Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They’d lost the battle before it had even begun. Dream had secured all of his bases beforehand. He had already won. He was just playing with them.

Their lives were a game to him. Tubbo knew this. 

But he never thought Dream would actually kill him in front of his best friend. 

“Say goodbye, Tommy,” Dream had said, pointing an axe to the boy. He was forcing Tommy to watch. Forcing him to say goodbye.

And of course, Tommy had fought. Of course he’d tried to say something, anything to change what would happen. His voice came out soft and pleading and so unlike the Tommy he knew going into this. “Dream- Dream don’t. Let Tubbo go.” 

“You did this, Tommy. He didn’t have to die. But you forced my hand.”

It occurred to him then, that none of this mattered. No matter how this went down, someone would still die.

Tubbo watched the two argue, not quite listening but observing. He watched as their mouths opened and closed but nothing came out. He couldn’t hear a thing. It was like he wasn’t there at all.

What were they thinking? Going up against Dream. 

They should have known they wouldn’t win.

The brunette couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the two had stopped arguing. His real indicator was the feeling of his body being pushed forward. Someone was yelling again. Though he couldn’t tell who.

Tommy was in his face, bruised and sobbing. His blue eyes looking duller than they ever had before. He took Tubbo’s shoulders in a shaky grip, rambling about something Tubbo couldn’t understand.

Then, he got it.

He was going to die, wasn’t he?

“I guess this is my coming to an end,” Tubbo chuckled humorlessly. A grin made its way to his face. It wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy. 

“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“I’m tired, Tommy. I’m so damn tired.”

He didn’t hear the sputtering on Tommy’s end. He didn’t hear the hopeful argument that he could survive this. All he heard was a question. “Tubbo, what am I without you?”

Tubbo hummed. “Yourself.”

And that was it. He let himself walk to Dream, giving the man a small smile. He never expected it to end like this really.

But it was fitting, wasn’t it?

It was only right to go out in this way.

He could hear Tommy’s sobs behind him. It was fine. He was fine. “Goodbye Tommy.”

The world stood still for a moment. Tubbo faced Dream, still wearing that small grin on his face. Tommy looked to a portal as if expecting something. Dream held an axe to Tubbo’s throat.

Dream tilted his head curiously. His mask almost seems to change, eyes crinkling and smile widening eerily. He hummed, “‘Giving up, are we, Tubbo?”

The hybrid didn’t show any sign of fear. He shook his head shortly, allowing his hair to flop uselessly with the movement. And for a second, Dream caught a glimpse at the scars. Scars he’d tried his best to hide.

“I’m tired, Dream.”

“I know that, little brother. But you made your choice.”

Tubbo gives a dry chuckle. “You’re not my brother.”

“You are. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll make it as painless as possible,” He’d said, searching Tubbo’s face for any sign of fear. He found none.

Tubbo let out a laugh, a humorless one at that. His eyes never left Dreams. “Funny, my brother said that too.”

Dream’s hand shook. Oh. 

He struck a nerve.

“That fucking pig isn’t your brother. The Crafts aren’t your family, Tubbo. They stole you from us. From me, ” Dream spat, hands trembling in anger. He’d always had a temper. And he was way too easy to read by facial expressions and his voice as well. So Tubbo knew better than anyone that Dream really believed every word he was saying.

“You killed me.”

“So did Techno.”

“Schlatt made him do it.”

“Technoblade made the conscious fucking decision to kill you. Peer pressure doesn’t apply to murdering your own damn child spy. Schlatt can’t make Techno pull the trigger, Tubbo!” He’s right, but Tubbo would never admit it. “I was your brother long before he ever was. Where’s your willful ignorance now?”

Tubbo blinked, glancing back at Tommy who watched them with a distant look on his eyes and a horrified expression. Then, he ground out, “You were never my brother.”

A wave of silence passed between them. If Tubbo noticed the shift in the air, he didn’t mention it. Not when the man in front of him relaxed. Not when Tommy started to mutter soft pleas. Not when Dream slowly started to laugh.

No, he’d stay indifferent until the end.

Tommy looked to the portal, expecting something, anything. His lip trembled when nothing happened, mumbling, “No no no. He was supposed to be here.”

“It’s okay, Tommy.”

“Punz was supposed to be here!”

And maybe in another universe, Punz had stormed through the portal with an army behind him. They’d both been saved.

In another universe, Tommy lived to see Wilbur be resurrected. Tubbo got married and adopted a child.

But not this one. Never this one.

In this universe, everything ended with the broken screams of one onlooker. The strangled, pathetic cries from one ex president. And the awful laughter from one tyrant.

The last thing Tubbo saw was that crudely drawn smile on the porcelain mask staring down at him, arms raised above Dream’s head. An axe coming closer to his face. Then nothing.

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

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

———————

Tubbo opens his eyes to see the ceiling of a train station staring down at him. The soft murmur of distant voices filled the air, real or not. His ears flicked at the noise. There was no light in the room other than the faint lanterns. Almost like the redstone torches of pogtopia. 

God damnit he was in a train station.

Wilburs train station.

He looked down, noticing the ticket in his hand and the train before him. He wondered briefly how he’d gotten to such a place. Though, he guesses the how doesn’t matter much in the end.

The station was empty save for the odd conductor. The air was stale and stagnant. Not a single breeze in sight. Tubbo noted that there were no other living things around either. Not a plant or a bird. He wondered if he should be worried about this development.

He didn’t even know where he was or when he got here. His hands come up to his face, fingers tracing absently over the scars littering his face. It didn’t hurt but he flinched anyways. The last person to touch his scars was… Techno. Funny how that worked.

Tubbo rises to his feet, walking to the open train doors and stepping in. “Hello?”

No one answers at first.

The hybrid turns, looking to each end of the train once again. His eyes scan every seat for any sign of him not being the only one. He notes that each seat had a name plate at the bottom. One for every member of the smp. Everyone except Techno and George.

Huh, Techno never dies.

Tubbo huffs, nose twitching in annoyance. “But Tubbo does.”

But he found things to be different when he moved to the next train car. 

Firstly, it smells like this godawful mixture of gunpowder, soot, cigarette smoke, and cheap booze. Isn’t that familiar?

There were two people in this one. Both looking all too familiar. They were bickering(typical) over the worst topic imaginable. The newest death.

Tubbo didn’t say anything at first. Honestly, he only wanted to know how much the two had changed. Surely death would have some effect on one President Schlatt and Wilbur Soot.

“This means he’s won. Dreams won. We’ll be home soon, Schlatt.”

“Tommy’s never going to let that happen. You’d know that better than anyone. He’s fucking annoying like that,” Schlatt retorted. “Kids gonna deal with it and we’ll be dead forever. Like we should be.”

Wilbur sours at the mention of his little brother. Or, Tubbo assumes he does. Wilbur gets this dark look on his face for a moment, muttering, “I’m Tommy’s brother before anything else. He’ll want me and Tubbo back.”

“Not everyone wants to go back. Some of us like the fucking quiet.”

And somehow, Tubbo found it in himself to smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Then again, he can’t really remember the last time it did.

“Gentlemen!” He calls, clapping his hands together to get their attention. “Where are we headed?”

The two turned to face him. Both of the men looked at him with varying degrees of distress. Wilbur seemed almost smug about it. There was no doubt in his mind that Dream had won. Which wasn’t wrong. But it definitely wasn’t appreciated.

Schlatt, on the other hand, looked caught off guard. Maybe it was the copious amounts of scars littering his body. Maybe it was the scar across Tubbo’s neck from where he’d been beheaded.

Or maybe it was the fact that Tubbo was here anyways.

Wilbur is the first to answer, throwing an arm over Schlatt’s shoulder and leveling Tubbo with a grin. “Everywhere and Nowhere, my friend.”

Tubbo notes that Wilbur still has the stab wound in his chest. He stares at it, wondering if his scars looked out of place as well.

Schlatt shoves Wilburs arm off of him, grumbling something about sobriety. He brings a hand up to his chest for a moment, then lets it fall to his side again. “What the fuck happened to you?”

No one comments on Schlatt’s wince of pain. Chest pain.

“Dream.”

There’s a beat of silence.

One that Tubbo uses to take a seat. He doesn’t bother talking to the other two. They’re only going to make this trip harder than it needs to be.

He still hates them.

Well. Hate is a strong word. He doesn’t hate anyone. That’s too unfair. 

But he doesn’t like them. He wouldn’t care if they were hurt.

Being dead has done nothing to quell the bitterness in his veins. The very subtle anger that has taken its effect by numbing him of any and all other emotions. They still killed him. Wilbur still appointed him as president of a nation and promptly blew it the fuck up. Schlatt still ordered for his execution at a festival that he decorated.

Being dead wouldn’t change that.

Tubbo lets himself sink further into the seat, staring out the window. He listens to the small chatter from the other two. They’re talking about something for sure. Not that he really cares.

Wilbur wants to get off at the next exit and explore. Schlatt wants to stay on the train to see if there’s ever an end to it.

“Is it always so quiet out there?” Tubbo asks.

“Oh so now you’re talking to us?” Schlatt scoffs, eyebrow raised. He chokes for a second though, coughing. “Yeah. We’re kind of the only dead people on the smp.”

Tubbo turns to glare at him. He doesn’t think about the hair covering his eyes or the fact that it was exactly what Schlatt had wanted the entire time.

But it wasn’t Schlatt who spoke.

It was Wilbur.

Wilbur who had always been so good at getting what he wanted. “Tubbo,” he starts, “wouldn’t you want to know if there was anything beyond the train? 

He thought about it for a moment. He’d always been pretty quiet and stationary. Building and making friends were basically the only things he’d done at first. But he wouldn’t have done any of that if he had been left to his own devices. He never would have left the box.

The only thing that really made him question what was really out there was Tommy.

His Tommy.

A cruel part of him wished for Dream to kill Tommy as well. If only just to see him again. But he knew Dream was always one step ahead.

The bastard knew better than anyone that you can’t hurt Tommy in a way that matters. Not unless Tubbo had already been taken out of the equation.

“I’m not going with you guys,” Tubbo shrugs, eyeing Schlatt warily. “You do what you want.”

It only took a moment for the other two to break out into two very different arguments.

Wilbur suggested they stay together. He raised Tubbo and Tommy. It would be just like old times, he said.

Just like in Pogtopia.

“Don’t you want to be brothers again?” Wilbur said, never once looking away from him.

As if they were ever brothers. As if Wilbur looked at anyone other than Tommy.

“I was never your brother.”

“I raised you. Phil took Techno and left but I stayed. Don’t you want that back?” Wilburs voice is lower now. It’s like there’s a threat somewhere in there. “You have no one else anyways.”

“Wilbur.”

Tubbo shrugs. “You liked Tommy more. He was your little brother. Honestly, Techno was more of a brother than you.”

“That’s why he blew you to bits with a firework, right?” Wilbur spat.

Tubbo blinked, casting his eyes downward. Not a single word left his mouth for a while. 

Meanwhile, Schlatt was trying his best not to lose his cool. Why? Tubbo had no clue. It wasn’t his business. Maybe he was finally regretting the festival.

“That’s not fair.” Tubbo turns to face the train window. He could already feel his eyelids weighing down, threatening to close at any second. A small yawn escaped him, shutting the other two up. But neither of them commented on it. 

“I’m still tired,” He murmured. More to himself than anyone else. His eyes began to droop and if Tubbo paid attention he’d see the faint light of fireworks. 

And he was out by the next tunnel.

——————

Techno was holding him in the dream sequence. A younger version of him but still the same person. The Piglin looked almost at peace with it, setting him down beside him and allowing Tubbo to just crawl around.

“Don’t eat grass, Tubbo,” he warned, taking the entire tuft of grass from his hands. “Phil will actually kill me if I let you eat grass.”

Tubbo watches this younger version of himself reach for Techno’s tusks, holding onto them with his grubby hands. The piglin responded with a grunt then a soft jab at the toddler's side.

“Oink!”

Techno stifles a laugh, giving a quick glance around before repeating the words, low and gruff, “Oink.”

He wondered when things changed. He wonders why their brotherhood shifted so much that Techno would execute him. But for now he lets the memory play out, watching bitterly as Techno scoops him up and sets off towards the house.

He ignores the sound of the fireworks ringing in his ears.

“I’ll make it as colorful and painless as possible.”

Chapter Text

Tubbo woke to the sound of arguing.

“He’s just some kid, Wilbur.”

“You didn’t care that he was a kid when you had him executed.”

“Oh will you fuck off! Get off your high horse. You beat the fuck out of Tommy in Pogtopia. And don’t  think I didn’t see you purposely ignore Techno when he was up on that podium.”

A pause.

Then a laugh. “Like you hurt Quackity?”

Oh.

Tubbo stirs. He doesn’t want to be hearing this. He wants to be away from this. Away from their silly arguments. 

Neither of them notice.

Schlatt never retorts. He just stands there, hands shaking at his side. His eyes narrowed into slits at the man in front of him. Brown eyes tinting red for reasons unknown.

The train slows to a stop then. The president and former president of L’manburg stood off in the middle, and if the light hit them right, their bodies would reveal the state they had died in. The two had grown used to it by now.

Tubbo hadn’t.

Wilbur cocks his head to the side, eyes scanning Schlatt’s body. He whistled lowly, “I think you’re the only person on the SMP who looks the same in death as he did in life.”

“Not everyone is as unfortunate as you,” Schlatt retorts.

It’s meant to be lighthearted. Tubbo knows this. He really does. “I think the scars are cool when they aren’t on me.”

Wilbur nods solemnly. “Tubbo’s right. We should give Schlatt a scar to match us.”

“I don’t know about tha-” Schlatt clears his throat, stepping into Tubbo’s line of view.

“It makes up for my executi-” Tubbo stops, staring directly at the ghostly pale version of the man in front of him. His eyes scan over the small things on his skin that show he’s dead. The veins, the eyes… the blood stains on his face.

“Tubbo?”

He couldn’t do this.

Tubbo felt his stomach drop. He hated this. It was one thing to know they were dead. He watched Phil kill Wilbur. He knew he wouldn’t come back. There was no coming back from that. Anyone could tell you that. Because then, there was a sword sticking through Wilbur’s chest, and black wings shielding him from the blasts.

He remembers feeling a sick sense of relief when he first saw it. Phil's wings couldn’t cover all of the damage. The tip of the sword was still visible, the blood was still visible, and the awful hack was still heard. But Tubbo was never too upset about it. He was safe. No one could pull at his ears or use his friends against him. There was no one to claim to be his family only to throw him to the wolves at first chance.

It didn’t fuck him up like it did with Tommy. Wilbur was never his brother back then, he was more like his babysitter. 

He’d never admit to being jealous of Tommy back then.

And Wilbur had hurt him. Had lied to him. Had watched him be executed at the stand at a festival he decorated. 

So Tubbo felt a bit of relief. He felt free. His chest stopped feeling like there was someone pressing down on him. The air stopped being as stuffy, but he’d never admit to it. 

He’d never utter a single word of this to anyone for as long as he’ll live. Not even on his deathbed will he let this slip. 

But Schlatt was different. Had always been different.

Because unlike Wilbur, Schlatt had the decency to fucking look at him some days. He appreciated him in his small cheers and his ‘I love this guy’ announcements. Yes, they were manipulative. Yes, Schlatt was still an abusive jackass. But there were times where he wasn’t. He wasn’t the all out monster that Wilbur turned out to be. He was just a drunk.

A useless fucking drunk.

Tubbo basically watched Schlatt kill himself. He and the entire cabinet could only watch as Schlatt drank bottle after bottle. Smoked cigarette after cigarette. And everyone knew he’d die eventually.

It wasn’t a secret. Was never a secret.

And it was better on the days where Tubbo and Quackity hid the alcohol. It really was. Because Schlatt wasn’t the worst when he was sober. He wasn’t some heartless asshole then. He was a person. 

Then he killed Tubbo. And he hurt Quackity. And he died.

Everyone watched and stared when Schlatt clutched his chest, unable to form the words to call for help, and fell. Fell to the floor without so much as a word. Except his body didn’t fade into particles and rebuild itself in another room. No, it stayed there, cold and lifeless, hand outstretched towards a half empty bottle of some cheap booze he’d managed to find.

He didn’t look dead. He just looked asleep.

There was no wound, no screams, no blood, no grand exit to life itself. He was just gone.

And Tubbo remembers staring at Schlatts body in equal parts disbelief and indifference. He remembers muttering a soft, “Goodnight Schlatt” when they finally covered the man up. 

He remembers wandering past the presidential grave for hours at a time, thinking one day he’d see Schlatt walk out. Wake up.

For some reason, that stuck with Tubbo more than Wilbur's death had. In the same way that Wilbur's death was everything to Tommy while Schlatt’s was a joke.

Tubbo’s back straightens. He feels himself stiffen as his mind races with the memories of that night. That month. He feels the world start to drift around him. A distressed noise leaves his lips. It’s small and easy to miss but he’s sure at least one of them hears it.

And he’s floating. He’s floating and nothing and no one can stop him.

“Tubbo?”

That was his name, yes.

“Don’t fucking touch him. He’ll flip out.”

He’s fine.

“He’s like some scared little sheep.”

How astute, Wilbur!

“He is some scared little sheep.”

And maybe he’d have been fine if Wilbur didn’t suddenly get this look on his face. Like he understood. Like he cared.  

Maybe he would have been perfectly fucking fine if Wilbur hadn’t of gone out of his way to push Schlatt out of the light. Almost like he knew exactly why Tubbo was freaking out. Like he knew how much it’d affected him. “It’s okay. Look. He’s fine.”

”He’s not. He- promised“ The rest of the words are lost upon the others. 

His brother- Wilbur, repeats himself, lower, “Look, he’s fine and alive.”

Tubbo opened his mouth but no words came out. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stare at bodies anytime the light came up. He couldn’t. 

“Tubbo?” That’s Schlatt.

Tubbo’s nose twitched, a sign of his uncertainty. He maneuvered around his seat and away from the two. He tried not to flinch when they both stepped forward.

“This is my stop, boys,” Tubbo announces, hoping his voice doesn’t betray him and prove how close he is to losing it.

He can’t lose it.

Neither of the adults can say a single word in protest. Not when Tubbo’s already turning on his heel and running off.

Running away.

——————

He’s barely made it off the train when the previous fear starts to really root itself into him. 

Tubbo curses softly, running further and further away from the train station. Only the sound of his shoes hitting the floor can be heard. The air breaks around him, not used to the disturbance. But Tubbo couldn’t care less.

He had to get away.

He doesn’t notice when the dingy old train station gets smaller and smaller in the distance, replaced by tall trees and a navy sky. No, Tubbo can barely breathe. Can barely see.

He stops shortly, hands coming down to his knees as he tries to catch his breath. He inhales a shaky breath, then exhales. Inhale, then exhale. His vision stops swimming. The world starts to clear up.

Tubbo curses once again, standing to his full height and running a hand through his hair. His gaze wanders to a small pond a little ways off from where he’s stopped. He briefly considers going over to it. If even just to see what it was like or if it was even real.

The pond twinkles at him with the promise of some kind of answer. 

And Tubbo has always been weak. Easily swayed. Naive.

A pawn.

Tubbo bounds over to the pond, staring deeply at his reflection in the water. He doesn’t recognize it.

He didn’t think it was that bad. At first he thought it’d just be the fireworks and the control room and the axe. It couldn’t have been more than that.

But it’s then that Tubbo remembers why he wears the layers. Why he hid his eyes and facial scars with his hair. 

He can’t recognize the boy in his reflection.

“…That’s more than I expected. Way more than I-“ He pauses, mouth suddenly going dry. “How long have I had these?”

No one answers.

“It’s ugly.” 

There’s no one here.

Tubbo stares absently at the marks on his shoulders and neck. Specifically the jagged line across his throat. The one that suggested he’d been beheaded. Of course, only he, and Dream knew that wasn’t how it happened.

No one else would be able to tell if it was the head wound, the shoulder wound, or the throat.

But Tubbo would know.

He brings his hands up to his face, tracing over the countless scars. Some from just being a kid and others from wars he never should have had to fight. His fingers linger on the scars adorning the right side of his face for a little longer, feeling the difference in texture of the skin.

He ignores the awful burning sensation he feels. It’s not real, he assures himself. He’s not burning anymore. 

Tubbo doesn’t stop there though. No, he has to go deeper. He lifts his bangs to reveal the rest of his face. And maybe he should have expected for the eye to be the same. It’s not like he’d seen out of it since then anyways.

But it was still an awful feeling. Knowing he was blind in one eye and seeing it had been two different stories.

The reflection does as it should, reflecting the action.

Tubbo blinks once again. Fingernails digging into his skin and causing small beads of blood to form. He can’t feel it.

He claws at his face until he can’t make out any of its features. Not the scars from the fireworks. Not the fading freckles. Not the countless marks from when he used to train. He didn’t see the way his eyes had gone from their original green to this awful dull one. 

All he could see was a stranger.

A stranger wearing his face and stealing his clothes.

“Tubbo’s just a pawn.”

His reflection continued to stare at him, unflinching. It almost mocked him in a way.

Tubbo doesn’t say a word. He just watches. He watches the water ripple with the wind, reflection becoming distorted from the movement. The scars on his face almost seem to go away. Almost.

He hates it. 

“He’s just Tubbo… there’s nothing unique or interesting about him.”

Nails scratched into his skin. The beads of blood quickly grew in size, spilling over and onto the floor below. His face slowly became a mess of blood and scars and tears. There was no one in his reflection anymore. 

“You decided to betray me and become a government.”

It was just him.

“Tubbo.”

He fell to his knees.

“Tubbo!”

The world began to blur together, trees and water becoming one. His eyes filled with tears once again as the air was taken from his lungs. Flitting in the air just in front of him, mocking him for his inability to catch it.

“‘Fucks the matter with you,” someone asked, gripping his arms. Tubbo fought against it on instinct. He couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t go back there. Anywhere but that room. That cage. That fucking house.

He did good, didn’t he?

He’d done everything he was supposed to. He was the brother, the friend, the president. What more did they fucking want? He just wanted to be home. Home with his brothers. 

His voice didn’t come out as more than a whine. A short whine that couldn’t possibly encapsulate any of the things he was feeling at the moment. He tried again, slower, “I’ll be better. I swear .”

Technoblade standing over him.

Dream with an axe to his neck.

“Kid, it’s just me. Look, it’s Schlatt,” The voice said, hands making their way to his shoulders and forcing him to look up at them. 

It was Schlatt.

It was just Schlatt.

Tubbo tried to breathe, breath coming out ragged and rushed. His eyes continued to water even with most of the danger gone. He’s never been this scared before. 

“…just Schlatt,” he repeats, almost not hearing his own voice.

But Schlatt nods, moving his hands to either side of Tubbo’s face. “It’s just me. And you can kick my fucking ass if I try something. Can’t you?”

Tubbo nods.

He’s slowly made aware of the other man standing just behind Schlatt when he finally speaks up. Wilbur snickers, adding, “Honestly, Tubbo. Just blow him over like he’s some plastic cup. Or make him laugh a little too hard. Maybe he can die twice.”

The younger hybrid finds himself laughing shakily. It’s not much but it’s a start. He manages not to flinch as Schlatt surveys the damage done to his face.

And if Schlatt notices the milky coloring of his right eye, he doesn’t say a word.

Maybe death is their redemption.

Chapter Text

It’s safe to say they don’t make it back in time to board the train. Tubbo’s too worn out from his… whatever that was and Wilbur had already grabbed his things. Basically, this was a set up.

It wasn’t an awful development. The world wasn’t full of monsters and people who wanted to kill you. It was actually kind of… safe? Tubbo thought so anyway. He looked to Schlatt, tilting his head to the side. His hair fell out of his face at the action, letting the man see the full damage again. 

“Does this mean we have to…” Tubbo starts.

“Travel with Wilbur,” Schlatt finishes for him. He lets his eyes travel over to Wilbur. And the sudden realization of what they’d have to put up with finally hit him. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “Wilbur.”

The other man hummed, “Yes, Schlatt?”

“Lead the way.”

There’s a second of silence. Then another. Then Wilbur claps his hands together, a giddy smile on his face.“I knew you’d come around. Things will be perfect!” 

Tubbo thought about shoving him off a cliff at least four times. At the very least. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he’d just come back. “Where are we going?”

“I'm not sure yet. But I’ll know it when I see it.”

Schlatt, who has been quiet for most of the walking, lets out a groan, “You can’t just drag us on your soul searching trip. Now is not the time.”

And that’s a funny thought.

A really funny thought.

Tubbo could barely stifle the giggles it earned. It was just the idea of this absolute maniac taking a traumatized 15 year old and an alcoholic ram on a soul searching trip. He wouldn’t mind. There’s only so much a dead man can do.

“Yes, Schlatt. I’m soul searching. Soul searching for the key to your heart,” Wilbur jokes, giving the ram a smirk.

Schlatt paled, looked at Tubbo, and pretended to gag. Tubbo followed suit.

“That’s vile, big man,” He comments, ignoring the squawk it earns.

Wilbur turns to him, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Oh, Tubbo. My lovely little brother-“ Tubbo gags. Wilburs eye twitches. “Wouldn’t you like a hug?”

And it was then that Tubbo noticed the copious amounts of soot that covered Wilbur. It sat like a thick grey film. Did… did he just grow it? Because that would be awful.

Tubbo takes a step back into Schlatt, “Save me- He’s covered in fucking soot and ash. I’m sure he has rabies.”

Schlatt snorts but otherwise plays along. He can’t really take Wilbur seriously when he looks like he just played in his grandma’s ashes. But he’ll certainly try.

“It’s just a hug!”

He’s met with being flipped off and laughed at. This is nice, Tubbo thinks.

Then, Schlatt leans over, whispering to Tubbo, “Headbut him.”

And if Wilbur spent the next thirty minutes trying to avoid being rammed in the side by a child, only Schlatt, Tubbo, and Wil would know.

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

And they continue like that for months, making small conversation and jokes. No one wants to let it get too quiet. God knows what would happen then.

Tubbo marvelled at the world loading in around them. His face brightened with every new plant, tree, and animal. Though, the sky had to be among his favorite parts.

He had first noticed its beauty at the highest possible peak. The three of them had walked to the edge to see the newest additions to the world. Mostly just the land being laid out for them. Schlatt was the first to reach the top, staring off at the rest of it. He said nothing for a while. The silence stretched for a moment before he called back to them, “Come look at this shit…”

Wilbur walked on after him, hands in his pockets and head held high. Almost indifferent in his stance. “You heard the man.”

Clouds and stars littered the sky with light peeking in from all available spaces. If you looked hard enough, you could probably make out the faces of people you once knew through the stars. The moon stood tall among the stars, at its fullest form.

And Tubbo could barely hold back the awestruck look. He turned to the other two ghosts with him, gesturing wildly to the plains below them. Pinks and blues and purples littered the plains, setting it apart from the plains in the overworld. 

“Can I?” Tubbo asks, not exactly sure why he does. His eyes land on Schlatt. Why? He doesn’t need his approval for anything. But it feels nice. It feels natural.

So he doesn’t comment on the way Schlatt nods and waves him off. He doesn’t think twice when the only warning he gets is to be back when the sky starts to darken and a very helpful “Don’t die twice” from Wilbur.

The voices at the top of the cliff were lost to the wind by the time Tubbo got to the plains. 

———

They set up a small camp down near a forest. The trees are tall enough to give the perfect cover. There was no sun to warrant the cover but it still felt nice. Like a memory of the world they’d left.

“Sit down, kid. You look exhausted.” He’s not sure when Schlatt became the voice of reason. And he wasn’t the only one judging by the disgusted look on Wilburs face. 

Wilbur scoffed, soot falling from his coat at the action. “What are you, his dad?”

“No. I’m an adult and he’s a kid. Someone ought to look out for him. XD knows you didn’t.”

“He’s my-“ Wilbur starts, and he finds the words dying on his lips. He opens his mouth to continue but decides better of it. He wasn’t a good brother. He knew that. 

Tubbo almost felt bad for him. Almost.

Wilbur said he and Schlatt lit the place up with torches a bit before they’d started to settle down. By that he means he did all the work and Schlatt just sat there and looked pretty. But it was a nice base. The fire was blazing blue flames. Soul fires. He’d never seen a soul fire when he’d been living, now Tubbo wishes he had.

Tommy would have loved it.

It’s nice, Tubbo decides. He likes not having to look over his shoulder. Sure, he’s stuck with two of his abusers , enemies , but what’s the worst that could happen? He’s already dead. He can’t be hurt anymore. Right?

So what if Wilbur still didn’t like him? It wasn’t like he cared what the guy thought. It’s not his problem that some grown ass man doesn’t like him. So what if Wilbur only called him his brother if he got something out of it?

He wasn’t his brother before and he certainly isn’t his brother now.

Then there was Schlatt. Tubbo snuck a glance at him for a second, trying to understand how exactly he feels about the man. He hasn’t tried anything. If anything, he’s been nicer than Wilbur and Phil .

There were no shouts. No bottles. No backhanded comments.

Things were fine.

Tubbo shakes the thoughts from his head once again, not noticing the looks he got. A twig hits his face. His nose twitched in annoyance, whining out, “What the hell, Wil?”

See, he knows it was Wilbur based on the shit eating grin on the mans face.

“You zoned out! We were trying to catch up” Wilbur snickers. He brings a hand up to cover his mouth. It doesn’t do shit.

“Did you have to throw a twig at me to tell me that?”

“Yes. Yes I did,” Wilbur nods. His grin doesn’t let up and it sure doesn’t look like it will for a while. But it was better than a scowl.

Schlatt watched them warily, like things would crumble if he didn’t. Maybe they would. Who knows. “Alright then, let’s play a game.”

“Two truths and a lie.” Both Wilbur and Tubbo decided immediately. They didn’t look at each other when the decision was made. They just made it. It’s always been their favorite game.

Phil would play with them sometimes. Techno too.

And XD forbid anyone other than Tubbo start the game. It should be easy enough, he thought. He’d give them something hard and see what they said.

It’s not like they really knew him anyways.

He lets a grin settle onto his face, rocking in his chair gently, “I’m a walking radiation hazard, I didn’t know I was a hybrid until I became president, and I was Techno’s favorite.”

The two men paused, both thinking over their answers. 

“Phil was Techno’s favorite.” Honestly, Wilbur was mostly offended. If anything, Phil was Techno’s favorite. Techno hadn’t liked anyone for the longest. He barely came around when Tommy and Tubbo joined the mix. 

Tubbo leveled him with a look. “I mean his favorite sibling.”

“I didn’t realize you two spent that much time together,” Wilbur clarified. His voice betrayed him, letting Tubbo hear all the bitterness he felt. But a look from Schlatt and a dejected look from Tubbo made him backtrack. “I’m not upset with you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t want to. No words could even begin to explain how he felt about it. Oh well. “Still gonna guess?”

Wilbur snorted, then answered simply, “Three’s a lie. We’re twins. I have to be his favorite.”

“…you’re no ones favorite, Wilbur,” Schlatt adds.

“Right… Totally,” Tubbo turned to the other hybrid, tilting his head curiously, “Got any guesses?”

There’s a squawk from Wilbur, then a sigh, then another twig being thrown at Tubbo. He ignored the look Tubbo gives him in favor of dusting soot off of his coat. It never really seems to go away.

Schlatt is thinking really hard for a man who’s been drunk in 99% of his public outings. It’s like he knows something. Tubbo almost asks him what’s wrong, only being cut off by the mans sudden shout, “The hybrid one is a lie!”

What.

Both Tubbo and Wilbur look at him, confused. But Tubbo’s the one to ask for clarification. “…what?”

“It was during my presidency. Your horns are in your hair somewhere. Can’t fool me, kid,” Schlatt continues easily. He’s right and he knows he is. But it doesn’t make any fucking sense.

Schlatt was drunk for almost every second of his presidency. There was no way he remembered that. Unless he wrote it down or he’s bullshitting.

Tubbo shakes his head, ready to deny this to his last dying breath, “It’s actually the first one.”

The older ram looks at him. He doesn’t say anything for a while. Then, a lazy grin spans across his face. He gets up, walking over to Tubbo and kneeling in front of him. The kid’s barely given any time to think before Schlatt is ruffling his hair, looking for a specific thing.

His horns.

“You found out you had these when I was president. I gave you a week off,” Schlatt laughed. His eyes scanned over Tubbo’s face before looking to Wilbur, “My turn now.”

How.

“I always knew where you guys hid the alcohol, I’ve never been sober for more than two weeks excluding death, and… Tubbo was my next in line for president,” and the way Schlatt so accomplished after throwing that bomb on them.

What were they meant to think?

Tubbo looked at Wilbur. Wilbur looked at Tubbo. They rolled their eyes, then nodded. Then at the same time, “You’re so full of shit.”

Schlatt shrugs. “Only one of those is a lie.”

“I made sure you were sober for at least a month! I know I did! You complimented me a lot. I remember!”

“It was only two weeks, kid. I still complimented you when I was drunk.”

“Stop calling me a kid. You sound like you’re my dad,” Tubbo makes a little gagging noise. Schlatt only rolls his eyes. He couldn’t believe the nerve of this kid. Disrespecting him like this?

“How would you know?”

Tubbo doesn’t dignify this with an answer. 

Neither of them notice the withering look Wilbur had given them just moments before. Even he doesn’t know why he did it. Phil was never a father to Tubbo. There’s no reason for him to feel like Schlatt is stealing him. But he starts up his turn anyway.

“Okay easy round since Schlatt decided to only tell lies,” Wilbur whistles, standing up for extra dramatics. “I was the lmanburg traitor, I have a little fox son, and-“ He glances at Tubbo. “I was the one who found and begged Phil to keep Tubbo.”

Everything stops.

“Very funny, Wil. You can stop being an ass now. I don’t want to hear this.”

It’s cruel. Wilbur knows.

“Your dad didn’t leave you in a box, Tubbo. I just told everyone that. And you were so small that eventually you just started believing it,” He continued. “I begged Phil to let you stay with us. I did.”

Because he remembers this differently. Tubbo remembers being five and watching Tommy fight everyone for him. He remembers the blonde finding him and swearing they were brothers now. He remembers Tommys head peeking over the box.

Where the hell did Wilbur fit anywhere in that?

Tubbo finds himself looking at Schlatt only to find that the man was also in disbelief about it. They’re both sharing the same look. The one where their noses scrunch up and their brows furrow and the horns become visible even through Tubbos hair, and nothing makes sense.

Nothing makes sense.

But was there ever really a box?

Wilbur looks anywhere but at Tubbo and continues yet again. “Tommy took a liking to you and Techno did too so I didn’t think twice about it. There was never a box. There was no note saying anyone would come back. I did that.”

“Oh.” Nothing makes sense. Tubbo can feel his hands begin to shake again. Except this time, Schlatt is there trying to calm him down. “You’re kind of an ass.”

“I know.”

“You were a shit brother.”

“…I know.”

The game stops shortly after that. No one wants to bother with it. Wilbur doesn’t apologize. Tubbo wouldn’t have wanted to hear it. 

Chapter Text

It was really no surprise to Tubbo when he was the first one awake. His eyes wandered over the other two and only narrowed slightly when he noticed that they were far from the point of waking up. For a second he wondered what would happen if he just kicked them.

It could be funny, he thought. Wilbur would probably scream like a little girl.

Speaking of Wilbur. Tubbo couldn’t actually bring himself to hate him after that conversation. It was… It was a conversation for sure but it was needed. At least he knew.

Tubbo turns, laying on his back on the grass. He doesn’t mind the itchy feeling of the grass poking through his shirt. Nor the way it feels against his neck, constantly stuck between tickling and irritating. He brings his hands up, crossing them over his chest and staring up at the sky above him.

A million thoughts go through his head at once. Is Tommy alright? Is Dream just toying with everyone? Could Dream really revive the dead like he said he could, and if he could, does that mean he’s a god?

Then his thoughts flipped back to his family again. He loved them. Would always love them. But they weren’t a good family. Phil never even wanted him and Wilbur never looked at him, let alone acknowledged his existence. The only ones who ever did were Tommy and Techno.

Tommy and Techno.

He betrayed one and the other killed him. He killed him. Shot him with a firework. And he lied.

Techno lied to him. It wasn’t painless. It wasn’t colorful. It was loud and bright and it burned. 

It burned.

And he burned.  

At least Wilbur never claimed not to hurt him. He’d never once say he cared or that he didn’t mean to. Wilbur stayed the same.

Which was great! It was perfect.

Tubbo didn’t like change. Not a change that he wasn’t ready for. Take his family for example. His family was never meant to change. They were meant to stay stagnant in their roles. Unsupportive, absent, inattentive, and unforgiving. That was his family.

Except Tommy.

He fidgets with his hands, feeling for the scars lining them. It grounded him in a way. He found himself focusing more on the positive things than the alternative. His hands clam up for a moment, freezing over his wrist. There was no pulse.

Oh right.

“I’m dead,” Tubbo utters to no one but himself and the stars.

—————

First of all, it took a good hour to get Tubbo to answer to anyone but Schlatt(which was really fucking unhelpful if they wanted to communicate as a group). Then another 30 minutes to convince Schlatt that he didn’t need to fight Wilbur after a very hateful comment. Then an additional 15 minutes for them to actually decide on a direction to go.

They passed mountains and plains and forests alike. Some were filled to the brim with brush and life that Tubbo could only dream of understanding. Others were cold and lifeless.

He could feel his entire body go stiff when they walked past those areas. The barren lands, he called it. Tubbo wondered if that was where people like Dream would end up. He asked himself if he even wanted Dream to die.

Probably not.

And for a moment, he swears he can hear voices coming from the Barren Lands. But they didn’t speak in nice words.

Tubbo paid them no mind. Instead he opted for catching up with Schlatt and Wilbur. The two were practically leaving him behind at this point, never once stopping to look behind them. Schlatt was stiff as well. But Wilbur seemed calm.

“Revival or a new start?” Tubbo asks.

It’s almost amusing to watch the two adults falter in their steps. Both of them were too scared to actually respond. Because revival was a privilege. There was no saying people cared enough to revive you.

And a new start was like running away. 

Schlatt answered first. His words were short and quick. “Neither. I don't think anyone would rest peacefully with me being revived.”

Wilbur disagreed. “I think I’d like to see Tommy again… maybe Phil. I’ve got things to apologise for. A new star would be like cheating.”

He briefly registers being asked if he’d like to be revived or allowed a new start. But it’s never really been a main concern of his. He wants that decision to be his choice. 

It’s his life, isn’t it? It should be his choice.

Tubbo lets himself think about what he’d do if he was revived. Honestly, he’d probably go right back to that bench. The bench it all started at. He’d sit there with Tommy and they’d both listen to some stupid disk.

And the music would carry through the air, the sun would set, and he’d be safe. They’d both be safe.

Technoblade would talk to him again. He’d apologise for killing him. Tubbo would apologise for betraying him. Things would be fine. They’d be fine.

Phil would look at him like he was his fucking son. He’d say something like “I’m so proud of you.” Maybe even give him a hug. Or maybe he’d just let him come home.

And Wilbur- Wilbur would stay dead. The skeletons would stay in the closet. There would be no more stupid nightmares about a nation blowing up behind him. No awful declarations in his ears. No more weight on his chests and phantom hands clutching his shoulders, watching him- monitoring him.

He’d be able to breathe. Tubbo would be able to fucking breathe.

He’d be able to show his horns and stop hiding his tail. He could push the hair back from his eyes. Maybe he’d even feel like a person again.

But then it dawns on him. None of that would ever happen. That’s a miracle. Not a revival.

And he doesn’t want to start over. It’d only solidify the fact that his entire life is a lie.

At least in the afterlife it’s nice. Here there’s no explosions. No beer bottles. No porcelain masks or weapons. There’s no constant threat to his safety. There’s no one to force him to be the lifeline of someone who was meant to just be his brother.  

“I think I’d stay,” Tubbo announces, breaking himself from his thoughts. “I think I’d stay here and just make a new life for myself.”

Schlatt hums. “That’s just starting over” 

“No. Starting over would be going back to the beginning. I’m just continuing.”

“Oh yeah?” Wilbur remarks, shooting Tubbo a smile over his shoulder. He’s not looking at him but it’s good enough.

“I don’t have to worry about people using my family against me.”

Wilbur nods. He knows what that’s like. 

They both do. Dream was a cruel man.

No one says anything for a while. They all just enjoy the silence and take in the world. Schlatt mutters directions every now and then but that’s all. Wilbur starts to hum the tune to his songs, tapping his hand against his leg to get into the rhythm.

And maybe they don’t all verbally say it. Maybe they’re all a little fucked up in their own ways. But if anything could keep the thoughts at bay, it’d be Wilburs music.

Tubbo finds himself humming along after time. His tail sways to the tune, ears twitching along with it. “You were in love with Jared, weren’t you?”

The humming stopped and he swore on his life he saw Wilbur choke. It took a minute for the older boy to catch himself. What with all the beating against his chest and the very concerned glances from Schlatt.

“I forgot you knew about Jared,” Wilbur admitted, still struggling to breathe. Soot flies off of his shoulders as he beats against his chest. 

Tubbo notices that his hands are stained. He can’t quite make out what they’re stained with.

There was a small “Inhale and Exhale, Wil.” from up front. Then it was followed up by a genuine snort from Schlatt.

Yes, Tubbo did know about Jared. How could one live with Wilbur and not hear the constant complaints? “You ranted to literal children about him. Tommy was 8 and I was 9.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember Jared!”

“I’m not stupid, Wilbur,” Tubbo shot back. Except it sounded more like a question than anything else.

Wilbur doesn’t respond. Instead he focuses on the travelling part of their trip.

Tubbo takes that as his cue to pay attention to the area they’re in. He scans over the forest, eyeing anything that could be suspicious. It’s not like the forest is dim though. It’s actually the complete opposite. 

The trees were lined with vibrant purple leaves. Each one was a different shade and some would twinkle under the light. Flowers littered the floor, lighting up like nightlights as they passed. None of the party noticed the way the lights flickered from white to blue as they passed.

It was boring.

He was bored.

“Schlatt, how much longer? Are we there yet?” Tubbo whines, dragging his shoes across the floor. He stifles a snicker at Schlatt’s obvious annoyance. “Schlatt.”

Schlatt does not pay attention.

Tubbo only gets louder. “Schlatt please! I’m going to start stabbing shit.”

He is ignored further. 

Tubbo starts to seriously consider the benefits of nukes. The thought seems familiar in a way he can’t exactly place. He felt like he had the knowledge there at the back of his mind…

He shakes the thought from his head, looking back to the forest. He’d seen most of it before. Flowers that glow, trees that reach for you, vines with dripping flowers attached. There were trees that bent over to give them shade.

But the mushrooms stood out the most. They weren’t normal. They were blank. It was like someone had purposely painted them to stand out among all the other colors. In fact, the entire area surrounding them seemed to lose its pigment as well. 

Tubbo eyed them warily, hesitating to touch the mushroom heads. But nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

It didn’t even leave a mark upon his skin.

Tubbo turned his attention back to his companions. They were both waiting for him at the end of the forest where the light began to break through. He snuck another glance at the growing absence of life around the mushroom, tilting his head. The mushroom followed his movement.

“Tubbo! We found a path!” Schlatt calls. “Don’t make me come in there.”

Tubbo squints at the mushroom, daring it to move again. 

Schlatt calls again, louder this time and joined by Wilbur. “Tubbo!”

“I’ll come back to this,” He muttered. Then, without another thought, he turned and left.

He didn’t notice when the spot where he touched the mushroom began to turn blue. No, he was already gone.

“Were you talking to a mushroom? You’re such a strange little man,” Wilbur jokes.

Tubbo flipped him off.

“What the fuck?”

Double flipped him off.

“Wilbur you’re a grown ass man but you have the maturity of a fucking toddler.” Schlatt promptly separates the two.

It does just about nothing.

Schlatt could only watch, almost fond as the two continued to argue. He shot Wilbur a halfhearted with red rimmed eyes, making the man laugh at his antics. 

“I did not die just to babysit you both in the afterlife,” Schlatt chuckles. His breath labored and his eyes narrowed, almost squeezing shut. Almost like he was struggling to continue. The thought scared Tubbo in a way. A way he hadn’t felt since the first time he saw Schlatt die.

Schlatt brought up a hand to clutch at his chest. His eyes squeezed shut, like he was reliving his death all over again. His skin flashed between its normal tone and this awful washed out grey. It was like he was… dying.

“Schlatt?” He asks as he comes down from the treetops. Tubbo glances at Wilbur, not comforted at all by the mirrored look of concern. 

Wilbur takes a step forward, extending an arm to push Tubbo back from whatever was going on. He doesn’t falter when Tubbo tries to push past him. His voice is shaky when he speaks, “Is it happening?”

A grunt.

The world rumbles beneath them, angry and impatient. 

And after what felt like ages, Schlatt waved a hand at them flippantly. He wiped something away with his sleeve, making a point of not showing Tubbo what the hell it was. 

“I’m fine. It happens around here sometimes. Drawbacks of not looking like I was just put through a shredder,” Schlatt shrugs. His voice betrays nothing of his real feelings. If Tubbo were anyone else he’d think that Schlatt was telling the truth. 

But he wasn’t.

Tubbo stepped forward, approaching as slowly as he could. Fear was the only thing clouding his mind. The fear of being alone. The fear of losing someone. Wilbur steps forward with him.

And Schlatt lets them.

So if they spent the next 10 minutes with Tubbo sniffling into Schlatt’s suit while Wilbur and Schlatt shared a silent conversation, then no one would comment on it.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t until that night that things started to change a bit more.

It started with Schlatt saying that he and Wilbur needed to go and get more materials. So they were going… mining.

Shady. Schlatt has never picked up a tool in his life and WIlbur hates armor and hard work and anything involving manual labor that he has to partake in. For example, literally all of Pogtopia and L’Manberg. Tubbo built that.

But he doesn’t question it too much. Instead he just nods, adding a small comment about them actually coming back. They don’t need to know that he’s scared of it. The dark. Being alone. Being vulnerable.

He’s fine.

Tubbo’s fine.

“Don’t stay up waiting. We’ll probably be back late,” Wilbur calls.

He watches them go without another word. Though he does smile back when Schlatt gives him a little wave. Things are looking up for him. It’s just a shame he had to die for that to happen.

Tubbo tries to stay up. He does. But not even he can resist the way the soul fire swayed in front of him. His eyes followed its movements lazily. His ear twitched, trying to keep himself awake just to wait for them. He could wait for them.

But minutes started to feel like hours.

And he was only 15.

“Just a quick nap,” He yawned. His eyes drooped and his breathing slowed. The fire seemed to flicker in and out with each slow blink. Tubbo was asleep before he could even fight it.

——————

This one wasn’t that long ago.

It was during Schlatt’s presidency and a little before things got bad. Tubbo was about 14 at the time. He really only remembered because this was the same night his horns started coming in.

It was also the night that Techno joined the server.

He wasn’t scared. He hadn’t learned to be scared. Not yet.

Tubbo just watched as Schlatt stumbled around the room, bumping into anything and everything around him. The ram was drunk. He had to have been. 

He stood, swaying on his feet dangerously as he tried to make his way over to Tubbo, words slurring together in the way that only drunken confessions can. Most of which were variations of “im sorry, kid” and “they’re missing out.”

It didn’t take a genius to guess who “they” was.

And back then, Tubbo could only nod and rush to help him stand. He’d carried the man to the couch, all the while humming along to whatever it was that Schlatt said. 

This was a frequent occurrence, Tubbo noted. It happened every few weeks. Schlatt would get antsy and find the alcohol and he’d end up like this. A mess of a man. At first Tubbo had been scared to approach him, but about a week in he started to notice the way everyone else would disregard the man when he got this bad. 

He just didn’t want anyone to die.

“Tubbo?” Schlatt said, letting Tubbo lower him onto the couch. “‘m proud of you, kid.”

So Tubbo didn’t regret this memory as much. He didn’t regret setting Schlatt down on the couch on the couch that night. “I know, Schlatt.”

“You’re sucha good ki-“ Schlatt started, falling asleep mid sentence if his snores were anything to go by. 

But then the dream began to shift from his memories. He moved to set a blanket over Schlatt, muttering a small, “Goodnight Schlatt.” 

The walls began to peel and the floor sank. His ears rang with the sound of war. 

The blanket fell from his hands.

Because Schlatt was so still and there was blood on his mouth and his eyes were wide and unflinching. 

And Tubbo screamed.

————

He woke up needing to cough his lungs out. Tubbo turned to the others. He knew they were asleep but he just wanted to know they were okay. He’s never been in this place before. He knows no one. He needs them.

Tubbo looks them over, seeing that Wilbur is actually dead asleep. He definitely wouldn’t wake up even if Tubbo called to him. 

So that only left Schlatt. Schlatt who was barely moving. But he looked calm? Deathly calm. Maybe- No, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Schlatt?” Tubbo questions in a whisper. He waits for a second before asking again. “Schlatt?”

Silence.

He wasn’t going to freak out. He was a little louder this time “Get up.” 

“You should let him rest. He needs it.” Turns out, Wilbur wasn’t as deep in his sleep as Tubbo thought he was. The mood seemed to shift when he sat up. He didn’t bother fixing the beanie that had fallen off his head in the middle of the night. Instead the older boy just shot Tubbo a look. It’s a mix between a glare and concern.

Looking at him now, Tubbo could see a faint scar just below his neck. It was slanted, like he’d just been cut in half and left to mend. Tubbo wonders distantly if it was from the final control room. 

“Nightmare?” Wilbur guessed. 

Tubbo nods stiffly. His head reels with the reality of this entire conversation. He’s had it before. Only once. It was one sided then too. The only difference is he’s older now and the nightmare actually came true.

All of a sudden he felt like he was seven and asking to sleep in Wilburs room again. Because just like back then, Wilbur just made room at his side, inviting Tubbo in. It’s an invitation that Tubbo accepted.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Both not exactly knowing what to say. The only noise being the crackling of the soul fire. 

Tubbo tried to ignore the distinct smell of gunpowder and wine. It stings his nose, making him think back to his days in L’Manberg. To rebuilding the nation. A nation that he loved so dearly.

He didn’t know what to do or what to say at all. At least Wilbur was kind. He turned so his back was facing Tubbo, softly humming a familiar tune. His voice was small as he clarified. “I think the smell of gunpowder follows me around as a reminder of what I did.”

Tubbo let out a soft hum of acknowledgment. He’d be lying if he said he couldn’t feel sleep slowly taking over him. Eyes slowly drooping shut even before Wilbur began to speak. Not that Wil would know. 

“I’m not sure we’ll ever be brothers again. I’m not sure we ever were to begin with. I was a bad brother to you and Tommy. I know this. But we got here and I tried to build something better for all of us. Somewhere away from Phil.”

The hybrid edged closer to Wil’s back, telling himself it was only because Wilbur was warm.

“And I messed up somewhere far along the way,” Wilbur pauses, taking a shaky breath. “I used you and Tommy and Fundy in the final control room. I let Techno blow you up, let him beat Tommy to death in a pit of my own creation and I excused it. I blew up L’Manberg with you in it… and I- I’m not saying I wouldn’t have blown it up regardless but I didn’t- I never wanted you to end up here.”

There’s a pause where the air stills. It’s like the entire world took a moment to process the words. Even the fire had stilled from its place on the logs, no longer swaying with the breeze.

“I don’t want you to think that I hate you because that’s far from the truth,” He’s not very good at showing it. “You never really needed us. You never needed me. Not like Tommy had. So it was easier to think of you as Tommy’s friend rather than my brother. It still is. The same way Phil will never truly be seen as our father, just Techno’s.”

Tubbo shifts closer, chasing the warmth once again. Maybe his subconscious knows that Wilbur is apologizing. Shifting them closer in hopes that Tubbo will somehow understand or receive the message even in his sleep.

Wilbur took a second to catch his breath then. Shoulders shaking tensely at the idea of having someone so close. He didn’t turn around to face him. It would have been too much too soon. So he nodded jerkily, continuing, “L’manberg is- was a symphony. My symphony. But I passed it on to you, as all great symphonies should be. And I think I regret taking that beautiful symphony and twisting it into a weapon against you.” 

He’s met with silence.

Wilbur turns, facing him now. His eyes scan over him, taking in the sight he hadn’t seen since he was 11. Then, softly, “Goodnight Tubbo.”

————

Tubbo’s in the void.

He’s falling.

There’s no one to catch him. It hurts.

It’s splitting him apart.

The universe is understanding. It’s changing. Forming around him in an attempt to catch him before he truly falls.

They miss.

And it’s just like the first time. When he died and knew that was it. Tubbo can’t place the exact moment he realized he wouldn’t respawn. He could, however, recall how painful it was. He could recount the feeling of the blood clogging his throat.

He remembers choking on it, hands coming up to claw at his throat, to relieve himself of the awful feeling. Tubbo remembers feeling the tears welling in his eyes as he gagged. The way his voice came up short anytime he tried to call someone, anyone, to help him.

“Dad-“ There’s blood and bile clogging his throat. “I don’t want to see Wilbur!”

It’s pooling beneath him.

“Please- Make it stop please-“

He’s still dying. He calls for Techno and for Tommy.

For Quackity.

For Dream.

His words are echoed back to him. Then nothing.

…

…

…

When he was younger he would watch Techno train. Training started early in the morning and ended just before lunch. But it was specifically a Saturdays and Sundays thing only.

So every Saturday morning, Tubbo would wake up and oh so sneakily follow Techno to his little clearing. Now that he thinks about it, Techno probably knew he was following him the entire time. He probably let him watch. 

Except for one day where Techno told him to quit hiding and just sit and watch.

“You’re not very good at sneaking around,” Techno said, suddenly stopping to look at him. His head tilts to the side like he’s studying the kid. “Am I your favorite or something?”

Tubbo thought on it before nodding.

“You’re weird.”

But neither of them were upset about it and Tubbo only really improved on his sneaking skills from there. 

And nothing is good forever because eventually Wilbur finds out and tells him to stop sneaking out. All it takes is a quiet “Techno said I could watch” for Wilbur to just tell him to be careful. Of course he listens. It’s Wilbur. Wilbur’s just looking out for him.

Later that day, Phil is telling him the same thing. That it’s dangerous. Stay here. Play with Tommy. Be quiet. It’s his first time ever really telling Tubbo to do anything. The mans voice is dismissive and he doesn’t even really think he wants to be there. 

Maybe Tubbo doesn’t completely remember what Phil said at the time. He was like six. But all he could remember were the words “Tommy’s friend”. Not his adopted son(which he was). Not Techno’s brother. 

Tommy’s friend.

——————

No one is happy when they wake up. Schlatt has an armful of child. Wilbur is bullied by said child. Tubbo does not want to stand and will not stand.

None of them comment on Tubbo’s hair being tied back for once. 

“Schlatt! Carry me!”

He’s too old for this. Schlatt is too old for this. “Why are you so clingy?!”

There is a pause. Then a snort, then a cackle, and suddenly Schlatt is being laughed at by both Tubbo and Wilbur.

Except it’s mostly Tubbo. He’s laughing like he used to before the wars. Before everything went south. Back to when it was just him and his little family all over again. 

And Wilbur was watching his brother more than he was laughing. His eyes were cast solely on the way he looked happy. He never thought he’d miss that. For a second, he almost forgot about the soot in his hair and on his clothes. L’manberg was nothing but a distant memory.

“Yeah yeah, very funny. Let’s go now,” Schlatt grumbled. He only really moved Tubbo to his back, adjusting the way he held on. 

Wilbur shot them both a thumbs up and started leading them down another path. He has to fight yet another wave of laughter at the sight of Tubbo clinging to Schlatts back like a koala. “What a nice backpack you have there”

“Thanks. He bites”

“I know. He used to bite Techno’s ears when he was in Piglin form. Techno swore he would be a little piglin hybrid,” Wilbur snorts.

Tubbo lets them talk. He was still tired.

He was always tired.

And they were off. Another month of traveling. None of them really knew they’d been travelling. Or how long it’d been since they left the train.

Wilbur would say it’s been 14 years and 7 months for him in the afterlife. He travelled with them for a year and 6 months. Tubbo agrees. Schlatt very reluctantly let that be the official time

Chapter Text

It was Tubbo’s idea to find a place to set up a home. It was his idea to find somewhere nice and full of any semblance of life. He only wanted to be normal. Maybe he should’ve taken the hint when his ears picked up on noises that weren’t there. Or when he felt the urge to just leave.

Wilbur was the one to stop when he saw something too familiar to be safe. He held an arm out, stopping Tubbo behind him the same way he did when Schlatt collapsed. “Wait. I know this place.”

Tubbo should have listened.

The arm in front of him only served to push him further back until all he could see was Wil’s coat. It was a protective gesture now. Meaning something was wrong or it would go wrong. The smell of gunpowder stung his nose, somehow worse than it's ever been before.

Schlatt continues on, muttering, “I’ll go check it out.”

And it’s then that the worry kicks in and Tubbo finds himself in a weird situation. Because he can clearly hear humming in his ears. He can practically feel the force of an anthem he hasn’t heard since its creation. Tubbo’s nose wrinkles, hissing, “Wilbur cut it out.”

“I’m not doing shit.”

“I can literally hear you!”

Schlatt pipes up, interrupting their conversation. It’s probably better that he did. “Uhhh we’re… we’re home.”

Home?

Tubbo watches Wilbur shove Schlatt out of the way, bounding forwards towards… home. He doesn’t register half of the yelling or the arguing. He can’t hear anything in this state. All he can do is think about the possibility of being home.

They were dead . There was no fucking home.

Tubbo doesn’t have a home. Hasn’t had one since Phil took Techno and went server hopping. Not since Wilbur took Tommy and founded a nation. Maybe it wasn’t a real home. But it was his.

He feels himself taking a step forward, against his will for the most part. He’s not sure if he’s being pulled along or if he’s actually moving. But something’s wrong. He’s being drawn there rather than going on his own.

Tubbo continues walking, passing both Wilbur and Schlatt while they’re enraptured in their own argument. Each step weighs on his mind in a different way. It’s like his brain can’t decide whether or not he wants to see it.

It’s almost a shame that the decision is made for him either way. Because it’s right as he’s taking his last steps that he notices the flag on the floor. It’s worn and tattered and littered with different marks and burns. 

But he’d recognize it anywhere.

Tubbo bends over to pick it up, hands shaking on the way. His eyes flick over the details, almost in disbelief. It couldn’t be the real one. It couldn’t.

The flag is the same design as it’s always been. It’s the original L’Manberg flag. He should know. He was there to see it’s creation.

He can hear their anthem even now. 

“Well, I've heard there was a special place,

Where men could go and emancipate”

He couldn’t breathe.

“The brutality and the tyranny of their rulers.

Well, this place is real, we needn't fret”

Tubbo briefly registers the shuddering cry that rings through the air. He doesn’t know that it’s him.

“With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, fuck Eret

It's a very big and not blown up L’Manberg”

There’s hands on him. Some are pulling him away from the flag. Others are pulling him close. 

And it hurts. It hurts so much.

Tubbo can feel his hair get pushed back from his face. He hears a gasp from his left, it’s Wilbur. Then there’s hands on either side of his face and Schlatt’s looking at him, concerned as all hell. “It’s not real. It’s like a fucking limbo.”

He reaches out, grabbing hold of Schlatt’s sleeve desperately. The song’s still ringing in his ears but he doesn’t pay it any mind. He’s fine.

“S’not real,” Tubbo repeats, looking back to the nation behind them. Back to staring at this echo of a nation. It’s New L’manhole. Except the Techno’s execution stand is still here. Well, it’s both of their execution stands. 

The one Technoblade shot him at and the one Tubbo killed him at.

Schlatt’s ranting about getting out of there and finding some way around it. Wilbur wants to see why it’s here. To understand what the hell is going on.

But Tubbo’s already walking down there. He’s already roaming the once busy streets, not sparing a single glance at the rubble. No, he has a place in mind right now.

He wants to see the echo of the festival. The firework shells and the stray arrows. The lingering smell of gunpowder and fire. He can even see the blood leftover from Techno’s little temper tantrum.

Tubbo stops at the sight of the crossbow on the floor. This brown, blood stained crossbow. It’s almost amusing that there could be blood on a long range weapon. One would think that the weapon would be used at long range , you know, the way it’s supposed to be used. 

Except some people, some special little pigs, liked to shoot people at point blank range.

He tilts his head, nudging the crossbow with his shoe lightly. It doesn’t shoot another firework or somehow combust. Technblade doesn’t just appear and shoot him again. Because it’s just a crossbow. It’s a crossbow and the real weapon that night was Techno.

And he laughs. It’s a bitter, resentful laugh but it’s a laugh nonetheless. Tubbo can feel his eyes well with those angry tears he’d kept at bay for years. Hands coming up to rub at his eyes and cover his face.

Because it’s wrong. It’s wrong to think of Techno as this weapon. The man had been his brother before he’d been the weapon, the monster, the object of his nightmares. 

Technoblade Craft was his brother once and now he was just a nightmare. Maybe that’s the part that hurts the most. The fact that his own brother couldn’t find a way around killing him. That his excuse was peer pressure. 

God, peer pressure . That’s the type of excuse you use when all your friends ditch class so you go with them. Not when there’s one person telling you to shoot your little brother to death and a crowd full of horrified bystanders, basically praying that you don’t do it.

He’d wanted to scream or cry or make a scene. Throw something or hit him where it hurts. But he knew that it wouldn’t matter because Technoblade was the blood god. He was the prized son. The prized fighter. The warrior, the weapon, the god, and the blade.

And that was enough.

Tubbo thinks about the times Techno taught him to use this same crossbow. The crossbow that was meant to be his anyway. And it hits him. Techno would have wanted it in good hands.

Sure, the guy basically disowned him, but there was nothing keeping Tubbo from just taking it. What was Techno gonna do? Die out of pure spite and take it back? Nah.

“It’s got my blood on it anyway,” Tubbo scoffs, picking it up now and weighing it in his hands. It doesn’t disappear like he wants it to. It just sits there, heavy yet weightless in his hands. He points it at the nearest thing, focusing solely on the small aiming frame. “No wonder it took two.”

Distantly, he can hear both Wilbur and Schlatt asking him what he’s doing. Well, mostly Schlatt. Wilburs just standing there uselessly. As usual.

“I’m fine. It’s just a fucking crossbow, big man,” He responds.

Except Wilburs holding a blood stained sword when he turns to face them. The two share a look of understanding. Maybe Tubbo had forgotten that he wasn’t the only one failed by family in L’manberg.

They’re both content with Schlatt choosing not to speak on either subject. It’s better this way.

“What’s with the anvil?” Wilbur questions.

Tubbo thinks of a way to word the phrase ‘Oh y’know, it’s from when I killed my brother.’ Before deciding that he wouldn’t need to sugarcoat it. “I killed Techno with it. Dropped it on his head. Killed him like he killed me.”

Schlatt joins the conversation then. “You- what?”

“Just what I said. Eye for an eye. Except not really. Did you know he really doesn’t die?” Tubbo’s nose scrunches up at the reminder. “Dream helped him out and then- get this- he fucking sided with him and blew up the nation again. Even da- Phil joined.”

And the other two are silent. Neither quite knowing what to say.

“They couldn’t even look at me when they did it. Techno personally shot me off of a platform just to tell me to stay down. That I was no brother of his,” his voice borders on hysteria for a moment, a laugh bubbling from his chest again. His grip on the crossbow tightens, waving it with his words.

Schlatt takes a step forward but otherwise doesn’t respond. He’s willing to listen when he’s in the wrong. 

It’s Wilbur that’s unpredictable. He’s eyeing his little sword like he wants to use it. To hurt someone. Yet anytime he looks up, all he does is glare at Tubbo.  Then he turns to Schlatt, murmuring something for only the ram to hear. Though it’s obviously not what Schlatt wants to hear because he takes matters into his own hands.

It’s Schlatt's decision to simply walk up to Tubbo, pluck the crossbow from his hands and place his hands on either of his shoulders. “You don’t need that asshole anyways. He’s just a pig in a crown.”

The younger boy just looks up at him, eyes widening a fraction. Whether it be in surprise or disbelief is lost on him. Then he has to stifle a laugh. “A pig in a crown?”

“Yes!” Schlatt snorts, letting go of Tubbo’s shoulders in favor of touching the tip of Tubbo’s horns. “You could easily just impale him with these.”

“I could, couldn’t I?”

And maybe Wilbur’s being a dick. He should be giving Tubbo this time to move on. He owes it to the kid. But, even now he finds that awful feeling of jealousy rises up in him. Jealousy over their relationship. Anger over how quickly the 15 year old is getting over it. Over how easily he’s willing to forgive Schlatt but he won’t even sit in the same room as him.

Phil wasn’t a father, Wilbur reminds himself. Phil was more like a roommate. Except the man claimed to have three sons. Favoring the first and dumping the third on the second. Only Phil had four sons. Technoblade, Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo.

So when Schlatt made a comment about Tubbo being a damn good kid, Wilbur just looked away. His fists might have clenched and his teeth may have grinded together. He may have made sure to bump shoulders with the ram when he passed. But he’d never open his mouth against it, against them , because this was the least he deserved. Tubbo deserved to move on. 

Even if Wilbur couldn’t. 

———

Tubbo remembers having this argument. He was around 11 at the time. That age where you learn that people only listen when you yell.

He’s not even sure what possessed him to go into the kitchen and ask what he did. God, he doesn’t even remember who he asked. Their faces blended together in the end and made this awful monster. A mix of Phils disappointed face and both his and Wilburs voices. 

“Tubbo?”

“What am I to you?”

“What-”

“What am I?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Answer!”

“You- you’re Tubbo.”

“But what does that mean? Just answer me. It’s not hard. I live with you, I wake you up in the morning, you taught me how to read, we eat breakfast together! So what am I?”

“…”

“Why can’t you just answer?” 

“…”

“If I were Tommy, you would know.” 

“That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Then just tell me what I am!”

“You’re Tubbo. Tommy’s friend, Tubbo.”

They didn’t even respond. They just sent him to his room. Because their word was law and he was nothing but Tubbo. Not a member of the family. Not a brother. Not a son. Just Tommy's friend, Tubbo.

———

When Tubbo woke from the dream his immediate reaction was going back to the festival stand. He snuck from his bed in the camp, carefully stepping over Wilbur and Schlatt. The ground beneath him even seemed to aid his efforts, silencing his movements as he left. He found it easy to avoid looking back. 

The walk back to L’Manberg was easier this time around. Chanting and singing didn’t reach his ears as it had last time. Probably because he’d gotten used to it.

The wind blew past him, guiding him towards the stand and to the crossbow. It sang in his ears and encouraged him to go further. Vines and roots almost seemed to come forward at his arrival, revealing what he assumed to be a firework loaded into it. It didn’t explode.

He almost wished it would.

Tubbo stopped, staring at it for a moment. Wondering if this was really the firework that killed him or if the world was playing some sick joke on him. The same sick joke it’d been playing every other night. With his dreams, his nightmares, and his memories.

So Tubbo sits, hugging his knees to his chest as he stares up at the execution stand. It’s elevated now, sitting atop the parts of the nation that had stood even through the explosions. His mind races with the memories of that night. The words Techno had said to him. The look Wilbur had given him from the rooftop. Schlatt’s awful laughter.

He hears the footsteps coming up behind him but he doesn’t do anything about it. Waiting for the person to just reveal themselves. 

“Tubbo?”

Chapter Text

“Tubbo?”

Tubbo doesn’t respond or look back. He’s too focused on the center of the box. Knowing that there was a time where he was in it. Where he was two weeks from 15 and he was being killed publicly. All for what? Peer pressure. A nation that blew up anyways?

Wilbur repeats his words, this time stressing the hey. As if he’s trying to get his attention. 

“Wil,” Tubbo replies shortly. He’s not all there. It’s not his fault.

“Sitting here isn’t gonna make you feel better. Trust me.”

So what if it didn’t? It was helping now. Seeing his downfall was helping. Grounding him.

Tubbo’s hand searched for the crossbow next to him, dragging it closer. He thinks it’s an act of comfort but the object gives him anything but that. Maybe he was scared that Techno would find some way to come back and shoot him. Explode him like he did. Maybe he’d even get it on the first try this time.

“Why do you care about them so much? About L’manberg so much?” Wilbur interjected. He’s speaking as the founder of the nation here. He knows what it’s like to run it, to love it. But he’ll never understand why Tubbo of all people would hold onto it.

Tubbo feels the irritation and the anger rise before he can even stop it. His voice is small when he answers, “Because it was my home, Wilbur! They were supposed to be my family.”

“And you can make a new one,” Wilbur scoffs, not understanding what he’s on about. It’s not that fucking hard. The musician didn’t exactly have a family either. Not anymore, at least. So what was Tubbo complaining about? 

A moment passes between them. The world is silent with them. Almost as if it’s waiting for them to continue their conversation. Listening to their voices and answering in kind.

The flowers of the small chasm begin to bloom, leaving behind their own little glow. All up until they reach the ruins. The light never quite reaches it. Something Wilbur finds poetic in a sense.

Because even he knows that the light will no longer shine on L’Manberg.

“Did you know that Techno used to train me in those woods? The ones you told me not to go to,” Tubbo asks, breaking the silence between them. “I would follow him out there and he’d let me because I was quiet. And I was completely content with that, but he still asked to train me.”

Wilbur sits down beside him, eyes glued to the stand as well. He didn’t interrupt though. Instead he just hummed low for Tubbo to know he was listening.

He wonders if this is the first time Tubbo has told anyone this or if it’s just the first time he’s actually listened.

Tubbo almost seems to tremble at the added company. “I think he was the only one other than Tommy who could call me his brother no matter what.”

“I called you my brother. I said it,” Wilbur interrupted.

He doesn’t want to talk about this.

“Why did you blow up L’Manberg?” 

Wilbur raises a brow but answers it easily enough. “It wasn’t mine anymore. I worked too hard and lost too much for it to just be gone. L’Manberg is- was a place free of tyranny and rulers. We were independent and free and I loved it. I loved the people in it as well.”

“That doesn’t-“ Tubbo starts, stopping at Wilbur's glare.

The older continues, “It was my legacy. My life. L’Manberg was all I had and I built it from the ground up. It was mine. Then Schlatt took it. He took it and they just accepted it. Everyone turned on me like the traitors they are.” 

There’s a pause. Tubbos breath hitches, like he knows what Wilbur’s going to say. That he was a traitor. That Tubbo, at age 14, was just supposed to run after him and risk his own life. Just like Tommy had.

Except Wilbur doesn’t. Not completely.

“Well, you all betrayed me. Not just you. Everyone did. And I figured that if no one would listen to me or be on my side, even after I risked everything for them, then I’d take my legacy back. I’d bring an end to their nation and I’d meet my end with it.”

Wilbur’s looking through the stand when he says it. His eyes are one place but it’s clear that he’s talking about the room. Filled with buttons and little delusions of a peace, a happiness.

It’s just not fair. 

“I never betrayed you,” Tubbo choked out, still thinking of the fireworks in his eye. On his skin. Burning him and everything around him. “I never- You had to have known that I never meant to betray you?”

“Tubbo-“

“I didn’t- I wouldn’t-“

“You did.” And Wilbur’s glaring at him. He’s glaring with all the contempt he can muster. Because Tubbo doesn’t get it. He’d never get it. Tubbo wouldn’t understand what it was like to have one thing to his name. One single thing. 

He wouldn’t understand watching it be twisted into the opposite of its purpose. Watching the people care less about you. Suddenly you’ve gone from word on the street to the man that everyone avoids.

They called him crazy. Deranged. God, Phil had called him possessive.

But none of them got it.

“Tubbo you didn’t do anything. That was enough,” Wilbur stated. Though it came out more bitter than he intended. “I’m not upset about it. I see now that there was nothing you could have done, but back then I think I hated you.”

Tubbo wipes the snot from his nose, sniffling as quietly as possible. It’s not that big of a deal anymore. Honestly, he doesn’t know why it still gets to him. This was common sense. Wilburs view on him has never been a secret. It was probably the most obvious thing in the fucking world to anyone else.

“Did you ever see me as family?” He asks, smaller than anything else he’s said that night.

There’s a pause.

Neither of them talk for a second.

Then, Wilbur fills the silence with a thoughtful hum. “I don’t know. Maybe at first. Then I just… stopped.”

Oh.

That’s okay, he thinks. He didn’t want to know everything anyway. Some of his questions just didn’t need an answer. 

But suddenly the reality of this answer hit him. It was personified in the family pictures with everyone but him. The lack of his drawings on the fridge. The awkward praises thrown at Phil for “taking in his sons best friend.”

It was suffocating and hurtful and everything Tubbo died to avoid. He could feel his heart sink in his chest yet again, like he had just been doused in ice cold water. The festival podium seemed closer than it's ever been, repeating the words that Schlatt had said to him that night. Burning his skin with the fireworks he’s been scared to face.

And eyes. Eyes everywhere around him. All from different faces and backgrounds. Watching him like he was some type of display. Except there were always 2 pairs of eyes that stared differently.

There were the red eyes, filled with nothing but distrust and bloodlust. The person they belonged to, Tecnoblade, couldn’t deny the voices. No, he could never deny the voices. Not even if his brother was at stake. That gaze never left his mind fully. Not even when the fire and the burning sensation reached him. But it wasn’t nearly as memorable as the brown eyes.

The brown eyes that stared from the top of the roof. The ones that held no emotion behind them. The ones that belonged to Wilbur Soot. The same Wilbur Soot who basically raised him. Yes, his brother. His older brother who never once looked at him and saw Tubbo. All he saw was some kid. Tommy’s best friend. The boy in the box.

“Technoblade won’t hurt you.”

Yeah fucking right.

And maybe that’s what brought Tubbo to talk about his death. Maybe it was the bitter taste that Wilburs name left in his mouth that made him bring up the betrayals.

“I wasn’t scared when I died. Not the last time, at least,” He blurts out. “I was just tired. Tired of the wars, the arguing, the loss of friends, of Tommy. I was just tired of it all.”

Wilbur watches him warily, eyes widening a fraction at the sudden change in topic.

“I think I just wanted to be done. I wanted to stop hurting. I wanted people to stop hurting me. And- I just wanted it over. I wanted to be over it. Dead. Unable to be hurt or used or lied to,” he stops to catch his breath. The world almost spins for a second, no longer being there with Wilbur. 

Wilbur must have just caught onto something because he’s suddenly speaking with emotion he hadn’t used in any prior conversation. “Tubbo, how did you die?” 

“I told you it was Dream.”

“Just humor me.”

“I said it was Dream. I don’t want to talk about thi-“

“Tubbo please.” Wilbur cuts him off, something of desperation in his tone.

And Tubbo fell in line.

“Dream called me his little brother. He made me think I was doing something right and that I was an amazing leader and he lied.” A pause. “I thought- It was dumb to believe him. I know that. But he treated me like a person. And he called me his family and I fell right into his trap. Then at the last second, he calls me a pawn.”

Tubbo’s just a pawn!

“He brought me and Tommy into this room and he made me say goodbyes and he said he’d make it as painless as possible,” Tubbo breaks off for a moment. His eyes give the idea that he’s just reliving it. He’s remembering that night. In that room. In that box. 

And Wilbur doesn’t say anything.

In fact, he’s not even paying attention. He’s dusting dirt and soot from his shoulders, sparing not one glance at Tubbo. Wilbur almost seems distant.

Like he’s uninterested in the answer. The answer to the question he asked.

Neither of them talk for a moment. They all settle for recovering from the brief panic of seeing this shithole again. Though Wilburs gaze was still the same. He was still staring down that stupid fucking pit. He even had the nerve to look disgusted.

Tubbo was the opposite. He wanted this to hurt.

He wanted to hurt him. To hurt Wilbur. 

He’d never wanted something more in his life and he wasn’t even sure why. Violence was never his first choice. It was always his second or his last. He didn’t raise a hand when Dream was there and trying to kill him. No, he only did that when Tommy was at stake.

Because back then everything was about Tommy. Every last thing.

”Is that it?” Tubbo asked, tone bordering on anger. He can’t quite grasp Wilburs point there. Why had he asked? There was no point. Not when he wasn’t going to elaborate. “You do all of this just for that? You should’ve just sent Schlatt to talk to me. He would’ve done a better job than you’re doing.”

”I don’t know what you want me to say,” Wilbur admitted softly, guiltily, as he stared down the giant hole where L’Manberg used to stand. “I can’t- Nothing fixes that.”

”Yeah.”

And maybe Wilbur had finally grown a backbone. Because it was then that he realized he’d never once apologized for anything he’d done to the kid. He was never sure if he meant it before.

So perhaps now would be a time to try.

”Tubbo?”

”Yeah, Wilbur?”

”I- I want to be brothers again.”

Chapter Text

He wants to be brothers again… Funny. If only he had thought of that before he let Tubbo down at every conceivable occasion. Before he killed everyone he loved.

Before Tubbo fucking died.

And it wasn’t fair. Then again, nothing was ever fair when it came to Wilbur.

Tubbo surveyed Wilburs face, searching for any kind of lie. Anything that could possibly make his response easier. Yet he found none. There was no dangerous edge to his gaze and no tilt to his voice. Wilbur didn’t mention Tommy or Dream or his symphony.

He just waited. 

The younger pushed himself to his feet, ignoring Wilburs sputters. He had only one thing on his mind and that was leaving. Leaving this conversation, the situation, just everything. He’d go back and sleep and act like none of this ever happened. Maybe he’d just leave.

“I’ll give you time to think about it. So don’t worry about having to answer immediately,” Wilbur shrugs. 

“Why?”

A beat.

Then, he explains. “It’s off putting to see how much I fucked you up. How much everyone fucked you up. I can’t reverse it or anything. But I might as well try to amend it, right?”

But he can tell Wilburs not thinking about that. What he doesn’t know is that Wilbur is worrying over how Tubbo died. The information is so vague and he’s been dead for so long that no one would be able to tell anyways.

“I think I just wanted to be done.”

He doesn’t know that his words are repeating in Wilburs head, prodding at every one of his fears. Because for whatever reason, Tubbo had wanted to die at that moment. Just like Wilbur had wanted to die.

And he had. He did . He begged their father to kill him and the man had responded in kind with a sword through his chest and a soft assurance that Wil was his son.

He wonders if Tubbo had gotten the same thing. If the boy had begged Dream to kill him. Honestly, Dream probably would have done it either way.

Wilbur wouldn’t know what to do if it were true. Its not like he knows what to do now. All his words mean nothing here. Tubbo isn’t his brother. 

Even if he wants to be.

“ I hate you,” Tubbo blurts out. The words left his mouth before he could really think of them. He doesn’t regret it. In fact, it felt good.

Wilburs eyes widened almost comically. He flinches back almost like he’d been shot. His form flickers for a moment, then returns back to its original state. Wound disappearing back into the void. “What?”

“Look at my hands, Wilbur. Look at my hands and look at my face, my eye . Look at me,” Tubbo forces his hands into Wilburs view. Flexing them to show the radiation and the burns and the scars. He wiggles his fingers, showing the points where he had been just a little too close to the tnt, where the sword that hit him was a little too accurate.

It takes Wilbur only a second to notice the problem. His little brother was missing a finger.

“When?”

“Final control room.”

He never noticed. How didn’t he notice?

“Who?”

“I don’t remember.”

Wilbur looks at the boys face, seeing the damage done by his negligence. It’s surprising in a way. Not because he didn’t expect it but because he didn’t remember. Tubbo’s hair only grew longer after his death. After a while, Wilbur found that he could barely remember what the kid looked like. Let alone the fact that he was a hybrid.

But he does remember standing on a roof and holding Tommy back. Hearing the cries and the pleads. Then gunpowder and blood. He remembers jumping down after Tommy, racing to Tubbo’s corpse.

Tommy’s scream would never quite leave his mind after that. Neither would Tubbo’s pleads for help. Or Niki’s gasp from the crowd. Not Schlatt’s laughter or Techno’s genuine rampage.

The way the tiny splashes of light would fill the sky, each one signalling another three deaths. Wilbur would never forget the fear that filled him when the heat of the fireworks got too close to him. 

They all stayed with him.

And Wilbur could only hope that when he went down with L’Manberg, the voices would too.

“Tubbo-“

“It’s rust. The rust you told me and Tommy about,” Tubbo states. He moves his hands away, letting them rest at his side. “You lied.”

He remembers telling both of the boys that it was just rust. He was like 14 at the time. They’d just gotten back from a particularly rough run in with a creeper at the time. Wilbur was holding one very scared Tommy and tugging an equally scared Tubbo, trying to make their way out of the forest.

But the creeper blew up and Wilbur was never the luckiest.

So he sat them down in his room, quite possibly one of the only times Tubbo had ever been in there aside from the times he was scared. Wilbur showed the boys his hands and tried his best to make up something to get them to stop worrying. The teen settled on the idea of rust.

“It’s just rust! Look-“ He flexes his hands in front of them, showing them that it didn’t hurt as much as they thought. It did. “Nothing to be scared of. I’m fine.”

Wilbur scoffs, wondering how 14 year old Wilbur would feel knowing that he grew up to give Tubbo the same burns he tried to protect him from.

“What?”

“You said that the rust would go away. You told me it would go away, Wilbur.”

“I was 14.”

“So was I.”

Wilbur tries to ignore the way Tubbo’s voice cracks. Even though he can see the tears making their way down his face. It’s just better to ignore it. Nothing good ever came from acknowledging those kinds of things.

“Why’d you kill Techno? I mean- I understand why you would logically do it, but what really happened?” Wilbur asked.

”It was Quackity’s idea. Dream said it sounded good too. He said it’d be nice to get back at Techno for what he did. Take control for once.”

”Really now?”

”That was when Dream was nice to me. He used to be nice. He kind of reminded me of you and Techno.”

And that… that hurts. Dream was the one person in the entire world that had hurt him arguably as much as Wilbur did. Yet here he was defending him.

Tubbo didn’t know why he did it. Dream wasn’t his brother and he definitely wasn’t his friend. But it felt wrong to just throw him to the wolves. The man had been his brother once.

“Look at me,” Wilbur commands. It’s sudden but not too weird coming from the literal war criminal.

And he waits until Tubbo does. He waits until they’re staring at each other, seeing every scar and every burn. 

Tubbo’s gaze is unsure but he’s willing to try. He wants a solution. Even if it’s self destructive.

“Good,” Wilbur laughs, then his gaze hardens. “Now yell at me.”

Tubbo sputters. “What?”

“Yell at me. Do it. I know you want to.”

“You haven’t done anything. I’m not like you. I’m not just going to yell at you for no good reason,” Tubbo mutters, almost bitterly. His entire face scrunches up in disgust at the notion. As if Wilbur thinking he’d act so carelessly was offensive.

And it was.

Tubbo wouldn’t be like them. He wouldn’t be like any of his brothers.

So Wilbur, in all of his brilliance, does the next best thing. 

“Then I’ll do something to make you. Because obviously I have to do everything around here,” Wilbur drawls. He musters all the energy inside of him and allows himself to be the mirror image of the corpse he left in the ruins. “It’s your fault, you know? I’d be alive if you had just killed Schlatt when you had the chance. You would be too.”

“Shut up.”

“And Techno never would’ve been able to kill you. Oh! Imagine that. Imagine a universe where you and Techno stayed brothers. Where you were happy and alive-“

“Shut up,” Tubbo interrupts.

But Wilbur never fucking listened. “What? I’m just telling the truth! You can’t hold me accountable for their crimes when you’re worse off than me.”

And Tubbo zoned out. His entire mind was split in two. One side agreed with everything Wilbur was saying. The other side wanted him to suffer. 

Everything would have been fine.

He was fine. Then Wilbur mentioned Tommy. He mentioned Dream.  

Tubbo couldn’t remember when he started pointing the crossbow at Wilbur. He couldn’t remember why he even did it in the first place. The action was one that scared him. It was like… like Techno.

His fingers trembled around the trigger of the crossbow. Though he was careful not to press it. He didn’t want to press it. He just wanted Wilbur to feel small.

Tubbo could feel the yell bubbling from his chest. The anger and resentment rushed out with it. His words came out louder than anything he’s said since his death. “I said shut up, Wilbur!”

“Now we’re getting somewhere! ” Wilbur barks out with a laugh, rising to his feet. He outstretched his arms, gesturing wildly to the ruin around them. The ruin he caused. “Come on, Tubbo! Scream, yell, do something

Maybe Wilbur got a surge of something sick when Tubbo flinched and maybe he didn’t. But if he did, he didn’t show any signs of it.

And for a second, all Tubbo could see was Techno. With his arms outstretched, a wither behind him. Going on and on about heroes and death and anarchy. It scared him.

Because that meant that Tubbo was back there. It meant that he was really just as helpless as before. That he was going to die to his brother once again.

The Techno in front of him only continued to drone on in this long mindless monologue. 

“I’ll make it as painless and colorful as possible, Tubbo.” Why? Why had he said that? It couldn’t have been to reassure him. Nothing would have made the situation any better so what was the point in establishing the familiarity. It was cruel. 

“You were establishing another government right in front of me, Tubbo! You betrayed me.” As if Techno didn’t kill him. As if his blood wasn’t on that fucking crossbow. 

Tubbo let out a distressed whine, trying to scramble back from the man before him. A man who didn’t even have a clear image. It was just fog and soot and red. He never liked the color red.

“What are you waiting for?” It’s Wilbur’s voice but Techno’s face, only stepping closer. “Shoot me! Show me how much you hate me.”

Tubbo can feel his resolve breaking. 

And something must have snapped in him because Tubbo shot him. He pulled the trigger on the crossbow, watching the firework fly. His eyes never left the explosion for a second. Not even when the sparks flew too close or when Wilbur cried out at the impact. 

It’s… therapeutic at first. Knowing that he’s the one pulling the trigger this time. That Wilburs the one being hurt.

“Why couldn’t I just be your brother? Why did I have to be the soldier, the spy, the president, and the martyr?” Tubbo muttered through gritted teeth.

And he didn’t know what to make of Wilburs response. “I didn’t know how to care about you and I didn’t want to.”

He waits.

Then he cried. He cried and he sobbed and he screamed. Tubbo screamed until his throat went raw. His hands found their way to Wilburs coat, clutching it closely and burying his face into it. It smelled like gunpowder. Fresh gunpowder.

And Wilbur just wrapped his arms around him in an embrace he never thought he’d miss.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

A sob.

“It’s okay, Tubbo. It’s just rust. It’ll go away.”

————

It’s been a month since their little incident now. They’ve long since moved on from the horror that was L’Manberg. Schlatt and Tubbo decided to start working on a house. One that will stay where it is. One that won’t need to change every other day.

Somewhere they can call an actual home. It’s settled on top of a hill, overlooking a forest and a small lake. There’s flowers and trees and small creatures that live around the area. Tubbo had grown quite fond of a fox that had somehow made it’s way into the afterlife. He named it Squeeks. A small reminder of a fox he had when he was living.

Schlatt complained for an entire day. Something about hair on his carpets and telling Tubbo to train it. Tubbo promised he would. Squeeks later pissed on the carpet in Schlatt’s room. Tubbo never claimed to be an honest man.

Wilbur never mentioned what happened that night again. Then again, Tubbo didn’t either.

It’s not like either of them would have an answer to that anyways. What were they supposed to tell Schlatt? ‘Hey big man, I shot Wilbur after he taunted me with the trauma he gave me and now we have matching scars.’ No, Schlatt would never let them hear the end of it.

And it was on the last day of the month, the day they finished their house, that things started to change. Because that day was the day Squeeks decided to bring something bigger than a heart shaped rock home.

”I uh… I think I took a wrong turn.”

Chapter Text

“I uh… I think I took a wrong turn.”

Tubbo didn’t get to see who was at the door. They were immediately pushed out by both Schlatt and Wilbur. 

In fact, he didn’t even know the man was there until he heard the words ‘Tubbo’s here?’ come from their mouth. Sure, it was jarring. He felt like a little kid all over again.

Because here he was, peeking over the side of a couch to see who was outside. Squeeks was right beside him, voicing his support by also peeking out the window. Tubbo had to refrain from crying.

He strained his ears, trying to hear just about anything. Face squished against the glass as he eavesdrops.

Their hushed voices rang out in ways he wished they wouldn’t.

First it was Schlatt, “You’re not dead. I know you aren’t. So why are you here?”

The man they were talking to began to defend himself. But Tubbo couldn’t quite catch his words. Maybe he just didn’t want to. Yeah it was probably that.

What was there to even hear? What if he didn’t like the words?

Then all he could do was try to forget. And everyone on the smp knows just how well that worked out for him last time, didn’t they? Oh yeah! He fucking died.

He watched Wilbur pace, hands pulling at his hair. Stressing over things he couldn’t understand. It was the first time Tubbo had seen him take the beanie off. Then the man paused, eye twitching. Wilbur turned on the man, raising his arms up out of pure annoyance, “Oh that’s such bullshit.”

Schlatt held him back, keeping him from doing something he might regret but otherwise allowed him to let his anger out. But Tubbo could see the anger in his eyes. Schlatt wouldn’t last long. Eventually, he’d just give up and let go.

Maybe he should. Maybe that’d be better.

There was more yelling for a moment and Tubbo considered going out himself but Squeeks stopped him. In fact, not only did the fox stop him but he also pointed out the main issue with the whole situation.

And it was then that Tubbo noticed the blonde hair. Whoever they were talking to had blonde hair.

Blonde…

There were five known blondes. Of those five, only two would go out of their way to see him.

Tommy: His best friend and brother. The one he died for and would die for again without question. 

And, Dream. There was no explanation needed really. Dream needed him to control Tommy.

Tubbo blinks, turning to Squeeks now. His mind is running through every blonde he knows. “Tell me you didn’t.”

The added “Tell me you didn’t bring him here” went unspoken.

Squeeks tilts his head innocently, and Tubbo can’t stay mad at that cute little face. He reaches out a hand to pat the fox gently, mumbling, “Ok I forgive you.”

And just as he turns back to see the man at his fullest, Schlatt turns. Brown eyes meet green. The ram raises a brow at him, mouthing the words “You’re grounded”.

Tubbo glared back.

Then the worst outcome possible happened.

Wilbur broke free from whatever was keeping him from attacking the newcomer, lungin at him with all his might. Fists flew and angry hateful words filled the air. Schlatt rushed back inside to potentially keep Tubbo from seeing the damage.

“Wilbur-“ He couldn’t tell who said it. Him or Schlatt.

Then, an unknown voice filled the air. Not unknown to Tubbo but unknown to their corner of the world as a whole. “Enough, Wil.”

And black feathered wings rose up, batting Wilbur away.

Oh.

“That’s- that’s my dad,” Tubbo breathed out, trying not to choke on the words as they left his mouth. “He’s- Philza.”

Tubbo stumbled to his feet, pushing past Schlatt in his haste. He swung open the door with a force he hadn't felt in months. Squeeks was hot in his tail, followed by Schlatt, both were only concerned. It was really no ones fault. And imagine the horror of seeing those black wings covering Wilbur’s body yet again.

Almost the same as they had before.

Except Tubbo wasn’t thinking of them. He was worried about how he got here.

“Get off of him,” The words left his mouth before he could even think. “Get the fuck off of him.”

Wilbur looked up first. “Shit- I’m fine. No sword this time.”

“You’re not fucking funny, Wilbur,” Schlatt  commented. He sounded closer than before. 

The wings moved. They moved and they moved painfully slow. So slow that Tubbo was starting to wonder if maybe he’d actually just impaled Wilbur with the wing this time.

Phil looked him up and down. Then flicked his  gaze to Wilbur and Schlatt. “Tubbo, mate, long time no see.”

And maybe it hurt a little bit to hear his name in their mouth. Maybe it hurt a lot. That wasn’t his fault.

“Here for your wife then, Phil?” Tubbo responds, keeping the cold tone of his voice in plain view. He wants Phil to be affected. Wants him to hurt. It’s awful. But it’s true.

But Phil just laughs. “Something like that. I bring peace. Promise.”

He hates it. 

The younger hybrid just sours, curling in on himself. His hands subconsciously reach up to tossle his hair and hide the horns. Horns that Phil never saw. Horns he’d never get to see. Tubbo notices the way Schlatt seems to step forward to accommodate. “You never bring peace. All you bring is war.”

“You’re not one to talk, are you?”

“I was getting even-“

And if Phil responds, it is heard by no one. 

“You’re not supposed to be here, Phil,” Wilbur spits, once again brushing the soot off of his trenchcoat. It’s thicker than before. There are more feathers than he died with as well. 

“I was delivering a soul to the goddess,” Phil states plainly. His wings twitch, shaking loose all the ash and soot. But the blood stays. Wilburs blood never leaves. “Figured my son would want to see him.”

But the souls face is missing. There’s nothing there. It’s empty and cold. No one reacts.

The world rumbles.

Wilbur is gone. Schlatt is gone. Phil is gone.

And Tubbo feels as if he’s being pulled back. As if the world is taking its actions back. A helpless whine reaches his lips, feeling the world pull him back, dragging him through its own time.

He’s tired…

—————

”Aren’t you tired, Tubbo?”

”I’m scared.”

—————

There’s another a single knock at the door.

”I uh… I think I took a wrong turn.”

Tubbo stares. This is just wrong. But it didn’t stop him from hugging the person in front of him. “Little man!”

“Tubbo!” He wrapped his arms around him, nearly lifting him off the ground entirely. Fundy missed him. Sure, he was mad when they last left off but it wasn’t Tubbo’s fault. 

This was the only relative who cared now.

Tubbo pulls away, letting the concern show on his face. “What are you doing here? Did they hurt you?”

He tried hard to ignore the strange appearance of black feathers on the doorstep. They littered the entire area. Including the feather in Fundy’s hair. It’s better not to question their arrival.

Even if they meant he was close.

And there’s a pause. Squeeks seems to notice this as well, turning his head up to gaze at the fox hybrid. He nudges Fundy’s hand reassuringly, giving him the courage to actually answer.

“I-“

“Fundy,” Tubbo places a hand on either side of Fundy’s face. He tilts the boys head around searching for any bruises or cuts. Anything that could explain why and how he was here. Anything at all. Then, he starts again, letting his voice drop to a whisper, “Did they hurt you?”

“… I thought it was a dream,” Fundy mutters, eyes downcast. His ears droop and his tail stops swaying. Even his head seems to fall from Tubbo’s grip. He lets the fox beneath him lick at his hand, not exactly keen on elaborating. 

Tubbo just nods and pulls him into the house. They’d worry about that later. “Come in!”

And if there’s one thing he noticed about Fundy, it was the fact that he was infinitely younger than before. He looked about 10. Which Tubbo guesses would be accurate. No one ever questioned the nature of Fundy’s birth or his “adoption”. 

Honestly, Tubbo doesn’t even remember how old he last was. All he could remember was Wilbur coming home one day, hair soaked and eyes hollow. A child no older than three in his arms. He remembered listening to Wilbur mutter the words “the ocean took her back,” over and over again. Remembers the way Fundy grew older than him despite being born years after.

Maybe he should have payed more attention. Honestly, it never made sense for Fundy to be older than him anyways. So why did he fight in a war alongside him? Die alongside him?

He’s almost glad that Wilbur isn’t home. He’d fucking hate this. He really would. Wilbur would throw a genuine hissy fit and go back to his awful ways. Which isn’t something anyone wants to deal with. Honestly, the guy only knew how to complain.

…Where was Wilbur? Tubbo was sure he saw him this morning. This morning when…

Fundy stares at him, unblinkingly. His wide eyes are staring into things Tubbo didn’t know possible. He blinks back, struggling to keep hold of his previous thought.

What was he thinking about?

A pause. Fundy narrows his eyes.

Tubbo forgot.

So here they were, sat around the kitchen as if it was some awkward family reunion. Technically it was. But he was still his nephew.

Neither of the two get a word out before there’s a crash in the other room. They both tense. Tubbo recovers quicker. He almost wonders what Fundy’s tending for.

Schlatt moves something in the kitchen, grumbling about Squeeks in the background. Whatever it is has the fox running back over to Tubbo and cowering behind him.

“What did he do to you?” Tubbo gasps, kneeling to pet his fox. His efforts are met with a very awful tongue lick to the cheek and horrific amounts of fur in his face. But he could only reach his arms up to hug the fox closer. “You scared my son.”

Schlatt actually sneers. “Fucking snitch.”

“Leave him alone. He’s just a baby!” Tubbo warns, though there’s no heat behind it. “Squeeks just wants your love and attention, Schlatt.”

“This isn’t fucking Beethoven. I’m not giving that little shit anything. He’s your fox.”

“He’s my son!”

“He’s a fox-“ Schlatt stops, eyeing the guest at his table. “Fundy?”

And Tubbo watched as Fundy’s tail dipped between his legs and his ears drooped. Which was already weird enough. Because Fundy had never been scared of Schlatt. Never.

“You live… with Schlatt?” Fundy asked, trying desperately to put two and two together.

Ah. No he could see how that would be confusing. Last they saw, Schlatt was dead and Tubbo was traumatized. But there’s something off.

Schlatt looks to Fundy, explaining, “I made the house.”

“No you didn’t.” Tubbo interrupts at the same time Fundy snorts, “No you didn’t.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tubbo. And you, Fundy, you haven’t been here for five minutes.” Schlatt grumbles, rolling his eyes. 

Fundy nods mutely, joining Tubbo in giving Squeeks all the love and attention he deserves. Tubbo eyes the way Squeeks seems to understand the hybrid better. It’s the subtle nudges and the reassuring sounds.

All of which Fundy accepts and reciprocates. He’s young. He’s young and that’s scary.

When did he get so young? Why is everything so different? He’s scared.

Then, Schlatt sticks his foot in his mouth, “Are you staying? What’s going on here?”

Tubbo’s eye twitched. It was like the man had no way of reading the room. You don’t just ask a little kid if they’re staying dead. God, they don’t even know how he died in the first place.

He elbows Schlatt, not even blinking when the man doubles over. The pained grunt is like background noise at this point. 

Fundy stifles a laugh. The fox hybrid is being given away only by the twitch in his ears. Huh, Tubbo forgot about that. The kid looks him over again, then asks, “Is it nice here?”

Tubbo gives him a nod. “It’s nice.”

“Ok.”

A pause.

“Is the SMP nice?” Schlatt asks carefully. He’s not too nervous about the man being there. What he is worried about is the fact that he definitely had something to do with the kids' dad going crazy. 

Tubbo looks between the two, sensing something tense in the air along with Fundy’s normal skittish nature. He really hoped this went ok.

“I live in a tree!” Fundy announces, smile wide and teeth showing. He even pauses in petting Squeeks to explain. Going into full detail about his super cool treehouse.

Schlatt nods enthusiastically with every word. Tubbo does the same. 

“Phil came by once! He brought Techno and Ranboo. And I think Techno doesn’t like me very much.” Fundy continues, he’s still happy. He’s almost glowing. It’s like the little glow flowers.

You and me both, Tubbo thinks. But he doesn’t voice these complaints. He lets it simmer for a while.

That was a worry for another time. 

Schlatt huffs a laugh, “He’s just an old pig anyways. You, on the other hand, were on my cabinet! You’re like the coolest kid on the block.”

And so what if Tubbo zones out for the rest of the conversation. So what if he’s not focused. Sue him for trying to figure out how the kid died.

It’s not his fault. How was he supposed to know what was going on when he returned to their plane of existence?

Maybe he was cursed.

Schlatt is clearing his throat and Tubbo is seeing death.

“Why am I seeing death?”

”I’m scared.”

The festival and his presidency. His speech.

Ringing in his ears.

A beer bottle rolling across the floor, clinking noisily against the otherwise silent room. A hand reaches out to it. But the fingers never quite grip the bottle. They fall. It’s over.

And… Tubbo’s tired.

No he’s not.

But Fundy is tugging at his sleeve, offering to help. He’s not scary or evil. Has never hurt him. It’s not right to do this in front of him.

Especially not when he’s as young as he is now.

Fundy doesn’t deserve to be treated like a black plague. He’s not a problem. He’s a child. And the only reason he grew up the way he did was because of Wilbur.

Wilbur and Eret.

“I’m tired,” Fundy yawns, wiping his eyes. “Can we sleep?”

There are feathers in his hair. He has Wilburs eyes. Scared. Scared. Scared.

But Tubbo smiles, “Yeah. Let’s go.”

And as they slept, both Wilbur and Schlatt fought a call to revival. Only one was addressed to them. Wilbur would never mention his meeting with an angel. The same way Schlatt would never mention his meeting with death.

Chapter Text

Wilbur had never been conscious in this world. Well, not exactly. 

He knew he existed and he made choices in this world, as anyone would, but he was never conscious. There were moments where he could understand what was going on. Like when he was yelling at Tubbo. That was him. He knows that was him.

He could still feel the scar and the burn on his face. He could remember being scared of dying again. He knows that was real.

But he never got off that train. The train was impossible to leave. There was no escaping it. Not for him. He deserved it.

Wilbur knew he wasn’t a good man in life. That’s why he had tried in his death. He was trying his best.

“I’m here to take you back. Your ghost is waiting at the station,” The angel- no, Phil, states, wings resting behind his back. The blonde was smiling as he said it. As if this didn’t mean he’d go back. That Wilbur would return to L’Manberg, to Tommy, and he’d make everything worse all over again. 

“What about Tubbo?”

Phil tilts his head to the side, smile dropping ever so slightly. “What about him?”

“I can’t just leave him. That’s- No. I won’t.”

But maybe he should. Maybe leaving will get rid of that awful feeling of dread. It looms over him even now.

And he knows he’s not meant to be here right now. The same way Phil wasn’t supposed to be here. The same way Tubbo was supposed to be alive right now.

The Phil in front of him only scoffs, “Wil, mate, he has Schlatt. He doesn’t need you here. Tubbo has never needed anyone.”

”That’s not true at all.”

”You know that you’ll die at the end of this, right? That your survival depends on Tubbo. If you make amends with him…”

He knows. He knows that.

“I can’t go back.”

“And what about Tommy?”

Wilbur flinches back like he’d been stabbed. It’s like just hearing his brothers name was enough to end the entire discussion. To hear that Tommy still wanted him around.

Even after he’d hurt him so much. After the wars and pogtopia and… and leaving him behind. Tommy still needed him.

He supposes it’s comforting in some stupid way. At least he knows Tommy still cares.

He wonders if Techno cares too.

And then it was too much too soon. He couldn’t handle the idea of going back. He wasn’t ready. Wasn’t a good person. Wilbur couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t just revert back to his ways. That he wouldn’t hurt any of his “friends.” 

Because sometimes, even now, he thought of how easy it would be to just detonate the place. When Schlatt got too fatherly with Tubbo. When Tubbo had his off days and would avoid him. When Wilbur would look at the scar adorning his face, hearing Tubbo’s cries at the back of his mind.

He wasn’t well. 

Wilbur inhales shakily, “I can’t risk that.”

“Tommy needs you Wil!” Phil shouts. It’s not often that he raises his voice but it sure is a sight when he does. His wings puff out behind him, in the same position they were when he killed him. “You’re my son, Wil. Let me take you home.”

“L’Manberg hasn’t been my home since I was exiled.”

“I could take you back to Techno’s cabin.”

“…tell Techno I said hello. And tell him that tubbo doesn’t hate him. He’s just scared.” Wilbur pleads, voice low. “I don’t know what you brought to my house but just- please”

”You’re my son.”

”Please just let me die.”

There’s a pause. Then a huff and the sound of wings moving in the distance.

Wilbur watches him go, fists clenching at his side. He’d never explain why he stayed. He doesn’t really know himself.

He stands there for a moment replaying their conversation in his mind. Phil, his dad, wanted him back. His little brother wanted him back. That was all he could ever really want. The only issue had been Tubbo. 

Wilbur had abandoned him once. He couldn’t do that to him again. Tubbo had just barely worked up the confidence to shoot him in the face. Letting himself be revived would only set them back.

Which raises another important question, why does he care?

The answer is, he doesn’t know. It’s like every bone in his body has been hardwired to like the kid. Even when Wilbur himself is still holding every grudge and source of resentment. Every slight and every dirty look. Even when Wilbur can’t bare to be in the same room as him because then it’s all too suffocating. Because that’s just some kid he stole and hurt for no reason other than his own childish wars.

And sometimes Wilbur forgets that Tubbo is someones kid. Someones brother. That Tubbo could have been happy. He could have had a family that loved him. He could have lived his life as a server hopper or a farmer or a pro pvp player. Tubbo could have been a master in potions or enchantments or speedrunning.

But instead, he’s here in the afterlife, dead after living a life full of pain and suffering and war. Not a life of bees and flowers and loving older brothers and friends. Tubbo died in an obsidian box at 15 years old, hundreds of feet underground, begging for his former friend to kill him. Not surrounded by friends and family in his childhood town.

Tubbo died a fucking martyr. 

Wilbur snorts a humorless laugh, still looking at the spot where Phil disappeared on the horizon, “Maybe this is my limbo.”

And he begins his journey home.

————-

“You’re changing everything.”

“I’m not.”

————

Tubbo blinks awake, exhaustion long forgotten by now. His ears flick lightly as he strains to hear any conversation downstairs. At first it’s just the soft murmurs of Schlatt trying to figure out how to work the furnace.

Then it’s Fundy moving slowly down the hall. 

Tubbo wonders if Wilburs back yet. Maybe just sleeping or on his own little trip. A trip that has lasted a month.

The hybrid waits, not even bothering to sit up. His eyes wander the room he’s in, studying the bare walls. He couldn’t bring himself to decorate it. It’s not like he lives here and will grow up here. He’s dead.

There was no growth.

It would be like decorating his tomb. A tomb his old enemy built and housed him in. A dead man made.

Tubbo blinks, wondering whether or not this was a life at all. The afterlife doesn’t count. It’s already after the tragedy.

He stares at a mark on the wall. It’s small. Almost unnoticeable. Except he was looking for something wrong. So it made sense.

A frowny face.

Tubbo stares. The frown stays. He squints, feeling a strange sense of unease.

He can’t quite place the feeling it gave him. He wasn’t scared. The Dream like nature of it was really only familiar. It hadn’t scared him or been off putting.

——-

“I’m taking it back.”

“You have no right.”

———

The frown is gone. The mark is gone. The walls are bare. There is nothing there.

The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach never leaves. He doesn’t have time to worry over it, interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching his door. They’re small. Fundy… maybe Squeeks.

There’s a knock at his door. A small voice accompanied it, “Schlatt’s making cookies!”

He looked at the door. “Five more minutes!”

Tubbo hears a huff. The footsteps retreat. He assumes Fundy is going back downstairs. Hopefully.

Except the room is too quiet. It’s quiet and loud all at once. He’s scared all over again. Everything is staring at him. The walls, the windows, the carpet. The bed is pulling him down. He’s scared.

“Schlatt?”

No answer.

“Schlatt!” His voice is more desperate this time around. He’s scared. He’s so fucking scared.

The door seems so far away. It’s only getting farther. Someones knocking. They’re knocking loud, nearly bursting his eardrums in the process. Tubbo brings his hands up to cover his ears. It’s loud.

Is he dying?

He’s not ready. He’s scared.

“Dad!” Tubbo wails, eyes squeezed shut. He can feel the walls closing in. The faces watching, laughing.

And then the knocking stops and Schlatt’s there. He’s pulling him close. Tubbo’s safe. Hands are brushing his hair out of his face gently, ushering soft reassurances, “I’m here. It’s gone. You’re not dying.”

Tubbo can barely see through the tears. His main focus is the slowly fading knocks. The slowing of his breath. The smells of cookies in the air.

Squeeks....

And Fundy, standing just a little off with a blank expression. The boy doesn’t come any closer. But he’s worried. Tubbo can tell he’s worried. He watches the way he bounces on the heels of his shoes, fiddling with his tail. His face slowly becomes unrecognizable the more Tubbo looks at him. 

It’s like staring into nothing. 

He’s not ready.

He feels himself falling asleep again.

He’s tired.

———

“Look what you’ve done.”

“I-“

“Let it go home”

“He is home!”

“...”

“He is home.”

“It’s gone.”

———

Tubbo sat up in his bed, stretching his arms above his head. He lets out a yawn as he stretches. The blankets fall from his body easily. Sliding onto the floor in a heap. He doesn’t stress over it like he usually would.

Standing is harder than it usually is. His knees buckle and his head spins, disorienting and irritating. Tubbo shoots out a hand to grasp the bedframe. It’s a quick movement but it gets the job done. He feels significantly less dead.

Well, as not dead as he can be in the afterlife.

“Squeeks?” Tubbo calls, looking around the room. 

No response.

“Squeeks? Where are you?”

Nothing at first. Then, a fox pokes his little head from under the bed. It stares up at him curiously. Little tongue sticking out of its mouth and giving the fox a dopey look.

Tubbo stifles a giggle, “Hi buddy. Come here.”

Squeeks doesn’t move at first.

“What’s wrong?” Tubbo asks, reaching down to pet the animal. Except it immediately ducks away from his touch. Strange. He reaches for the fox again, fingers wiggling in an attempt to show he was only being friendly. “You okay?”

And Squeeks said nothing. It did nothing. Tilting its head once again before very slowly, inching upwards into his palm.

Tubbo wondered what was wrong with him at first. Maybe Squeeks had gotten hurt. But the fox was moving just fine now so maybe things would be fine.

A knock resounds on the door. Then it swings open. 

Honestly, he should have expected Fundy to burst in the way he did. The kid slid into the room with his socks and immediately barrelled straight into Tubbo. The little giggles that filled the air were just barely cute enough for his crimes to be forgiven. Tubbo tried to be mindful of both the ears and the tail when he slung the kid over his shoulder.

“What do you need, gremlin?” Tubbo laughed, shaking the boy on his shoulder.

Fundy struggled to catch his breath, just letting it happen at this point, “Schlatt made cookies!”

Tubbo blinks. “No he didn’t.”

“Okay. I made cookies but Schlatt wanted me to say it was him.” 

A logical ruse.

Tubbo looks over at Squeeks as if asking the fox what he should do. His grip on the squirming Fundy only tightens. Did the kid think he could just get away? Never.

Squeeks blinks.

“I agree. We should feed him to the plants,” Tubbo nods, snickering at Fundy’s loud protests. The little fox bangs his tiny fists against Tubbo’s back, calling out for help. “No one is gonna save you now. You barged in.”

Fundy’s tail whacks him in the face and honestly, Tubbo can’t be blamed for dropping him. The boy runs out of the room, calling for Schlatt as he does. Snitch.

And Tubbo is quick to follow, clamoring down the stairs after him.

Squeeks stays.

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

“It’s not the soul you remember. You know that.”

“He can be.”

“I can’t help you after this.”

“I never asked for your help!”

The world slowly begins to fall apart at the seams. The voice rushes to stitch it back together. It has to. 

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

Schlatt was watching the boys wrestle in the living room with his own look of fondness. All he could really ask was that they were still normal kids. Normal kids who did normal kid things. Not war veterans. Not child soldiers. 

He watched Fundy jump off of the couch and onto the fireplace. His eye twitches only slightly.

But then Tubbo tries to copy him.

“Absolutely not,” Schlatt interrupts, surprised by his own voice. God he was getting old and senile. Like that Phil guy.

Tubbo stuck his tongue out at him and Fundy shot him a blank look. Weird.

The entire situation was strange actually. No one really knew how Fundy got here. No one knew how he died either. They just knew he was dead and he didn’t want to talk about it. The only real clue they had was the very small utterance of “I thought I was sleeping.”

Schlatt’s smile dropped, still watching the boys but no longer making it his only priority. He thought back to Fundy’s nightmares. To the times the guy would wake up screaming over an event that hasn't happened yet. Similar to George who would give the most cryptic warning ever and then sleep through the event he was listing.

Maybe Fundy was left alone. Maybe he couldn’t differentiate dream from reality.

And isn’t that a scary thought? Fundy being so scared of his nightmares and not realizing that it was life. That he would die.

Or maybe it was the fact that Wilbur would never be able to deal with it. That eventually, Wilbur was going to come home and see this. He was going to see Fundy and he was going to resort to an aggression they'd never seen. Because he never got over Fundy’s betrayal.

And sure, Fundy’s 10 now, but that really didn’t change much in the grand scheme of things. There was a slim chance of Wilbur seeing him and actually becoming a changed man.

The scar on his face from his argument with Tubbo just wasn’t enough. The two still fought. Tubbo still flinched and got quiet around him. Wilbur was still Wilbur.

All that scar did was level the playing field. Wilbur was stuck with it, stuck staring at his reflection and wondering if that’s really him. Schlatt caught it happening more times than he could count. Each time he’d have to tell the man he was fine and he was alive, well, as alive as he could be.

Schlatt didn’t notice when Tubbo walked over, standing in front of him, “Is Wil ever coming back?”

Oh.

He doesn’t know.

“He’s on his way. He went a little too far this time,” Schlatt chuckled, he hoped Tubbo wouldn’t see through his lie. For all he knew, Wilbur had accepted the offer. He was alive again and with Tommy.

“Alright,” Tubbo mutters, but it’s hollow. It’s fake. “Am I a bother?”

“No.”

There’s a pause. Tubbo doesn’t need to know that Death had called him up. Nor the fact that Schlatt had already taken care of it.

He was safe here.

“Schlatt, why are you so different here?”

“Shit, who’s put all that in your head.”

Tubbo glances back at Fundy, then to Schlatt again, “Fundy asked me why you were helping. And Wilbur said you had better things to do than play house.”

Ah.

Motherfucker. Schlatt knows Wilbur has a problem with talking too much. What he didn’t know was that it also extended to Wilburs kid. “This is my limbo, kid. I’ve done too much to go back. I don’t want to go back. I want to make amends with you. Fix things.”

“But you hated me .”

“Wrong. You just looked like someone I knew. Someone I lost. I was drunk and an ass. You had nothing to do with it.”

And it’s not true. He doesn’t know why he says it. But the lie was better than the reality. Was he supposed to just say “Yeah. I hurt you to get back at Wilbur. I wanted him to hurt so I used you. But then I realized that Wilbur didn’t care.”

Schlatt gives the boy a smile and ruffles his hair. He lets his hands linger a bit on the sides where his horns are for just a second. Then his hand is being slapped away. 

It’s okay to lie, he reminds himself. It’s okay.

Because he already knows this is his limbo. He knows he has any chance to go back, to die fully. But Tubbo needs him. He really does.

Chapter Text

“You can take a break.”

“You’ll kill him. You’ll take him from me.”

“If only for a little while.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“I’ll go.”

“It’s about time we focused on the living again”

———

Tubbo’s funeral was a sad little thing. It included a small group, Techno, Dream, Tommy, Ranboo, and Sapnap. All of whom were affected in their ways.

“Tubbo Underscore-Craft was a true gift to the server. He was known by all as a brother, a son, and a friend.”

Tommy lost his best friend, his brother. Someone he’d been with his entire life. He’d already lost one of them. He already lost Wilbur. Losing Tubbo was different.

They’d been so close. Tommy never even got to say all the things he wanted to. Like how much the boy meant to him or how he forgave him. He never got to run away with him.

He wanted him back more than anything in the world.

Tommy tightened his grip on the compass in his hands, glaring down at the needle pointing towards the casket. A pitiful cry escaped his lips and his hands trembled, eyes scanning over the words engraved onto it, Your Tubbo.

“He left us far too soon.”

Ranboo lost… a friend? At least, they think they did. The pages about Tubbo are strange. Some are wonderful and detailed and others are vague. Limited to single sentences or words. For a moment, they wondered if maybe they’d been more than friends.

Some of their entries talk about a marriage or plans for a marriage. All things that Tubbo never lived to see. 

He could have had a husband. 

In another universe he did.

The tears don’t burn their skin as they roll down Ranboo’s cheeks. Instead they just sizzle out. Falling numb against their face.

Ranboo’s not sure what they lost, but they know it changed everything. 

“It’s always a shame to see someone go so young. Especially someone with such an impact on the community.”

Sapnap has no idea why he’s here. He and Tubbo hadn’t been friends for years. Not since the first pet war actually. But there was something about his death. Something that changed everything.

The blaze hybrid couldn’t quite place the realization he had. Probably because it was out of the blue and illogical. There was no way Tubbo could have meant anything more than a stranger to him. Even though at some point, he’d considered him a brother.

But as he stood, staring at the plot in front of him, he couldn’t help but cry. He cried harder than he had since Dream had first claimed not to care about him. Because Tubbo was just some kid. He hadn’t even done anything wrong to anyone. 

He and his friends had tormented a fucking child for their own damn amusement. And they killed him. 

This was blood on his hands.

Sapnap held the lead in his hand a little tighter, gazing down at the fox at the end of it. It looks back up at him curiously, giving him a good view of the name on its collar, Squeeks. And Sapnap sobbed.

He’d been meaning to give this back to him.

“We wish that the void makes room for him among the brightest stars in the sky.”

Techno felt as if he was drowning in the coices in his head. Every one of them was screaming a different sentiment. Anger, grief, disgust, indifference. All of them were wrong. There was nothing wrong with having a family. 

Except he didn’t have one.

Tubbo was hardly family anymore. Not since the butcher army. Not since the first explosion in L’Manberg. Or the withers. Or the hound army. After the splitting pain in his head and then revival. After Techno blew everything up for the second time.

They were barely a family. Techno couldn’t feel anything for the kid. The dull ache in his chest was from something else. The strong urge to just be a person again and cry was because of the setting he was in. Not because Tubbo died. Never because Tubbo died.

Except he was lying to himself. Techno was lying to himswlf and he knew he was. Voices and phantom hands crawled up his side and poked at his sides. They choked him with reality and made floss out of his feelings. And he let them. The small voice a brother he lost long ago was in his ears, calling him a coward, a liar, a monster.

Because Techno never quite made the distinction between enemy and family. He still mourned for him. The thought of Tubbo  dying never even occurred to him. He thought Tubbo was at 2 lives.

Why wasn’t he at two lives?

Techno looked around the small group, seeing the people in attendance. All of them had been close to Tubbo. Only two of them had never hurt the kid. Yet he felt out of place. Because sure, Tubbo was his brother, but that wasn’t enough.

It could never be enough. He didn’t- Techno didn’t care. That sounds bad but it’s true. Caring would mean that he’d get attached. He’d be worried and happy and upset for people who wouldn’t matter in a century. None of them would matter in a few years. They’d be dead and Techno would be going off to the next server.

He couldn’t guarantee they’d live as long as he has. He couldn’t say he’d care about Tubbo forever or that he’d be his brother forever for that matter. Forever was a long time. It was a curse.

A curse that only Techno could bare.

Technoblade never died but his family still could, he thought. His eyes drifted back to the casket being slowly lowered into the ground. He shuffled closer to Ranboo, setting a hand on either of their shoulders.

Yeah, Techno grunted, scowling at the picture of Tubbo on the wall, his family still could.

So he decided he wouldn’t have a family.

“May the server gods put his soul to rest.”

And then there was Dream. He stood off to the side, resting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Except the gesture wasn’t painful this time around. It was just comfort. Comfort…

Dream who was the one to kill Tubbo. Dream who would soon give up complete control of his server. There was no Tommy and Tubbo to fight him anyway. It wasn’t fun anymore.

All the wars and the disagreements were fun. Tommy and Tubbo and L’Manberg were fun.

And Dream couldn’t help but feel the least bit discouraged by that. There was no longer a fight for him to look forward to. No one challenging him. He glanced over at Tommy, watching his face fall at Technos efforts with Ranboo. A scowl planted itself on Dreams face.

There was no point to any of that anyways.

He couldn’t help but feel resentful towards his old friends. Because unlike whatever they believed, Dream never would have given himself up if something hadn't gone wrong. They thought they won after “saving” Tommy. What they didn’t know was that Dream had pointed at the portal and basically ordered him to leave.

They ruined everything. 

The SMP family he was working to mold could never be complete with Tubbo gone.

Tommy leaned into the touch and Dream could hear his attempts to silence his sniffles.

And as the last of the dirt was thrown onto the casket, Dream began to mutter the revival incantation, protected only by the mask that covered his face and the overwhelming sound of sobs.

“My regards to his family. Technoblade and Tommy Craft, Wilbur Soot, Fundy Soot, and… and Philza Craft.”

A minute passes in silence.

Then another.

Then three.

And maybe it was the absurdity of the statement that caused it. Because Dream laughed.

—————

“If you could change the course of their time, would you?”

“I would.”

“There’s a human who can.”

“He won’t.”

————

All the attendees turned their attention to Dream. Some were angry and others were confused.

No one said a word.

“ My regards to his family ,” Dream mocks, a disbelieving laughter bubbling out of him. He stared down at the floor and laughed. It wasn’t a good laugh. Not a laugh full of humor or joy. It was just pain. A pain no one could really place given his role. 

“You bitch ,” Tommy shouted, shouldering out of the mans grip. His hands made their way to Dreams collar, shaking him in his grasp. “What are you laughing at!”

Dream couldn’t stop.

Then it was Sapnap and Techno, drawing weapons with a newfound anger. At least now they had an outlet for the anger and grief they were feeling. Even if that outlet was Dream.

“You killed him and you’re laughing. He was-” Tommy’s voice cracks halfway through his words, almost like a broken record. He repeats his sentence, words shaking and hands trembling, “Tubbo was my- our brother.”

Our?

Dream couldn’t breathe. “Are you kidding me?”

Tommy doesn’t respond.

“Oh come on, Tommy. Do you really think any of those people were his family?” Dream asks, tone cruel and mocking. “I know you’re young but you’re not stupid. Are you stupid, Tommy?”

The flinch he gets in response to this is more than enough for Sapnap to pull the teen back. The blaze hybrid keeps both his hands on Tommys shoulder, grounding him. He shoots a glance back at Techno, gaze souring at the sight of the piglin comforting Ranboo and not his actual brother.

Even when he knew it wasn’t Ranboo’s fault.

Tommy stammers his response, sounding small and frankly out of place, “No. I’m not.”

Dream nods, using the voice he reserves just for Tommy, “That’s right. You’re not stupid.”

“That’s enough, Dream.” Sapnap states.

Dream continues, “You may have been his family but the rest of them…” He mimicks the sound of an explosion, relishing in the way both Tommy and Ranboo react. Tommy immediately becomes guarded, shoulders hunching and eyes downcast. While Ranboo stands tall and stiff, letting out a distressed warble at the sound. “Look around, Tommy! Look at how many family members you have present.”

And it’s almost impressive that Tommy is still somewhat under his control. He’s never been more satisfied with something he’s done. Dream watches through the mask, seeing the way Tommy took a quick glance over the crowd. Then he snaps his gaze back to Dream.

“Your own dad didn’t show up.” Dream said cooly, letting himself just have fun with his last day free. He doesn’t mention Fundy. 

Tommy blinked, then turned to look at the crowd. This time, Dream noted, he was more careful on what he was looking at. Dream took great delight in watching the realization set in on his face.

Tommy’s expression goes from levelled and defiant to this slow arising horror. His face dropped and his shoulders drooped, eyes suddenly scouring the group frantically. The teens hand twitched at his sides and Dream swore he could hear him mutter a small, “Phil?”

“Dream.” That was Sapnap. 

“Ranboo can barely fucking remember Tubbo.”

Ranboo didn’t know what to say at the accusation. Their eyes travelled helplessly between the group. First on Tommy, then Sapnap, then Dream, then repeat. Their hands fidgeted at their side, casting their eyes downward.

The particles surrounding them only seemed to flutter wildly at the sudden attention. At the sudden blame. 

“That’s not true,” Ranboo mumbles. “I can remember him. I can. I know I can.”

He couldn’t.

Dream just looks on, unimpressed. He moves his gaze to Sapnap, ignoring Ranboo’s bullshit attempt at reassuring themselves that they can remember Tubbo. “Sapnap has never been on Tubbo’s side once. All he’s good for is betraying everyone who trusts him.”

Now it’s Sapnaps turn to flinch. The fire on his arms flickered as if they too were affected by the words. Then, “You’re the one who killed him. You’re the reason we’re here!”

Dream tilted his head to the side curiously but otherwise doesn’t answer. He wants to see what Sapnap will do.

And Tommy was quiet. He was quiet and he was scared. His entire body trembled in his hold, eyes scanning the group over and over again. Because Tubbo was dead. Tubbo was dead and… and…

But Dream made sure his next words really hit the nail on the coffin(literally).

“And Techno, well, Techno shouldn’t be here at all. Last I checked, the blood god didn’t have a family. All he had was a kill count, a firework launcher, and the deaths of his two kid brothers and the nation they built on his hands.”

All hell broke loose.

————

“Humans are fragile creatures. That’s why I exist.”

“I never wanted you in my domain.”

“Life without death wouldn’t be life at all. Would you rather they grow too big for their bodies? Too resilient for your world? Without consequence or fear or morals?”

“I made them. It’s my decision!”

“You’re young. You’ll learn.”

“I don’t want this power.”

“Then give it up.”

————

Chapter Text

The only three voices at the service belonged to Tommy, Sapnap, and Dream. Though, Sapnap and Dream did most of the arguing. All Tommy did was pick at his skin, eyes almost glazed over. 

Techno could feel the familiar itch start to travel through his body. The itch for blood and violence. Encouraged by the shouting and the arguing.

Kill them

Avenge him

Tubbo was our kill. Ours

We want blood

But the voices were off. Their usual enthused chants were now reduced to sorrowful demands. The lust for blood was now a lust for vengeance.

Kill them

Dream’s not our friend

Blood for the blood god

Blood for Tubbo

They were grieving.

Techno was grieving. It started with a small ache and slowly grew. Suffocating him. Killing him. The voices were confused and Techno was frozen. It was as if everything around him 

And then Dream is issuing a warning. “Tommy. The picking.”

Tommy stops, then bristles.  The dam has overflowed. The anger has already mixed with the grief. Tommy turns on the first person he can think of, and Techno almost can’t recognize him. This wasn’t the boy he’d sworn to protect.

“You!” Tommy hissed, suddenly staring directly at Ranboo and Techno, “Don’t stand there as if you have any right to be here-“ he jerks his shoulder out of Sapnaps grip, “You weren’t his fucking family!”

And it’s unclear who he’s talking to.

Ranboo jolts at his side. Then his face sours. “Who are you talking to?”

Tommy ignores him, shoving him to the side in favor of stomping directly up to Techno. He jabs his finger into the piglins chest, spitting, “Oh I’m sorry. Did you forget that you weren’t his family too?” 

Techno moves to talk, interrupted by Tommy’s voice, “We wrote you a fucking letter. All you had to do was show up!”

Sapnap moves to intervene but Dream only holds out an arm. This was long overdue.

“Why show up now?” Tommy demanded.

Techno and Ranboo said nothing.

The piglin straightens in his stance then. Having the decency to look somewhat confused. As irritating as the gesture was, it was also sincere. It was genuine . Techno looked to the enderman hybrid next to him, hoping his confusion was evident.

Ranboo blinked, then narrowed their eyes, tone accusatory, “You said you went. Phil said you both went.”

“We-“ Techno starts.

Then Sapnap was interjecting, fire climbing up his arms, “Don’t let him fucking lie to you.”

“We didn’t have the time,” Techno finishes.

And he remembers this conversation. About 2 weeks ago, Ranboo told both Techno and Phil about meeting the boys at the prime path. Only to see them off. The kid had gone on and on for days about the two remembering.

Which was ironic because Ranboo was the one with the bad memory.

“They need help. We have a plan for it, but you have to see them off,” Ranboo cried, he’d been at it for hours by then though. “Promise me you’ll see them off.”

“I don’t see what they need any of us for.”

The enderman hybrid narrowed his eyes, then lets out a low noise. “He’s my fiance, Techno. I want to protect him. And he’s your brother.”

“Hardly.”

“Just tell me you’ll go.”

Ranboo didn’t wait for an answer back then.

And Techno told Phil to lie. Because lying would have been better than seeing them off.

Even though everything in him was screaming for him to just listen and go. Those kids weren’t his brothers anymore. He couldn’t have a family anymore. Families died. He didn’t.

Tommy and Tubbo didn’t have all the time in the world like Techno did. No one ever had the time. So he wouldn’t see them off.

And maybe he felt bad. Maybe the awful sliver of guilt that curled around his gut was a sign of that. See, Techno knew things about the situation that no one else did.

Dream told him he’d kill Tubbo in advance. He told Techno the entire plan. Knowing that Techno wouldn’t care outwardly. He’d just stew in the anger but never act upon it.

He knew that Ranboo never once wrote anything about seeing Tommy and Tubbo off in his memory book. Ranboo never had a crutch to fall back on in case his memory failed, he never once forgot about the prime path.

But the worst thing he knew was that if he had seen them off, he wouldn’t recognize Tubbo. Same as he doesn’t recognize him now. The kid in that casket wasn’t his brother. That was an impostor . Techno’s brother didn’t have scars from fireworks or horns or bruises. He didn’t have a line across his throat from where Dream had stabbed him.

Because Technos little brother wasn’t dead. At least, not in his mind. Never in his mind.

“Didn’t have the time to see your little brothers off?” Dream inquired, voice tilting. He knew what he was doing. “Thought you’d never betray your family. Tubbo was your brother, wasn’t he?”

Techno faltered, standing straighter than before. He hid the surprise he felt at the question. As valid as the question was. But it wasn’t easy. None of this was easy.

Tubbo was his brother. Tommy was his brother. Wilbur was his brother. Two of those people were dead now. Only Tommy remained. Techno wasn’t sure if he could do anything for Tommy. Not after he’d blown up his work. Let Dream kill Tubbo and exile him.

By all means, this was his fault.

The voices didn’t make it any fucking easier. 

Family doesn’t exist

Blood for Tubbo

He’s just some kid now

They’ll die 

Death should not have taken him

So no, he decided he didn’t have a brother.

“I don’t have a brother.“

Tommy fell back into Dream, hands trembling. His face had fallen greatly from its previous blank expression. He looked up at the masked man helplessly, as if he needed guidance. His eyes flit between Dream and Techno, then Dream's sword and Technos face.

Techno could see the minute Tommy came up with a solution to his problem. He watches with bated breath as the anger settles among the surprise. Everything in him told him to combat whatever was going to happen.

He didn’t.

“I hate you,” Tommy ground out, pushing past Ranboo who had moved to stop him. He takes Dream's sword from the man's hands, stepping forward. “I fucking hate you.”

“Tommy-“ Ranboo stammers, warbling something none of the attendees understand. “Come on.”

“I can’t let him say that about him. Not at his fucking funeral, Ranboo! Don’t you care?”

“Of course I care. He was my fucking fiance!” There was a pause. “Tubbo wouldn-“

“Shut up Ranboo!” Tommy shouts, and Techno knows he doesn’t feel the weight of his actions even when Ranboo teleports away out of the fear.

Techno doesn’t so much as flinch at the outburst. Been there, done that. He’s seen all of Tommys temper tantrums. Since day one. It didn’t help the pit forming in his stomach. He opens his mouth, questioning, “Are you gonna stab me then, Tommy?”

“How could you say that about him?” Tommy changed the subject, sword trembling in his hands. Realistically, Techno could take the sword from him. Switch their positions. But he won’t. “He would have done anything for you and this is how you repay him. Take it back.”

“I can’t,” Techno stated simply.

“You’re just like Phil-“ Techno winced at the insinuation, but didn’t interrupt. “I can’t tell who’s worse! You came to disown him and Phil didn’t come at all!”

“Tommy-“

”Even Dream showed up!”

And the piglin knows that Sapnap and Dream would never step in.

He knows Tommy’s seeing Wilbur. He can tell by the look in his eyes. That scared flighty look. Techno knew it was the same look he gave Wilbur whenever the man got a little too dodgy. Tommy almost completely withdrew, judging by the slight twitch of his shoulder. All it took was Dream’s encouragement for the boy to continue. “Now we’re getting somewhere, Tommy.”

“I hate you.” The words reverberated around the server, twisting around Techno’s throat and choking him with their intent.

“I know.”

Wilbur felt the fireworks explode- Techno felt the sword embed in his chest, pain blooming throughout his body. The blood seemed to pool out of him at the action. Dripping onto the floor and running down the sword. He stumbled, leaning forward onto Tommy on instinct, arms wrapping around him. “Tommy?”

Black wings covering a stab wound.

And then he’s being shoved back to the ground as the sword is pulled from his chest. Tommy’s not looking at him. Well, he is, but he’s not looking. He’s not even there.

”You’re my son!”

He hears the sounds of Tommy and Dream talking about what he’d done. He hears Sapnap making every excuse under the sun for why it was okay. That Tommy was okay. This was long overdue. He deserves this.

Tommy’s ours

Kill Dream

Are we dying?

We don’t want this blood

Techno’s eyes slowly flutter open, seeing Dream take Tommy into his arms. Manipulating him . It’s the closest Techno’s ever been to death. Is this death?

It hurts, he thought. It hurt more than any other time he’d been stabbed. Techno wheezed as he lay on the floor. His hands come up to his chest, resting over the wound. Hands soaking in the crimson red blood. 

He held up his hand, staring intently at the blood. Techno cringes at the sight. Eyes crinkling until they simply close again, resting his head back. He always hated the sight of his own blood. The voices rage in his ears.

Technoblade?

Get some rest

Technoblade never dies

I don’t like this blood

Was this what Tubbo felt like? Was it always this strange? The blood never quite left his mind, burning an image into his mind. Every blink was met with Tommy holding a bloody sword. Dreams bloody sword. Coated in Techno’s blood.

Ah. Tubbo always said being hurt by family stung worse.

——————

The swings were their place. It was where Tubbo and Techno hung out every Thursday morning. Techno would skip training and sit with Tubbo, listening to all the things he had to talk about.

And they ran for hours. Wilbur would run out with his guitar and a song. Tommy would sit down to show off things he learned from Wilbur. Phil would come sit next to Techno, asking his sons about their days.

But one of their meetings would never leave Techno’s head.

It was shortly after the festival. The day where everything went wrong. Tubbo was sitting at some tree with a swing that looked suspiciously like the one from their childhood. His legs kicking back and forth as he hummed L’Manbergs anthem.

Techno remembers sitting beside him. “Hey.”

“Hey, Techno,” Tubbo murmured hollowly. He covered his face with his bangs, almost ashamed.

“Is it healing okay?”

“Okay as any major burn scar can.”

Techno clicked his tongue, turning his attention to the view of L’Manberg from the tree. He ignored the guilt in his chest. It wasn’t real.

“I can’t forgive you…. I won’t forgive you,” Tubbo blurted out, continuing, “It hurts.”

“I know.”

“I would have understood if Schlatt had done it. But you’re my brother. You were supposed to help me.” Tubbo pauses for a second, exhaling a shaky breath. His eyes close for only a second before they open again, never once leaving the view. “It hurts more. Like if I stabbed you right now, you’d be confused and upset, right? Because we’re brothers.”

“That’s stupid. It would have hurt the same.” Techno mumbled, not unkindly but not kindly either. It was just unsure. 

“Of course you’d say that.”

“We haven’t been- I’m not- It should have hurt the same.”

Tubbo looks at him for the first time that night. His eyes narrow upon contact, something awful behind his eyes. Then he laughs, a sad little laugh really, “I feel bad for you.”

“Why?”

“Because that really leaves you with no one… and that’s a really sad way to live.”

And he left.

—————

He stumbles to his feet, barely managing to get an ender pearl through the air. It’s a bad idea. Even he knows it. He was the one to teach the boys about how ender pearls always hurt upon impact. To never use them unless completely necessary or you had a healing potion on hand.

His horse was there to greet him, allowing him to get on. Carl didn’t seem to mind the blood all too much. At least, Techno hoped he didn’t. He didn’t want the horse's last interaction with him to be a bad one. He struggles to fight the urge to drift off as the horse rode home.

Stay awake, Techno

You’re almost home

You never die

Just a little longer

The cold air of the tundra hit his wound in a very specific way. Making his entire body go rigid with pain, eliciting yet another pained wheeze. Techno squeezes his eyes shut, hands tightening around the reigns. He’d never quite felt this kind of pain. It didn’t feel like the average stab wound.

Lights evaded his view. Colorful lights just on the horizon. His home. Techno let a pleased laugh escape him. He didn’t register the disappointment when it devolved into a coughing fit. He raised a hand to stifle the noise, cringing when he felt blood splatter onto his hand. Because he was home.

You’re home

We’re home

Get inside

Techno hurry and get inside

You’re at like two hearts

Techno slid off of the horse, not bothering to tie him up. He didn’t have a chance. Not when the cold got to him. Not when he could feel all the sensations leave his legs. Knees buckling beneath him the second they touched the ground. A grunt escaped him, hands coming up to hold the wound once more.

“Phil!”

And he knew he wouldn’t make it inside.

The blood began to seep into the snow beneath him. The normal white color turned an awful crimson, bleeding through to the area surrounding him. Techno could only watch helplessly, drifting in and out of consciousness as a wave of exhaustion came over him. He just hoped death would come quick.

“Phil,” Techno wheezed out, words dying out the second they left his mouth. The snow and wind seemed to swallow them up. Forcing them back down his throat, never to be heard. “ Phil- Dad!”

No response.

Technoblade?

Phil’s on his way. We got him

Dadza?

Don’t go to sleep

You can’t.

The hound army made their way over to the scene curiously. An action that nearly made Techno cry out of relief. At least there would be someone with him. He raised a shaky hand, petting one of the dogs with a gentle touch. He’d never admit to the hot tears that ran down his face when it curled next to him, not seeming to mind the crimson blood staining its fur. It whined softly, signalling for all the other hounds to join it. Each one made its own little place around the piglin.

It’s alright, Techno

Phil will be here soon

We promise

You’ll never die. Not as long as we’re here.

“Chat,” Techno rasped out, fighting the urge to sleep. 

We’re here

We’ve got you, blood god

It was an honour

Just rest

“Thanks,” Techno let his eyes drift closed. The sound of his chat murmuring soft reassurances and the heartbeats of the dogs surrounding him were all he needed. 

And Techno allowed the voices to lull him to sleep for the last time.

It’s okay

Goodnight Technoblade

o7

We won’t leave you

You’re our family

We’ll be okay

[Technoblade was slain by Tommyinnit using Nightmare ]

Chapter Text

The server shook to its very core. By all means, it should have been impossible for anything like that to happen in the first place. Because Technoblade never dies… right? They’d never even thought of the possibility of his death. It shouldn’t have happened.

Not even Tommy, the one who killed him, knew what he’d done. Killed the unkillable. His hands trembled around the sword, failing to understand. A fog overtook his mind and poisoned his thoughts. It took the voice of Dream in a way. Guiding him to kill him again. To take another life. To end him like he had ended Tubbo.

But the rational side of his mind took over. He threw the sword to the ground, dropping down shortly after. His hands reached forward, tugging at the once pristine cloak. Never once had he seen it so ragged. Distantly, he could hear Dream and Sapnap speaking to him. Could feel Squeeks wet nose prodding at his cheek.

“I killed Technoblade,” Tommy whispered, voice soft and airy. There was a hint of disbelief in his tone. As if the blood wasn’t on his hands. 

And it was only then that he noticed them. The blood that coated his hands, smearing all over his shirt and his face. It left a trail that would never leave. Even if he were to wash it off, it’d still stay in his mind. Because Tommy and War may be old friends, but Death never grew fond of him.

At least not in the way it grew fond of either of his brothers.

Dream dropped down beside him, throwing an arm around the teen. His grip was tight and binding. Like he was trying to keep Tommy from acting out. “He hurt you. You did okay.”

“I killed my brother. Dream I killed him!” Tommy sobbed, voice cracking halfway through his sentence. His breath came out ragged and shaky. Hands reaching for the cloak once more. He pulled it close to his chest, finally letting the scream escape his throat.

And Dream comforted him. He rocked the boy gently, never once letting him go too long without a kind word. Tommy could feel Dreams fingers running through his hair gently, a familial gesture.

It was just him and Dream then. Everyone else in the world had faded out around them. None of them mattered. Tommy’s only focus was the man in front of him. The only man who had ever been somewhat honest with him.

The only one to visit him in exile. The only one to come to his party. The first person other than Tubbo to claim him as a friend. Dream was the only one who cared.

Why hadn’t he seen that before?

Tommys cries slowly turned to incoherent sobs and gasps for air. No longer able to communicate the words that plagued his mind so deeply. All he could do was turn into Dreams' chest, allowing the man to properly wrap his arms around him. Tears and snot and blood soaked the lime green hoodie but Dream didn’t seem to mind.

Tommy couldn’t find himself to mind either. Not when all of his brothers were dead. Not when he was an orphan by his own doing. Another scream bubbled up in his chest. It couldn’t be settled by even the kindest of words. The gentle murmurs and the hand rubbing his back did nothing to soothe him.

“Tommy,” Dream cooed, “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

“I’m an orphan, Dream. I’ve made myself an orphan,” Tommy sobbed, throat going hoarse with every word. His voice cracked and broke in the way that only a childs could. It was a sad reminder. “I just killed the only person who gave a shit about me.”

And he knew it was wrong. Dream was never his friend. Dream killed Tubbo, his brother. But Tommy still felt himself slowly relax at the words. Letting himself sink further and further into Dreams manipulation because what else was there for him to do. Dream was right.

All Tommy did was bring death and destruction to anything and anyone he touched.

“You were right. You were so fucking right.”

“About what, Toms?”

Tommy didn’t bother to hide the way he only sunk further into the embrace at the use of the nickname. “I’m a plague. I kill everything I touch.”

“You’re falling for it-“

Dream pulled back, hands finding their way beneath his mask and lifting it up for Tommy to see his face in full. Tommy took this opportunity to note every single one of the man's features. From his freckles to his scars to his green eyes. Just like Tubbo’s.

Tommy wonders if they’d always been like that. Maybe the two had been brothers. Maybe that’s why Dream was so mad. Why Dream hated their family, hated Wilbur.

Dream was always gentle with him. Even when Tommy was loud and annoying and destructive. “I know. It’s okay. You can’t kill me.”

It scared him. The comfort those twisted words brought him were scary in their own right. Tommy sniffled and nodded at the man, murmuring, “I can’t?”

“Nope. You couldn’t hurt me. Not even if you tried,” Dreams voice had an odd tilt to it at the words. It was like he was telling a joke that only he knew the punchline too. The thought made Tommy’s stomach churn uncomfortably. He couldn’t understand what it meant.

His eyes travelled down to the tattered cape in his hands, then back up at Dream. Dream didn’t say anything more. Simply squeezing Tommy’s shoulders gently.

And Tommy felt his bottom lip begin to tremble, eyes watering at the gesture. His voice is low but frantic, stammering, “Can you- Can you fix me?”

Dream hums.

So Tommy begs, hands gripping at Dream’s hoodie tightly, “I need you to fix me. Punish me, lock me up, anything. I don’t want to kill anyone else-“ His breaths quicken and his vision blurs and for a moment he’s sure he’s dying. No, he knows he’s dying. 

“Tommy,” Dream’s voice cuts through, “I’m not going to punish you.”

Tommy sniffles. 

“What kind of brother would I be?” 

—————-

“The code is bleeding through.”

“I’ve done everything.”

“Humans die. It’s how they work”

“I’m tired of watching it.”

—————

Tubbo can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. His stomach was twisting in his chest, coiling and moving against his nerves. He could feel the weight of the world he was in begin to take effect. Almost as if he was being forced to act out.

Someone was gone. Someone- Something was gone.

He felt like he was missing something without knowing what it was. All he knew was its importance. It was wrong. Something had gone wrong. 

And for some reason, everything in him told him it was probably his fault. That by some miracle he’d managed to play into another sick game. Tubbo snickered at the very thought. Only he could be a pawn in death just the same as he was in life.

“I’m a plague. I kill everything I touch.”

Tubbo whirled around to meet the voice. It sounded like Tommy. No, he knew it was Tommy. If there was any voice he’d recognize anywhere, it was Tommy’s.

But it was the words that worried him.

“No, Tommy. You’re falling for it!” 

He waited. Nothing happened.

“Tommy?” Tubbo whispers to nothing. He gained his answer in the form of what he would call, ‘Divine Intervention.’

The world seemed to twist and shape around him. He could see Schlatt struggling to make his way over to him. The strain clear on his face as the house swallows them all.

Tubbo frowned, hands coming up to cover his ears from the ringing. He felt hands join his after a second. Bigger, calloused hands that could only belong to two people. Either Wilbur or Schlatt.

But Wilbur was gone.

Where is Wilbur?

“Where’s Wilbur?” Tubbo asks, finding that his voice is the only thing cutting through the noise. “Where is he!”

Tubbo looked over the house yet again. An awful ringing overtaking his sensitive ears. He brings his hands up to cover them, eyes squeezing shut from the pain. He’s scared. He’s so fucking scared.

And Fundy was blank yet again. Tubbo couldn’t make out a single expression on his face. He reached out to the boy, trying to pull him over to safety. But Fundy only blinks at his hand, arms tightening around the fox in his hands.

“Fundy?” Tubbo asks, confusion evident in his tone. He felt his ears straining to hear among the rumbling of the world.

Fundy’s not here.

“There’s nothing we can do, Tubbo!” Schlatt called. He knew that. Tubbo knew there was nothing to be done if Fundy wouldn’t respond. “Let’s go.”

Except everytime he looked at the fox hybrid, all he could see was empty space. Yet another faceless soul. Just like the one he saw that day. When Phil came and Wilbur left. 

Tubbo felt himself being picked up by Schlatt. He felt the force of Schlatt moving against the world that only seemed to cave in behind them. 

He could see Fundy snap out of it at the last second. Watched the boy finally start to move, face flickering between three identities. Fundy, an error, and… and Tubbo?

“Wait!”

Tubbo took that moment to struggle in Schlatt’s hold. It was like every bone in his body had finally pulled itself out of that autopilot. An autopilot that allowed him to trust the man.

He’s scared.

————-

“The code is bleeding through. The Realms are reflecting.”

“I know.”

“Just let it go. This world is dying.”

”I’m not in control of it anymore.”

————

Tubbo’s opening the door, oddly calm for once. The exhaustion isn’t as prominent as it usually is. Instead slinking to the back of his mind with every inch of the door that open.

“Hello?” Tubbo calls, staring at a vast nothing.

A void.

“Aren’t you tired of pretending, Tubbo?”

Tubbo blinks. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Wake up. Just wake up. Let me out.”

He’s scared.

”I can’t.”

”Why not? Why do we all have to stay here with you? I want to go home. I want to fix things with my brother. To retire.”

“You’ll all leave. If I wake up, I’ll be all alone again. No one is there to catch me at the bottom anyways.”

”I’ll catch you.”

Tubbo takes a step out into the void. His arms come up to hug his sides, offering little warmth in the cold atmosphere. His ears and nose twitch helplessly at the change. And for a moment, he feels secure.

Then he falls.

The void does not catch him.

No one catches him.

And it hurts. Everything hurts. Tubbo’s tired of falling.

Chapter Text

They’re sitting inside, waiting for Wilbur to come home. Well, okay, only Tubbo is waiting. He’s waiting by the window while Schlatt and Fundy make casual conversation around him.

“We finally got around to Tubbo’s funeral back at home…” Fundy flicks his eyes up to gauge Tubbo’s reaction. It’s obvious that he was expecting outrage. However he’s oblivious to the fact that Tubbo hasn’t heard the whole story. Not yet. “I’m sorry.”

Fundy wasn’t there.

He’s only a little caught off guard when Tubbo asks, “Who went?”

The answer doesn’t come immediately. In fact, it doesn’t even come within the same minute he asked for it. Fundy doesn’t know how to answer. He doesn’t know what Tubbo wants to hear.

Or better yet, if Tubbo wants to hear anything at all.

He waits until Schlatt gives him a little nod before continuing, “Me, Dream, Ranboo, Sapnap, Techno and Tommy were the only ones who went.”

Tubbo barely reacts outside of a hum. Even if Schlatt comes and sets a hand on his shoulder. Even if he can’t feel anything other than bitter disappointment. It’s not a bad thing.

Being upset that only six people out of an entire server went to your funeral was ok. Especially when your own father didn’t.

“What the fuck was Dream doing there?” Schlatt questioned, squeezing Tubbo’s shoulder in a short reassuring gesture. A small smile reaches his face when he feels Tubbo lean into it. 

The fox hybrid tilts his head to the side. “He freaked out.”

No.

“Over what?” Tubbo asked, tone sour.

He wouldn’t like the answer. He knew he wouldn’t.

Squeeks nudges Fundy’s hand again, ever the little emotional support animal. The fox didn’t stop until Fundy continued, lower than before, “We saved Tommy. He let us save Tommy.”

Tubbo blinks, stepping back into Schlatt’s hold once again. His entire mind being split between the image of Dream holding an axe to his throat and the implied image of Dream allowing them to take Tommy. It doesn’t make any sense. It just- it doesn’t make sense.

Why would Dream let Tommy go? Why would he give up on the goal he’s had since the beginning of the server?

Tubbo felt the hand on his shoulder tighten in the slightest, telling him to come back to them for a bit. But he can’t. Because that would mean that the team did make it. That someone was going to save them. They just didn’t save him.

Tommy got out. Sure, he was glad. Tubbo was ecstatic even. There was nothing he wanted more than for Tommy to be free.

Nothing except being free with him.

“Did-“ Tubbo rasps, continuing only with an encouraging squeeze from Schlatt, “What did they all say?”

Schlatt lets out a low whistle behind him, resting both of his hands on Tubbo’s shoulder now. Though he said nothing verbally, his actions spoke volumes. Tubbo knew he was worried. He knew Schlatt wouldn’t like the answer but he was willing to listen to it.

Tubbo just wasn’t sure if he was ready to listen to it.

Fundy fidgets, opening his mouth once then closing it again. As if the words wouldn’t come out. Then, after a minute, he says, “Tommy misses you. Sapnap and Ranboo said sorry a lot. I don’t know about Dream.”

Nice. So many words yet zero information. Fundy was definitely a Soot, Tubbo mused.

But it was Schlatt who called attention to the elephant in the room. “What about Techno?”

Fundy paused. Then, slowly, “Techno died.”

“How?” Tubbo asks, feeling himself rise to his feet. Both Schlatt and Fundy throw him concerned glances but he pays them no mind. Because nothing makes sense. Techno can’t die. 

He can’t die.

He can’t die.

“Tommy killed him, Tubbo. He killed him.,” Fundy states, still staring at Tubbo.

He’s not supposed to be here.

Can he?

“Tubbo, why don’t you sit down while we figure out where the next train station is?” Schlatt offers. “You’re acting all fucking weird again.”

Everything is too loud. It’s like he can hear the code swirling around him. From the plants outside to the crackling of a soul fire in the distance. Everything is one big line of code. One that Tubbo is now burdened with. “No. Nothing is right. None of this is right!” 

He was supposed to be dead. Why wasn’t he dead?

His eyes scan over the room, trying not to focus too hard on the details. Even then, the code seeps out of the world and into his field of vision. Presenting itself to him as if it was always meant to. Everything from the windows showing the overworld to the music box playing the nations anthem. Wilburs code is still lingering on the door handle, staining the oak wood with a blue handprint.

Tubbo wonders if the man is still in the room. If maybe he’s just stuck. If they’re all just stuck.

He doesn’t want to be stuck.

And then there’s Fundy. Fundy whose form is split in two. The one he’s currently taking and another one. The form of a lost soul. A faceless soul. His entire being overflows his tiny frame and floods into the room. 

Blank eyes.

Small smiles.

He’s scared.

If Tubbo looks long enough he swears he might even see himself between the cracks. He hates it. It’s not what he wants. Not what he needs .

“I’m scared too.”

Tubbo pushes it to the back of his mind, turning on his heel yet again. He claps his hands over his ears. Maybe if he can’t hear the will of the world, he won’t have to answer it. “Schlatt, it’s too loud. It’s too loud!”

No answer.

“I want to go home.”

Nothing happens.

The room is still flooding. The jumbles are at his ankles now, slowly rising. Tubbo bites back a whimper at the thought of drowning in this world. In the afterlife.

“You know this isn’t real, don’t you?”

He wants his brothers. 

"Tubbo, please let me come home. Let me bring him home."

Tubbo wants his brothers and he wants his dad. Not the one that claimed to raise him. The one he chose. He wants to be alive. Wants to have a second chance.

The sludge rises to his knees. Tubbo’s shaking by then. Hands held up to cover his eyes. The fear of knowing the reality of his world is too great. He doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t know if he has the strength to know. 

He’s tired.

Nothing but tired.

He lets himself sink.

—————

Where was he?

There’s a room and two gods beneath the mess. One beautiful goddess and one smaller being. A white light flooded any part that the smaller god walked upon, illuminating the areas surrounding it.  Every part except for the goddess.

The goddess herself was practically bathed in a darkness. The light bouncing off of the brim of her hat and sending shadows to cascade over her like an umbrella. At times the light would break through, twinkling under the shadows as if they were stars in the void.

“I tried to do it your way.” The goddess murmured, resting a hand upon the smaller gods shoulder.

“I know.” It answered.

“It’s only your first world.”

“…”

The goddess frowned at its silence. Her face fell into a soft frown and her hands fell from its shoulders. Tubbo resented the part of him that sought comfort in the action. “Don’t fret, little god. I’ll lay its soul to rest.” 

They were talking about him, weren’t they?

“I’m not tired,” Tubbo interrupts. His voice is distorted and low among the others. It’s joined by a distinct chatter of mobs. Then it mellows out into something melodic. Like a music disc. 

The smaller god, Life, bounds towards him. It’s feet aren’t touching the floor. Rather they are floating above it, small particles illuminating the ground beneath it. It tilts its head curiously, eyes crinkling as it smiles. “Hello, little lamb.”

Tubbo scrunches his face in confusion. At first at the idea of the god knowing him and later because the god doesn’t seem to be threatening. It’s not worried about his presence. It’s kind. Tubbo notes the way it speaks, listening intently to the small chimes and bells and hums that come with it. It reminds him of something...

“Far.”

“Cat,” Life hums, grin only widening. It reaches out to him, fingers barely grazing the corrupted code that surrounded the boy. Then it mutters, “Chirp’s lost.”

They’re interrupted by the Goddess of Death. Her voice booms when she talks, carrying across the vast void around them. “I know you’re tired. I can feel it.”

Life bristles, pushing Tubbo behind itself and turning towards her, hissing, “You have no right.”

It’s voice shakes the void, tone distorted and awful. It was like all the times George would talk about XD. Except this time, Tubbo was experiencing it first hand. His ears flattened against his skull, sensitive to the noise around him. His legs shake and fold beneath him.

But he doesn’t fall.

And the world rumbles, once again cracking and crumbling beneath them. Tubbo stumbles a bit, maintaining his balance with Life’s help only. He grabs hold of the gods arm with a grunt. Then, he takes in the full sight of the Goddess.

He’s not scared this time.

“Far?”

“You’re a plague. You kill everything you touch.”

Dream said that to Tommy. 

Death wore a look of surprise. It only lasted for a second. Then her gaze was relaxing and turning stony. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips set into a thin line. Tubbo wondered where he had seen it before. Death dismisses the smaller god with the wave of her hand, turning her full attention to Tubbo, voice cold, “It forgets its place.”

Tubbo stares.

“You’re exhausted, dear.”

He is.

So what?

“I’m not going to sleep.”

“You’ll break everything we’ve built.”

“I’m done falling through the void.”

“Tubbo,” Death starts, form shrinking with the tone of her voice. She rests her cold palms on either side of the boys face. Her gaze softens at the slight acceptance on his side. “Rest. You have to rest.”

The goddess pressed a soft kiss to Tubbo’s forehead. Hoping that the action would calm him. That it would quell the corruption rising in him. 

It doesn’t.

“You dropped me.”

—————

Let’s try this again.

Tubbo jots this day down as the first time he’s been aware. It’s the day that he rises from muck and the gloom, clawing at the stray lines of code holding him back. He grits his teeth as they get more frequent. Every new step

Things are fuzzy in his afterlife. He’s honestly starting to miss when they would just walk. Tubbo misses the late night talks and sleeping under the stars. He misses the grass tickling his back and the soul fire illuminating their faces.

He misses it all.

But he’s back in his home. He’s back and Fundy and Schlatt are still talking as if he never left. Maybe this is what he’s meant to do. It’s only right, right? 

“We finally got around to Tubbo’s funeral back at home…” Fundy flicks his eyes up to gauge Tubbo’s reaction. It’s obvious that he was expecting outrage. However he’s oblivious to the fact that Tubbo has already heard this before. That Tubbo already knows this story and he’s tired of hearing it. He wants a better story. 

So he changes the narrative and he allows himself to believe it. He wants to believe it. He needs this.

“Everyone went, right? All of my friends? I know Tommy and Ranboo went. Did you see Niki? Is she still baking?”

Fundy pauses, as if taking this in. And for a second, Tubbo wonders if maybe the fox has been playing him this entire time. That he isn’t real. But Fundy delivers, albeit hesitantly, “Yeah. Everyone went. Even Techno and Dream.”

He doesn’t know why it felt good to hear that Dream and Techno went to his funeral. They were basically the main causes. Those two and Wilbur were the people he had to blame for the way he turned out. SUre, Schlatt helped them, but he would never blame the man. He couldn’t. 

Schlatt was… different.

“Really?” Tubbo whispered, surprised by how small his voice sounded. It wasn’t like he didn’t know they went. He just wanted to be told. No, he needed to be told that they went for some reason other than murder and manipulation. It was all he needed. Knowing that they care about him or that they at least pretend to. That’s all that matters. 

Or at least that’s what he lets himself believe.

He hears Schlatt move behind him, accompanied by a soft suggestion, “Tubbo, maybe we should move on.”

But Tubbo’s in too deep. He wants everyone here. He wants a family. The last family he’ll ever have. One that won’t leave. Can’t leave. He bounds over to the door, ignoring the complaints from both Fundy and Schlatt. It’s easier to throw it open this time around. Way easier than earlier when he was here. The cold greets him as if they’re old friends. His cheeks redden at the bite, but otherwise he stays. Tubbo smiles at the face that greets him, a warm smile. The kind that lights up his entire face.

"Wilbur!"

And for a second, Tubbo lowers his guard. He only realises his mistake almost immediately. Because now there's a piglin in his doorway. Now Phil is one again flying over the horizon and out of his reach.

"Techno?"

Chapter Text

“Back to the overworld.”

——————

Dream would never call himself a good person. He wouldn’t call himself a bad person either. Neither of those descriptions were accurate.

Being a bad person would mean killing Tommy right here. It would mean taking his sword and plunging it through Tommy’s back while it was turned. Dream would be lying if he said the thought didn’t bring something of a smile to his face. As wrong as it was.

He listened intently to the murmurs and the sobs. Face scrunching into a frown at some of the things he heard. Among them were mutters to his brothers. Others were Tommy begging to be killed. 

This was… wrong? Dream was sure it was wrong. He was positive, actually. There was no reality or universe where he was doing this with completely pure intentions. 

“Tommy?” Dream called, voice lower than usual. It was still the voice he used for him though. The low and gentle tone, one an older brother would use. Honestly, Dream would be lying if he said he didn’t get it from his time working with Schlatt. “It’s time to go.”

“I just need a minute, Dream. I have to tell him I’m sorry,” Tommy rasps, but he makes no moves to leave Dreams grip. In fact, the man swears he just sinks further into it. “I sent Tubbo’s nightmare right to him.”

“Techno could have stopped you at any time. That was his own fault,” Dream scoffed, shaking the teen lightly. “Tubbo already knows you’re sorry.”

“How do you know?”

Truly, he doesn’t. There’s no way of knowing. Nothing except the strange pull at the back of his mind. The force whispering in his ear. Telling him he’s right. That Tubbo would be fine.

“I’m an admin, Tommy. I know everything about the world and its people,” Dream replies, it’s a lie. He’s been cut off from the world since Life and Death came to him with the issue of Tubbo’s passing. “Tubbo’s fine and he won’t hate you. It was an accident. He knows that.”

Tommy knows he’s lying, but he’ll let himself believe it.

And this was what set him apart from either. He knows his actions are wrong but he’ll still carry them out.

Because in order for him to be a good person, he would have to be genuinely worried for Tommy. He would have to admit to holding this nuisance in his arms for any reason other than an ulterior motive. Sure, taking off his mask wasn’t exactly proving anything here.

But he figured that it would help. He’s not sure who but it had to do something.

Distantly, he wondered if the dead were watching him. Dream thought of all those in the afterlife by now. Wilbur, Schlatt, Techno, and Tubbo. Were they watching him? Were they gritting their teeth at the sight of him holding Tommy?

Then his mind wandered back to Tubbo. Back to that day in the vault. To when he watched Tubbo’s eyes crinkle as he smiled even in his last moments. It wasn’t even a happy smile. Dream could see all the exhaustion and the pain in it. The years worth of trauma and blood and sweat and loss. So much loss.

Loss of a home and a family. A house and a pet. Loss of trust and relationship.

Dream knew he was relieved by his death. He knew this. The knowledge kept him awake at night, nagging at his very core. Because the power felt nice. Having complete control without so much as a peep out of anyone or anything. That felt nice.

Yet, somewhere deep in his mind, he felt displeased. Not quite displeased though. He felt as if things were wrong. As if what he’d been chasing for the entirety of the server was nothing. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t regret killing Tubbo. 

Hell, he’d do it again. He’d kill the boy a thousand times over if it meant he’d have control of his server.

Because Tubbo is- was just a pawn. Maybe at some point he was something more. He could have been set up for something more. But he chose his side. Dream gave him time. He gave him a mask and the villagers. Gave him time and endless resources. He helped the kid out with his silly presidency.

Tubbo had all the chances in the fucking world to change his mind. To switch sides. He could have gone back with his family. His real family.

A family he was stolen from.

It’s not like Dream was asking for much. He couldn’t have been. Was it too much to ask for your little brother to just come home? Was it too much to want a family? 

That’s all he ever wanted, really. Not that anyone would ever believe him. Dream Taken, violent dictator, longing for a family. 

But Tubbo wanted to stay with the Crafts. He wanted to be difficult. Dream could feel the irritation rising up in him once again. It bubbled and swayed, threatening to spill over. He could feel his stomach twist from the sensation, nearly breaking his thoughts.

Though, he notes, he would have preferred to have the entire server as family. Sisters and brothers alike. Oh well. Tommy, Ranboo, and Purpled would just have to do.

Dream allows himself to come back to the world around him, making a point at paying attention to Tommy’s words. His eyes didn’t soften nor did they narrow. His mouth didn’t quirk into a grin or downturn into a frown. He just watched and observed. Mimicking.

It’s what he did best.

“You’re my friend, right? You said you were,” Tommy sniffled, suddenly looking up at him. His eyes aren’t the bright blue they were before. They were faded, more of a grey than a blue at all. There were tear tracks all along his face, snot joining them around his nose. 

Oh.

Dream tilted his head, studying Tommy in his entirety, trying to understand anything about him. Anything at all. Because the boy was holding him as if he always had. As if they were family. Granted, his family was awful.

He hummed in response to the statement. Dream pulls himself up to a stand, helping Tommy into one as well. He takes a second, pretending not to notice the way Tommy stares at every feature of his face. He’s already got his trust. Dream brings his hand up to flick Tommy’s forehead, snickering at his yell.

Because soon enough, Tommy would be his perfect little brother. Free of disobedience and all that came with it. The perfect little soldier. 

“I was thinking like family. You are in need of a new one,” Dream offered, voice lowering as if feigning innocence. Like he wasn’t planning this. He watched Tommy’s face light up comically, eyes brightening just a bit before they dimmed once again. The boys raised his arms hesitantly, wrapping them around Dream once again.

And just like that he’d won. Dream forced any and all conflicting emotions aside. “It’s okay, Tommy. I’m all you need. I’m all you have. And you’ll have me forever.”

“I don’t want to replace Tubbo.”

Replace… Tubbo? Surely, he’d be replacing Wilbur. That’s who he was meant to be replacing anyways. The guy who started a war. Who killed his friends. Who blew up his own fucking nation after losing his own game. Yet, Dream was supposed to replace Tubbo.

His face scrunched up, mouth setting into a thin line. Dream let the scoff escape his lips and tried to ignore the itch coiling in his mind. No one could replace Tubbo. He wouldn’t let them.

If it were up to him, Tubbo would have come back by now. He would have been revived at his funeral and everyone would have loved him. Things would be back to normal. Back to when Wilbur and Tommy weren’t on this fucking server.

To when it was just him, his friends, and his brother.

Dream must have let something slip because Tommy is nearly taking a step back. The man watches as the blondes expression falls. Going from guilt to something akin to fear. 

He looked like Tubbo did back at the festival. 

That just won’t do.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Tommy,” Dream ground out, gripping Tommy’s shoulders tightly. He hoped it bruised. “You replaced me.”

“Dream-“ Tommy starts.

“I came before you ever did. You’re just some stand in-“ Everything he was saying had a purpose. He didn’t need Tommy scared. He needed him sympathetic. He needs a brother not some prisoner. Why couldn’t Tommy see that? 

Why did no one see that?

“Please-“

His grip only tightened. “Wilbur took him from me. I thought he was dead! I thought he was fucking dead. Do you even know what that’s like?”

Tommy was squirming against it at every chance. Why? Why did he want to leave?

“Dream, you’re hurting me-“ Tommy managed through struggling. Hands making their way to Dreams chest and pushing him back. The blonde stepped back, catching his breath. “What the fuck?”

Show time.

“I didn’t-“ Dream let his face drop, feigning horror. It wasn’t hard. He’d done it before. His brows furrowed and his mouth hung open. Dream’s eyes flicked to the side, then back, then to the side again. The image of uncertainty and realisation. The perfect facade.

Until it wasn’t.

“They all left me! Tubbo left, George left, Sapnap left.  I don’t have anyone else and you don’t either. You can’t leave me, Tommy,” He ignored the way the words tugged at his vocal chords. Like there was someone balancing atop them like a tightrope. Dream let the truth mingle with the lies, even when the lies tore at his throat. Leaving him to yell until his throat went raw. 

He brought his hands up to his hair, tugging at the locks. He was aware of Tommy’s hesitance in coming towards him again. He was aware of the way his own breath was quickening. Dream pushed his own genuine worries down in favor of playing up his act. Falling short when the world just seems to unravel around him.

Code.

Green code all over the place. Figures among them.

And Tommy was just code. Everything was just 1’s and 0’s and he knew. Dream knows what they are, who they are. But it’s not what he wants it to be. “They didn’t even leave because I killed him. They left me before then.”

Tommy’s voice came out as nothing more than low hums. It reminded him of Mellohi.

“But you won’t leave me, right? You’ll stay.”

No answer.

“I need you, Toms.”

His words are edged with something dangerous. Drifting in and out of everything he said. Dream could barely register the voice coming out of his mouth. It was laced with the hum of a disc. 

Everything was out of his control. The server was slipping out of his hands. 

Then it was back. 

“Dream?” Tommy’s voice drifted through the air, breaking through the errors surrounding Dream. It was low and cautious. Like talking to a wounded animal.

Dream tuned him out. Choosing to focus on the world rebuilding itself around them. His eyes wandered over every aspect of it. All until they landed on Tommy once again. He hummed.

“Did you mean it? You need me.”

“Yes,” He wasn’t lying.

Tommy nodded stiffly, turning to Dream now. His face set into a toothy grin. It was foreign among the others' face. “It’s nice to be needed.”

Dream didn’t respond. Instead, focusing on the sudden admiration on Tommy’s face. One that hadn’t been there since the first war. He found himself frozen at the sight of it. It was unaccounted for. Unplanned.

The sun was setting on L’Manberg just behind him. Bathing the two of them in a golden light. It didn’t reach the ruins. Not that it ever had. Tommy’s hair seemed almost golden in the light, noticeable in even the darkest of places.  He looked just like… 

Tommy was looking at him the same way Tubbo once had. The way a little brother should look at his older sibling. Then he was hugging him once again, whispering hoarsely, “I’ll never leave.”

Dream felt a smirk etch its way onto his face as he brought a hand to Tommy’s back. His eyes set firmly on the form flying just above them and the ghost in front of him. It’s crestfallen face was clear even through the haze it was brought with. He brought a finger to his lips, shushing it before it could so much as wail.

But not even he could stifle the laugh that left him as a scream resounded around the server. A cackle as some would call it. It was as ugly as a crows and as infectious as one too. He felt the world pause around him, the words of those around him hung heavily in the air. He felt the laughter of another reach him as well, just as spiteful as his. Crows swarmed in the distance.

Guess Phil found his son.

Chapter Text

“No nono. You were meant to be better.”

“They are gods at heart.”

“They are my brothers at heart. Show me”

—————-

“Techno?” Tubbo questions, staring now at the piglin hybrid. He’s careful to let his eyes flit over every feature, both new and old. The oldest being the nick in Techno’s ears from when Tubbo won him in a duel. The newest being a stab wound. An awful crimson red begins to bloom from the wound before it just fades to a blue.

The same blue that Schlatt was hacking up not even a month ago.

And maybe he should have addressed Technoblade without thinking the worst. Maybe that would have changed the way things went. Because the world is only responding to his thoughts.

Techno tilts his head at the boy, eyes narrowing. Then he nudges Wilbur, muttering something unintelligible. Clearly he didn’t want Tubbo or anyone else to hear it. 

Fine.

Two could play that game, Tubbo scowled. He turns to walk into the house, taking Wilburs hand in his. Not looking back to see if Technoblade has decided to follow. That wouldn’t be his problem.

But it was.

“What did you do-“ Techno starts, roughly grabbing Tubbo’s arm. He’s pulling him back to the woods. There’s a shout from Wilbur to their right. Then outrage all around. “How?”

And Schlatt’s running out of the house. Out where they can leave. Where no one is safe and the land can take them. Where they’re all normal and they hate him.

It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

He’s thrown to the side, hands now gripping both of his arms. There’s soot falling in his face and gunpowder in his nose. Wilbur’s threatening Techno, saying that he has to let him go. Techno is telling Tubbo to bring him back.

He forgot Techno was a piglin. Forgot how aggressive they could be. Forgot that Techno was never one for knowing his own strength.

“Tubbo, I have to go back. Send me back!”

“I can’t- I don’t know how!” Tubbo cries, voice shaking with a fear he hasn't felt in years. Because Techno is cold. He’s drenched in ice and snow and blood and Tubbo is scared. “I don’t know how!”

“You have to know something,” Techno growls, shaking him once more. “Tommy needs me right now.”

“Why can’t it ever be about me?! Why can’t I need you?! Why is it that Schlatt cares more about me than you do?”

“Because you’re holding him hostage, Tubbo!”

Fundy’s standing in the doorway, Squeeks held tight in his arms. He lets the fox go, watching it walk ever so slowly back into the woods. Then returns to the house.

This is wrong.

Everything resets. 

————

He’s prepared for the next time he opens the door. Tubbo smiles brightly at the two, not sparing Techno a second glance. His eyes are set firmly on Wilbur and Wilbur only. Even when he could feel Techno’s uneasy gaze on him.

“Hey Tubb-“ Techno starts. There’s an odd look on his face. One that Tubbo would rather not dissect at this very second.

“We missed you! You missed some stuff though, Tubbo rambles on. “Like- Fundy’s here now. He’s like 10. And Schlatt’s been Schlatt. Oh! And Squeeks is-“ He looks around, ignoring the looks from everyone else. His body twists and turns in ways he didn’t believe possible. 

But Squeeks was nowhere to be found. It was like he just disappeared.

“Fundy?” Wilbur questioned, stepping in line with Tubbo. The boy could only follow his gaze as it landed on his son. “You’re- you’re dead.”

There’s a brief pause.

One that has Tubbo’s skin crawling. All kinds of awful things fill his head. Like how badly he wants to speed things up. How he wants everything to be under control. About how much he enjoys being in control. 

And he considers speeding up the reunion. He really does.

But then Fundy blinks, speaking unprompted for the first time since arriving. “… Dad?”

Wilbur stiffens, not used to the title after so long. He relaxes after a look from Techno and a rather teary eyes hybrid staring up at him. But he says nothing. If anything, Tubbo can see the ground beginning to swallow him up.

He can see the moment that Wilbur begins to itch. Wanting to blow it all up. To lash out. To say what’s on his mind.

But all that comes out is a careful nod and a small, “That’s me.”

Tubbo tunes them out. Allowing the world to continue without him for just a bit. Just enough for him to gather his thoughts.

“You forgot about the pig” 

He waves the thought away. It’s not important.

Envy, Tubbo concludes. He’s envious. Because he wants nothing more than for them to make up. He wants Fundy to have a dad. Someone to look out for him and care for him the way that he deserves. Tubbo knows it’s what he wants and it’s what the kid needs.

He watches Wilbur hug Fundy. Watches the way that Fundy completely freezes at the action. The fox turns, staring directly at Tubbo, like he was waiting for a direction. His image flickered again. This time he was just empty space. A void. A child's body with a scratched out face.

And sometimes if the light from outside reflected on it just right, he’d see himself in it. If only for a moment.

This is my world, Tubbo stared back, willing the world to make it stop. 

And then this small voice in his head gets to talking. It fills his head with nothing but corruption and spite. Sure, it’s not exactly wrong. Tubbo is envious of their relationship. He is jealous of the prospect of having a father that cares and wants him. 

“I deserve that family.”

Someone to look at him and call him their son. To say they’re proud of him.

Tubbo eyes Schlatt’s expression from the corner of his eye. The man pities him. Thinks he needs a new dad. Doesn’t he know Tubbo’s had enough dads? That he’s tired of dads by now. 

“All they do is hurt me.”

Why would he want a new one? The first father he ever had was unknown. A man who decided to leave him completely alone and vulnerable. You can’t do that to a kid. It hurts. The second was Phil. The third was… well it was basically Wilbur.

And the last was Schlatt.

Tubbo looked at the older ram. His expression softened on instinct. Beginning with the slight relax in his eyebrows to the faint quirk of his lips. Not that anyone would see it. 

Maybe he’s biased. Schlatt hurt him and influenced others to hurt him. Tubbo knew this. He also knew that Schlatt was alone up here with only Wilbur for company. He knows this Schlatt was worried about him before he intervened.

But he was okay with that. He was okay with playing pretend. As long as he got to play happy. 

Techno always told him he’d go too far.

Tubbo nearly forgot Technoblade existed in the process. He was too distracted to notice the looks being thrown his way. Too focused on anything else.

So he didn’t see Techno’s awfully distant look. Or the downturn of his lips. Not the awful slump in his shoulders. 

And he didn’t notice the way Techno had stepped into the frame. Didn’t see Techno reaching out to him with an outstretched hand. Not the small hesitance in the action or the soft words that came with it.

All he heard was a gravelly murmur, “You’re pretending again.”

“Is it a crime to want a family? To want someone to care?”

“ I care.”

“…you’re not supposed to be here, Technoblade.”

———-

Oh. He actually remembered this one.

He watched this younger version of himself tiptoe into Wilburs room. Techno wasn’t home. He’d just woken up from another nightmare and all he really needed was comfort.

He thinks he’ll always remember that nightmare. They’d left him in it. 

It’s not like he was talking much at this age anyways.

The younger Tubbo knocked on the door, muttering a small, “Wilbur?”

The heap of blankets on the bed started to shift. First it just moved to the side. Then it groaned. Then a mess of hair peaked over the end of it, Wilbur staring right at him. His voice was groggy and low, “Nightmare?”

Not Tubbo nodded.

The Wilbur just sighed and made room on his bed. He didn’t complain when Tubbo climbed in next to him. He didn’t ask questions. He just held him close and let the kid sleep.

Why did things change?

Actual Tubbo stared on with dull eyes. 

“L’manburg! My great unfinished symphony-“ Tubbo didn’t physically react when it was said, but he could still feel the gunpowder in his lungs. “Now finished!”

An explosion.

Screams filled the air.

Pain. Unimaginable pain blooming all over him. His eye, his face, his arms. Everything hurt. 

And Tubbo screamed. Not the young version of himself, no, younger Tubbo was stood stock still with Tommy. It was the him. Actual Tubbo.

He screamed louder than ever before. And when he did, the world seemed to pause. The debris stopped falling. Phils sword paused just before piercing Wilburs stomach. The tear on Niki’s face halted in its place just before it could fall to the floor.

Error.

Error?

The entire dream came crumbling down, leaving Tubbo to stand among the dust and the ash. The jumbled 1’s and 0’s. The remnants of his friends and family.

Funny, he thought. He spent his entire life getting to know these people. Years of growing up with them all for it to lead to this. Their only remains being a character file and a clay model.

Tubbo stumbles through the rubble of his own destruction. His voice finds him quickly though, “Life? Hello?”

No answer.

“Dad?” He doesn’t know who he’s calling for when he says it. Not even sure if he’s prepared to see who answers. “Tommy?”

Nothing but the wind. Wind blowing the ashes away, blowing his family way. Tubbo lets it, silently wishing that it would all go. Wanting to end the painful legacy.

And his emotions manifested in the form of a tornado. A tornado that swept up every model and every file. It lifted the ruins of L’Manberg, swallowing them up into it. Into Tubbo’s domain.

But it’s too much. His anger is too much. Everything is too much. And then the bench is flying through the air, splintering in the sky and making it rain wood. Yet it was the sudden uprooting of Tommy’s old dirt hut that stopped him.

Tubbo ran for it, breath quickening with every step. The tornado grew in size as he drew near.

“Wait! I don’t want this gone yet!” Tubbo screamed, words tearing at his throat. All the anger from before had only dissipated into despair. His hair flew wildly all around his face. “Stop! Please stop!”

The alliums in the yard were plucked from the ground. The dirt funneled back into the air. 

And the picture of their family lay on the floor, rattling across the floor as if it was being held down by a string. 

Tubbo scrambled into the home, throwing himself over the picture. His eyes traveled to the chest to his right, noticing the shine of the discs inside. Hands reaching out and grabbing those as well. It was all he had. 

The house was gone. It had been pulled up along with the rest of L’Manberg. Leaving Tubbo in the eye of storm.

He looked down, staring at the picture in the frame. It’s their entire family out in the yard. Sally and Wilbur to the side. Sally’s watching her husband and son fondly while they mess with Phils wings. Techno was wrestling the boys, Tubbo on his back and Tommy on his arm. 

He and Tommy were 9 or 10 in the picture.

He missed them.

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo mumbles, stumbling over his words. There are tears flowing down his face. It clouds his eyes and rolls down his cheeks. Effectively making it hard to see the picture. His eyes flick over to the discs. Discs that he could almost hear even now.

And then it’s raining. Raining so hard that he feels the water begin to rise, filling his lungs. He doesn’t scream or struggle or cry. He lets the water flood over him, burying him completely and fully. Squeezing his eyes shut and hugging the discs and the frame to his chest as it rises. Tubbo’s hands don’t loosen around the objects. 

He let them slip before. Never again. 

He’d never let go again.

…

….

…..

“Tubs.”

Tubbo stays curled up unto himself. Even though he’s scared. Even if he’s sure he’ll die if he doesn’t let go. Even though the voice calling to him right now is the voice of a child. It’s someone he knew.

But he couldn’t let go of Tommy again. 

“We’re still your family, right?”

He doesn’t react.

“Right?”

Tubbo allows his eyes to open, slowly so that all he can see are slits. Then fully so he can see what's in front of him. He can’t make out their features at all, but he can vaguely notice his sudden shrink in size. He registers the way his arms can barely hold the things in his hands anymore.

“…you only can’t see us because you don’t want to accept the truth.”

All Tubbo saw was green.

Chapter Text

“Tubbo,” a voice broke through the wreckage. 

Everything cleared, world fixing the patch of corrupt code. None of them could see it. None except Tubbo. Tubbo who had only seen something so destructive once in his life. Wilbur.

Tubbo stumbled to his feet, edging closer and closer to the crack in his world. It bordered on the edge of the house and the wood. A single jagged hole in what was otherwise perfect terrain. Tubbo wondered briefly if this is what was holding everything together. Would he be able to go back?

No.

He just wants everyone to be safe.

He’d make everyone safe again.

Then it closed. Patched up with a simple green thread. 

“Tubbo,” the voice called again.

He didn’t turn to face them. Instead, Tubbo let go of the world, rushing to return to the usual program. He’s moving before anything can come out of his mouth in response. Rushing to get things back on track. To have a family and to find Squeeks and to be in control. Because god damnit he deserved it.

Didn’t he deserve that? 

“Tubbo!” The voice persisted, grabbing his wrist in their hand. Tubbo knew it was Techno. He knew. But Techno only pulled him back into the pause. His face was set in its permanent frown, eyebrows furrowed. “Let them go.”

Tubbo ignored him, shouting towards the illusion of a family just behind him, “I’m coming!”

Nothing.

“Listen! I’m real tired of having to clean up after you and Tommy-“ Techno grumbled, shaking Tubbo to get his attention. It’s not rough at all. Tubbo doesn’t have time to figure out why. “Dream has Tommy. Let me help him.”

“No.”

“He needs someone to help him right now, Tubbo! I can’t lose another brother,” Techno reasons, almost sounding guilty. For what? For killing him? For betraying everyone? Maybe it was the withers. Or was it the tnt or the tragedies or the disowning.

Tubbo couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell what the man was thinking. His head was covered in a fog and a hiss of whispers. Not the usual chatter that surrounded the piglin but still enough that there was no getting through. It was isolating and it was awful. Tubbo was tired of the remorse and the guilt.

So he decided he’d heard enough.

“No!” Tubbo shouts, trying to pull himself out of the piglins grip with all his might. “You only care because he killed you. You don’t care about him. You don’t care about anyone!”

“Tubbo-“

“You fucking killed me! You set withers on Tommy! You’re just a fucking pig. A monster.”

He didn’t mean it. He didn’t even know why he said it. But the world was whispering. It was speaking directly to him, fueling the flames of the argument. All he did was listen to what they said.

Techno is silent for a moment. It’s long enough for Tubbo to start fearing for his life. His lip wobbles, nearly bursting into tears at the sudden tightening in Technos grip. The piglin is leveling him with a stony glare.

Then, with a tone he’d almost register as desperation, “I’m a person.”

Tubbo tries not to look at Techno. He tries not to look at what would probably be a crestfallen face. Tried not to imagine the utter disappointment or the hurt. Because that would mean acknowledging what he’s doing. Accepting that he’s right and Tubbo is only lashing out.

His voice is cold as ice when he responds, “Are you?”

The guilt settles into his stomach immediately. Chilling his veins and slowing his heart. It’s like a paralytic, Tubbo notes, not able to move or to speak for fear that he’ll only make it worse. But he still wants to try, continuing, “You’re too much of a monster to be a person and too much of a coward to be a god.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Do I?”

Techno takes a while to respond, “You called me ‘The Blade’. No one ever called me ‘The Blade’ until you and Tommy started it-“ He pauses to take a shaky breath, grip tightening around Tubbo’s wrist. “My name was Techno. It is Techno. I’m Techno. I’m a fucking person.”

And Tubbo knows this. He knows all about this. Knows about the voices that make the magic happen. The way Phil would treat Techno differently because the piglin was different. He noticed the marks and the cuts from Techno’s late night fights with the world.

He knows.

But he doesn’t apologize. 

“At least I haven’t trapped people in my own fucking limbo.” is Technos response.

“They love me.”

“No, they think they love you. None of this is real. You made it all up and, for what? So you can play house? No, Tubbo! You’re playing god. You’re playing god and you’re going to get hurt,” Techno continues.

He’s wrong, Tubbo decides. He has to be wrong. All Tubbo did was give them a home. He’s protecting them from the world outside. He’s keeping them safe and warm. They… they love him.

He loves them.

He’d never trap them.

“They love me. Wilbur and Fundy love me. Schlatt loves me. And they’re good to me,” Tubbo’s voice shakes near the end, lip trembling. He could pinpoint the moment where Technoblade understood. When Techno had finally realized that Tubbo wasn’t trying to play god. “Why can everyone else have a fucking family?”

“That’s not your family, Tubbo,” Techno hissed. “I’m your family. Tommy’s your family. Hell, Ranboo’s your family. I can’t speak for Phil, but I still care.”

“You let me die! You all let me die. You didn’t even come to see me off,” He hisses, ignoring the dread in his stomach. 

“Let them go.”

Tubbo shook his head adamantly, trying to shake Techno’s voice out of his head. “I can’t!”

“Tubbo-”

“I can’t! I don’t know how!” Tubbo shouts, feeling something inside of him break.

His eyes welled up with tears. Tears he never expected to shed. The kind that burn your eyes as they leave them. Almost like they were punishing you for feeling at all. Tubbo could feel the scream travelling up in his body before it actually left. Could feel the way it tore and shredded at his vocal chords. 

Technoblade doesn’t seem affected in the slightest, speaking to Tubbo throughout the whole thing. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep screaming like that.”

“Stop acting like you care about me now that I’m dead.”

“I always did.”

Liar.

And Tubbo doesn’t want to hear any of it. He thrashes in Techno’s hold. Twisting and turning and screaming. Yet everytime he turns around, his “family” is just the same. Each of them engaged in their own conversations. All of them moving on without him. 

It’s hopeless.

Tubbo faces his family to the best of his abilities, reaching out to them with his free hand. They don’t see him. “Schlatt! Schlatt!”

No answer. But he can see the scene going on. Wilbur’s taking off his coat and rolling up his sleeves, Schlatt’s cooking and ruffling Fundy’s hair. Except Wilbur doesn’t have his scars and Schlatt isn’t coughing up any blue. And Fundy looks more like Tubbo now. He’s just a young Tubbo. Because he was never anything other than that. He was always just Tubbo’s reflection. The reflection he left behind at the pond.

Fundy never was. 

The faceless soul never was. Tubbo just wasn’t ready. He’s never ready.

“Let me go,” Tubbo whispered, voice low and broken. Sounding like he had just been beaten. “I want my dad. I want- Please.”

Technoblade takes that moment to wrap his arms around Tubbo, effectively caging him in. He’s trying. He really is. He wants nothing more than for Techno to leave. For him to be lost in the void. Stuck there for years and years. Rotting in the sea of coding and character files. 

And Tubbo hates him. He hates him so fucking much. 

He hates the way the pressure is calming him down. Hates the way he missed Technoblade as a whole. The way that Techno used to just understand what to do. 

Tubbo hates the way that Techno doesn’t even think of letting him go. He just sits there and takes every curse and every thrash. Every cry and every scream. He takes all of Tubbo’s insults and all of the blame and he doesn’t complain.

Not when Tubbo is screaming, claiming to hate him. Letting out all of the anger he’s ever felt towards the man. All the years of being ignored and put to the side. The Craft families forgotten son. The one nobody cared about. The one who moved out without so much as a note and no one but Tommy noticed.

Tubbo could feel all of the energy leaving his body. Could feel the anger seeping out of him. The resentful fog over his mind finally dissipated. Until Tubbo was left, restrained and regaining his composure. Taking in ragged breaths as he struggled to calm himself down.

Then a scream fills the silence. Phils scream.

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. A loud laugh that stretched for miles. Shaking the entire world to its core. He laughed until tears pricked at his eyes and then he laughed some more. Until everyone in his little world was quiet. Until the scene was burning around in a green flame. 

Until his world was ripping apart at the seams. Until he could hear more laughter joining his.

Techno thought it reminded him of Dream.

And the illusion cracked. Sending the both of them crashing into the overworld.

Chapter Text

Crashing into the overworld was never a pleasant experience. It always started with a small rip and then devolved into a genuine plummet. With nothing to hold onto and nothing to cushion the fall. Tubbo thought he might be dying. Dying for the second time in his life. Reaching a new afterlife.

And he felt his eyes squeeze shut, turning his head into Techno’s chest. Hands gripping the piglins shirt tightly. Tubbo didn’t bother to hide the shaking or the tears. It was nothing Techno hadn’t seen before.

“I want my dad. I just wanted a dad,” Tubbo repeated, never letting this small thing go. Hoping that if he said it enough, someone would come to his side. That they’d finally care again. Maybe one they would.

Techno didn’t respond. If the ram were anyone else he would have assumed that Techno just didn’t hear him. But he knew better than that. He knew that Techno wouldn’t comment on things like this.

“I know you’re a person. I know that. I don’t know why I said what I did. I don’t care if you forgive me or not,” Tubbo blurted out, absolutely sure that if he didn’t say it now then he never would. “I’m a shitty brother. That’s why Phil and Wilbur hated me.”

The falling is slower now. As if it wants them to make amends. 

“They didn’t hate you at all. They just could never show you. Phil used to brag about your damn bee farms to everyone he knew.”

“Then why? Why didn’t he look at me? Why did Wilbur act like I was some waste?” Tubbo sniffled. Because it doesn’t make sense. None of it ever made sense. They were normal as long as they weren’t around him. 

And Techno took this moment to piece things together. From the limbo to the control to the sudden ability to alter anything. “Tubbo… I think it was you. You used to play pretend games where it would rain and suddenly the weather was going along. You’d pretend that the village was going to suffer if you didnt get another cookie and there would be a raid. That’s why I said not to pretend.”

It didn’t make sense.

“I think you pretended we hated you one day and you never stopped. Or maybe you hated us and we filled that need for a reason,” Techno concluded, pulling the boy closer as they fell.

Tubbo’s voice came out as something barely above a whisper. “I hated Phil and Wilbur. They stole me.”

“What?”

“…They stole me.”

And then the falling stopped. The two hit the ground with a thunk. Tubbo being the first one to dust himself off, looking around. Grass and hills and trees filled his view. Alliums and dandelions and bees. The smell of honey and freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, filling his nose with scents he couldn’t replicate in the void.

He turned on his heel, almost forgetting about the piglin on the floor, now facing a man and a child. A man in green. The child in red.

He knew them.

Tubbo was sure of this. Because that was Dream and Tommy. His best friend and his murderer. His favorite person in the whole world and his mortal enemy. His hands shook at his side, balling into fists before he could think about it.

But then he got a closer look. Dreams mask was littered on the floor, smiley face facing the sky. It was a rare sight for most. Everyone on the smp knew that George and Sapnap were the only two to ever see Dreams' real face.

Tubbo would be lying if he said he was never curious about it. Even now, he wanted to see everything. Except he didn’t. Blocking it out of his mind and replacing the face with yet another blotch, another faceless soul. Because a part of him already knew what was there. A small part of him buried deeper than time could tell was screaming at him, begging to be called to light.

You only don’t remember because you don’t want to, it said.

It was right. It was absolutely right.

Behind him, Techno had pushed himself up to his feet. The piglin was now staring at the show. Seeing his brother held in the arms of his abuser. A bloodied cape on the floor, and a man that looked far too familiar. “Oh.”

“Dream?” Tubbo asked, still confused as to how he was there. Confused as to why Dream wasn’t wearing his mask. “What… What the hell is this?”

And everything is wrong. Every last part of this is wrong. The world pauses in its place. The only three to move consciously are Techno, Dream, and Tubbo. Not even Tommy seems to be speaking. It’s all frozen.

And for once, Tubbo wasn’t the one to do it.

Dream turns to look at him, cocking his head to the side, “Tubbo? What are you doing here?”

A pause.

Techno speaks up for him instead, “Just let Tommy go. That’s all we need.”

It’s not the wrong answer. Tubbo certainly wants to help Tommy. Well, sort of. He doesn’t understand. He hasn’t understood for a while now. He wants to be home.

But Dream is counteracting this, sneering, “You Crafts think you can just have anything you want, don’t you?”

He doesn’t register the talking around him. Or the wind picking up. Not the sudden storm overhead or the water rising to their knees. Tubbo’s not there. He’s… frozen?

There are hands on his shoulders, attempting to shake him out of whatever state he’s in but he’s not sure who they belong to. It’s just pressure. Pressure on a void, on a loneliness. Like filling a hole with barely enough to scratch the surface. Tubbo feels something rising up in him, caught between a sob or a scream or something.

And he wants to hide. To hide his face and his scars and himself. Doesn’t want anyone to see the eyes or the cuts and bruises. Tubbo just wants to be blank. He wants to be nothing and everything at once. Wants to claw his face until its unrecognizable. Until he’s no better than a disaster.

Then it’s gone. That feeling of needing to be hidden is gone. As if it was never there. Tubbo can feel the mask on his face before anyone needs to point it out. It feels fitting. Perfect for his facial structure, grounding in all sense of the word, and easy to hide behind. His own cover.

“…Catastrophe?” Dream mutters, mostly to himself but Tubbo picks up on it. “Little brother.”

Oh.

That name felt… right?

Tubbo turned to Techno, looking to him for any sort of answers or guidance. Because Techno knows everything, right? He’d know who catastrophe is. 

He gets his answer in the form of a cloudy gaze and a scoff. Techno runs a hand through his hair, refusing to look at the both of them. A disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips before he explains anything at all, a sort of shocked amusement in his tone, “So that’s why you’ve been pretending.”

The two look at each other and for once, Tubbo allows himself to just listen. Because Tommy is still stuck up on that hill in the same position they left him in. He’s still waiting for him. 

Tubbo took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. Then he lets the illusion he’s lived by for years slip. Seeing Dream for what he is. Seeing the server for what it is.

And it’s bleek. It’s nothing but mounds of code piled up on each other. Ones and zeros filling his eyes and becoming nearly nauseating in the process. His eyes locked with Techno who seemed to be fluctuating between just another program and a genuine person. Then Dream who’s nothing but a person.

But the worst part is that Dream looks like him. From the hybrid features to the freckles. His eyes were faded in color but still noticeably different. Hair a light brown shade, tussled enough to nearly cover his entire face. His nose was littered with the same freckles as Tubbo’s. The only difference being the shape. Dream’s seemed to be stars.

It itched.

Everything itched.

And Tubbo was answering with a name he’d never been able to recall before, “…Deceit?”

And the world began to tell the story of the two.

———-

Eons ago, a goddess and her angel created six perfect minor gods.

A goddess of chaos. A god of deceit. A god of life. A god of war. A god of catastrophe. A god of the ocean.

Perhaps it was an oversight to appoint a child the job of watching over and creating life. Granted, no one could have accounted for the trouble it brought on.

Chaos was good in her role. She carried it out with gusto. Constantly picking humans to carry out her will. She was happy. 

It was Life who was the problem. The goddess found it staring down at its creations, making friends with them. As if they would last. As if any of them wouldn’t take advantage of it the minute they found out.

”Life, you know better than to get attached. You’re setting a bad example for your siblings,” Death chastised, pulling it away from its creations. She dusted it off without a care. Not even needing to threaten it. She knew it didn’t forget her job. 

Life only scowled at her then, swatting her hand away. “My name is XD.”

Another show of its refusal to cooperate. This new name. The god had taken a liking to the idea of names. Having heard it from some human it was fond of. 

Death couldn’t understand. “Your name is Life. I named you.” 

”No, you gave me a title.” 

Death had stormed away back then. She had long since picked her battles. Even her angel agreed that it wasn’t one she’d win. Though, part of her knew that wasn’t the only thing she’d never win.

And it wasn’t until months later that the goddess realised this. XD gathered all of its siblings, naming each of them. Chaos was Drista, Deceit was Dream, War was Sapnap. Catastrophe was Tubbo. Ocean was Foolish.

All of the minor gods took these names, adorning them with a pride they’d never previously displayed. XD would come to call it “livelihood”. Because the god was nothing if not proud of its siblings. It wanted the best for them. Even if that meant never seeing them again.

And after decades of watching the younger ones grow, it knew they would begin to grow bored of the realm. That they would soon seek bigger things. So XD brought it upon itself to aid them in this journey.

Drista was the first to leave their realm. She set off in the night, chasing a life as a world dwelling god. Her siblings couldn’t have stopped her if they tried. XD had caught her on the way out, only giving her a lifeline to call it by. Then it watched her leave.

Not a single other god would know that XD was the one to create the young girls' friends. To mend them into existence using nothing but stardust. Leaving them all out for Drista to find. Knowing that she’d rather cause chaos with a group than by herself.

The goddess seethed from the sidelines. 

Foolish was the second. He jumped from their realm and into the ocean beneath without so much as a second thought, joining the dolphins. No one but Foolish would know that XD made the dolphins for him. They were a goodbye present. So he wouldn’t be alone.

And as years passed, XD would create more for its brother. Forming fish and sharks and whales and coral from the seafoam. Creating whole ecosystems and environments just for its brothers happiness. Then it moved on to the creation of the deep and the tridents and the communities that would soon inhabit the ocean.

All for Foolish.

Then Sapnap who jumped into the warfront. He never looked back. At times he would return to tell Dream about the world they were guarding. About the wonders of it all. 

But his efforts were rewarded with Death casting him out, stripping him of the power he owned and throwing him back down to the humans he loved so dearly. Her only regret was allowing it to get so far.

Of course it had mourned. It knew better than anyone that Sapnap would never think twice about coming back to them. But it also knew that this was for the best. Sapnap would never get the family he deserved up in the godly realm.

Sapnap stopped thinking about her and his siblings after a while. He claimed a new family down in the world. A mercenary, a demon, and a diamond. A family that XD created for the boy because it knew that the gods would never accept him again. A family that would be able to treat Sapnap like the person he was and not some warrior.

And one day, XD cornered its creator, announcing, “I’m leaving. You don’t need me here and I can do my work better on the land.”

The goddess refused.

“I’ll be taking Dream and Tubbo with me. Gods need a sense of humanity to judge humans. We can’t be perfect,” XD countered, holding its brothers in its arms. Cradling them as if they were babies. And at the time, they basically were. Dream would have been 6 in human years. 

“You will do nothing of the sort! Gods aren’t meant for the human world, Life. You know this.”

“Your angel is a human.”

“I was young. That’s why we’re here now.” She hissed, decay and rot and venom dripping from her tone. The shadows around her warped, forming crows in the air. “Humans are fragile. You dedicate your lives to them only to realise they will die and you will live on.”

XD shields its brothers from the goddesses words, never once allowing them to hear it. “They’re coming with me.”

A pause.

Gods were never known for their patience. Nor for their willingness to compromise.

But the Goddess of Death wasn’t by any means, a normal god. She looked upon Life once again, then allowed her eyes to drift to Deceit and Catastrophe. She spoke with a tone of absolute finality when she spoke, “You will stay but the others can go. They will have no power and they will have no memory of you. Only a name and each other.”

“That’s-“

“You may not interfere with their lives at any point.”

And many retellings of the story will say that Life had refused the offer. That it had overthrown Death and ran away to live with its siblings. Many others would say that Life agreed and Death had struck it down, casting the two out anyways. Casting them out to a harsh life and a harsher death.

Some will say that neither of the two had upheld their end of the deal.

But in this story, Life- XD took the offer and was forced to watch its brothers descend onto the world. It watched over them in any way it could. Smiling with them, laughing with them, and grieving with them.

Until the goddess broke her own deal. Sending her angel to take care of the boys. One being taken from the other in the night, kept away from his brother. The other being left to rot. The goddess claimed that it was only right that the two start their lives away from one another. The same way all the others had.

She never accounted for the hatred she would plant in her sons mind. For Deceit to take this betrayal from the gods themselves and twist it against everyone around him. Not noticing when he had gone from a god to a demon. 

Nor did she account for the abuse Catastrophe would face from her angel. Her small interference having tampered with the powers they possessed.

Deceit had managed to fool himself completely. Stewing in the spite and the gloom until all he could trust were the whispers of the power under his skin. Until all he could see people as were numbers. He bore the mask with a smile painted crudely on the front.

Catastrophe had managed to being his own power unto himself. Projecting only the worst fears imaginable. Taking them from those around him and forcing them to reality. Taking shape in a cycle of abandonment. He bore the mask with a frown.

Life, upon hearing of the goddesses interference, swore that the brothers would meet. That the two should find solace in each others shared existence. Deceit and Catastrophe would finally rest, and the world would rest with them. No more wars or fighting. No more pain.

And Life would welcome them to its domain with open arms. Wiping their skin of the scars and the pain. Renewing them from the history of the server. It would sweep them up into its embrace and lay them both to rest.

A painless eternal rest.

Chapter Text

Miles away, a ravenette turned a blind eye to the world unraveling around him. He stays blissfully ignorant to the true nature of his existence. Choosing to ignore the call of his own powers. He casts a single glance at the commands swimming at his ankles, laughing softly. Then he’s back on the journey home.

His mind was filled with the memories of someone else. Of green and gold and porcelain masks. Warmth and life and a family. 4 brothers and a sister, always there with him. Yet he never felt like he belonged there. The others were perfect. Blond and gold and porcelain masks. While he was given hair the color of obsidian and a bandana instead.

He envied them. Though it didn’t last long. Two of his siblings left and he was quick to follow. Seeing war break out among the humans he grew fond of.

The ravenette took it upon himself to help. Jumping into the front lines and winning the war for himself and his friends. Some days he would return for his other 3 brothers back at home. He remembers being cast out of that home. Being forced to live among humans with no memories of himself.

And he shook the unpleasant memories from his head. Forgetting them once again. He had better things going for him now.

There was no one one to drag him out to cause conflicts. No mother who would rather be referred to as “Goddess” than “mom”. No one to deny his connection to them. He was free. Things were good.

Still, he would miss them. He’d miss the boy with freckles made of stars. The one who would never leave his side. Always playing tricks and planning pranks. He’d miss the boy made of gold who once gave him a flower in a bubble of water. One that couldn’t break or burn. Made just for him. Yes, he would never forget the youngest who he would tell stories to every night. Stories of war and of triumph. Leaving out the gory bits so the kid wouldnt be too scared.

And he doesn’t know if he could ever forget the one who gave him his name. 

Sapnap, the boy had said, holding him above all of his siblings. Giving him the gift of wielding flame in the palm of his hands. 

But the lights of Kinoko Kingdom glisten in the distance. Calling him back to a place of his own. Filled with warmth and safety and two fiances that love him. The ravenette pushes the feeling of not belonging down. Once again ignoring the voice screaming at him, telling him that these people are not his real family. It had whispered these words for years, but he never listened. By all means, he was home. This was Sapnaps home. 

Karl and Quackity are making rabbit stew tonight, after all.

———

Leagues beneath the sea, a man swims among the sharks, ignoring their new appearance. He’s left that life behind now after all. The sharks nudge at his body, digits dissipating and regrouping. The god smiles warmly, swimming in circles among the creatures. Weaving between the kelp and bathing in the way the light hits the ocean just right.

Then he’s raising a trident towards the surface. Pulled into the air and feeling his body turn along with the trident. Feeling the wind whip around him and hearing the waves hit the shore. He’s always liked it up here. Above the sea, with the air, and connected to the land. With a trident that always felt right in his grip. Knowing where and who he was. A smile graced his lips, erupting into a laugh as he angled the trident towards the land.

Puffy and Foolish Jr. will be home soon.

———-

Servers away, a girl with golden hair taunts a group of villagers, only fixing their appearance when they fade. Weaving new features and patterns into their coding. Some with new appearances and others with new abilities. She holds golden apples above their heads and leads them to the heavens with barriers. A laugh escapes her throat at their awe, their wonder.  

Then, as if she wasn’t bound to her job at all, she vanished. Moving on to the next server with gifts and tricks for all who met her. Some would recall her having blonde hair and a porcelain mask, a smirk in her voice when she talked. 

She’d always liked to cause a bit of trouble.

————

Life- XD watched the world with baited breath. It sat on the edge of the void with George next to it. The brunette leaning his head gently on the gods shoulder. Warm hand brushing something cold and lifeless. George had once made a joke that for being god of Life, XD was rather lifeless. 

Safe to say the god took offense to the statement. Spending the following months with George. Letting the man teach it what it was to be human. At times it was easy, just staring in wonder at creations that it had me eons ago. Other times it was difficult, not being able to feel the same warmth George felt. 

Not knowing what it was like to love. At least, not the love that George wanted. Because the goddess knows that if it could, it would have given it to him in a second.

Yet here XD was, watching its brothers become aware of themselves for the first time. Wanting nothing more than to whisk them away and give them the love they desired. It tilted its head, resting against George’s, muttering lowly, “Dream won’t go too far. He only wants his brother back. Tubbo already knows what he wants as well.”

George gives a noncommittal hum, sinking deeper into XD’s side, “What about you?”

“What?”

“What do you want?” George repeats, looking up at the god. A fond expression on his face. Eyes softening with a sweet smile to match. “Have you never thought about it?”

XD allows itself to think about the question. Really think about it. Digging up wants and desires from when he was much younger. Back when a previous George had given him a name. He can’t think of a single desire.

And he looks away from the vastness of the void, focusing now on George. The brunette had mostly been broken down into the oh so familiar ones and zeros. Becoming nothing but a number. A glitch. But XD knew he wasn’t. But he still played along, sitting up and cupping George's face in his hands, “I want you to stop asking silly questions.”

George laughs, lifting a hand to bat the god away. It’s an odd sound. One that doesn’t quite fit his angelic appearance. Well, it’s angelic to XD. That’s all that mattered anyways.

“What a disrespectful human. Are you laughing at me? Honestly, George, laughing at your god?” XD teased, hoping the man would hear the amusement in his tone. “I could smite you, you know?”

“You’re teasing and holding me right now. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been breathing this entire time. Correct me if I’m wrong, but gods don’t breathe,” The brunette pressed an ear to the gods chest, listening intently to the soft thrum of the gods heart. “You have a heartbeat.”

XD wasn’t previously aware of this. It hums lowly, letting him know to continue.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want to be human.”

XD doesn’t respond. Choosing to lay an arm over George’s form. Eyes cast over the land and the confrontation. XD’s never thought about taking the mask off before. Hand coming up to lift it from his face, setting it on the floor gently.

He doesn’t remember when he started referring to himself as a person instead of a being. A he instead of an it. 

“I want to love,” He admits. Hearing the soft snores coming from the man beneath him. XD’s hand travels up the brunette's body, settling in his brown curls. “I’d like to be able to love you.”

Chapter Text

In this server, the reveal was met with confusion. A deep and winding confusion. Taking root at the front of Tubbo’s mind and bleeding into the world. Mixing with something bitter and angry.

Anger at who? Himself? Phil? Death?

He didn’t know. The thought was scary. Suddenly being aware of everything at once after years of being an afterthought. He felt his nose twitch and his ears follow, casting a glance at Techno. Tubbo wasn’t sure what he felt for the piglin.

His… brother? No. That didn’t feel right. None of this felt right. Tubbo didn’t feel like a person right now. No- he wasn’t a person. He never was. He was just a pawn in a gods game. A god that ruined his fucking life. An angel.

Techno looked away from him, focusing on his hands that seemed to switch between existing and not. There was a twitch in his face that made Tubbo think he was upset about the development. About Tubbo being completely unrelated to him. Nothing but an accident. Was that all he meant? Techno had always been scared of outliving the boy, reminded of the fireworks and his own involvement, knowing that eventually they would all die. His “family” would die and Techno would be forced to stop playing pretend.

But Tubbo was sure that the man was something. Well, he knew the piglin was something meaningful and important to him. Could tell by the mark in the mans ear where Tubbo had bit him. It was one of their first interactions. He could see the small emeralds embedded into Technos sword hilt. One for Phil, one for Wilbur, for Tommy, for Ranboo, and then one for Tubbo. 

And Tubbo’s emerald was scratched from an ambush in the mines. He’d dropped it countless times, slammed into walls with it pressed tightly in his hands. Because he wanted it to be special. He was a kid and he wanted his emerald to be the best thing Techno had  ever seen. He remembered trying to hide it for days. Ashamed of the scratches he’d managed to accumulate on one of the most durable gemstones in the world. Of course, Techno took it anyways, making space for it on the hilt of his sword despite its imperfection.

It was still perfect to him. Even though it was ugly and faded and scratched. All because Tubbo had given it to him. Sometimes he wondered why Techno kept it, why any of them kept anything he’d given them. Yet his answer was always the same. He just wanted to be a good memory in Tubbo’s life. One that wasn’t awful or neglectful or just outright abusive.

Did he even have a life, he wondered. Vision suddenly blurring behind his bangs. “I thought you abandoned me,” Tubbo managed, breath shaky.

Because he’s telling the truth. He’d always thought his family abandoned him. That he wasn’t good enough. Was never good enough. Who could love a boy that didn’t even fucking exist?

His origins had always had a confusing backstory. One saying he was left in a box on the side of the road. Another saying Phil adopted him after finding him alone. One with Wilbur simply taking an interest in the kid who was too thin and too small to be out so late at night. None of these stories mentioned a goddess or a family. He was always abandoned. 

Like that was his destiny. 

“I thought you were dead,” Dream managed, trudging through the mounds and piles. Ignoring the way they parted around him. Behaving almost like water in a river. Alive and free in its own sense. Betraying the deceiving numbers and words that actually made it up.

Tubbo couldn’t tell how he should have responded. He could talk or he could run. He could hug the man in front of him or he could form a tornado strong enough to destroy everything around him. Code bit at his hands restlessly, urging him to act or to just talk. So he did. Reaching out a hand through the haze of digits and pulling. Pulling at seemingly nothing yet everything at once.

The blonde allowed himself to be pulled. Allowed the power to take root inside of himself and deliver him to his brother. Wrapping his arms around him in an embrace that wasn’t warm or cool. It was just comforting. Comforting and just right. 

Like Dream was filling a void deep inside of him. A void shaped just for him.

“You both killed me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Sorry doesn’t fix shit. He died. It wasn’t all bad, though.

Behind the two, Technoblade was watching with a nearly unreadable gaze. If they were to look at him directly, they would see the fear evident in his eyes. Fear that he was being replaced. That he was never real to begin with. Because Tubbo had a real family. A real brother to take care of him. And real siblings. 

Techno would never be able to fill that role again. Because the void was never meant to be filled by him. It wasn’t an adaptable shape. It was precise and clean cut. Techno could never fill a Dream shaped void. 

It just wasn’t possible. A piglin hybrid could never replace a god. Let alone a god that had been destined to come back for Tubbo at some point. 

A moment passes, allowing their powers to simmer down. Code fading away into the properties they make up. Tubbo could feel the ground form beneath him, eyes opening to watch Tommy reform on the hill. Starting from the ground and slowly building him up into a person. Just a character file surrounded by a thin green thread.

Oh.

He almost forgot about Tommy. Some part of him still wanted to. Knowing that all the peace he felt would be gone as soon as they brought him up.

“You don’t need Tommy anymore,” Tubbo murmured, pulling back from his brother to gauge his reaction. Voice not soft but not strong, “I want him back-“

“There’s no need for what I had planned anymore,” Dream responds, clapping his hands together. But he doesn’t let Tommy go. Not yet. Instead he continues, “He’s no fun anyways. He just agreed with the things I said.”

It’s Techno that pitched the question. The one on everyones minds. “What the hell were you gonna do to our brother, Dream?”

Dream tilts his head, admitting, “I was going to take him the same way Phil took Tubbo. Except without the leaving his brother to die.”

No one even bothers to defend Phil. Tubbo certainly doesn’t. That’s right up his fucking alley. And judging from Techno’s silence, he thought so too.

“Great. I’m glad you didn’t kill my brother.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have interfered.

Because there Dream stood with a souring expression. Eyes narrowing down at the young god, flicking between Tubbo and Techno rapidly. The man only seemed to grow taller. Eventually looming over the two in a growing anger that not even he could understand.

Why was he so angry?

Why was everyone so angry all of the time? 

Tubbo couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand any of it. From the anger to the spite to the crows overhead. None of it made any sense. He was just… tired. Exhausted, even. More so than he’d ever been this entire trip. A new type of exhaustion. One that made everything seem so big while he stayed so small. 

Dream brought his hands to his hair, pulling at the blonde strands as he growled out, “He’s not. None of them are!”

He looked more like a monster than a man. Face quickly being overtaken by a deep emptiness. The vastness of the universe could be seen in them. An empty hole. Looking for anything and everything to fill it. Tubbo got the feeling that it wasn’t the universe or the void at all. Honestly, he just believed it was Dream himself.

Techno spoke up for him then, anger evident in his tone, “And you are?”

“I’m the only family! Where is XD? Where’s Death? Oh- How about this, where the fuck is Phil?!” Dream hisses, reaching for Tubbo now, “I’m the only one who understands him. The only real family he has. We’re all we have.”

Except this time, Tubbo didn’t forget about the piglin behind him. He wasn’t overtaken by Dream's sudden anger. Or the slowly awakening Tommy. Nor the other members of the server coming just around the bend.

This time he did catch Techno’s worried glance. He noticed the slight of his lips and the hand on his sword. A short grunt leaving the mans lips once again. Cape pushed back to give better access to any kind of weapon.

And this time he did notice the way Techno had stepped into the frame. Saw the piglins hand reach out, no longer hesitant and afraid, pulling him back. Protecting him. 

“Dream, stop. There is nothing you can fucking do about this. It’s Tubbo’s choice. Not ours.”

“I could just kill you, Techno. I’m sure the angel would love to see your corpse again.”

Yelling. Always yelling. Swords drawn and voices raised. Can’t they just talk? Is that so hard?

“No you won’t,” Tubbo pipes up, not looking at the two. “You’re both my brothers. And this is about what I want.”

“Then what do you want, Tubs?” He’s not sure who said it. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if they both had. They wanted to fight. Or rather they needed something to fight about. To throw the blame at and hate. They always did.

But he didn’t want to fight. Tubbo never wanted any fights or wars. Nothing violent or angry or needing any type of energy at all. Not since the festival. No- not since long before then. Being here and seeing his brothers argue around him. All for what? A family he didn’t actually belong to. A goddess and an angel that played with his fate.

He just wants to live.

That’s all. 

He just wants a life without any of these troubles. He wants that deep exhaustion inside of him to just leave. God, he wants to sleep. He wants to lay down and rest his eyes, feel at peace for once in his goddamn life. Tubbo wants Dream to just let it go. He wants Technoblade to be his brother again. He wants Tommy to be happy and safe.

Wants Ranboo to be okay. To remember and know that Tubbo did care about them. That they were friends. He wants so desperately for things to just be okay.

“I want-” He starts, feeling the world rumbling beneath him. Feeling the grass and the dirt wave and shake. Trees swaying from a sudden breeze. Tubbo could feel every part of it. The angry symphony of the world. One that he knew all too well. Because it sounded like music. Like a disc he and Tommy used to play.

Tommy always said it sounded like an old friend.

Guess he was right. 

“I want…” Tubbo tries again, mouth filled with cotton and brain overflowed with images of people he’d never met. He’d never known. A girl with blonde hair who could build staircases to heaven out of nothing. Two boys that only ever bickered, one with skin the color of gold and the other with freckles that mapped the stars. They were always smiling so warmly at him. A warmth that could only be achieved from a family. 

Then another family. One made up of so many different people. Sometimes it was Schlatt or Phil. Wilbur and Techno and Tommy and Dream. There’s a woman there too. Sometimes it’s Sally and other times it’s Death. He doesn’t like Death very much. And he can barely remember Sally.

But they meant something to him at some point. Phil meant something to him, a father, at some point. Teaching him to shoot a crossbow and use a sword. Yet, Schlatt meant something to him now. Always making sure he was ok. Building a house for the two of them. Making cookies. Being there. Defending him from Wilbur more times than he could count.

I want a family, Tubbo notes.

Both Dream and Techno stood staring. Waiting for him to continue or to make sense of the thoughts in his head. They both looked so worried. Allowing him the time to breathe and gather himself. As if they weren’t going to kill each other ten seconds ago. As if both of them hadn’t killed him before.

Tubbo could see Tommy reuniting with Niki and Jack somewhere up the hill. He could see Ranboo coming to meet them with a smile on their face. Not minding the wetness of Tommy’s face or his hair when they pull him into a hug. He could see Phil landing in front of the boy with his large black wings, covering his youngest with them. Relief in his eyes. Ghostburs hovering near them with blue coating his hands.

I don’t belong with them anymore, Tubbo realizes.

“I don’t know what I want. I don’t know!” Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t know a single thing about himself. ABout his wants or his needs. Or anyone he’s cared about. None of them even knew him. He was changing them without even knowing it. The ground shook with his admission, following his words, “I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of…”

He looks at the two men in front of him. The piglin, Technoblde, who really just wants another chance. Who is still reaching out to him even after all that he’s done. Then to the other. To Dream. Dream who just showed up and claims to be his brother. Who he somehow cares about despite not knowing a single thing about. 

They both move then. Trying to work against the force pushing them back. Not that it works. Tubbo stares, feeling that creeping exhaustion once again. And he finishes, “Of this. Of everything.” He gestures wildly towards the crowd around them. 

And it’s not real anymore. None of this was real. He should be dead. He should be dead because that’s what people do. They die. He’s seen it happen before. Tubbo saw it happen with Schlatt and he saw it happen with Wilbur. And if there was anything he knew for sure, it was that people who die, stay dead. 

And things were easier when he was dead. He was happier.

Chapter Text

The world shakes, uprooting trees and breaking homes. Everything is coming back to the ground some way or another. Tubbo can hear the distant sounds of distress from people who are otherwise unrelated to the situation. Hears cries for help. He could hear the whining of dogs who had never seen the world shake in such a way.

And he felt something crack inside of himself. Something small.

Then he looks to Dream. Blonde hair and an empty face. Cracks and scars littering his skin. Each one emanating a lime green glow and seeping a black blood. Odorless but oh so messy. Dream’s not saying a single thing, not using his face to express himself either.

He’s not sure what to say to him. Tubbo’s not even sure it’s Dream anymore. There’s no pulse and no heartbeat. It’s like he’s just a shell. Like the Fundy back in his limbo.

The blonde tilts his head, asking, “Tubbo? What do you want?”

His voice isn’t melodic like XD’s is. It doesn’t sound like music at all. It’s more of a crackle. An impossibly eery crackle. A record break. Dream sounded like a broken record among a symphony of music. It’s not real. None of him is real.

Tubbo wonders what happened to him. 

“How long have you been gone, Dream?” Tubbo asks, eyes not leaving Dreams for a second. His hands clenched at his side. Hoping that he was wrong.

But he isn’t.

He knows he isn’t.

Dream flinches, form glitching in and out of existence. His voice wavers as he answers, “I‘m not gone.”

And from up on the hill, Phil raised his gaze, looking regretfully towards the three of them. His eyes met Tubbo’s for a second. A split second. Allowing Tubbo to see everything. His regret and his fear. Him caring. All things that Tubbo never wanted to fucking know. Then, as if he knew what Tubbo was thinking, he apologized, “I’m so sorry, mate.”

“For what?” Tubbo asked, wanting it to be a joke so desperately. “For what?!”

And it was one thing for Phil to hear him from the hill. It was a whole other dilemma when Phil shook his head, hair swaying as he did. Blonde hair. The same as rhe people in his dreams. It was another issue when Phil managed to speak the words into the world without moving his lips.

“I couldn’t put him back together again.”

A pause.

Then more, “His code was already with the wind when we found him.”

Nothing was said for a moment. Then it clicks. Something in him clicks like a switch being flipped up and down and up and down. Memory upon memory flooded his mind as if the gate holding them back had opened. Flooding in all at one.

Tubbo could feel the same happen to Dream, both staggering from the force of it all. The brunette flinches back into Techno, burying his face into the piglins side and tucking his face into it. It hurt.

Everything hurt.

Arms shifting around him to drape themselves over his head, effectively covering his ears. Then another movement and he feels Techno adjust his weight so he doesn’t crush the boy. Only shielding him from whatever is going on.

Dream wasn’t so lucky. Left to stagger back helplessly, whipping his head around to search for what caused the disruption. But he finds it hard to do much more than stare when he sees Phil up on the hill. Letting the mans eyes bore into him, guilty and disbelieving and sad.

Dream wished he would die. He wished the angel would just join his wife eternally. He nearly wished the same for Tommy, except he almost cared about the kid. Almost.

Tommy who is shouting and pushing to get near them. Near Techno who he had killed. Near Tubbo who he watched die. Near Dream who needed him . Every word that left his mouth was related to the three of them. Asking to be let go. To let him see his brothers. To let him help the man that had done nothing but hurt and abuse him.

“He needs me!” Tommy cried, “They fucking need me.”

But the memories that had resurfaced stayed there at the front of his mind, drowning out Tommy’s screams and his brothers arguments.

It was strange yet familiar in every way. Tubbo could remember being held in the angels arms, black wings shielding him from the sun's glare and the human gazes. Walking ever so slowly through the village he’d been found in. Stolen from with his small hands in fists, beating against the angels chest until eventually his struggles turned into cries and whimpers. Small broken whispers only audible to the blonde holding him.

Fresh bread and childrens laughter filling the air and drowning out the sound of another child calling a name frantically.

He remembered feeling the angels eyes on him whenever a storm would arise. But Tubbo was younger then. Young enough that he wouldn’t notice the drastic shift in the angels attitude after a nightmare. He wouldn’t notice the wings flickering in and out of Tubbo’s line of sight the longer he stayed with the man. Nor Techno’s repeated warnings.

Small enough that he wouldn’t bat an eye when the golden family in his dreams began to blur until they were nothing but shapes. 

And he remembered the words the angel had whispered to him one night when Tubbo was too tired to pretend. The same night Tubbo spent in hysterics after finding a mask and a boy in the creek. The same day he split the server in half, creating ravines in the ground and quicksand in the deserts. Tearing at every thread and every line of code he could see until there was nothing left.

Until he could no longer see the server around him. Until Phils wings were nothing but feathers on the ground. Nothing but a mound of black tuft. Some littered across the lawn. Others fluttering around in the air, falling uselessly down to the floor, painting a painful picture. It wasn’t long until Tubbo had rewritten himself entirely. Brown hair and brown eyes instead of the blonde and the blue. Plain. Human. No longer Catastrophe.

Because the boy in the creek looked so familiar but so small. Smaller than him. Almost like he’d been neglected his entire life. And Tubbo couldn’t quite place the grief he felt while looking down at him. Words couldn’t begin to describe how wrong it felt to see those lifeless green eyes and the soaked blonde hair. Nor the cracked mask on the floor, stained with mud and blood and grime.

And Phil had taken him into his arms, mindful of the changes to his body, and ushered, “We’ll put you both back together again.”

Tubbo was half-asleep, listening to an argument overhead. Surrounded by darkness and stars and a woman who towered over them all. She was adamant on letting him stay the way he was. Letting him die. Wishing he would join her. While Phil, the angel, begged and pleaded, wanting her to fix his sons. Asking to keep them both.

She refused. Fixing his wings and casting him out yet again.

He renembers watching a god take his brother away, golden tears falling down their face. Then lips pressed gently against Tubbo’s forehead and a cool hand came forward, swiping a hnd down his face and putting him to rest. A small discussion ensued, Phil asking the god to fix him, to fix them both. 

This god accepted, taking the two into his arms and mending the code they’d torn apart. Though he noticed that the older boy had nothing left. That neither of them had anything left to give. The older had used it all too quickly, exerting himself and straining his soul to the point where he shredded it down into nothing but slivers. All in search of his brother.

Meanwhile, Tubbo had used it all to rewrite the world. Not realizing that he would be rewritten along with it.

The god expressed this, voice low and wavering, “They won’t wake.”

“They will. T- They have to. I’ve failed too many sons today. I won’t fail another,” the angel insisted, pushing the blonde back towards the god. His hands shook, nearly dropping the boy in his haste to hand him over. Because Phil didn’t trust himself with Dreams body nor his life. To bring his son back. “Take my power, my wings, my soul- Anything. Just fix him.”

”I can’t, Angel.”

”You can!” Feathered wings flared behind him, rising and falling with the angels cry. His shoulders wracked with a sob at his loss. Blubbering uselessly over a son he abandoned. A loss he could have prevented. ”Tubbo and Dream are my sons. You were all my children.”

The gods face didn’t change. Maintaning that stony demeanor and the cold gaze. Judging him for his actions. Or rather, the lack thereof.

”I love him just as I loved you. I’m still your father, Dee.”

”Angel, you forget yourself,” The god- XD, snapped, sending the man back with a force like a tidal wave. The usual cool air of the void was now filled with something hot and humid. Rage flooding the room as if the dam had finally cracked under the pressure. “I raised them. I named them. I let them out into the world. You left. You raised your own perfect little family!”

”I didn’t leave y-“

”You have no right to ask this of me! Bringing me their corpse. Begging to revive them both as if it wasn’t you who killed them. You shut Dream out. You separated them. You broke the deal. Not me!”

“I didn’t think he’d need me!”

His words echoed off the stars, volume increasing until it was nothing but shrieks. “He was a child!”

”He was my son!” Phil interrupted, but he was unsure now. This wasn’t his place. 

But the god of life humored him all the same, voice shrill and rigid, “He was my brother!”

The stars twinkled around them, chiming angrily along with their gods words. Surprisingly opinionated for a heap of hot rocks, if you asked Phil. Still, the angel persisted, hugging the only son he had left close to his chest. Cradling the boy in his arms as if he were glass waiting to shatter.

XD said nothing.

Then, Phil let out a small plea, “Bring them back. Bring my boys back.”

No answer.

”I could never get Dream to sit down. He was always fighting or running around. Getting into trouble with Foolish or Sapnap. Always so bright,” Phil reminisced, thinking of the green eyes that haunted him. Calling him “dad” instead of angel. A title he didn’t deserve. Because he couldn’t be Dream’s father. He couldn’t love him then. “I can’t- I couldn’t-“ He trails off.

His eyes linger back to the little boy sprawled acriss the floor. To the mask held tightly in his hands and the hair blanketing the floor. “I won’t be his father. I can’t house deception, blood, and catastrophe.”

He ignored the voice in his mind that reminded him of which son was first. 

Phil’s eyes trailed to Tubbo next, hiccuping, “And I can’t be Tubbo’s father. I can’t raise him. I can’t raise either of them. But I can bring them back.”

Many retellings of the tale will end here. Some will paint a rather merciful picture of the god of life. They will say he simply agreed and forced the angel to watch over the two. That he let the angel keep his wings because he noticed the guilt in the mans tone. That he understood what Phil was trying to communicate.

Others will say that the two boys, Dream and Tubbo, were simply allowed their rest. That the god and the angel had realized just how fruitless their endeavor was. The boys weren’t meant to last. It was a miracle they lasted that long anyways. But as a tribute to their lives, XD formed  limbo for the teo of them. One filled with all the love and desire they needed.

However, none of those retellings would be true. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Because in the true story, the god of life looked down on the angels pleading. Finding it pitiful and pathetic. And in a way, he was right. The true story doesn’t end in glitter and hearts. Nor does it end in forgiveness and accountability. 

In the true story, XD walked behind the angel, humming a noise of acknowledgement as a warning. Knowing that the man wouldn’t move. That he had accepted his punishment. That he had known what his karma would be before he walked into XD’s realm. XD thought to summon a blade made purely of light and wishes, light reflecting off of every inch and illuminating nothing but a small space around them. But thought better of it after a moment.

”Angel?” He beckoned, stroking a wing with the back of his hand, “You’re aware of the consequences aren’t you? Tubbo’s soul will never be recognized by the void and Dream will be nothing but an echo.”

The angel nodded mutely, brushing the hair out of his sons faces.

XD said nothing. 

Phil moved his wings once, memorializing the feeling of his wings moving as one collective unit. The way they moved and the instinctive shudders they operated. He wanted to remember it.

The god of life took a wing in his hand, allowing Phil his moment. Then, in one swift motion, a crack resounded around the room. Followed by a thud and a scream. Then another. And XD, hands coated in blood and feathers, could only stare, voice cold and venomous, “Leave my realm, angel.”

And so he did.

Leaving behind two wings. A gift now a punishment. XD hung them on his wall, finding them to be quite a pleasant reminder of his position. Despite never committing such an act again.

And if a day or two passed before the boys woke up then what was he to do. If Phil chose to ignore the lies Tubbo weaved into his code then what purpose did it serve him. So what if he was forced to watch an impostor, an echo of Dream’s fears and lies and deceptions, pretend to be him and succeeding?

If Phil handed Tubbo off to a man named Schlatt, telling him he couldn’t take care of him anymore, then it was of no surprise to XD.

If he handed Dream to a demon, a diamond, and a little pyro boy, then XD would simply turn his head. Ignoring the sound of Phil’s wings fluttering in his ears, getting louder with every growing second. 

Phil was never supposed to replace those wings.

Chapter Text

Oh.

Tubbo blinked, willing the weather to stop and the water to drain. He looked to Phil, then to Dream, and then to himself. Staring down at his hands as if they were a foreign object to him. Then, struggling to force the words out of his mouth, he questioned, “How long have you-“

And he stopped.

How long had Dream been broken?

“…So you were never here? This is all- you’re just a soul. An angry soul,” Tubbo feels as if the world has stopped. As if the entire server took a sharp inhale. Waiting on his judgement. “When did you leave?”

“Never. Because I’m here, Tubbo,” the words left Dream’s mouth quickly, too quickly. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Tubbo plowed on, speaking through grit teeth, “Don’t lie to me-“

“I’m not gone!” Dream shrieked, growing all too tall in his fury. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “I’m here! Look at me, Tubbo.”

But his voice was so affected. Like that of a child when they’ve just been pushed off the slide at a playground. The pure hurt and insistence in Dream’s tone is too much. Almost grating his ears with just how young it sounds.

Tubbo ignored him.

“Look at me!”

He didn’t. 

And for once, Tubbo can only turn to Techno. Techno who doesn’t even question it. Just nods and takes a step forward. Eyes focusing on Dream and the void on his face, stating, “You’re like the Fundy. You’re just a soul.”

“No, I’m not,” the blonde insists, pulling at the blonde locks on his head, paying mo mind to the sludge he practically slathers into it in the process. “I’m real. I’m a person , Tubbo!”

He’s not, Tubbo realizes.

He hears Techno respond, surprisingly understanding with his words, “You’re a person. We know that.”

But Techno’s just saying that. He has to be.

Because Dream’s just another fucking husk. A shell. Nothing but an echo of a person who’s been dead for longer than he’d ever been alive. A useless reminder of some kid the gods failed. Not the first and never the last.

And suddenly, Tubbo was reminded of how cruel everything about this was. That they had no chance. Their lives were fucked before they started. Muttering, “It’s not fair.”

Something splinters.

“Tubbo-“ Techno starts, cut off by Tubbo’s dedication to get this out.

“ No! It’s not fair. He said he would fix him. Phil you said you’d fix him!”

Another crack. The smell of anger lingered in the air. Strong enough to taste. But it’s sour and bitter. Enough so that Tubbo feels himself struggle to swallow around it. He can see Techno struggling in his peripheral, shifting uncomfortably at the air around them.

Huh. Tubbo would have thought he was familiar with it by now.

“Shut up,” Dream bellowed, commanding the world to listen to his call. Black blood oozes from the cracks in his skin, seeping into the floor and reaching for the other two. Accompanied only by the shrill noise of a record scratch and then an explosion. 

The floor crackles beneath them. An earthquake resounded around the server. Birds flying about and dogs barking. Phil lifts off into the air with a still screaming Tommy in his arms. Wings still broken and scarred from XD. Tubbo wondered how he got them back. Or when, for that matter. Ranboo’s teleporting themself out of the mainly affected area. Leaving with a simple warble and a wide eyed stare.

Tubbo hopes they can get themselves to safety. Hopes all of them will be safe soon. He’s too tired to make it happen for himself. Feeling his eyelids droop yet again. Hands coming up to cover a yawn. Paying no attention to the tremor it causes. 

The world is breaking. Crumbling away and deteriorating with the gods will. Swallowing all that tries to stop it. Much like Dreams anger is trying to swallow him whole. Tubbo wonders if that’s what he wants. To be swallowed whole. Taken by the world. Set to rest.

Because everyone wants something. Death wants everything to go her way. Phil wants his sons safe. Techno wants to take Tubbo home. XD wants to be human. Tommy wants to be ok.

Yet, Tubbo stands unaffected by it all. Only reacting when Techno pulls him into a protective hold, hissing under his breath about Tubbo’s lack of self preservation and striking resemblance to Wilbur in that moment. Tubbo can’t really be blamed for elbowing the piglin at the comparison.

And Dream? He’s not looking at them. Not at Techno’s outstretched hand or the cracks in the ground. No, he’s staring at the sky. At the boundless sight above him, filled with stars and constellations. Of souls long gone.

“Dream?” Tubbo questions, voice wavering with worry.

Then, Techno adds, “I’m not letting my rival die to the sky falling. That would be humiliating.”

“Just let me go,” is the small reply. It doesn’t even sound like Dream anymore. Just a shell. Always a shell. “Not everything is a contest.”

“You’re Tubbo’s brother and I’m Tubbo’s brother. So that means we’re brothers too. Did the void in your face make you stupid?” And Tubbo knows exactly what Techno is doing. He knows he’s trying to joke and make things light. Because anything else is scary. “I will do anything. I’ll build you a fucking house. Fuck it- you can move in with me,” he reaches for him once again, “But don’t make him watch you die.”

“I won’t die. I never die,” The blonde sneers, hollow and spiteful. “It’s not my time.”

No one responds. The world goes silent and stale.

But Dream’s not done. He’s never done, voice containing more contempt than Tubbo had ever heard. “It’s never my fucking time to die. I’ll just be recycled and reborn and recycled and reborn. Until there’s nothing left to recycle.”

Oh.

Tubbo feels a very small and angry part of himself come alive. Wishing deep down that the whole fucking world would just disappear. That everyone who had ever hurt him would die. That they would all be recycled.

And it’s then that Dream crumbles under the pressure. Leaving behind that same husk wearing that same hoodie. Except it didn't fit quite right anymore. Too long on his arms and too small on his waist. The smile had begun to strain as if reacting to their pain.

Another splinter and Dream plummets. He plummets and Tubbo can feel himself fall with him in a way. His eyes not quite seeing but knowing that he was moving. That the world was moving. Same way he knows that Techno has left his side.

[Tommyinnit withered away]
[Philza withered away]

[Fundy withered away]
[Awesamdude fell into the void]
[Sapnap left the world]
[Foolish left the world]
[Georgenotfound fell into the void]
[Eret withered away]
[Quackity went up in flames]

Tubbo felt weak for a moment. Almost sick to his stomach. How was it that all these people had hurt him? That they’d betrayed him? Then, with a start, he turns his gaze, looking for Technoblade and Dream. His throat goes dry, stuttering out, “Tech- Techno? Come back. Please come back.”

It’s all moving too fast now. Too fast for him to process the things going on. Because then Techno’s reaching forward for Dream as well and they’re both falling down into that void. He can feel the grass beneath him, suddenly too aware of the fact that Techno threw him back from the danger.

And instead dove down into it. After some guy that he should hate. But he can’t because Tubbo likes him. Because for some reason, Tubbo thinks Dream is worth a servers destruction and Techno won’t fail him again. 

The realization rattles around in Tubbo’s head. 

[Dream fell into the void]
[Technoblade fell into the void saving Dream]

Techno jumped into the void after Dream.

He jumped into the void. Dream was already in the void.

They fell into the void.

The void was going to take them.

Tubbo didn’t want to be alone anymore.

He couldn’t be alone anymore.

“That’s not what I meant,” the ram scrambles to say, staring down at the chasm where the two once stood. Watching it reinvent itself solely from his unconscious commands. Knowing deep down that this was all his fault. “I’m sorry.”

He should just sleep. Then he’d be out of the way. 

He’s always wanted it. The single constant since he died the first time. That feeling of exhaustion. Body wanting nothing more than to sleep. Not a nap. Not a night's sleep. An eternal one. He wanted to be back with the people he deemed a family back in the void.

Tubbo turns his head to the rip in the void. Looking back to the small home on the hill. Wilbur smoking out on the porch, hiding from Schlatt with a shit eating grin. Because Schlatt never liked it when he smoked in the house. Reminded him of the heart attack and the festival. 

Tubbo saw Schlatt looking around in the yard, crossing the line of Tubbos control. But he didn’t change at all. Schlatt just turned and searched and never gave a second thought. Like he wasn’t under control. Tubbo’s starting to think he never was. His mouth would move occasionally, cupping his hands over his mouth and calling out. 

Calling out for Tubbo even though there’s already a husk of his soul in the world.

And Tubbo missed them. He missed breakfast being served every day at the same time. He missed Schlatt ruffling his hair or pointing out his horns growth. Or Wilburs silly attempts at getting ‘Fundy’ to curse. Them trying and failing to give Squeeks a bath.

He just missed being wanted. Being warm.

Oh.

He gets it now. Reeling back the world and returning his brothers. Only Techno looks unchanged. Dream is almost impressed. Which almost makes Tubbo feel good in a way. Knowing that his brother is impressed and proud of him. That he cares.

Even after everything.

The blond tilts his head yet again, still oozing the black sludge and green 1’s and 0’s. “What do you want, Tubbo?”

“I don’t know.”

“Liar.”

“I want to rest,” Tubbo admits, holding a hand out to the blonde. There’s a resigned expression on his face. He’s scared but he’d never admit it. Because there’s a chance the man will deny this. Will deny a better home. “You can rest too. It won’t hurt anymore.”

Dream considers the offer, but doesn’t take his hand. “There’s no place for me in the void, Catastrophe. I’m broken, remember?”

That’s not his name. It doesn’t fit him at all. His face scrunches up at the use of it, thoroughly disturbed. “I’m Tubbo.”

”Not to the void. To the void, you’re Catastrophe. Formless, aimless, and forgotten,” The blonde snickers, “It’s pretty fitting, don’t you think?”

Techno, on the other hand, does not intend on entertaining the suggestion.

“Don’t- How about you don’t?” The piglin doesn’t say anything to defend himself or his family. Probably because he can’t find any words to adequately fit the situation. He feels like he’s watching his brother leave all over again. 

Except this time it’s permanent. Techno knows it’s permanent. He can’t drag Tubbo back twice. He barely made it once.

“Techno-“ Tubbo starts, cutting himself off instinctively. Selfish. He’s being selfish. ‘I’m sorry’ he wants to say, ‘I’m not happy here’. He wants to cry and scream and collapse and sleep. He wants to be hugged and loved like any other kid does.

Just not by them. Not yet. 

‘I have to.’ Tubbo feels the words at the tip of his tongue. Wanting nothing more than to stay and heal. But he can’t. He can’t heal here. He’s not sure if he wants to. ‘You’re my family but you’re not the one I choose.’

‘I love you… but I can’t stay for you.’

But he doesn’t say any of that. He doesn’t say anything at all. Tubbo casts his eyes downward, fists clenching at his sides. He hears Dream shuffle and mutter something to Techno, but he doesn’t hear the words. He doesn’t even know if they were real.

All he knows is these two are his family. His only family. Technoblade was here from the beginning. He was always nice to him. Constantly offering support or backup. Saving his life and dedicating emeralds to him. All action he knows are real.

Then there’s Dream. Dream who abused his brother to get back at the angel. Tubbo wonders if Dream ever imagined it to be him and not Tommy. He wonders if everything was just some game to him. Because Dream was awful. That’s not even a question at this point.

But he’s still his brother. 

“I fucked up. I wasn’t ready to die for my ideals back then and in that hesitance, I forced you to be. And for that, I’m sorry,” Techno lifts his chin, resting his hands on Tubbo’s shoulder. Though they feel like more weights being tied to his body and tethering him to the world. “Tubbo- Don’t make me bury you again.”

“So much for it being his choice, Techno,” Dream interjects, quickly stepping back out of the conversation at the small sniffle the words garner.

“Not now, Dream,” Techno hisses, held back only by the world and Tubbo’s own fear. The piglins brows furrow in a mix of desperation and anger. As if he’s confused on what to feel. Then, lower, “We can leave the server. Just you and me and Tommy… and Dream, I guess.” 

The blonde made an affronted noise from behind the two, causing the pair to erupt into soft chuckles. For a second, things seemed okay. Even if Tubbo was ignoring the pit forming in his stomach along with the knowing look Dream was sending him. Because maybe the god knew that Tubbo would leave either way. The overworld wasn’t his place anymore. The void had taken its claim on his soul ages ago.

So Tubbo would pretend. He’d pretend to be happy and he’d smile. He’d let Techno wrap his arms around him, letting out a quiet, “I’m sorry, Tech.”

The embrace only tightens, Techno squeezing him and being sure to press his forehead against Tubbo’s. A sign of love for piglins. Of family.

And Tubbo feels another apology leave his lips along with a steady flow of tears. He wouldn’t stay. He knew he wouldn’t. But Techno was happy and Dream was happy and Tommy would be too. He brought his hands up, intending to wipe the tears from his eyes but only finding himself crying more.

”I’m sorry,” Tubbo repeated, sobbing now. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Techno told him not to apologize anymore. That he didn’t have to apologize. He had his little brother back and that’s  nothing to apologize for. They’d be fine. Tubbo wished he believed him.

And that night he knew it was it. Tubbo said his goodnights, giving them a hug. An ‘I love you’. Then he was lying in a bed. His childhood bed. Eyes staring up at the very roof he grew up under. Watching memories go by as if he were watching a film.

When he taught them to make flower crowns and Wilbur sneezed so hard he knocked it off his head. Immediately tumbling down the flower hill they were on and directly into the lake. Tubbo remembered bursting out into tears, thinking he’d killed his brother. Only for the guy to be thrown back onto the grass. That was the day they met Sally.

When Technoblade came home with an entire enderchest of gold trinkets he’d collected from his travels. Handing them out to each of his brothers. The helmet was for Tommy so he wouldn’t die from head trauma the next time he decided to run into a wall. The pen was for Wilbur so he could write his music in style. The bracelet was for Phil. But the earrings… the earrings were for Tubbo.

Memories of when Tommy convinced him to sneak out and prove they were “big men”. It didn’t end well. Tommy had looked at a witch for two seconds before screaming for Phil. It was the first time Phil had ever grounded them(and it wasn’t even Tubbo’s idea which was unfair but whatever).

Then he was hit with one he almost forgot. It wasn’t intentional but he hadn’t thought of it for a while. It was Sally and Wilbur had first let him hold Fundy. And he was sure he was gonna drop him. Honestly, Tubbo had tried every excuse in the book. Even going so far as to just say he hated babies(Which didn’t even sound believable coming from a literal child). But he held him anyways because Sally threatened to cry if he didn’t, and he still only did it because she trusted him. 

Suprising absolutely no one but himself, he didn’t end up dropping Fundy. Instead, Tubbo held the baby and he almost didn’t want to let go. Only doing so because Fundy eventually got fussy and wanted to see his mom. Even then he was hesitant. Because no one ever helped him when he was upset. Not in a way that helped.  So why would Sally be any different, he thought.

Tubbo remembers watching her take Fundy back. Trying to catch anything even slightly negative about it. But he found nothing. All he saw was a mother who loved her son, who genuinely cared for him the way a mother should. He remembers being jealous. Horrendously jealous, actually. So much so that he yelled at her when she asked if Tubbo wanted to hold Fundy again. 

And Sally didn’t yell at him like he hoped she would. She didn’t ask for an apology or argue back. She didn’t leave or storm away or tell Wilbur or Phil or Techno. Instead, Sally just let him yell until it was all out of his system. He stayed at Sally and Wil’s place for a while after that. It was nice.

His life played on and on in his head for what felt like hours. Replaying all the best memories and some of the sad ones. Even some that Tubbo forgot. He almost didn’t want to leave. He almost wanted to stay here and live. Maybe make more memories with his family. 

But it was already too late for that. 

Tubbo yawned once, then twice, and then another time. His eyes drooped shut as if he were too weak to keep them open anymore. In a way, he was. Then, Tubbo turned on his side, pulling the blanket over his body, and he let out a content hum. Falling asleep for the last time.

—————

Tubbo’s running through the server, footsteps resounding across the world as he runs. Sounding like a sweet symphony of music discs, of children's laughter, of an anthem long unsung. Taking no notice to the ground renewing with every step he takes.

Not the countless animals and plants that seem to breathe with him. All he can hear is the wind rushing past his face and his own laughter. Because he’s going home. He’ll go home.

The exhaustion leaves his body in waves, dissipating into the wind along with his worries. The scars on his skin begin to fade. Eyes becoming clear and hair leaving his face. The smell of fresh cookies in the kitchen of a small house on a hill filled his nose.

Tubbo reaches the edge of the world, hands incling upwards and grasping at nothing but air. Yet through this he finds a ladder. A ladder of air and invisible barriers that lead directly up to his home. He has a feeling it’s been waiting here for a while.

And if Tubbo looks back at Techno’s home, eyes watwring yet unregretful, then it is nobody’s business but his own. Because as soon as he’s set foot into the limbo, he finds himself barreling into that small house on the hill.

”I’m home!”

—————

In the morning, Techno would find him and he would not weep. He would not mourn. The piglin would only scoop his brother up into his arms and hold him close. Ignoring the way Dream stepped forward, sitting behind him on the bed and placing a hand on his shoulder. Because somehow, he knew Tubbo was happier. 

Techno was happy for him. He was. He wanted Tubbo to be happy. Even if it wasn’t here with him. 

“He did what he wanted for once,” Techno managed, voice low and hoarse. Not sure if he was saying this to himself or to the gods or to Dream. “I’m almost proud of him.”

And Dream didn’t know what to feel or if he felt anything at all. It was as if a piece of him had left. Floating away into a space he could not reach. Another part of him felt whole again, like he was a person. He wondered if Tubbo felt the same. 

He didn’t mean for any of it to go this far.

He looked to the window of Techno’s cabin, gazing out at the snow and the forest. Trying to ignore the sitiation at hand. Trying to fight the urge to just fix it.

“I can fix this,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “I can bring him back and it’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

“He’s happier there,” Techno replies.

”He can be happy here. I can bring him back.”

”No.”

”But I can! I could revive him and we could…” Dream pauses, desperately searching for any other solution. “I could revive all of them! Then he’d have no reason to go back.”

”Dream.”

”Just- Just let me grab the revive book. I could call XD and then-“

”Dream!” He stopped. Techno was looking directly at him, eyes boring holes into his skull. Brows furrowed and lips turned in a frown. Like he had already thought about this. “Just let him go.”

And then the dam broke, and Dream felt years and years worth of tears finally come cascading down his face. Shoulders wracking with sobs and breath hitching. He’s not sure when Techno put Tubbo down to wrap his arms around him. Nor is he aware of when they sank to the floor.

”I can fix it. I can fix everything. I can,” He cries, hands clenching around Techno’s cape. Repeating the same thing over and over again. Because he can. He can fix it. He just needs to get the book. “I just got him back.” 

But Techno only holds him tighter.

[/deop Dream]

[Are you sure?]
[Yes.]

Chapter Text

”I’m home!”

There’s no immediate answer. Silence is all that greets him, winding around in the air and sitting there. Tubbo falters, looking around the room cautiously. Because he’s sure they were here. He saw them earlier. 

They couldn’t have left.

It hadn’t been that long yet.

”Hello?” Tubbo calls, tail swaying absently with his disappointment. “Da- Schlatt? Wil?”

No answer.

He sniffles, wiping his nose with his sleeve. Wondering what the hell could have happened to the family? Did they leave him? There was no going back from here. He chose them and they didn’t choose him.  

And that’s… that’s less than ideal.

Tubbo’s eyes scan the walls. Catching sight of pictures and paintings. Of portraits and photoshoots. Ones that he can’t remember taking. Hell, he doesn’t remember being here for some of them. Most of them are pictures of the 4 of them being together. Yet he doesn't have a single memory of actually taking them. His eyes drift over one photo in particular, seeing himself nailing a plank to the home with Schlatt holding the ladder. He's smiling in the picture, hair pulled back out of his eyes, freckles on full display for once. And Schlatt is laughing but still being careful to hold him up. 

Then another where Wilbur has hoisted his son onto his shoulders and went running full speed towards the both of them. Probably aiming to kill. Who knows?

And, sure, he knew all these things happened. He remembered every one of them. What he doesn't remember is capturing that moment. It's someone taking a picture that wasn't already there. Still, he appreciated their work. He wanted these. Needed them. They made his home complete.

Tubbo wanders, fingers grazing over every surface he passed. Allowing himself to sit in his memories with each of them. For the chair it was Schlatt falling through the roof and nearly breaking it in half. The table was Wilbur and Fundy's spectacular 'potato and mushroom stew'. The drawings in crayon on the wall were attributed to Fundy deciding the walls needed a bit of spice, doodling flowers and foxes and even other people.

Then, the scratch on the wall from Squeeks launching himself Schlatt with claws raised, only to miss horribly and take the wallpaper out instead. The pencil mark in the doorway where they measured Fundy every few months. His eyes focused on the handless mug on the kitchen counter, broken after one of his arguments with Wilbur that led to the death of Schlatt's monkey mug.

Wilbur begged for his life that night. Literally. Tubbo had to cover Fundy’s eyes so they didn’t traumatize the poor kid. Which happened anyway because Fundy proceeded to cry as loud as humanly possible. Resulting in the banning of roughhousing in the kitchen.

And these were his memories. 

His own authentic memories of a family that actually cared for him. Ones he can hold and cherish with the knowledge that they’re real. That happened with no coercion. No begging and no bending will.

Yet, some of the photos on the wall were of events that didn’t happen in the afterlife. Like the one of Tommy falling asleep midway through Tubbo’s bee ramble. Or the picture of Phil making the dumbest face while all three of the siblings layed passed out on the couch.

Tubbo found himself staring at those pictures longer than he had for the others. Because they didn’t happen in his afterlife. They were just memories of a family he no longer had. And some part of him missed them. His ears drooped slightly with his tail responding in kind. Tubbo missed the people in the photos.

He missed Tommy and Wilbur and Techno and Phil. He’d even say he loved them. Just not enough to live for them.

Eventually, Tubbo found himself in the doorway of the kitchen, finally stepping through. But it’s only Phil. It’s just Phil, smiling with his hands crossed. Black wings resting behind him, rising and falling with every breath. The blonde doesn’t look at him directly, focused on the pictures that litter the walls of the kitchen.

Tubbo shifts on his feet, honestly too worried to actually speak. Scared that Phil would yell or scream or force him to come back to the server. It wasn’t likely but it was still a valid fear. Especially after Techno had done the same fucking thing.

But Phil only gestures at the chair in front of him, calling kindly, “Sit down, mate. I only want to talk.”

And Tubbo hesitates, head reeling at the idea of just “talking”. No one only wants to talk. Dream only wanted to “talk” and then he chopped Tubbo’s head off in an obsidian nightmare. Wilbur wanted to talk and then it ended up being some amazing plot to get shot with a firework. Techno wanted to talk just so he could fall through a rip in the void. 

Talking never went well. 

He shifted his gaze to the angel, searching his face. And the fear he felt must have been clear in his expression because Phil’s eyes softened and his wings relaxed. And for a second, the man looked more like Phil, the father, than he did the Angel of Death. Tubbo’s chest clenched at the comparison. 

He wondered if Phil ever wanted to abandon him. If he agreed to the deal or if he had no choice. The cries of ‘They’re my sons!’ rang in his ears. Remembering being held close to Phil’s chest, hiccuping and sobbing into his shirt, small hands gripping the fabric tightly. Forced to listen to XD hack away at their fathers wings or focus his attention to Dreams limp body only centimeters away.

Except Phil didn’t scream when the wings were cut. He just locked eyes with Tubbo, and hid the rest of the room from him.

And Tubbo couldn’t tell what he felt in that moment. He didn’t know if his chest was tightening because he was scared or if it was because he felt guilty. Guilty for thinking Phil was a bad man when Dream was his brother. It’s not fair. He knows it isn’t. But it’s easy and he deserves to have things easy.

Though he can’t help but feel like he’s cheating the man of his growth. None of that was Phil’s own intention. It was a mixture of Tubbo’s and Deaths. He’s sure Phil loved him.

It’s just easier to pretend he didn’t. Then he won’t feel bad for thinking of Schlatt like a father. He won’t feel bad for calling Schlatt dad after a year when Phil’s been there his whole life. 

Phil looked away first, shifting his gaze to XD and then to the floor. The blonde didn’t say a word. 

Tubbo wished he would. He wanted the man to just spit it out. To scream or to beg him to come back. To explain things or maybe even to just let it all go.

But Phil didn’t say a word. Tubbo was starting to think he never would.

Yet he still found himself sitting in that chair. He still found himself rising to the bait and fixing Phil with a small smile. He ignored the way his ears had flattened to either side of his head. Or the way his tail would not stay still. Tubbo knew Phil wouldn’t hurt him. That wasn’t the problem.

It was whatever the hell Phil wanted.

The blonde was the first to break the small silence, still eyeing the pictures, “I think this is the cleanest kitchen I have ever seen.”

And he wasn’t wrong. There wasn’t a single thing out of place. Except for the creative liberties that Wilbur and Fundy had taken. For example, the awful stack of pinecones on the counter or the crayon and sharpie on the fridge.

Other than that, the place was pristine. Of course, Tubbo had absolutely nothing to do with the cleanliness. He was actually banned from this kitchen without adult supervision. But he’s absolutely sure Phil counted. Even if Schlatt wouldn’t approve.

“Schlatt’s a real neat freak about it. He’ll flip the fuck out and cleans the whole thing,” Tubbo replies. Though he’s taken a certain interest in the seams of his pants. Picking at them and knotting them as he spoke, “He’s a good cook though.”

“Is he really? I never thought he’d be a cooking kind of guy.” Tubbo can hear the smile in Phil’s voice even without looking at him. It’s nice. He missed it.

“He’s a great cook! He’s shit at everything else,” a snort escapes Phil’s throat, and Tubbo takes that as a sign to continue, “He can’t build or fight. God forbid you hand him a basic tool. I watched him trip over the potato plants and fall into the actual mud water. He had the nerve to start drowning in it.”

He feels a laugh bubbling up in his chest at the memory. Suddenly overcome with something between a giggle and a snort. Tubbo covers his mouth with his hand, trying and failing to stifle the laughs in his throat. His eyes immediately lock onto Phil’s, trying to blame him telepathically. 

Phil watches him with that same expression of fondness on his face. The same look he’d given Tubbo when he first found him. That ‘i’d kill for you’ look. Where his brows would relax and his eyes would soften, lips lowering into a more natural smile. Then it shifts to something else, something shallow and sad. Almost like he wants to say something but can’t quite get it out. 

Tubbo really fucking wishes he would.

Another silence washes over them. It’s not tense but it’s not comfortable either. It feels more like Phil’d waiting for something.

And Tubbo’s tired of waiting for everyone to just talk. He’s tired of being expected to wait for everyone else to get their shit together. So he asks the biggest question on his mind, “Are they okay?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment. Drifting around the room and settling everywhere. It lingers on the coffee pot and flits across the furnace eyes. The letters position themselves on the fridge, replacing the letter magnets that once sat there. 

They made their way to the windowsill, resting on the latch. Threatening to pull it open and expose the two to the morning air. 

Tubbo watches them move without question. Gaze following the words as they settle in the air. Praying to each of his siblings that Phil would just answer the fucking question. It wasn’t that hard. The brunette felt his face grow hot at the growing silence.

He felt the same as he did when Techno mentioned saving Tommy. Bitter.

“They-“ Phil starts, refusing to look at Tubbo for this. He clears his throat, wings shifting behind him, and answers, “They’re not doing great. They’re hardly people at this point.”

Oh. That’s… that’s not what he wanted at all.

“Tommy’s duller than he was before. Techno won’t even acknowledge that you’re not coming back and Dream hasn’t spoken or moved since you left.” The words aren’t an accusation and they aren’t meant to guilt trip him at all. Phil is just making it known. He’s only answering a question.

Tubbo knows this. So why does it still feel like he’s being accused? Why does it feel like Phil is trying to take him back there?

Maybe it’s because he can see all of these things happening. He can see Tommy shrinking away from the rest of them. Can see him struggling to feel or to laugh. To be Tommy. And he can see Techno avoiding the issue like the fucking plague.

Because that’s what Techno does best. It’s just what he does. He’ll throw all of the pictures and belongings into a box and lock Tubbo’s room. Never to speak of him again. Constantly having to stop himself from just unlocking it or leaving the server. And Tubbo knew the piglin would snap at the slightest mention of him. Making his name into a curse.

He knows Dream is silent. He knows the mask is off and there’s nothing but a body and a void. Tommy will try to talk to him and he’ll be met with nothing but the cool atmosphere of the void. 

It’s all his fault, Tubbo realizes. All of this was his fault. If he’d have just stayed put or shut up. If he would have just pretended for them like everyone wanted him to. Maybe, just maybe, they’d be happy.

So what if he wasn’t happy? 

“I’m not going back,” Tubbo manages, hands clenching on his knees. Feeling his eyes water with tears, unsure of whether it’s out of grief or anger. Honestly, he’s not even sure who it’s directed at.

“I know. I don’t want you to either.”

Why not? Why doesn’t he want him back? Everybody wanted him back. All of them gave a single fuck about what happened to Tubbo. So why was Phil different?

What made Tubbo so undesirable, so unlovable , that not even his own father wanted him to be back? And yes, he knew it was an irrational thought. Just a minute ago, Tubbo wanted nothing more than for Phil to leave. Which would have been easier. Anything would have been easier.

He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand why so many people could see what was wrong. Could just ask and educate themselves. Or love him or need him. 

So he asks, voice hoarse and nearly croaking as he bites back anger and tears, “Why don’t you want me back?”

No answer.

“Everybody else does. You said so yourself. Tommy’s dull and Techno’s avoiding it and Dream is a fucking shell of a man. Why does everyone but you care?” Tubbo’s voice isn’t the harsh tone that he wants it to be. It’s more of a desperate whisper. A confused one. Like he doesn’t understand and he probably never will.

But Phil doesn’t react outside of a small confession, “I do care.”

“Then why?”

“Tubbo, you don’t want to come back. You fought your way into the void for a reason,” Phil pauses, taking a shaky inhale, “And I won’t force you to come back if this is what you really want.”

“Death says I don’t know what I want.”

“Death’s never been a human. She doesn’t understand wants or needs. She only knows.”

The sun is setting outside the home. Light peeking over the trees and shining in sections through their window. It looks more like a shower of light than the beginning of night. 

Tubbo could vaguely recall having small moments like this with Phil back when he was alive too. Days where the house would be quiet and Tubbo couldn’t sleep. They’d pull up chairs in the kitchen and drink hot chocolate until he could. Phil would lie and say he couldn’t sleep either, but Tubbo knew he heard him come down the hall. 

Because Phil always knew when one of them was awake. Especially Tubbo.

Back when he was younger,  Tubbo used to think Phil just had a super sense. Like some kind of superpower. Because every night, he’d be there in the kitchen waiting for him with a cup of hot chocolate. Every night without fail.

Tubbo missed those nights. They’d grown scarce as he grew up. Slowly turning into Tubbo sitting alone in a dark kitchen, waiting for hours. Until eventually he stuck to staring at his ceiling. He kind of wished Phil would pull out some hot chocolate now. 

Just for old times sake.

“Can you…” Tubbo doesn’t finish his request. His words trail off awkwardly. Not because he doesn’t want to but because it’s hard to force the words out. It’s hard to ask for something so childish. Not here.

Not in this house where he’s basically replacing him. 

“I was wondering when you’d ask.”

This is selfish. Everything about this is selfish. But it’s fine. This is fine.

Tubbo watches the man rummage through their cupboards. Giving remarks every now and then for where things are. He finds it easier now when there’s no pressure. Even if there’s a small part of him that can’t help but think of Schlatt.

“He made a deal with her, you know?” The angel remarks, standing and searching for a cup.  “He asked her to let you make the decision. To let you heal.”

He’s too busy staring out the window to respond. Then he’s suddenly overcome with the visual of the goddess staring down at him. Looking at him with that same cold gaze and diplomatic smile. The same way Dream used to. Like mother like son.

Tubbo couldn’t help but scoff, ignoring the feeling of bugs crawling on his skin, “That’s not a deal. That’s him asking you to leave me alone.”

And he almost regret the words the moment they came out, refraining only because of the choked noise that escaped Phil. Then the cough that followed.

“Anyways,” Phil continues, closing the cupboard ne setting a cup down onto the counter. He turns, giving Tubbo a full view of his mangled wings as he searches for milk. Phil hums a soft tune to himself, a smile evident in his tone. “As you know, the void is her domain. It’s hers to control. That goes for the souls that belong to it as well.”

Oh. Tubbo didn’t know that. It sounds like a given now but it certainly wasn’t before. His eyes scan the room once more, suddenly wanting to look everywhere but the wings. Not exactly ready to face the consequences of Phils actions.

“The conditions were easy. He had a year to give you the life you’ve always dreamed of. When the year was up, you’d be revived.”

Tubbo didn’t like this deal. He didn’t like it at all. It wasn’t fair. This was a god playing games with a human. A god who could change the world and peoples perceptions at her will. If she wanted things to go her way all she had to was snap her fingers and the problem was dead.

No matter what, she gets more than she gave up.

”What was the deal, then?” Tubbo questioned through gritted teeth, praying to gods bigger than him. Praying to his sister and his brother. To Dream. 

Because a deal with death? Really, Schlatt? How fucking dumb did he have to be. What did he think would happen? What the hell was worth so much that he could throw away everything? That he could leave him behind for.

He promised he wouldn’t leave him behind. Schlatt was supposed to teach him how to challenge other rams. He promised.

What was better than him?

Phil turned bck to him, setting the milk down on the counter and pouring it into cup, explining, “If you allowed the server to crumble or if you had chosen to stay alive, he would move on. There would be no chance of his revival and you’d forget he ever existed. But if you didn’t and you came back, then she’d let you choose what you want.”

Oh. It was for him.

“I’m assuming the chocolate is in the pantry. Am I right?”

The words fell on deaf ears. Tubbo had already processed the small bit of information, stressing over Schlatt and Death. Something in the void shattered then. Like the sound of glass hitting a stone floor or a pot falling off the counter. Because Tubbo let the world crumble. He did. He made them all die and then he put them back. 

And Tubbo doesn’t remember when Schlatt became someone he genuinely cared about. He remembers being alone and then being on that train. Sitting next to a hybrid that was just like him. One that looked at him and called him kid and let him make a bee farm in their yard. One that never once called him crazy or shut him out.

He can feel Phil's eyes on him. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted to fucking scream. His entire soul ached with the urge to explode. To rip and tear and change everything around him until nothing hurts anymore.

Until he was back where he wanted to be. A house on a hill. A bee farm in the yard. 

“But I came back,” He pleaded, voice teetering on a frantic whisper. “I came back. I didn’t stay. I’m supposed to get what I want.”

Phil sets a cup down in front of him. It’s hot chocolate but Tubbo doesn’t even look at it. The smell wafts through the air, nearly calming him down. For a second, he can feel the entire world breathe with him. Shaking it to its core as he struggles to keep himself calm.

He’s sure Phil is talking to him but none of the words reach himx

”But he- Schlatt’s better! He is! He tucks Fundy in and he makes food and he let me make a bee farm. He promised he’d come back. He promised ,” Tubbo rambles with shaky breaths. Words going from coherent to not. Slowly escalating into breathless babbling and cries.

Because it’s not fair and no, he won’t listen. He doesn’t care about the hand on his back or the smell of hot chocolate in the air. The black wings wrapping around him aren’t a comforting figure either. It’s just a mockery.

All of this is a mockery.

”You can’t just bet on my life like it’s a fucking poker game. I’m a person!” It’s a shout. A frustrated yell that makes even the stars flinch away, flickering in their vast space. It looked almost like fluorescent lights going out. Or like an orchestra responding to Tubbo’s wild gestures and pacing. “I’m a person.”

And he gets what Techno meant now. He understands the importance of having others understand and validate his humanity. Because otherwise, how would he know he’s a person? How else would he know he’s been treated unfairly? Tubbo gets it. He understands. 

And it hurts.

The room is silent save for the sound of hot chocolate dripping onto the floor.  There’s glass on the floor and blood on his hand. Blue blood. Tubbo hates blue. He hates blue so fucking much. Blue’s the reason why all of this is happening. That’s how she found him in the first place.

Phil doesn’t make a sound, nor does he move an inch away from Tubbo or the mess of shards. The angel sets a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently, and murmurs something to the younger god. He doesn’t care that Tubbo isn’t listening. That the hybrid isn't even present.

Tubbo feels the apologies in his throat,unable to hold himself from speaking, “I’m sorry. I never- I didn’t mean to throw it.”

And it was only then that Phil spoke up. Looking at Tubbo once again with an expression Tubbo couldn’t name if he tried. Brows furrowed and lips set into a line, “You think of him as your father, don’t you?”

Tubbo doesn’t respond. He’s not here. Maybe he never was.

”He thinks of you as a son. He gave up everything. Including the memory of you if you chose to heal on the server,” Phil continues, voice level and almost comforting. “I think he might be as crazy as you. Especially since he knew you’d choose for yourself.”

Tubbo thinks about it. He genuinely thinks about what he wants, knowing very well that it’s nearly impossible. Because what he wants is to start over. He wants to be normal and have childhood memories. He wants to have brothers that aren’t just family out of obligation.

He wants his dad and his fox and his brother. And that house on a hill. He wants the bee farm in the yard. He wants Tommy and Dream and XD and Techno. He wants to  have a memory of a happy life. Of being picked up and held as a kid or being measured on the wall. He wants to have his drawings on the fridge.

Maybe even a birthday party that he can remember. 

Somewhere in there, he made room for Phil and his crows and his cabin. He constructed a spot for the man's wings and his family. Because it was right. Phil deserved a start over. Tubbo wanted him to start over.

Because Phil will always be his father as he was the one who raised him, but Tubbo’s not sure if he’ll ever be his dad.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” Tubbo sobs, finally reciprocating the angels hug. Arms wrapping around him and squeezing as if the man would disappear. “I’m sorry for leaving and for hurting everyone and- I just- you’re my dad.”

Phil lets him cry.

“You raised me. You’re supposed to be my dad.”

“I know.”

“Why can’t you be my dad?”

“Tubbo,” Phil pulls away from him then. Placing a hand on Tubbo’s cheek, smiling gently when he leans into it, and murmurs, “You’re my kid. You’ll always be my kid. But you’re not my son.”

He doesn’t get it. Everything is confusing and it all hurts and he just wants to make a decision that doesn’t hurt anyone. “Why not?”

“Because you already have a family waiting for you.”

And Tubbo can feel himself being pulled elsewhere. Almost like he’s waking up or moving on. He finds that he’s equal parts prepared and not. Wanting to leave and live his own life but also wanting to stay. 

He feels his code begin to twist, dragging him through procedure after procedure. Eyes searching for what’s changing, focusing on his own body seeming to fade. Like he’s leaving with wind.

Distantly, he can hear Schlatt calling him. He’d recognise the voice anywhere. It’s the same scratchy tone it always is, but he could hear the fond undertones even in the void. Tubbo whips his head around, searching for where the voice is coming from.

He’s going home, he thinks. He’s finally going home.

Wait. “Are you coming with me?”

”Yeah. I’ll be there.”

[Delete Server?]

[Are you sure? Deleting a server means it’s gone forever.]

—————

[New Server!]

[Philza has joined!]

…

….

….

“You want me to raise him? You’re just handing me a kid right now, you realize that, right?”

“I know.”

“I’m not- I can’t raise a kid, Phil. I’m gonna fuck him up.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to take care of him if I thought you couldn’t do it.”

“…”

The ram waits and waits… and waits, eyes trained on the little boy in his arms. Then on the other boy, an older one that stands next to him and takes his hand. Then, as the avian begins to walk away, he calls out, “What’s their names!”

“Tubbo and Dream.”

And somehow, Schlatt knew they were his boys. His sons. He waited for Phil to leave, leading the boys inside, and he smiled. “Who wants hot chocolate?”

Yeah… they’d be okay.

——————-

In another world, an enchanted book finally shuts, landing back on its lectern with a resounding thud. A human, Karl Jacobs, steps back with nothing but a laugh in response. He reaches for one of the spare book and quills, frantically scribbling what he could from the story. Unable to stop the accomplished laugh that escapes him as he does.

His hand stops, moving to cover his stomach as he continues to laugh, pausing in his writing. 

Karl laughs for so long that eventually he forgets what he’s laughing about.

He forgets who he’s laughing for.

It’s unclear if any of it was real at all. Not that Karl would know or remember it regardless. 

He sets the book back onto the desk, squinting at the words as they trail off. Leaving the story unfinished and unremembered. He wonders if the book was always meant to be that way. 

Karl makes his way towards the entrance, sparing a glance at the book once again, wondering if he’s missing something. Then it hits him, he’s meant to be making rabbit stew with Quackity and Sapnap tonight. Schlatt and the boys would be over soon. Which meant Phil would bring his boys. Which Tommy and Tubbo in the same fucking room and Dream and Techno in the same room.

“Quackity start the furnace! Sapnap stay out of the kitchen or so help me- It’s not funny!”

And he leaves, passing a picture of Schlatt asking Quackity to be Tubbo’s godparent.