#jack manifold fanfic

[calciferiguess]

that one fic where techno turns into a pig and he’s a little too protective

fanfic is pignoblade by bitsinboots and silverwing15 :D

[hepbaestus]

I wish fic writers would get the same amount of support and admiration as fan artists do. (Long rant incoming and no I'm not even going to put it under a read more because it would be skipped over if it was.)

This might sound biased, coming from someone who posts fics and does not have a lick to talent when it comes to art, but just, please, read and try to understand.

It fucking sucks to see something that two different people have spent hours working on and only one gets the attention it rightly deserves because there's no stigma of it being "creepy" or "perverted" like fanfiction does and as publicly too.

I do understand that this will likely never change and that I'll have to get used to it as a fic writer, but, the fact that I'm having to 'get over it' because that's just how it is in fandom-spaces sucks. It shouldn't be like that, it's demoralising, and frankly off-putting. It makes me, and likely others who won't publicly say it, not want to post our written works.

Like there are times where people are literally spending hours and hours planning, drafting, proofreading and then correctly tagging a fic only for it to get no recognition or more critique than adoration. Whereas a fan artist can spend maybe a couple of hours on what they'll call a doodle and get all the praise. This isn't to bash any fan artists because goddamn I know y'all love what you do (and rightly so) but it feels like a stake to heart seeing two sides of the same coin being treated with completely different levels of respect.

Like I also understand that, with how people's attention spans are lessening, that not everyone is bothered or able to read something that's 5k+ (or even 1k+) words and I get it, but also? Give it a chance? You might, now stick with me here, actually like what you read. I know. Shocker.

And, then, if you do actually read something someone has kindly put out into the world for free, don't put comments in your bookmarks or the comments section stating how you "wish it was written different" or "from another character's pov" or when you decided to drop the fic. The author does not want to know when you dropped their fic. Just move the fuck on. If you want it a certain way so much, fucking write it yourself (or if the writer has commissions open, commission them like you would an artist). It is rude to leave comments like this and so incredibly disheartening for the writer of that fic to see such comments. If you have a critique about a fic, privately talk to your friends in the same fandom as you about it or if you don't have that put it in a private discord or something. Unless the author has explictly stated that they would like critiques, which is when you would comment some critiques if you had any, you do not need to leave unwarranted critiques. It is rude and unnecessary.

I could share screenshots of people who leave unwarranted critiques to fics in their comments section or bookmark comments, but because I'm a kind individual who frankly cannot be bothered to compile several tumblr posts of solely images, I'm not. But do know that we do see every comment under our works and saying "oh I didn't think you'd see it" is not a fucking excuse. People who make fan creations often look into their comments to see people's reactions, in hopes of having spread the joy or similar emotion they had when writing or drawing their piece.

And content creators who review fan art with praise and then immediately make fun of fic writers, I despise you. Genuinely. The fact that you think it's okay to uplift one part of your creative audience while not doing such with the other is disgusting. I do understand that there are boundaries that a person will have towards both forms of media but completely writing off one form of fan creation while entertaining the other is genuinely one of the most saddening things. It creates a further divide between these two sides of fan creation and reinforces people's mean attitudes towards fanfic writers simply because how they express their love for a piece of media is not easily viewed. There are, obviously creators who do acknowledge but stay away from fanfiction and I respect that; it's about actively going into those spaces to criticise and, in some cases, bully, those writers about something they're passionate about. If you're that insistent on leaving a negative comment on something, please, for the love of everything get a fucking life.

This is a long winded way of saying respect people who make fan content because, 99% of the time, they're doing it for free and for their own entertainment.

[birthdaybashed]

[ bitterduo post-smp drabble ]

before tommy left, he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, and, using his forearm as a surface, sketched out a map to his home. knowing his artistic rendition of the terrain may not suffice, he added the coordinates for good measure. handing the crumpled paper to jack, he said his goodbyes and left the smp behind him once again.

it took jack almost a year to show up at tommy’s door. tommy had answered the door cautiously, not used to having many visitors, but his grey-blue eyes lit up when he saw jack. he welcomed him inside eagerly, leading him around and introducing him to mareep. it felt so simple. it felt like back in the early days, when tommy would drag a much younger thunder around the server, both of them so full of life.

only once tommy began boiling water did the reality of the present come back and slap jack across the face. he felt everything return as tommy handed him a mug, the saccharine aroma of hot chocolate wafting up to him. a few marshmallows floated on the surface, and jack couldn’t help but smile as he saw tommy pouring even more into his own mug.

the gesture seemed small, innocuous, but jack knew what it meant. the warm drink was a show of understanding. even though it was warm out, the two of them shared in the deep chill that never seemed to leave– a chill that reminded them that they were meant to be dead.

jack and tommy sat outside, chatting about nothing in particular and drinking hot chocolate as the sun dipped below the horizon line. jack held the mug tightly in both hands, the ceramic’s warmth seeping into his skin. he stared down at the drink, marshmallows already long past melted.

he decided then that he could afford to leave the casino every once in a while. it couldn’t kill him to spend more time with an old friend.

[randomchips]

Anyways, time for my personal alternate ending:

In my head, Las Nevadas Quackity woke up and after hearing Charlie's goodbyes and going back to his casino, he suddenly is surprised by his one and only customer... Jack Manifold, that's right- Jack had been playing on the same machine, on and off, for days on end. After a quick inquiry on how long had Jack been there, he's astonished to find out that's it's been months!

They talk and the conversation, one way or another, lands on Tommy, who had recently contacted Jack about his whereabouts. This sparks a lot of interest in Q, it hadn't occurred to him to visit his younger friend...

He roams around looking for his now grown up buddy, when he sees a familiar face. It was Foolish? He looked much less put together than usual. However, when approached, FG greeted him with the same enthusiasm as always. Foolish kept mentioning a horrible and terrible incident that he had to stop recently, something about the server almost being blown up, nuked or torn up, who knows? Quackity was a bit taken a back by how much joy he felt from just those mundane conversations, it's been a while since he's indulged in small talk or catching up with others...

After exchanging pleasantries, Q finally asks Foolish for any directions to Tommyinnit. At this FG stiffens a bit but then points towards the old Prime road, it looked decrepit to say the least. Moreover, Foolish says that recently Tommy has returned to his humble home and hasn't gone out ever since. This saddens Q and he quickly makes his way to Tommy's.

Tommy looked very different from his older self, but to Q he was the same old Tomas, who he'd met on his first day on the server. They're both more than happy to have met this day, but Tommy reveals that he's planning on leaving the place very soon, he's hesitant to let go of the past since the server is all he knows now... After thinking it through Quackity decides to join Tommy for this journey.

If just for a bit longer, he wants to keep that little hope that maybe, just maybe his legacy still waits for it to be fulfilled

[graysontheslime]

My pieces for MCYTblr AUfest!!

For the fic that goes along with it, written by @epicaxolotls : there's a buzz in the air from the floor to the tightrope

And thank you @mcytblraufest For hosting!!

[x-bee-x]

What's this? A fic from me in the DSMP category because there was canon lore? In 2024?

I was watching or getting ready to watch someone else, I had my follower list open at least, and saw Jack was live and there was something about logging onto the server later in his title and wait what. I knew as soon as I updated some friends about said happenings, I muted the Discord channel I sent it in in case people wanted to talk more about it and maybe sent spoilers later, and I was on here very little because I knew even though I'm not 100% in the fandom anymore and certainly not a fan of all the members, I would like to see it for myself. So I watched the vod the next morning and oh my god.

I did not expect to get literal chills the moment he logged on and the first thing we saw was the bench. And I almost cried when we saw Las Nevadas. And I did cry a bit when we saw Tech's house. Regardless of how much I care about the streamers who were part of that as of late, I did at one point, very much so. This was something I did not expect, it was so nostalgic and emotional and actually warmed my heart a bit seeing so many fans come together during and after it happened. This was a really unexpected and lovely way to tie things up, I thought they kind of were already in all areas for me at least, but I think that this was a good way to finally properly say goodbye.

Epilogue

No warnings

1,438 words

Tommy was. Somewhere.

He wakes up he thinks, he opened his eyes at least, running a hand through his blonde curls.

And.

He didn't think he was alone this time. Or well, he wasn't always, Tubbo was there sometimes, but this was a different sort of person feeling.

"H-hello?"

He typed into his communicator for the heck of it.

"Hey."

Jack?

"Wh-where have you fucking been?"

"Casino.

Been here for years mate.

Made loads."

He was.

He was in Las Nevadas?

This whole time. This whole time?

Tommy stood at the top of the hill at the entrance of the faux desert and sure enough.

Someone with one blue and one red eye, a head of buzzed hair with a headset on top, a blue short sleeved hoodie, and camouflage pants stood at the bottom.

"Let me bless you, my boy, it's been too long."

He threw a couple of diamonds at the feet of younger, who probably looked just as puzzled as he felt.

"Jack. Seriously.

What happened?"

"What do you mean? I've just been here. Playing roulette."

This whole time? This whole time.

"Wanna know where I've been?

Come with me."

"Hold on, can't leave on a loss, gotta get that big win."

Jack came out eventually, and they walked out of Las Nevadas and along the Prime Path together, he has somewhere to show him.

"It's good to see you."

"You too, man."

"I've been here."

"Here? Under the bridge?"

"Out in the distance. That way.

I've got a house. It's nice."

"I haven't seen anyone for a loooooong time.

Well, maybe Tubbo, every now and again."

Tommy and Jack walked, or well, Tommy walked, and all the sudden Jack's voice became quieter and quieter somewhere behind rather than beside him.

"Me either, casino's been empty.

Honestly, I just steal money from the safe's to gamble with. I could take it all if I wanted, but the thrill keeps me in there.

Gambler's addiction, they call it. One day I'll win big. 99% of people quit before then.

But not me. I'll make it. It's been years, but, it's coming."

He turned his head to the boy with heterochromia behind him, blonde waves bouncing lightly.

"You're not very good at catching up, are you?"

"Just telling my story, man."

Jack said while he jogged to be once again beside him.

"Never thought I'd be around these parts again. I moved far from here to get away from it.

It brings back too much. Joy, fun, sadness, pain. Too much of all of it.

But it's nice to see a familiar face."

The path they took to get to their destination was familiar, and this time he knew it was safe as well as convenient, no one with a mask he had to worry about being on the other side, or worse yet, chase him.

A bridge of cobblestone among the dark red brick and close to unbearable heat, from one swirling purple transparent gateway surrounded by obsidian to another, and they were spot out onto a soft cold white blanket.

"I don't live around here."

"Oh. I thought that's where we were going?"

"No, god no. Do you know how long it took for me to get back here?

I come here a lot though"

A house, a cabin to be exact, sat the same as them in the nearby distance.

It was cream colored with chestnut colored accents, a matching wooden roof and front door, and a chimney that stood tall and sat bare, no plumes of smoke emitted which once came from it.

"Cool. It's quaint. I like it.

Maybe I'll bye it when I win big!"

Tommy looked to the older boy with two colored eyes beside him, opened his mouth but decided against saying anything, then opened it again to say something after all.

"This is Technoblade's house."

"Oh. Maybe I won't do that then."

"How long do you usually sit here like this?"

"As long as I need to.

Sometimes minutes. Sometimes hours."

There were areas of fences close by on the surrounding property, the occasional bray or bah or grunt echoed through the air, and sat in the otherwise quiet.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Hit me."

Tommy fidgeted with the fingers on one hand in his lap as he found the right words and considered them being actually spoken.

"Do you ever.

Like, despite all the war, and the fighting, and all the- well, all the mess- how much it sent me a fucking mess.

Do you ever miss it? Those days? The people? Or, well, the way they were. The way it all was."

Jack looked at him, something like softness in his features.

"Sure. It was all a bit much at times, and I'm not sure I'd wanna do it all again.

But I miss it sometimes. It was fun, really."

"Yeah, I don't think I'd do it all again either. But. I don't know, I've tried to move on. My little cottage far away, my humble paradise. But that trails a lot into my mind."

"I think it trails onto all of our minds sometimes, wherever we all are.

But we all have to move on, find our own destiny sometime."

"Okay. Phew. I'm glad it's not just me."

"Chasing the win keeps me happy.

I like who I am now, probably more than I was. But that doesn't mean he was bad."

"You like being a gambler? Over an incompetent fight loser?"

Jack laughed, soft and genuine, and Tommy fidgeted a bit harder.

"I guess they're not great options are they."

"Sorry, that was a bit harsh, I don't see many people."

"One of them means I might win someday, I was never gonna win back then."

His face held that expression again, soft, almost sad maybe.

"I've still got my one life. One canon life.

And I intend to use it the best way I can."

"What do you mean? How do you wanna use it?."

"You know. I've not got a clue.

But I'll figure that out later.

For now, I've got my cottage, and my new pet! Oh she's adorable. Mareep, she's a little sheep I caught.

But you know, things are okay for me.

Tubbo and his fucking bees I see also every now and then. He's doing pretty well for himself. Selling fucking honey."

"Oh, that's good. I thought he exploded when I blew up everything.

I can't actually die I don't think, so I never know whether these things are bad for everyone else or not."

"I guess being the president of L'Manberg teaches you a few logistical things, aye?

Not that either of us would know anything about that."

"Well."

"Well."

"I haven't seen anyone else besides Tubbo."

"Yeah, you two are hard to separate."

"Tell me about it."

"I think I like it that way for now though.

The quiet life."

"Quiet is nice. This is nice."

"It's good to see an old face though. I know I said it before, but it really is."

Tommy pushed himself up and off the snow beneath them, a couple joints popped, Jack did the same, they stayed standing with the cabin behind them.

"Well, I can't stay for long, I've gotta do things like feed Mareep."

"Yeah, I got some places to see, now that I'm out.

Haven't left there in a while, probably should go check on some things."

"Is there anything else you wanna ask me? I have no questions for you."

Jack looked like he might have something to say, but was going through the roster of words in his mind, carefully considering them.

"Are you happy?

I guess that's really all I'd care to know."

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, closed it, gave a whisper of a smile, ran one of his hands along his pant leg in a partial fidget and a partial way to rid himself of the cold, then opened it again.

"Getting there."

They both nodded gently.

"I'm glad."

"It's good to see you, Jack."

"It's good to see you too, Tommy."

"I hope you get that big win someday.

Oh, and hey. Don't let anyone bye this house."

"I won't."

"I might not see you again. But I hope to lhear about it if you win big."

That's okay. You will. I can deal with just knowing that you're happy."

Tommy held out a hand.

"So long J Money."

Jack shook it.

"Bye Big T."

They both looked to the cabin once more, gave a two finger salute, and went their separate ways along the snowy path.

[grime-and-lime]

hey I need help finding a fic

it’s on ao3 and the things I remember are

It’s a superhero au

tommys powers are being able to master any weapon the plot is;

Tommy is a janitor at a museum, he’s messing around with a broom

the syndicate(?) break in and Tommy fights blade with the sword they were trying to steal

tommy is able to stand his ground and surprises them

he does end up fired from his job

he becomes Dreams apprentice, he’s treated pretty badly and stuff, isn’t allowed to use his power and whatnot

he becomes a villain, wham bam stuff, Tommy goes to jail but is broken out. A war happens

please help me find this 🙏

[ether3um]

Voting Link! (Yes you do have to read the fic first to understand) well, not really actually. You could fill out the form without reading but... well.... who am I to judge?

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Niki | Nihachu, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Jack Manifold, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson | Philza, Wilbur Soot, Alexis | Quackity, Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate universe - Mafia, Knives, Guns, probably, Usual Mafia Weapons, Interactive!, MTEC, More Tags Every Chapter Summary:

Title from Rat (from Tommy’s POV) by Josephrre

======

“We just want to understand how we woke up here with no knowledge of what’s going on. Surely you can tell us that much.”

Techno’s ear flicked when noirette laughed and the sound resounded throughout the room.

“I suppose~” she drawled, beginning to walk around the room lazily.

“There are ten of you. You’ve never met each other, at least in this universe,” she muttered the last part under her breath. “Right now you probably all want to leave right?” Yelling started again and Techno glanced back down at the book in his lap before shutting it.

“And you can! Once you complete my game, that is.”

======

Interactive Mafia AU where *you* get to make decisions!

[3mbe3dra90n]

I’ve notice people like the little things I’ve been writing so maybe you’ll like my actual fleshed out stories!

I have some longer fics but I’m just going to casually drop some of my shorter ones starting with this one.

So if you like Tommy Innit as a demon, talking to other demons, and scaring the ever loving shit out of people and Jack Manifold then I’d recommend. This is based on the Sam and Colby episode with Jack and Tommy.

[watcher-with-burned-wings]

Navigation

(A continuation of my Among us Scott au)

When Scott woke up the next cycle, he was surrounded by warm bodies. He glanced around him. Ranboo was sprawled across his lap with his head on Tubbo’s stomach. Tubbo leaning against his right side. Tommy was curled up on his left side, tucked under his arm.

Scott’s heart melted at the sight, his tentacles appearing behind him as he held Tommy closer. One pulled Tubbo closer to him and the other tentacle petted Ranboo’s hair. Scott swallowed down the purr that threatened to escape him as he sat contently in the middle of the nest of hatchlings. He silently wished that this moment could last forever.

But sadly, all good things had to come to an end.

Ranboo started to stir, and Scott quickly hid his tentacle again. Ranboo opened his eyes and blinked slowly. Scott smiled at him. “Good morning Ranboo, Sleep well?”

Ranboo sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. You are very comfy.” He yawns and stretches. Scott chuckled.

“I’m glad,” Tommy grumbled as he snuggled closer to Scott.

“Shut up, fuckers. I’m trying to sleep.” Tommy muttered.

Tubbo cracked open his eyes and sat up. “Good morning, Scott!” He said cheerfully and loudly.

Tommy groaned and glared at Tubbo.

Both Scott and Ranboo laughed at Tommy's expense, much to the confusion of Tubbo.

“What?”

“Nothing Tubbo.” Ranboo snickered.

“Come on Tommy, it’s time to get up.” Scott gently encouraged. Tommy whined but eventually did comply.   

Scott got up as well and stretched out. “Come on, I bet Niki has made muffins for breakfast.”

If Tommy hadn’t looked awake before, now he was practically shaking, “Oh hell yeah!” He ran off towards the cafeteria.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Tubbo called as he dashed after him. Ranboo looked at Scott with a shrug and followed. Scott shook his head and walked with Ranboo.

Scott and Ranboo idly chatted as they walked to the cafeteria.

When they arrive, Tommy and Tubbo angrily eat their breakfast while Phil looks amused.  Scott tilted his head questioningly towards the two while looking at Phil.

Phil continued to look bemused as he explained, “They are both angry because they are trash duty after trying to steal all of Niki’s muffins.”

Tommy grumbled as he munched on a chocolate chip muffin. “We weren’t stealing! We were saving them from everyone else!” Phil shook his head exasperated while Ranboo chuckled at their misfortune. Scott grinned slightly in understanding and mirth.

He and Ranboo grabbed breakfast before sitting down with the group, seemingly to be the last ones. Ranboo grabbed a poppy seed muffin with a bowl of fruit. The duel-eyed human had a glass of milk as well. Scott grabbed a blueberry muffin, opting for something light this morning. He also had a glass of apple juice to go with it.

Once everyone was settled, Phil started to speak. “Ranboo, you’ll go meet up with Techno. He’s in Med Bay with Wilbur. You’ll be learning about Imposters.” Scott froze mid-bite when he heard that. Said teen fist pumped.

“Yes!” Ranboo quickly inhaled the rest of his food before hopping out of his seat. The other two protested. “Can’t we go with him? Come on Phil, please?” They begged, both giving puppy eyes.

Phil eyed the two before he sighed fondly. “Fine, you little shits,” The three teens began to move towards the door, but Phil stopped them with his voice. “But Tubbo and Tommy when it’s over, you two still need to clean out the trash shoots.” Both boys groaned but nodded as they left.

Scott snapped out of his stupor as Phil turned to him. “You will be with me in Navigation today, Scott,” Phil said with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind but I could use an extra set of eyes reading me coordinates.”

“No, of course not. I’ll happily be with you today.” Scott said with a kind smile, though it was slightly strained. Thankfully, Phil didn’t seem to notice as he smiled back. “Great, but before we go to navigation, let's clean this up.”

Together they stood up, gathering all the plates from the teens and themselves, and brought them to the kitchen. There was a silence between them, neither speaking as Scott washed the dishes while Phil dried and put them away. The imposter’s mind was buzzing with activity, wandering with intrusive thoughts. Part of him whispers that Phil knows what he is, another part is confident that this is just another day. A tiny part of him is happy to spend time with another member of his pod. Scott shook off that thought as he focused on the mind-numbing task in front of him.

It was far too soon when all the dishes were gone from the sink. Phil and Scott began the trek to navigation, their footsteps echoing around the metallic hallways. They passed weapons, where Niki was working on fixing a blaster that an asteroid damaged. Then they passed O2 where Jack was seemingly going over the oxygen systems. Finally, they reached Navigation with Phil humming a tune as Scott followed anxiously.

Phil turned to him and clapped his hands together. “Usually, I would have Techno help me, but he needed to educate Ranboo as his apprentice. I apologize that this was suddenly pushed on you.” The captain said sheepishly. “It’s simple. You just need to read off the logs and I’ll record them and organize them.”

 The cyan-haired imposter nodded and replied, “Yeah, I can do that. And it is completely fine.”

Phil grinned, “Great. We can get started right away.”

The green crewmate pulled up a time sheet of automated logs and pulled another document up. He instructed Scott to read them off to him, which Scott did without question. But Scott couldn’t get his mind off the earlier conversation. So after doing logs for an hour, there was a pause as Phil pulled up more time sheets.

Scott piped up, “You mentioned Imposters earlier, what are your options on them?” The cyan-haired man watched as his captain froze for a second before, he turned to him. Phil had this hard expression on, making Scott gulp silently. He wondered if he’d regret asking this.

Phil continued to have this stony expression on as they remained tense and silent as he contemplated his answer. Finally, Phil spoke, “Scott, I am going to be honest with you. An imposter killed my wife when the boys were young.” The tone he said it in was emotionless.

Scott felt as if he was just punched in the gut. If Phil ever found out, he would be tossed out of the airlock for sure. All he could utter was, “I’m sorry for your loss.” He bowed his head in respect.

Phil nodded, “Thank you,” He had this distant look on his face, “But there is more. You see, my boys and I wouldn’t be here either if it wasn’t for an imposter as well.” Scott glanced up, with a distinct head tilt. Phil was staring out into the stars. “The imposter fought the one that killed my wife. He allowed time for my boys and me to escape the ship we were on. We would have died on that ship if he didn’t.” Phil confessed.

Scott frowns a bit. “Phil, I’m sorry for bringing it up, you don’t have to continue.” The cyan-suited imposter reassured him. In truth, Scott was interested in finding out Phil’s answer but didn’t want him to suffer bad memories. With a sudden blink and then a sigh, Phil answered, “I think if I ever met an imposter again, it would be too soon. But if I did, I truly hope they will be like the one that saved the rest of my family.”   

Scott nodded silently, wondering if he fell into that category. Would he fight Owen if it came down to it? He didn’t have much time to contemplate it as a scream rang out from O2.

Instantly, both Scott and Phil began to rush to the room. The moment they turned the corner, they saw Niki, holding Jack in her arms as she desperately held a wound in his stomach shut. Blood decorated the ground and splattered against the walls. Phil rushed to Nikk’s side, Scott following right behind. Jack was semi-conscious but was out of it.

“We need to get him to the med bay,” Phil instructed. “Niki, you hold the wound shut, me and Scott will carry him carefully.” Nikki nodded, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “Scott, grab his shoulders, I’ll grab his legs.” Nodding, he grabbed Jack’s shoulders.

“On three, lift,” Phil commanded.

“One, Two, Three.”

Scott raised Jack as Phil instructed. Nikki kept a tight hold on his stomach, her gloved hands covered in Jack’s blood. Scott carried the blue crewmate as fast as Nikki and Phil allowed, his stomach churning with guilt as blood droplets fell to the floor of the cafeteria. He looked away, catching Phil’s concerned glance out of the corner of his eye.

He didn’t deserve his concern, he was supposed to do this, but Owen had to do it. He swallowed the lump in his throat. God, Owen. How is he going to explain this to him. He couldn’t hurt these humans. Maybe he could convince him that they could kill another crew instead. Possibilities ran through his head as he continued to hurry Jack to the med bay.

When they entered, he was surprised to find everyone else, including Owen in the med bay. Everyone turned to look at them when they walked in. A flash of annoyance crossed Owen’s face before it was gone, a look only Scott could catch as he and Phil laid Jack down in the bed.

“Wilbur!”

“On it!” Wilbur responded to Phil as he began to rush around. “Everyone out! I need to work.”

With that, everyone except Nikki, Phil and Wilbur were ushered out of the room, with Phil’s parting words being, “Everyone go back to your rooms. As of right now, we are all going to be in pairs until we know the cause of this.” Phil stared down Scott as he spoke, and it took everything in his power not to squirm.  Owen led him back to their shared room, protecting him from the gaze of Phil.

Once the door of their room was shut, Owen grinned. “I got one, Scott!” He said happily. Scott stared at his hands then up at him in disbelief at his joy.

“I know! How could you do that!?” Scott exclaimed, confusing Owen. “They are a tight-knit crew, they are going to know!” He said it as an excuse. Owen rolled his eyes as he climbed onto his bunk and sat there.

“They won’t figure it out until it’s too late. If we kill pink and green tomorrow, then it’ll be easy pickings.” Owen lay down with his hands under his head.

Scott felt himself pale as he realized that Owen had everything planned out already. When Owen had a goal set, there was not changing it. He swallowed and when to speak when the door opened behind them. Both looked over to see a shocked looking Tommy.

He had heard everything.

[hanespiritu]

THE ASHES OF IDEALS

(Dream Smp)

written by: Han Espiritu

---

The war room was dim, barely lit by the flickering oil lamp suspended above the iron table. Old maps were scattered, stained with ink, ash, and someone’s blood—perhaps Tommy’s from last night’s ambush, though no one dared ask. The air reeked of revolution and betrayal.

Technoblade stood like a statue at the head of the table, his crimson cape soaked at the hem from the snow outside. Tommy sat beside him, bruised and quiet, uncharacteristically so. He had learned to speak only when necessary now, every word measured. Wilbur had taught him that. Taught him too well.

Across from them, sat Quackity, drumming his fingers against the worn metal with calculated poise. Beside him, Schlatt smirked with a tumbler of whiskey, already half-empty, eyes sharp and unreadable. They weren’t allies. Not really. But the enemy of my enemy...

Quackity broke the silence.

“So. Wilbur and Dream. That’s not just a threat. That’s an ideology.”

Schlatt chuckled. “Wilbur always did want to be God, didn’t he? Just needed a devil to sell his sermons.”

Tommy flinched.

Technoblade’s voice was low and dangerous. “We can’t keep running. He’s building something. Something bigger than L’Manberg ever was.”

Quackity leaned forward, tapping the map. “He’s uniting Dream’s forces. Rebranding it as 'The Phoenix Accord.' Symbolic, huh? Burn it all and rise anew. He’s not fighting for land anymore. He’s fighting for minds.”

Schlatt tossed back the last of his drink. “The boy’s playing empire.”

Tommy finally spoke, voice cracking but resolute. “He doesn’t care about the people. He says he does, but he talks in poetry now. Riddles. Like every sentence is for an audience that doesn’t exist.”

Technoblade crossed his arms. “He’s lost. But dangerous. Delusional leaders are often the most efficient.”

Quackity’s eyes gleamed. “Then we fight narrative with narrative. We don’t just counterattack—we dismantle his truth.”

//Meanwhile, in the Phoenix Citadel//

Wilbur’s voice was soft and melodic, echoing across the candlelit halls. “They don’t understand. You do, don’t you, Dream?”

Dream, mask off for once, gave him a slight nod. “Order through control. Peace through strategy. Freedom is chaos, Wilbur. They’ll learn.”

Wilbur grinned like a man with the world cupped in his hands. “We give them purpose. We give them unity. We...remove variables.”

A soldier entered, saluted, and whispered, “Technoblade and the boy have joined with Quackity and Schlatt.”

Wilbur paused. Blinked. Then smiled.

“Good,” he said. “Let them consolidate. It’s easier to burn a forest when the trees are close together.”

//Later//

The moon bathed the bunker in cold light. The new coalition—Tommy, Techno, Quackity, Schlatt—stood over a diagram of the Phoenix Citadel.

Quackity pointed. “Here. This wall is propaganda. Symbolic. If we tear it down, the citizens inside start asking questions.”

Schlatt grinned. “We sow distrust. Fear. Get some of Dream’s own men to turn on him.”

Technoblade added, “Assassinate the philosophers, not the soldiers. Wilbur surrounds himself with thinkers now. Artists. Cult leaders.”

Tommy looked up at Techno. “Do you think he’s too far gone?”

Techno didn’t answer.

Quackity snapped his fingers. “We don’t kill Wilbur yet. We fracture his system. Show his people he’s just a poet with a gun.”

//Wilbur’s Broadcast (Intercepted)//

The screen flickered, static buzzing before Wilbur’s face appeared, gentle but void of warmth.

“You think me a tyrant? I think you afraid of purpose. Afraid of living for something greater. Tommy...Brother...if you hear this, know that I forgive you. I understand you. But I am disappointed.”

He smiled.

“Tell Quackity this: for every truth he spins, I will write a thousand better. For every alliance you build, I will make them doubt their own reflection. You fight with logic. I fight with belief.”

The screen cut to black.

---

The storm had come.

Not the kind that draped the tundra in quiet white—but the kind born of ideologies, of old brothers turned zealots, and visionaries turned mad. The flags were raised. The trumpets did not sound; there was only silence before the clash, deafening and dense. The frost cracked beneath the boots of war.

//Dawn//

“Tubbo?” Tommy’s voice was hoarse.

Tubbo turned to face him, already donning his battered chestplate. A spark flickered behind his tired eyes—war-forged, diplomatic, but no less angry.

“I should’ve come sooner,” Tubbo muttered, adjusting his belt. “You looked up to him, I know. But Wilbur’s not the president you once knew. He’s a god now—or trying to be one.”

Tommy swallowed hard. “And Dream?”

Tubbo’s fists clenched. “He’s stopped pretending. Sapnap’s enforcing his will with fire. People go missing. Farms are burning. And Dream just… smirks. Says it's all part of the cleanse.”

Technoblade approached from the tent, silent as usual, but all presence. He passed by Tommy, gave a small nod to Tubbo. Then, to everyone gathered:

“It’s time.”

//Inside the Citadel – Dream and Wilbur’s Throne Room//

Sapnap paced. “They’re gathering. Schlatt, Quackity, even Jack. That’s not a rebellion, that’s a f***ing army.”

Wilbur, on the throne, barely looked up. “Do you fear their chaos, Sapnap?”

Sapnap gritted his teeth. “I fear losing ground. If they hit the water reserves—”

“They won’t. I’ve accounted for it. Let them swing. Every empire needs a failed coup to write songs about.”

Dream stood in the corner, face obscured by his mask once more. Voice low, sinister. “We let them come. Then crush them.”

But his tone was… off. Tired. Paranoid.

Wilbur raised a brow. “Something wrong, Dream?”

Dream didn’t answer. He only muttered to himself. “They won’t follow you if they see the cracks. Hide the cracks. Be the image.”

//Midday//

The earth shook as the allied forces stormed the outer walls.

Techno was first—he always was.

He tore through Dream’s vanguard like a reaper incarnate. Every soldier that fell by his hand was another warning: you cannot cage chaos. His blade sang.

Behind him, Tommy charged in, face marked with ashes, hair in his eyes, heart in his throat. Tubbo fought beside him—head-on, strategic, barking orders and jamming circuits into the locks of the Citadel’s security.

Then came Schlatt.

Schlatt didn’t wield a sword. He wielded a megaphone.

“HELLO, PHOENIX SHEEP!” he boomed from a balcony, ducking flaming arrows. “DID YOU KNOW YOUR GLORIOUS WILBUR STARTED HIS RULE BY BANNING FARMING? NO CROPS, JUST PROPHECY!”

Quackity was beside him, snickering. “If this is a utopia, why are you rationing food and brainwashing kids? You idiots thought propaganda posters were decorations?”

The soldiers inside wavered. A few even dropped their weapons.

Quackity grinned.

“Keep talking,” Schlatt muttered, “we’ll rot their loyalty from the inside.”

//Back with Tommy//

Tommy ducked into a side chamber—one he remembered. Old speeches echoed in his memory.

“L’Manberg is for the people…”

He paused. The wall had been repainted. A new quote.

“There is no self without unity.” – Wilbur Soot

Then a hand grabbed him.

Jack Manifold.

“Snap out of it, Tommy.”

Tommy blinked. “What—?”

“You still think he’s broken? That he’s redeemable? This isn’t the same man who played guitar on the walls. This Wilbur is a goddamn politician. And you’re his pawn.”

Tommy’s throat dried. “But he forgave me—”

“Yeah? Gaslighting looks like forgiveness when you’re starved of love.”

Something snapped.

And Tommy nodded.

//The Generator Room//

“You always were weak,” Dream hissed, blade against Tubbo’s staff. “A boy in a suit playing president.”

Tubbo pushed back. “And you’re a tyrant in a mask, pretending to be order.”

Dream struck harder. “I made this server!”

Tubbo dodged. “And we’re tearing it out of your hands.”

Then Sapnap lunged in—and met Jack Manifold’s axe.

“You were my brother!” Sapnap roared.

“I was your weapon,” Jack spat.

//Back in the Throne Room//

Wilbur stood alone.

He watched on the screens as his army fractured. His mind raced—no, spiraled.

“They don’t understand,” he whispered to no one. “This is for them. For the future. If they’d just listen—”

The throne doors burst open.

Tommy stepped in, panting, blood-streaked, staring.

Wilbur opened his arms.

“Brother—”

“Don’t,” Tommy cut him off. “You killed who you were to become this. And you let Dream carve the rest.”

Wilbur's eyes were wild. “You wanted freedom. I gave you purpose.”

“You made me your justification.”

Tommy raised his sword.

“Time to burn the Phoenix.”

//Two Days After the Fall

The Citadel – Council Chamber//

Ash still floated through the air like confetti from hell.

Technoblade stood on the outskirts of the council room, now converted into a court. The stained glass had been shattered. The throne was torn down. Wilbur had been dragged from it by the people he once called his children.

Now he sat—cuffed, cloaked in rags, eyes hollow—with Dream shackled beside him. Two gods, dethroned.

Tommy stood on the dais with Quackity and Schlatt behind him. His knuckles were white from gripping the marble edge. Tubbo was near the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. Jack sat among the witnesses, jaw bruised, but his glare untouched.

Quackity spoke first, slow and surgical.

“Ladies, gentlemen, ex-sympathizers, and emotionally manipulated survivors of the Phoenix Regime—this is not a trial for crimes against individuals. This is a trial against ideology.”

Wilbur smirked. “Are we prosecuting thought now, Big Q?”

“Thought?” Schlatt laughed sharply. “You rewrote the damn constitution to remove the word ‘freedom.’ Thought died the moment you added your signature.”

Dream didn’t speak. He only stared at the floor. There was a tremble in his shoulders—rage, or fear, or both.

Quackity continued. “We’re not executing you.”

Wilbur raised a brow.

“No. Execution is too simple. Too quick. We’re going to let you watch. As everything you built crumbles. The Phoenix doesn’t rise this time—it rots.”

Tommy stepped forward.

“This isn’t vengeance. This is a message. We aren’t rebuilding from your ashes. We’re salting the earth.”

In the weeks that followed, Wilbur’s control mechanisms were exposed. Documents leaked. Quackity personally published the Phoenix Accord Manifesto—annotated with snarky commentary and sarcastic footnotes.

> “Page 14: Wilbur Soot discusses ‘Unity through Erasure.’ Sounds a lot like genocide, doesn’t it?”

—Quackity’s Note

Public opinion swayed rapidly.

Dream’s elite guard turned on him. Sapnap disappeared. Punz defected. The last remnants of their order collapsed not with a battle, but with a signature on a declaration drafted by Schlatt titled “The Anti-Monarchist Manifesto: Vol. I of an Ongoing Roast.”

Jack Manifold took over military operations. Tubbo established a civilian oversight council. Technoblade refused political power, fading into the shadows after burning every copy of Wilbur’s speeches in a symbolic bonfire.

//Meanwhile Inside the Black Cell//

Wilbur paced, chains clinking against the stone floor. He whispered to himself constantly now.

“They think they won. But revolutions eat themselves. Tommy will crack. Tubbo will bend. And Quackity? He’s already addicted to the sound of his own voice.”

Dream sat in the corner, hands curled against his knees. Quiet. Watching.

“They burn us,” Wilbur said, “but fire makes smoke. And smoke carries.”

Dream’s lips finally parted.

“Let them think we’re dead.”

---

Tommy stood in the rebuilt plaza. Before him: citizens, soldiers, former enemies turned skeptics, and banners of renewal—not nations. Not borders.

“The Phoenix Citadel is no more,” Tommy announced. “We are not kings. Not prophets. We’re people. And people will build without chains.”

He looked at the camera.

“To those still hiding behind ‘vision’—we see you. And we’re not afraid anymore.”

Schlatt stepped up behind him with a smirk.

“Oh, and by the way? If any of you dream of a throne... just remember what happened to the last guy who tried to build one.”

He lit a match.

The last of Wilbur’s decrees—the original Phoenix Accord—went up in flame.

//Later That Night//

Technoblade stood alone in the field behind the citadel ruins, staring at the smoldering remains of what was once a crown-shaped tower.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t cry.

He simply whispered:

“Let it all burn.”

And walked into the darkness.

---

The moon was a sliver in the sky, barely a flicker against the pitch-black darkness surrounding the Phoenix Citadel’s remains. Inside the cells, the two once-unrivaled leaders—Wilbur and Dream—sat in cold, damp silence. The air smelled of rot, the smell of revolution’s aftermath, the stench of shattered ideals.

Dream’s mask sat discarded beside him, a discarded symbol of a life he once led. He stared at it, not knowing what to do. His mind was foggy, as if the reality of his fall hadn’t fully settled in.

Beside him, Wilbur paced again. “They think we’re finished. That we’ll be forgotten.”

Dream didn’t answer.

“Do you think they’ll really kill us?” Wilbur asked, pausing to look at him. “Quackity’s been spitting rhetoric about justice and ideals, but none of them are stupid enough to follow through. They need us.”

Dream looked at him with empty eyes. “They’ll kill us eventually, Wilbur. They’ve always wanted to.”

“Not Tommy,” Wilbur said, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Tommy understands. He forgives. We’re family.”

Dream turned to face him now, eyes narrowed. “You’ve gone soft.”

“Have I?” Wilbur’s voice was soft, almost eerie. “You’ll see, Dream. You’ll see.”

The council had gathered again. The remnants of the old world watched the final trial unfold from the makeshift gallery above. Tubbo was there, his face unreadable; Quackity stood by, smug, arms folded; Jack watched with suspicion, always assessing; Technoblade leaned against the stone wall, watching, waiting.

Tommy stood at the center, his hands clenched into fists.

No speech.

No words.

He had spoken enough. Now there was only action.

The condemned were brought before him, shackled and on their knees. Dream’s mask was placed back on, though it seemed like a hollow, defeated gesture. Wilbur’s once-vibrant eyes were dull, and his smile was gone. They both expected mercy.

They wouldn’t get it.

Tommy stepped forward, his breath steady, but there was an unshakable coldness in his eyes.

"You thought I would forgive you?" Tommy’s voice was ice. "You thought I was just a kid? A pawn in your game?"

The crowd shifted nervously. There was no speech from Tommy, no warning. Only cold, calculated words.

"You broke everything. You tore down L'Manberg, made people think they had to follow your ideals. You manipulated everyone, turned us into your personal chess pieces. You were the enemy."

His eyes met Wilbur’s first. The man who had once been his brother.

"You were a god to them. A symbol. You wanted freedom? You took it from me—from all of us. You wanted a revolution? You got a kingdom built on lies." Tommy’s gaze turned to Dream. “And you. You didn't care who you stepped on, who you burned. You told me I was your family, and then you left me with nothing.”

Wilbur opened his mouth to speak, but Tommy raised his hand.

“No. Don’t speak. There’s nothing left to say.”

Tommy motioned for Technoblade to step forward. The sword he held glinted in the dim light, red from the blood of a thousand battles, now poised for the final one.

Tommy’s gaze flickered to Quackity and Schlatt—two men who had, in their own right, helped dismantle the regime, chipped away at Dream’s system with words as sharp as knives. They gave him the space to make his final judgment.

Tommy crouched before Dream first, looking into the empty eyeholes of the mask.

“You wanted to play god. But gods don’t get to die with mercy.”

Dream’s lip trembled, but he said nothing.

Wilbur struggled against his chains, his eyes wild. “Tommy, please! Don’t! You can’t—”

But Tommy had already stood, pulling Dream’s mask off, revealing the man who had once been a titan of the server.

“I can. And I will.”

He turned the blade toward Dream’s chest. It wasn’t a clean kill. It wasn’t swift. Tommy dragged the blade slowly across Dream’s side, his hands shaking, but his eyes cold with the memory of the betrayal. The blood that stained his hands now was nothing compared to what Dream had done to him, to everyone.

Dream gasped for air, but Tommy’s grip only tightened on the hilt, forcing him to endure the slow agony.

Wilbur shouted from behind him. “This isn’t you, Tommy! You’re making a mistake!”

But Tommy didn’t respond. He had no words left. The fire that had once burned in his chest had turned to ice.

As Dream crumpled to the floor, Tommy turned his attention to Wilbur.

“You... I thought you were my brother. And you were, once. But now… now you’re nothing. Just another man who thought he could play with lives.”

Wilbur whimpered, his pride slipping away.

Tommy stepped forward. “This is for every single soul you stole from me. From everyone.”

Wilbur tried to fight back, but Tommy’s blade was faster. It wasn’t a clean death for him either. Tommy made sure it was slow, made sure Wilbur felt every inch of what he had done, every drop of pain he had caused.

The room fell silent, save for the heavy breaths of those who watched.

---

Wilbur and Dream lay dead on the cold stone floor. The crowd watched, too stunned to speak. The betrayal had been completed, the destruction of their icons realized.

Tommy stood over them, blood on his hands—his face unreadable.

Quackity stepped forward, his voice sharp. “That was not mercy, Tommy. That was justice.”

Schlatt grinned. “I always knew you had it in you, kid.”

Technoblade’s eyes met Tommy’s. He said nothing, but his look said everything. It was done.

The fire, once sparked by ideals, now burned to the ground. The ashes were all that remained.

And Tommy? Tommy wasn’t a child anymore. He wasn’t a symbol.

He was a man who had found his power, not in forgiveness, but in the ability to decide who deserved mercy—and who didn’t.

•┏────────────────────━

•┗─►⚠️ Warning: Plagiarism is a Serious Offense ⚠️

Plagiarism—the act of using someone else’s work, ideas, or words without proper acknowledgment—is unethical and can have severe consequences. Whether intentional or accidental, plagiarism can lead to academic penalties, legal repercussions, and damage to one’s reputation.

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[lanaactuallyabanana]

im back!

hellooo

if u see this (which is crazy if you do), i used to be @lanaxoxoxoxoxox but i lost access to my account /gen

i would love if you could follow me and support my future works!! i'll try to re-upload my old works.

thank u !!! <3

[fanfic-connoisseur]

This is one of my favorite tropes in the world. Where the mc gets sent away for something they didn’t do, and when they come back, they’re like heavily traumatized. This time though, it’s with TommyInnit.

[shro-omiey]

He Watched As It All Burned

Eventually, he has to get up. 

The prison is still unstable, after all. And it isn’t like he could stay here. 

He has to find somewhere he can bury his friends. 

Jack hefts the bodies out of the prison one by one. 

Six in all. 

Punz. Sam. Quackity. Dream. Tommy. 

And Tubbo. 

He’s careful with them, with those that he loves. Even though the pain and the heartache they’d caused… He’d give anything to have one more conversation with any of them. 

Anything. 

Hell could reclaim him if they would let him smile at Tubbo one more time. 

He piles them onto a makeshift cart, lugging the thing up the prime path as he looks for a place to go. 

Everything around him is destroyed- the buildings, the houses- the path wasn’t even smooth. Jack sighs, knowing that no one was there to fix it any longer.

He certainly isn’t going to. 

He has to bury his friends. 

Eventually, he reaches a field of flowers, just outside las nevadas. 

That was gone, too, the fake desert’s sand and cacti nearly the only things remaining intact after the nuke was detonated. 

Pieces of the huge structures lay, smoldering on the sand. What was once a grand palace is now unrecognizable rubbish. 

Jack cringes. 

There has to be some other survivors. There has to be. 

It can’t be just him again, right? 

Surely not again. 

He unloads, taking care to be extra careful with what was left of them. It isn’t easy work- his hands can’t grab, and his fingers hang limply from his palms. 

It’s not the cleanest work either, Punz and Dream are both in pieces and it’s not very hygienic to dump what he thinks are parts of Dream into the grave he manages to dig. 

He does it anyway. 

These people deserve to be at rest. 

Even if they had done some questionable things.

Jack carefully lays them both to rest, quickly shooting up a prayer to the universe and Mother Death to keep them both safe. 

Quackity is next; his body is curled into Jack’s chest and for a second, he can’t let the man go. 

His arms can’t let Quackity fall into the dirt- it wasn’t like they had known each other very well. 

He’s sorry he never spoke to him, never knew him. 

He wondered what gods protected Quackity in the end. Were they kind? Loving?

He hoped the man was at rest. 

Jack places his limp, pale body into the ground, tears staining the pallor of Quackity’s face. He rubs at them, the skin under his hands stiff and cold. 

He stands, looking back at the two he has yet to bury. 

They’d like it here, he thinks, a sob crawling its way out of his throat. They’d really like it here. 

Tommy is first, while digging the hole for him the shovel slips and so does Jack, falling into the early grave and lying there with his face in the dirt. 

It’s not often he finds himself in the earth’s grasp. 

Usually when Jack dies it’s quick, and painful, and there are things that he can’t explain. 

This feeling is simple-- he has fallen into the dirt and is laying in it. A spark of anguish flares in his chest.

He can’t have this. 

This simple death, laying in the ground of the SMP he called home, painless and gentle and soft.

This was never meant for him.

So he gets up, brushes the dirt off best he can, and keeps digging.

The body isn’t heavy at all. 

Jack looks into the pale face, and his eyes swim with tears. 

Tommy looks so young in death. He’s still holding the sixteen-year-old version of his friend-- the one that hadn’t done anything, the small boy that hid in the corner while Wilbur spat and cursed and yelled. 

Jack remembers when Tommy was smaller, and had begged Niki to make cookies with him. He remembers the pride on the boy’s face when he held out a lumpy, misshapen cookie and insisted that Jack taste-test. 

He remembers the joy on the small child’s face when he rode around on Wilbur’s shoulders in the yard, Fundy chasing after them and giggling as Wilbur zipped through the grass. Tommy was whooping and hollering, so loudly that it scared the lightning bugs up from the ground. 

That Tommy is lying here with a small grin on his face. His blue eyes are still open- Jack closes them, desperately trying not to weep at the child in his arms. 

That child had never deserved any of this. 

Jack lays Tommy in his shallow grave, placing the golden curls he used to style in the mornings down into the gentle earth. He presses his forehead to the boy’s and promises to forget everything that has happened between them.

He shovels the dirt back onto his friend, earth calming on his swollen, broken hands. It’s uncanny how like Wilbur the boy looks when his hair is dirty-- Jack pushes the final clump down and sits there for a moment.

He can’t turn around, can’t bear to look at what’s left. 

It’s still there when he does. 

[niki-nihachu-fanfic-recs]

With the Big Iron on [Her] Hip by the_Green_files

Summary:

Logstedshire had never been a priority location for Niki. It was a small back water town in the middle of fucking nowhere, and its one good feature was its skyline at sunset. Not much else was able to mask the dust and shit smeared buildings. It wasn’t like L’manburg was much better, but at least the folks there had the decency to chase off their outlaws themselves. Then again, no one cared about Logstedshire. She hadn’t even heard of it until the Kid’s wanted posters started getting tacked outside the sheriff’s office. --- Niki goes to Logstedshire, and she wants revenge for Jack. It all comes down to one duel, and the matter of her conscience. -- Niki Nihachu Summer | Prompt - Week 1: Revenge/Justice/Mercy

Word Count: 8,012 Graphic Depictions Of Violence Major Character Death

With the Big Iron on [Her] Hip is a fic set in a western alternate universe, that mainly focuses on her relationship with Tommy and her relationship with Jack, but with a hint of puffychu in the background if you squint. It's a longer oneshot, so be ready to settle in to read.

[forcemetoartplease]

The Mask(edgy I know but that's what I called it all those years ago)

Long before time had a name, this fanfic was created by a twelve year old in the midst of their dsmp phase. I don't think I even finished it. Yall I can't even read this one. I can't do it. I'll let the summary and notes speak for themselves.

Summary: *In a squeaky voice* Ranboo gets anxious about his face and has trauma I guess?

End Notes: Man... and I say my writings shit now.

You. Have. No. Idea. How. Much. I. Hate. This.

I was gonna go through and proof read and I just went "Why?"

Yall are lucky I deleted the one I was writing where like ALL the DSMP members were murders except Phil and Techno.Phil was an oblivious detective and Techno was his partner deterring him from the truth.

The first paragraph was how Tubso had killed a guy and Ranboo had to go burn his watch and it cut to Wilbur burning a body- it wASN'T EVEN FUCKING REALISTIC AT LEAST NOW I ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO KILL A GUY AND DESCRIBE IT LIKE A COKED UP NATURE DOCUMENTERY NARRATO-

---

The car was filled with voices and laughter the music was loud, windows were down, and all the friends were laughing, except one. It was after they had finished filming the lie detector vlog and everyone was ecstatic about it, except Ranboo, he was behind Jack who was driving, and next to Wilbur who had gotten smooshed in the middle by Tubbo, who was currently 'trying to strangle' Tommy, who was in the passenger seat yelling 'angerly' at Tubbo about smacking him at the end of the video and weather or not to keep it in.

While everyone else was goofing around Ranboo was quietly staring out the window paying no attention to what was happening. So many thoughts were zipping in and out of his head, 'Do I really look that bad without the mask on?' 'Why did he react like that?' 'It was probably just a bit' 'But it said he was lying' 'He kept denying it though, maybe the thing was just not on right' 'That’s what a friend would say'. He was able to distract himself for the rest of the vlog telling himself he would take of the mask and show himself how Tommy really felt, but Tommy reacted so strangely. Was he just afraid about his face being on camera? After all he was laughing, 'what if he was laughing at my face?' 'no, that’s stupid'.

Ranboo was well known by most to be 'in control' his feelings, more like hide them. But now the built up anxiety had pooled in his stomach, he felt like he was being constricted. The air felt thin, his heart was beating irregularly, and there was a suffocating weight on his chest. To make matters worse he was in a car with some of his closest friends so he couldn't let down the façade and let the overwhelming feelings escape him.

Luckily, he had his window down so he was able to keep the mask on without looking foolish. he was snapped out of his thoughts by hearing his name "what?!" he whipped his head around to see everyone looking at him before all breaking out into laughter, he mentally recoiled a bit "see! He wahsn't even listening!" Tubbo claimed through laughter "wasn't listening to what?" Ranboo replied "we were trying to ask to you if you think Tommy actually has the hots for you!" Jack said looking at his masked friend in the rear view mirror "o-oh umm" he replied awkwardly not really sure how to respond. "n-n-no" he said looking back out the window as the rest laughed, "Rahanboo  you are a really handsome man!" Tommy said still wrestling with Tubbo. 'Yeah sure, then why'd it say you were lying?" is what he opened his mouth to say, but instead it came out as "u-huh"Wilbur placed a hand on the youngers shoulder, he flinched, "you okay Ran?" the Wilbur asked "you've seemed pretty out of it since we left" "oh yeah-no m'just.. a bit tired s'all" he said nodding to himself "m'kay" Wilbur replied squeezing his shoulder reassuringly, 'he's so tense' he thought before going back to the conversation. 

Jack had dropped them all off at Tubbos' house and drove off. When they all got inside and made their way to the living room Tommy and Wilbur had started wrestling next to the couch while Tubbo stood to the side hyping them up. Ranboo ,however, was just barely keeping himself together, he was overwhelmed with anxiety and felt as though he would break down any second. He stared at the floor with his arms crossed, both of his hands gripping his sleeves and unknowingly digging his nails into his skin to try and bare the agonizing feeling in his upper-body. "Ran, are you okay?" it was Tommy this time, was it that obvious? He had the mask on after all, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.. I'm just gonna go, t-take a shower"

he practically ran out of the room to grab his clothes and got to the bathroom placing them on the counter and turning on the shower faucets, his skin stung as it made contact with the water, he let out the tears that so desperately needed to be let out which quickly changed from silent tears to sobs. The anxiety was quickly getting worse, it was getting hard to breath which led to him gasping for breath between sobs. He was losing strength in his knees by all the coughing, sobbing, and water he kept inhaling, he had to get out of the shower, with shaking hands he opened the shower door and stepped out onto the bath rug drying himself off and throwing on his pajamas trying to distract himself from the death stinging pain in his whole upper body and knees, everything started to spin. Suddenly his legs gave out leaving the teen on his hands and knees shaking, he fell onto his side now a sobbing mess. He was getting lightheaded when everything suddenly went black, then the only sound was of the empty showers faucet running. 

He opened his eyes, it took a moment of blinking but he finally remembered what had happened, slowly he got himself onto his knees and took a couple of deep breaths. He was only slightly anxious, he was fully dressed, he had left the shower running. Using the toilet he hoisted himself up to stand, turned of the shower, he checked the time on his phone; 8:49. he put on his mask before running a comb through his hair, he usually hid the mask in his clothes before showering so when he came out he wouldn't have to look at himself to avoid his facial dysmorphia. This was the third time now he had had a panic attack and passed out in the bathroom, and he wasn't proud of it. He was having panic attacks more often now that he was in the UK, this really wasn't good.

He came out of the bathroom to find his three friends taking the couch cushions and extra pillows and were building a pillow fort, he couldn't help but smile to himself, anxiety forgotten. He quickly dropped off his clothes in his room and reluctantly put his mask on the nightstand before walking back out to see Tubbo and Tommy arguing about the placement of a certain cushion and watched them from afar, until Tubbo looked passed Tommy and smiled at Ranboo quickly causing Tommy to turn and do the same. "What?" Ranboo asked creasing his eyebrows, when suddenly he was being lifted up from behind and held bridal style causing him to yelp in alarm, he had almost forgotten about Wilbur, "Why if it isn't our favorite Oreo boy!" he declared loudly "My god you almost gave me a heart attack!" Ranboo said clutching his chest "Oh stop being dramatic!" Wilbur said in mock annoyance as he walked over to the now finished pillow fort and dropped the American on a pile of pillows. 

It was now 9:36, the four friends had made their spots in the pillow fort that was somehow still standing strong despite all the roughhousing instigated by a certain gremlin child, and had ordered pizza that Wilbur, who had made it clear he was the oldest therefor the most responsible, obliged himself to pay for when it got here. They had decided to watch a movie which was The Conjuring suggested(ironically)by Wilbur who thought it would be fun to see how scared everyone would get. Him and Ranboo weren’t affected that much besides the jump scares, Tubbo was yelling at the people in the movie, and Tommy was clinging onto Ranboo's arm for dear life. At some point in the movie there was a silent pause prepping for a jump scare, all the boys were holding their breaths in anticipation when the doorbell rang, Tubbo had a physical reaction which was flailing his arms and almost took out a wall while Tommy screamed and latched onto Ranboo's side, Ranboo was more scared by the others reactions rather than the scare itself. Wilbur laughed at the three teenagers "you should have sehehen your fahaces!" he teased through laughter, Tommy was having none of it. He leapt across Ranboo's lap and tackled Wilbur, "Hey! Take it outside!" Ranboo said pushing both boys out of the pillow fort as the fighting ensued, "Can you grab the pizza Ran?" Wilbur said pushing at Tommy's face. Ranboo glanced at Tubbo who was still recovering and back at the wrestling boys on the floor "U-uh yeah sure" "Thanks! My wallets on the counter".

Ranboo made his way to the kitchen, grabbed Wilburs wallet, took out twenty pounds, and made his way to the door. He was about to grab the handle when anxiety filled his system again, he quickly with making as little noise as possible ran to his room and grabbed the mask putting it on while running back and opened the door confidently. "Hi! Order for Wilbey!" "Yep!" Ranboo took the boxes and gave the man the money "Have a nice night!" "You too". Ranboo walked to the counter putting down the pizza and taking off the mask, "Ranboo? Why did you have the mask on?" apparently Tubbo had recovered from the scare "U-um didn't want anyone to see me y'know?" "Oh, okay!". 

Wilbur POV

 'Ranboo's been worrying me, he's been acting off since we left. He took quite a while in the shower as well, maybe I'm just over thinking this.. but what if he isn't fine.'Suddenly the doorbell rang and the teens looked like they had seen a literal ghost, I couldn't help but laugh at their reactions  "you should have sehehen your fahaces!" Tommy looked about ready to murder and jumped across Ranboo's lap tackling me. "Take it outside!" Ranboo pushed at my back, I got out of the fort and Tommy wasted no time tackling me again to the ground, he got on-top of me and I pushed at his cheek trying my best not to hurt him. "Can you grab the pizza Ran?" I asked looking at my tall friend, immediately I could tell something was wrong with the way he glanced at Tubbo "U-uh yeah sure" "Thanks! My wallet's on the counter". When he left I rolled over switching positions with Tommy as he screeched, he was about to fight back but I got off of him and stood up him doing the same, he ran at me and I bent down hoisting him over my shoulder as he yelled in protest punching my back, though it felt more like taps because he didn't really want to hurt me, and I threw him down onto the couch causing him to let out bubbly giggles as I smiled down at him. At that point we herd the door open and Tubbo went into the kitchen, I held out my hand to Tommy "truce?" he took it saying "Only for the pizza" before we both got up and headed into the kitchen.

Tubbo was already scarfing down a slice of cheese when we came in, me and Tommy didn't waste much time copying him we hadn't eaten since 11:00 AM so we were pretty hungry. We were so distracted in fact, we hadn't noticed the tall American in the doorway recording us.. Until Tubbo did. "Hey!" he yelled startling everyone and ran around the island chasing Ranboo who was doing his best mad man cackle while running out of the doorway, I'm not sure when the chase stopped but when me and Tommy were making our way back to the living room we heard Ranboo laughing while Tubbo was yelling at him. We shared an amused smile with each other and went into the living room to find Ranboo curled up on his knees hugging his phone to his chest laughing really hard while Tubbo was yelling at him to delete the video and squeezing his sides from behind. Tommy couldn't have been more excited (probably from all that coke he drank) he squeezed my hips and I quickly pushed him away, he looked back at me beaming and I couldn't help but smile back getting into a fighting stance, he yelled loudly "Tickle fight!" before pouncing at me. 

Narrator POV

 The four boys were laying tuckered out on their pile of pillows which used to be their fort, the play-fighting had lasted at least an hour and a half with them going back and forth, forming and breaking alliances. The movie had ended by then and the pizza leftovers were in the fridge, Tubbo and Tommy had purposely destroyed the fort for some reason but no one really cared cuz now they had a whole pile of pillows and blankets to curl up on. Tommy was having a sugar crash while his sleep deprived friends were goofing around laughing at everything, at some point Tommy couldn't keep his eyes open and leaned slightly on Ranboo who froze for a second before putting his arm around his blonde friend and scooting them closer to each other. Tommy leaned into the touch and curled up on his side, Wilbur and Tubbo were doing their bests not to lose their composure at the soft scene in front of them. Ranboo looked up from the boy who had passed out under his arm to see the two older boys with wide smiles on their faces, Wil mouthed "That's so cute!" Ranboo flushed looking away. They stayed like that for a moment before Tubbo took out his phone to take a picture 

Narrator POV 

Wilbur woke up suddenly, it was still dark. He checked the time on his phone; 3:34. He realized Ranboo wasn't there and stood up to look for him, he walked down the hall to see the bathroom light was on and the door was slightly open, but the first thing he noticed was sobs coming from inside.

 Ranboo POV

 I was standing there looking at my feet, Miss Green had called me to the front about my test. I had gotten an E- while the rest of the class got higher scores, she was yelling at me for 'not trying hard enough' and 'not studying at all'. 'It's not fair, mom and dad make me do everything around the house how do I have enough time to study?!' I thought while digging my nails into my bare crossed arms. Everyone was sniggering at me, kids in the back were laughing, my friends were laughing. I was just barely keeping it in as the anxiety threated to poor out, I was so angry, so upset, so enraged, so anxious, my friends were laughing, everyone was laughing. Then suddenly everything went silent, my hands were shaking with the amount of force I was impaling my arms with. "I said you can go back to your seat!" I looked up "You useless lazy child!" everyone started laughing loudly at once, her words echoing in my mind along with my parents own words, I couldn't take it anymore everything spilled. Tears of anger, helplessness, anxiety, and absolute rage spilled out as I glared at her in the eyes "It's not my fault!" I yelled through sobs, she started laughing along with the class as they started chanting "Cry baby! Cry baby!" I dug my nails into nails skin as hard as I was possibly able to, there laughter almost all stopped at once as warm red liquid trickled down my arms to my elbows from multiple different spots. Suddenly my parents were there scolding me at how selfish I am and how disrespectful I am to make them look bad in front of-