the Aegis. The branded face of Medusa had quickly caught Technoblade eye when they were younger, and Tommy remembered seeing a 14 year old Technoblade(who was in the height of his mythology obsession) having to beg and plead Phil for the shield. The distorted reflection revealed Ranboo, standing at the back of their group, staring back at Tommy. Ranboo had seen the red embers that encase the arrow’s tip, he had seen where it was aimed. He knew the destruction and death that would follow. He had seen Tommy’s mind, his intention.

Black eyes met blue, and in a moment of silent resolution they both understood. L’Manburg was once there home, but without Wilbur, it was no more than a bargaining chip. Something to hurt others with. L’Manburg was just like the discs in that respect. And you can’t have freedom with a collar around your neck.

Tommy let the arrow fly, and all hell broke loose.

Hellfire reigned down upon the houses, the wood alight and the stone blast open. The explosives ricocheted in every direction, several breaking through the walls, and a few going over.

Dream, who had been standing underneath the explosives, was immediately trapped as fire and sound broke the ground around him, immediately submerging him in the rubble below, the floor collapsing so fast that Tommy wasn’t sure if a sinkhole had spontaneously erupted. But no. It was him. Good

I hope your fucking dead

He saw Fundy and Quackity fall through the gaps in the paths, the water catching theyre fall but not healing them from the wounds that covered there torso and faces.

Ranboo had teleported at the first assailant, and had taken Tubbo and Niki with him. Thank fuck tommy thought, relieved. Throughout all Tommy’s anger, his rage, his betrayal, he still couldn’t stomach the idea of them being hurt. There clothes were scortched and Nicki’s hair was mostly seared off, but they looked to be mostly okay.

As the final blasts went off, and the fire truly began catching, he looked down into the abyss he had created. Iron and other metals had emerged from the blast, and a slow stream of lava was visible, lighting up the bottom of the pit.

Dreams crumpled form was just barely visible, but what Tommy could see didn’t look good. His armour had somehow fused into him. What remained of the netherite was connected to his chest, the skin around it blood soaked and damaged beyond repair.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Dream groaned. No Tommy thought, No no no no no

Please just fucking die. It wasn’t mean to be like this. It was never meant to be-

Technoblade elegantly climbed down from the wall in which he stood,observing that battle like one would watch an ant farm. Amused, intrigued. Maybe a little proud at the ingenuity, but otherwise removed.

Then, unsheathing the Axe Of Peace from his belt, he threw it like a tomahawk and buried it in Dreams neck.

Silence.

Time had frozen as everybody gathered around the pit with morbid fascination as they all watched Dreams death, as his neck was cut with blood spewing out of him, thick and hot, staining his face and trademark green hoodie a deep rich brown.

How do you move on from this? What was there to do?

“I-uh, well, I...” Quackity stuttered, unsure of what to say

“L’Manburg is gone.” Tommy stated, his voice loud and authoritarian. “L’Manburgs been mutilated beyond repair, by me, by Wilbur, by Technoblade, by all of us. Use the land for whatever you want, but your not going to rebuild. Not now, not ever. Cover it up, make it a monument, I honestly couldn’t care less. But let L’manburg burn.”

Tommy looks down into the crater and on a ledge not too far from the top, he sees them. His discs. One has a crack down the side, rendering it unplayable, and the other surely is scratched beyond repair. He climbs down into the gaping hole, ignoring Dreams charred remains. He picks them up, softly caressing the indentations, and fondly remembering the times he and Tubbo had listened to them on the bench, gazing at the warm setting sun.

He throws them down, down into the rubble, down past the crumbling houses, and into the lava from the exposed cave system below.

He watches them burn, takes a moment to calm himself, then climbs out.

He ignores the gobsmacked faces that stare at him, eyes wide, jaws slacked. He nods at Tubbo with a tight lipped smile and move on, walking determinedly to Technoblade.

“L’Manburg was fucked the minute it became independent. The war, the exiles, the executions, it was all so pointless. So fucking pointless. Cause everybody’s now dead, and nothing has been won. There are no good guys here Technoblade. No battle, no hero’s, no moral to the fucking story. It was pointless violence fuelled by greed and corruption.”

“I knew you’d agree with me in the end” Techno’s monotone voice betraying him as you could hear the start of a smile behind his helmet.

“I don’t agree with you. You’re destructive and unreasonable and I can’t trust you anymore.”

Tommy walks closer to Technoblade, and with a start Technoblade realises that this isn’t his brother, not now. Tommy isn’t playing hero. He isnt the soldier who had fought in multiple wars. Not the boy who no matter how high the stakes were, no matter how powerful the competition, the boy who would always fight for what is right.

That boy had died. He’d been dying for a while now. Since burning the discs, abandoning technoblade, spending weeks alone with only Dreams honeyed lies filling his ears like wax, unable to hear anything other than what Dream wanted him to hear. Maybe it was Wilburs death, or even before, the moment they were exiled the first time.

Whatever the case, Tommy was gone, and had been replaced by an empty shell of who he was. His eyes were so dark they were almost grey, his hair damaged and his face gaunt. There was no twitch of a smile on his lips, no glint of trouble in his eyes. There was only a poorly concealed grimace of both anger and pain.

He leaned in his mouth tight and his words short. Technoblade clenched his jaw in anticipation of a shouting match, but Tommy’s next words were barely a whisper.

“L’Manburg wasn’t yours to take” his voice was hoarse and his words sharp, and the moment he had finnished speaking his stepped back quickly and walked away from the ruins of the fallen city.