Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This week had been hectic, to say the least. It was the week of VidCon, so everyone was together. To save money, they all rented one Airbnb apartment. It was big, but it was still 2 bedrooms so they had to share beds.

It was Wilbur, Techno, Tommy, Philza and Tubbo. All exhausted from their week, all under one roof.

“Guys?” Tubbo asked, breaking the silence that had developed when they all realized they were too tired to keep up a conversation.

“Yeah?” Wilbur answered.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“What movie?”

“I dunno… We could watch The Office.”

This time Tommy butted in. “The Office isn’t a movie, are you dumb?”

“I’m down to watch The Office.” Wilbur said, completely ignoring Tommy, who looked at Wilbur, slightly offended. Techno and Philza said nothing as they moved from their spots lying on the floor to the couch. Well, Philza sat on the couch. Techno sat cross legged on the floor leaning against the couch, facing the small TV. Wilbur climbed over Techno and sat on the other spot on the couch, leaning against Philza. Philza put an arm around him while Wilbur shifted, getting comfortable. Tommy fell lazily over the arm of the couch, falling comfortably onto Wilbur’s chest. Wilbur wrapped his arms around Tommy, hugging him like a pillow. Tommy rested his knees on the arm of the couch and let his legs hang off the side.

“I’ll turn off the lights.” Tubbo got up from his stool across the room to turn off the lights before heading to the couch, swinging his arms in front of him in his blindness. He couldn’t see Techno, who was sitting, so he tripped over him. There was a loud thud and the other boys leaned over from their positions to make sure he was alright. When he sat up, clearly unharmed, they relaxed again.

Tubbo settled between Philza’s legs, leaning against the couch. His eyes had adjusted to the dark now, so he looked at Techno beside him. They didn’t speak, but Tubbo patted his lap and Techno knew what he meant. The older boy leaned over and put his head in Tubbo’s lap, lying on his side and facing the TV.

“Does anyone have the remote?” Tubbo asked.

“I’ve got it. Do you think it’ll be on cable?” Philza replied.

“If it’s not, we’ll just find it on On Demand.”

“Okay.” Philza turned on the TV, dialing 1000 on the remote, going straight to On Demand. Guess he wasn’t feeling like looking for it on cable.

Tubbo started running his fingers through Techno’s hair, and Techno melted into Tubbo’s lap.

“We could rent a couple episodes.” Wilbur said. Tubbo looked up at him, and then at Tommy, who was looking like he was about to fall asleep already. He had his hands over where Wilbur’s hands met, completely relaxed and clearly happy to be there. Philza was scratching Tommy’s head, which was conveniently right next to where his hand was while he had an arm around Wilbur. Wilbur’s head was resting on Tommy’s, and Tubbo was only a little jealous of the intimate position because he knew how nice it was to hear someone’s voice when you’re lying on them. It reminded him of when he used to take naps on his dad’s lap under the table when his family went out to dinner, and his dad still spoke to the other members of the family. He remembered feeling his deep voice more than hearing it, and he missed it. He leaned his head back more into Philza, who had just rented some random episodes that were available.

The blonde put the remote on the small table next to the couch and got more comfortable, leaning back and letting Wilbur melt into him a little more. He rested the hand that wasn’t on Tommy’s head on Tubbo’s, and started scratching his scalp gently. Tubbo leaned into his touch, which he took as a sign that he liked it.

The cold open started to play. Tommy was asleep now on Wilbur, and Wilbur wasn’t really faring much better. Techno was awake and content with Tubbo’s hands working wonders on his scalp, making him forget his exhaustion. Tubbo was beginning to get sleepy. He was weak to physical affection, platonic or not.

The five of them were asleep before the episode was over, all tangled in each other, comfortable and happy and warm.

Chapter Text

Tommy was having the worst night of his life.

About three months earlier, Sapnap started a discord call with Dream, George, Tommy, Wilbur and Schlatt in it. He said he thought it would be cool if the six of them rented a house somewhere and stayed there for a month. “Like, you know those TikTok houses? Like that but dumber.” Dream immediately agreed, going right into finances and costs and such, while the other four members took a little longer. Tommy took the longest.

Did he really want to stay with them. Yes. Did he think he could resist his weekly breakdowns for a whole month? He doubted it, but hell he was gonna try. They came to a consensus that they would stream the following day for six hours and all the donations would go to funding this get-together.

After the stream, they ended up with way more than they hoped for, and they got started looking on Airbnb. Wilbur wanted to stay in this treehouse thing that was 70 miles from any civilization, an idea which was quickly shot down. Dream was the one who found the perfect one: a large motel-looking home with six bedrooms and four bathrooms, with really good wifi and a nice view. And a pool.

Dream calculated how much everyone would give to pitch in, and everyone Venmo’d him the money before he booked the place.

The place was nice, really nice, Tommy admitted, but it had a lot of reflections.

When they got there, they got settled fairly quickly, setting up their monitors and their workspaces. They each had their own room, so there wasn’t too much interaction on that first day. Tommy had time to sit and stare at the blank white wall, bracing himself for the next four weeks of no release.

The weeks themselves were slow but his friends were there, so he was fine. He was fine. He didn’t want to worry anyone, so he would be stream-Tommy for the entire four weeks, then he would go home and revert to the real Tommy. He would make it. This would be fine.

Every week, it was more difficult than the last to resist saying he was tired and he wanted to go to bed so he could go to his room and let himself fall apart, but he learned on the second night that the walls were paper-thin when he heard George sleep-talking in the room to the left of his. His room was between Dream’s and George’s, and that was a good and bad thing. It was good because they’re great and he loved them(platonically) and they were really fun to be around, but it was bad because Dream is the latest sleeper out of the rest of them. He once heard Dream streaming at 4am, which led to him watching Dream play Minecraft and talk to his viewers quietly. He noticed the short delay between Dream’s actual talking and the stream, since he could hear Dream’s voice through the wall.

He should have known that was a sign Dream stayed up really late. He should have put the pieces together that just because he didn’t hear Dream talking didn’t mean he wasn’t up.

“Chat, should we go confront Dream and George about this dilemma?” Tommy said. He had been streaming on the Dream SMP for hours at this point, he didn’t really know exactly how long. It was almost midnight. Wilbur and Schlatt had already logged off and gone to bed, but Dream, Tommy, Sapnap and George were still on. Tommy and Dream were the only ones streaming. Dream messaged him on the server that he had a surprise for him, and now Tommy was gonna go find out what that was.

To be honest, he just wanted to stop streaming. He hated having his camera on during streams but now that it had become a norm, people would be confused if he turned it off. They would ask if he was okay. They would pry, and he didn’t have the energy or the mental stability in that moment to deal with the questions.

Over his teenage years, his anxiety and cripplingly low self esteem had morphed into scopophobia, the fear of seeing yourself. Tommy hated the world around him because everything that was displayed was new and shiny and reflective, and he would see himself in every little thing. He turned his head away from shiny cars, windows, puddles, and mirrors. Especially mirrors. Usually, around once a week, he would have a mental breakdown out of pure self hatred. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong anywhere. He didn’t deserve to interact with people. He didn’t deserve to live.

These thoughts would whirl around his head at hundreds of miles per hour, repeating and folding over themselves until all there was was indecipherable noise. He needed it, the ability to break once a week. It allowed him to last the week, knowing he only had an amount of time left that he had to keep himself together before he could let himself go.

He hated this routine he had fallen into. He hated the panic attacks, he hated feeling this pathetic, he hated that he needed this. He hated himself.

His Minecraft sprite walked to Dream’s house, seeing Dream outside. “Dream, fancy seeing you here.”

“Mind putting the sword away?”

“Dream, I need to stay protected. You could have set a trap. I’m walking-I’m walking into the dragon’s den.” He leaned in close to the camera, making eye contact with the viewers and lowering his voice as he said the last part.

“Man, these brits.”

“Dream!!” George butted in.

“Aw, I love the brits. I love Gogy and his cute little accent,” Sapnap said, crouching next to George’s character.

Dream laughed a little, punching Sapnap. Sapnap whipped out his netherite sword and attacked Dream, who took out his own netherite sword and killed Sapnap.

“Tommy. Follow me,” Dream said, turning to Tommy like nothing happened. Tommy laughed.

Tommy fake-chuckled. “Okay Dream.” He followed his friend’s green character sprite to an ominous hole in the ground. “Dream, what is this.”

“It’s a hole.” Dream dropped a water bucket for Tommy to use, and jumped down the hole. Tommy chuckled again, hoping this was a good thing to wrap up the stream with. He jumped down after Dream. Dream took him down an obnoxiously long and twisty tunnel before arriving at a 5x4 block hole.

“Are you ready for your surprise?”

“You know what? Sure. Sure.” Tommy acted like he was done with Dream’s shenanigans.

Dream broke two blocks in the wall and walked through to reveal a larger room with all four walls completely covered with the same picture of Tommy.

It filled his screen. He couldn’t look away. The floor and the ceiling were the same way. Something inside Tommy broke. He could feel the carefully crafted barrier between his real self and his stream self ebbing away. He felt panic rising in his throat. His throat started to close up. He pinched himself hard on his thigh, drawing blood. It pushed his panic back a little, and he hoped it would be enough the end the stream.

“Dream, why.”

Dream was laughing.

“This is actually the dumbest thing.”

Dream kept laughing.

“You know what? No. I will not stand for this,” Tommy said jokingly. “Bye. I’m ending the stream.” Dream was laughing hysterically now. “Bye chat.”

He ended the stream and hung up from the discord call, leaving himself alone in his room. He took one last look at Dream’s surprise before leaving the server and shutting down his computer. He turned off his lights and closed his blinds. He leaned against his wall, sinking down and putting his head on his knees.

He checked the time. Almost 12:15. He looked at the wall across from himself and let his thoughts wander. You’re so pathetic. Can’t even handle a joke? Why are you so dumb? Useless. Ugly. Waste of space. His thoughts swirled in his head, eroding his mental stability like a powerful river smooths rock. He could tell right off the bat that this episode would be worse than the others he’s had. He pinched his thigh again, drawing more blood. He needed this panic attack to not be this powerful, or he didn’t know if he could keep quiet. The pain and the steady drip of blood from the new wound barely did anything to calm the beast inside him, so he did it again. He pinched himself four more times, blood now dripping slowly from his thigh in rivulets, pooling together to drip onto the floor.

He checked the time again. 1:30. He shakily got up off the floor to get toilet paper to clean the blood off the floor. Luckily nobody heard or saw him entering or exiting the bathroom, or if they did they didn’t make themselves known. He scrubbed the floor to within an inch of its life, making sure to be quiet. After throwing the bloody paper into the wastebasket, he crawled onto the wooden floor and curled into a ball. He felt tears roll sideways down his face and onto the floor. He was barely aware of his own surroundings as his consciousness was filled with how much he hated himself. He quietly sobbed uncontrollably, occasionally letting out a slightly louder sob. He was barely conscious enough to check the time after a bout of sobbing. Almost 4am.

He assumed everyone was asleep, so he let his sobs be a little louder. Still barely audible, but audible nonetheless. A few minutes later, he doesn’t hear his door quietly open, nor does he hear Dream’s footsteps coming closer to where he was shaking and sobbing on the floor. He didn’t hear the creak of the floorboards as Dream knelt down next to him, nor did he hear Dream ask for permission to touch him, but he felt Dream’s touch. He really felt it. He snapped out of his sobbing so fast. His heart was still in his throat and his head hurt as he bolted upright, forcing himself to make eye contact with Dream. He was worried.

You made him worry. You’re a horrible person. Tommy’s breathing was still erratic when he heard Dream ask again for permission to touch him. He nodded. Dream wrapped his arms around Tommy, pulling him onto his lap in a tight, all-enveloping hug. Tommy gently hugged him back, weakly wrapping his arms around Dream’s strong torso. Dream rubbed circles into Tommy’s back, speaking softly.

“I’m here. It’s okay.” His voice was so soft and loving and that was all it took for Tommy to melt into Dream. He started sobbing again, just as quietly, trembling as Dream held him. At one point his thoughts started pouring out of his mouth, he started mumbling about his self hatred. Dream knew he wasn’t lucid enough to hear him, so he just rested his head on Tommy’s and rubbed his back, providing as much comfort as he could.

It was 4:30 when Tommy stopped crying, falling asleep immediately from the exertion of a 4 hour long mental breakdown.

Dream still held his sleeping form, picking him up as gently as possible and taking him to his room. He laid Tommy down in his bed before lying down next to him, and pulled the covers over the both of them. He would ask about this in the morning, and they would figure something out, but now was not the time. Dream positioned Tommy’s sleeping form to have his head be on Dream’s arm, and Dream pulled him closer. The sleeping boy cuddled into his side.
He would deal with this tomorrow. For now, he would just be here for his friend. He closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

It was two days before MCC. Dream had been practicing the parkour for basically an entire week straight. His sleep schedule was more screwed up than it usually was, which meant he wasn’t sleeping at all. Morning and night, it was just parkour. He stopped for sleep for about two hours every other night, and for food once a day. He had his water bottle at his desk.

It was safe to say he was being extremely unhealthy, and he knew it, but he had told himself at the beginning of this endeavor that he would catch up on food sleep and not being in a desk chair after MCC.

Sapnap and George had moved in with him a couple months ago, the team deciding that it would be “more convenient for streams to not all be in different timezones”. Being in the same house saved money.

Sapnap knew Dream was practicing for MCC, and so did George, but while they were his teammates they were also his friends. It was clear Dream wasn’t taking care of himself, so Sapnap and George needed to. Well, just Sapnap. George was leaving to go to his cousin’s wedding that day, so he was packing his bags and getting ready to get onto a plane in an hour.

When George was out the door, Sapnap started preparing for how he would get Dream to take care of himself. He decided he would cook a healthy meal for his dumbass roommate, and then he would make sure he slept somehow. Sapnap took some meat out of the fridge(he had been defrosting it) and laid it on the counter. He quickly got out a small pot and put the rice(glutinous, can’t be some other type like jasmine rice) that he had been soaking in water for 6 hours in it. Turning on one of the stove parts, he got a pot and drained the rice in a colander. He put the colander on the pot and filled it with water so the bottom of the colander was touching the waterline. He brought the water to a simmer and then covered the pot. While waiting for that to cook, he cut up some carrots, took the stalks off some broccoli, and diced half a bell pepper. He turned another stove part on and put a saucepan with olive oil on it to heat up. Taking the meat(chicken) out of the bag, he cut it into inch-thick cubes and threw them into a bowl. He put ginger powder, thyme, all-purpose seasoning mix, some vinegar and some soy sauce in it (and mixed it) before putting it on the pan as well as all the other vegetables. He got the salt and pepper out of a cabinet and generously applied it to the chicken. Deciding he wanted to have a little fun he took out onions, garlic, chives, soy sauce, and a pear. He sliced and diced all of them, and put them in the pan with the chicken. He mixed the contents of the pan a little, well, more like he moved them around. Noticing it had been ten minutes since he put the rice on, he took off the lid and flipped the rice(it was messy, but he had to do it so it could cook evenly). He covered it again, and went to take a chicken cube off the pan to see if it was done. He cut it open and, seeing that it wasn’t at all pink in the middle, deemed it finished. For fun, he put some soy sauce and some vinegar in the pan and mixed the contents around so the vegetables soaked it up. He took the pan off the heat and went to go watch TV for the next fifteen minutes while the rice continued cooking. He came back that much time later, taking the colander off the pot and setting it to the side before pouring the contents of the pot into the sink(with cold water running from the faucet so the very hot water doesn’t damage the pipes). He got out two bowls and divided the rice into two parts. He put one part in one bowl and the other part in the other, and spooned a good amount of the chicken and vegetables mix on top of it. He put more contents in Dream’s bowl, since goddammit the man hadn’t eaten anything decent in days. He put the bowls on the table in front of the TV and went to Dream’s room.

He was still in the exact same place. Not surprising.

Sapnap, without warning, quickly reached over and clicked Command-Q and effectively closed Minecraft.

“Sapnap what the fuck!!?!!?!!?”

“Come here.” Sapnap grabbed Dream’s hand and aggressively pulled him out of his chair, not giving him time to stabilize himself before he dragged him to the living room.

“Sapnap what are you doing?!”

“I made dinner. You’re gonna have a good fucking meal and then you’re gonna go the fuck to sleep. You’ve been sitting at your desk for days. Days, dude!!!” Sapnap had turned to face Dream and was shouting up at him, and Dream looked dumbfounded. “If you’re not gonna take care of yourself, then I have to!! So you’re gonna eat some decent fucking food and then you’re gonna get some good ass sleep and you’re not gonna FUCKING complain!!!!!!” Sapnap glared at Dream and turned around to continue dragging him to the table.

Sapnap sat down on the couch and aggressively patted the spot next to him. Dream got the point and went to sit, taking his bowl and just holding it. He looked at it incredulously. “You cooked this?”

Sapnap’s voice softened. “Do you not like it? I can make something else, I just wanted you to eat something healthy-”

“I love it. Thanks for cooking, Sap.” Dream smiled at Sapnap, and the shorter boy looked at his food and smiled softly. While Dream took his first bite(sighing in happiness), Sapnap grabbed the remote and turned on a Studio Ghibli film.

Sapnap finished his food pretty quickly, setting his bowl on the table and putting his arm on the back of the couch, around Dream. Dream, being pretty big on physical affection, shifted his position so he could lean comfortably on Sapnap’s shoulder and chest and still eat.

It was only about ten minutes before they were finished and they got up. Sapnap turned off the TV and put the bowls in the sink. He’d clean it in the morning. He met up with Dream in the bathroom to brush his teeth with him.

When they were done, Sapnap walked into his bedroom with him. Dream got into bed and pulled the covers up to his neck, and it was kind of cute seeing him all bundled up. Sapnap walked over to his bed and pulled off the covers to get in next to Dream. “Whatcha doin there bud?”

“You’re gonna get up and keep practicing the second I leave this room. So I’m not leaving.” Sapnap lay down, resting his head on the side of Dream’s pillow.

“You’re sleeping here?” Sapnap pulled the covers over the two of them.

“Yep.”

“Okay. Goodnight Sap.”

“‘Night, Dream.”

There was a minute or so of awkwardness before Dream spoke up. “Sap?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you turn around?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sapnap did just that, turning so his back was facing Dream. He felt Dream’s arms snake around his waist and pull him so his back was flush with Dream’s chest. Dream scooted up so he could rest his head on Sapnap’s, letting out a comfortable breath. He never took his arms out from around Sapnap, and Sapnap put his hands over Dream’s. Dream always had big hands, and they were warm. Sapnap smiled to himself, thinking it was really cute how Dream curled himself around him like a pillow or a big teddy bear.

Both of them fell asleep within five minutes, and Dream ended up getting the best night’s sleep he’d gotten in a while.

Chapter Text

Poki opened the door to her only son’s room at 7am, hearing his soft snoring. She walked up to Tommy’s bed, where he was sprawled with his head unceremoniously hanging off the side and the covers everywhere. Poki put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him to wake him up.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Time to get up. You’ve got school in an hour.”

Tommy groaned and pulled himself back onto the bed, grabbing a handful of covers and pulling the cover over himself. If I hide, she’ll go away
and I won’t have to get up.

“Tommy.”

Tommy groaned again and snuggled further into the bed.

Poki, getting tired of Tommy’s usual morning shenanigans, took the cover and ripped it off of the sleepy boy(or could you say sleepy boi?).

“Mum, what the fuck!!”

“Get up. You have school.”

“But mother. I am a growing boy and I need my sleep-”

“If you don’t get out of this bed right now-”

“I’m going! I’m going!”

Poki dumped the cover onto his bed and went to the kitchen to make him his usual breakfast: toast with butter, jelly and an egg on top, over easy.

Once Tommy brushed his teeth and got dressed, he trudged out into the living room, sitting down at the table. “Thanks for breakfast, mum.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tommy was about halfway through the toast when Wilbur walked in in black sweats and a gray t-shirt. “Morning hon’. Hey Tommy.”

“Hi dad.”

“Why are you up so early?”

“I’ve got school.”

“He’s got school.” Poki butted in. “Also, good morning.”

Wilbur nodded at nothing in particular, brushing his curly hair back to try and tame it. “Did you make coffee?” He looked at Poki.

“Not yet, you should start some.”

“Right, yeah.”

Tommy watched as Wilbur walked to the kitchen and started making his morning coffee in his favorite L’Manburg mug. Poki hugged Wilbur from behind, resting her head on his back.

“What’s poppin’?”

Poki laughed. “Why do you say that?”

“Because it makes you laugh.”

Tommy made an obnoxiously loud vomiting noise from where he was sitting at the table. “BLEUGH I’m right here can you guys nOt?”

The couple laughed and Wilbur took his finished coffee from the machine. Tommy, at this point, had finished his breakfast and got up to put his plate in the sink. “Thanks mum.”

“No problem.”

Tommy grabbed his bag on the way out the door, opening the door to see his best friend Tubbo waiting for him. They had been best friends since he moved in next door, and they always walked to school together.

“Hi Tubbo!” Poki called from the kitchen.

“Hi Mrs. Soot!”

“How many times have I told you to call me Poki? Mrs. Soot sounds so formal.”

“Uh, okay….. Poki.”

“Eugh that is so weird.” Tommy butted in.

“What?” Tubbo said.

“Calling my mother Poki.”

“We have to go, we’re gonna be late.”

“Alright.”

Tubbo leaned to the side to look at Poki behind Tommy. “Bye Tommy’s mom! Bye Tommy’s dad!”

Tommy put his index finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose. “Oh my days.”

Chapter Text

Dream wore his mask everywhere he went. He wore it every waking moment, and the only time he took it off was after he triple locked his door and went to sleep. Even then, the mask was in his hand. He also kept his hand in his pocket a lot, holding a piece of paper with some writing on it. Nobody knew what it said, he would never let anyone read it. But he always kept it on him. Nobody knew why he always wore a mask and had the note, and any time someone would ask Dream would dodge the question, saying “it’s just from an old friend”.

A couple years prior, Clay was walking through the forest, going hunting. He was unaware of what was going on twenty blocks below him.

Someone who he still, to this day, only knew the gender of, was creating a wither. The mysterious woman had dug a tiny hole in the ground and dug out a 4 by 4 cube to build the wither. She was decked out in netherite armor for protection, unaware of the man twenty blocks above her who had no armor on. She took a deep breath before putting obsidian in front of her and placing the final wither skull. The obsidian protected her from the blast, but she still sustained some scratches.

Clay heard a muffled noise. It was low and the ground shook. “What the hell was that?” he muttered to himself. He went through the possibilities in his head. It was likely some form of explosives, like TNT. Someone was probably mining using TNT. Maybe there was a cave below him and a creeper detonated. Maybe someone set off an end crystal? No, only four people had ever even gone to the end, and they were very careful to keep the crafting recipe under wraps. Unless one of those four was under him, but why would they be under a regular oak forest? Before he could continue thinking about it,
the ground below him fell.

“FUCK!” He yelled as he attempted to move and try to fall on his feet. The rock below him was jagged and uneven, likely the result of the blasts he had
heard before.

What surprised him, though, wasn’t the state of the rocks. Only a few feet away from him was a creature that he thought only existed in fairytales. A wither.

The wither quickly moved to the left, and he wondered why until he saw a woman in full netherite armor swinging a sword at where the creature was. Where he now was. She brought it down, hard. Clay saw surprise flash in her eyes for a split second before the world turned dark. He felt himself fall onto the jagged rock, then he felt nothing.

The space around him was cold. It felt wet but his fingers were dry and his clothing was light and airy. He felt like he was falling, but he couldn’t control his limbs. His body was limp but fluid, and he seemed to only exist. Nothing more.

When he woke up, he was being carried by a woman. He assumed it was the woman that stabbed him. The first thing he registered was the searing pain on his face. Before he could figure out what was happening, the world went dark again.

The next time he woke up, he was lying on a mat on the floor of someone’s house. The floor was made of oak panels, and the walls were made of bamboo stalks that were tied together with rope. There were countless shelves with potions and weapons on them. There was a large furnace on one wall,
an uneven wooden door on another, and shelves on the other two, as well as a mirror. The house was extremely small, it was a square that was two meters across. It was lit by a single hanging lantern on the low ceiling.

Clay stood up, but the ceiling was too low for someone his height to stand up straight. Something caught his eye when he got up. On one of the
shelves, there was a mask.

The mask looked worn but hardy. It was made of birch wood that had been painted white. The paint was chipping in some places. There were two small eyeholes, and a smile crudely drawn in thick black marker. The mask had a string looped through two holes on the sides, to keep it on the wearer’s face. He held the mask up to his face, looking at himself in the mirror. He kind of liked it.

He lowered the mask, immediately noticing the state of his face. It was fucking mangled. He had some scratches and a split lip, but the most noticeable thing was the giant gash that went from the middle of his forehead to the right side of his jaw, cutting straight through his right eye. The gash was about an inch thick.

Clay experimentally touched the injured flesh, recoiling as soon as he touched it. For some reason, he could still see clearly out of his right eye, even though it was slashed. He leaned closer to the mirror to get a closer look. The gash had sliced his eyeball open, but it didn’t go through the pupil. His iris wasn’t intact, though. Maybe he could still see because it didn’t go through his pupil?

He didn’t want people to see him like this. It was ugly. It was disgusting. He was disgusting. He grabbed the mask and put it on before opening the door. He took one last look at the tiny house, and ducked through the door.

The first thing he did was get his coordinates so he could figure out how to get home(luckily, it wasn’t that far). After he got himself sorted out at home, he went back to the mysterious house with a map, a book, a pickaxe, an axe, and a shovel. And his mask.

When he went back to where the house was, he was shocked. The house had completely disappeared. He checked and double checked and triple checked the coordinates, and he looked around to see the same savannah biome he remembered it to be in, but the house was just gone. There were no traces of it, it was like it had never been there.

Upon closer inspection, he saw a tiny piece of paper on the ground. It was only a couple inches wide and a couple inches tall, but he saw it lying on the dead grass. He picked it up.

You came back? I’m sure it’s because you want information. I’ll come find you eventually and explain. Sorry about your eye. I’m not telling you my name, my age, my gender, or anything about what I look like. I’ll introduce myself to you one day. If you want to talk, tell me your name is Dream. I’ll only do it once, so be ready.
-someone you used to know

Dream, huh? He had to introduce himself as Dream. Why did she say she wouldn’t tell him her gender, when she knew he clearly saw she was a girl? Did she crossdress to give herself anonymity?

Dream didn’t know. He pocketed the note and went back home.

Two years later, he had made friends and they all knew him as Dream, and none of them had ever seen him without his mask. He carried the note in his pocket constantly, and always wore the mask.

Dream shared his house with his closest friends, George and Sapnap. He loved them to death but the lack of alone time meant he never took his mask off. Sometimes, when he really wanted to take it off, he would escape to a tiny room he made for these occasions. It was deep underground, and to hide it from everyone else he put a maze under it. The way to get to it was to go through a very twisty path he made that was just high and wide enough for someone to get through. After following the path for a quarter mile, there’s a maze. Dream memorized the path of the maze, so it was easy for him, but it wouldn’t be easy for anyone else. Additionally, the maze had no ending point. The secret was that to find Dream’s little room, you had to go to a very specific spot in the maze, and dig down four blocks. Then his room was there.

Dream made an almost exact replica of the tiny house he woke up in that fateful day. He made the walls out of bamboo stalks that he had sewn together with rope. He nailed wooden shelves to the walls, and they were uneven. He had a mirror, a big furnace, and a mat on the floor to sleep on.

He patched up the entrance to his room in case anyone somehow found his maze and was walking through it. Deciding he was hungry, Dream took some raw mutton out of his inventory and put it in the furnace. He had installed a tiny tiny hole, only about an inch wide, that went to the surface to air out the smoke the furnace created. A tiny secret chimney. The hole led to a furnace room in L’Manburg, so the smoke wouldn’t cause any confusion.

He ate the mutton after he cooked it, and lay down on the mat. He took off his mask and looked up at the lantern he had installed on the ceiling, before falling into a deep sleep and listening to the furnace crackle.

Unbeknownst to the sleeping Dream, Tubbo was strip mining. The mine was going so it would pass only one block under Dream’s little room, and if Tubbo didn’t find an iron vein right there, there’s a low chance he would find Dream’s room.

That is, if the furnace was off.

Tubbo continued mining, thinking about his plans to get food with Tommy, when he heard it. A quiet crackle. He thought nothing of it, and continued
mining. As he kept digging into the rock, the crackling sound got closer. Eventually, he stopped where the crackling was the loudest. It was coming from…. up?

Tubbo looked up at the smooth rock and knocked on it to see if it was hollow. Nothing happened. Tubbo took his pickaxe and dug up one block, and he found wooden planks. Wooden planks?? Underground?

Tubbo dug up one more block, and the crackling became apparent. It was soothing. He pulled himself up through the hole to find a tiny room. The room was interesting but the thing he was focusing on wasn’t the decorations. Lying on a mat in the middle of the room was Dream. Without his mask.

Tubbo carefully got closer to Dream, making sure to not make any noise. He just looked at Dream, taking in his features. He was actually very attractive.
Tubbo noticed he had a giant scar stretching across almost the entire right side of his face. He guessed the scar was why the man wore his mask all the time. Not wanting to pry or wake the man, Tubbo carefully climbed back down the hole, putting the wooden planks back exactly how he found them, and the stone under them too. He kept mining, thinking about Dream’s face.

A week or so later was the scheduled Dream vs Technoblade fight. Dream walked into the arena in iron armor, carrying his signature diamond axe.
Technoblade came in iron armor too, still wearing his cape.

The fight was good, they were pretty tied until the third round. Dream swung at Techno with his axe, and he dodged. He swung at his feet, and the man jumped. Dream looked up to see Techno coming at him, ready to swing his sword. Techno brought down the sword and suddenly Dream was back there, falling into a pit. The woman in netherite armor swung her sword at him. He vaguely registered the ground under him as he dropped to his knees clutching his face, but he still felt like he was falling. The next thing he could remember, he was being shielded from the world by something red and soft, and he could feel a warm body holding him.

--

Techno walked out into the arena, noticing Mr. Beast, Karl Jacobs, and some of his friends sitting in the front row to watch. He saw Dream, emotionless as always with his smile mask. He never knew why he wore that thing. He was curious to see what he looked like under the mask.

He tightened and loosened his grip on the hilt of his sword, antsy for the battle to start. When the whistle sounded, he dashed at Dream. They were both very skilled players, so the fight was tied for a while, but eventually Techno jumped up and swung his sword down on Dream. He knew he didn’t hit Dream’s face, just close enough to slice the mask, but any spectator would think otherwise. Dream screamed(before he got hit, he noticed) and dropped everything in lieu of gripping his face. He was screaming bloody murder, crumbling like paper down to the floor. Techno stopped what he was doing, seeing the telltale signs of a panic attack. This wasn’t how Dream reacted to being hit. This was different.

Techno moved forward quickly, sheathing his sword and picking up Dream. He speedwalked out of the arena, Dream in tow. He barely heard the mutters of confusion from the audience, and he ignored them. He took Dream to his prep room(the builders had made rooms for each of them to prepare before the fight) and sat on the couch that was there. He held Dream, who was shaking violently, tightly. When Dream started shaking less, he shielded his eyes from the ceiling light, putting his hands back over his face. Someone walked in at some point, but Techno just shot them a menacing glare to tell them to leave.
He looked down at Dream, who was still shaking and clutching his face. “Dream, can I touch your hands?” Techno wondered if Dream could hear him. “Tap your index finger twice for yes, and once for no, okay?”

Dream tapped his forehead twice. ‘So he can hear me,’ Techno thought.

“Can you take your hands off your face?”

One tap.

“Did I physically injure you?”

One tap.

“Did something I did remind you of a time someone physically injured you?”

Two taps. That clears some things up.

“Can you look at me?”

Dream didn’t tap his finger on his forehead, just opened his fingers so he could peek through meekly at Techno.

“Are you okay with me touching you like this?”

Two taps.

“Is there a reason you’re covering your face?”

Two taps.

“Is it because of the light?”

One tap.

“Does it have anything to do with your mask?”

Two taps. “Where….. Where is my m-mask?” Dream’s voice sounded small and fragile, a far cry from his usual self.

“Probably still in the arena. Want me to go get it?”

Dream nodded. Techno carefully got out from where he was hugging Dream, taking off his cape and draping it over the taller man. Dream watched
him leave through his fingers. Techno ignored any communication from the audience as he entered the arena, picked up Dream’s sliced mask, and walked back out of the arena.

When he walked back into the room, Dream turned the other direction so Techno couldn’t see his face. He put his arm back, motioning for Techno to put the mask in his hand without him turning around. Techno put the broken mask into Dream’s open palm.

Dream held the mask, looking at it in all its broken glory. He sobbed once into his hand, slouching deeply and his entire body convulsed.

“Dream?”

Dream turned around, looking Techno right in the eyes, still sobbing uncontrollably, but managing to get out one phrase. “Do you know how much this mask meant to me?” He sniffled and let out another broken sob, but didn’t break eye contact with Techno.

Techno saw his scar, but didn’t comment on it. The pink haired man just walked over to Dream and hugged him tightly. Dream feebly grabbed Techno’s cotton shirt, leaning down into his shoulder and getting his shirt wet with his tears.

“I just want to find that person. She ruined me. She took my sanity, my face, my f-fucking name, Techno I’ve spent so fuh-fucking long looking for her. I don’t think I’ll ever f-find her.”

Someone gave Dream a scar like that? Damn. Techno wanted to pry, but he didn’t. After a couple minutes, Dream’s sniffles had died down and Techno pulled Dream down to sit on the floor.

“Techno?”

Techno was sitting really close to Dream. Like, really close. If he leaned forward, he could just--nope, he wasn’t going to think that way.
Instead, he cupped Dream’s cheek and ran his thumb along Dream’s scar. “You know,” Techno started, feeling the rest of the scar, “I think the scar really suits you. You look like a badass.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it looks really cool. I read this manga once where there was this dude and he had fire powers and he was a dick and a really bad father but at
one point he got this scar on his face from fighting this weird monster that a villain created. It looks a little bit like yours. Yours is better though.”

Dream had started smiling at some point during his mini rant, and rested his hand on Techno’s, which was still caressing his scar. “Thanks, Techno.”

“You know, if you want I could help you find this person you’re looking for.”

“That’s okay, I’ve got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, well my help’s yours if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

They sat there in silence for a little longer, just looking at each other, before Techno got up. “Ready to get beat?” He went to the couch to pick up his
cape and put it back on dramatically.

Dream laughed. “Yeah, right. Like I’d lose.” He picked up his mask and used the strategically placed duct tape to put it back together temporarily.

Techno chuckled lowly and walked to the door with Dream.

“Hey Techno?”

“Hm?”

“There’s a place I want to show you after this. It’s small, but it’s my favorite place right now.” Dream thought about sitting in his tiny underground
room with Techno, playing cards or something.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go after.”

Dream smiled and put his mask back on. Techno smiled and turned to walk out the door, swishing his cape to purposely hit Dream. They walked out into the arena together, and took their places.

Tubbo smiled from his place in the audience, knowing Dream had probably just shared his secret with Technoblade. He was happy that they were friends.

Chapter Text

Tommy and the group commonly known as the Sleepy Bois were put on a team together for MCC(as highly requested by their fans), and Tommy was happy. He was. But the war and the election and all the death and destruction both events brought left him hungry.

Tommy has had this…. condition of his for as long as he could remember. He had a normal hunger bar for food like everyone else but he also had a separate hunger bar. This one was for physical contact. High fives gave him half a hunger bar. Quick hugs gave him one hunger bar. Longer hugs gave him more hunger bars depending on how long the hug lasted, and how nice it was. In other words, if he’s being hugged against his will or he doesn’t like the hug, he didn’t get any hunger bars.

When he touched someone else, Tommy got this warm feeling in his chest. It was jittery and red and happy, and when he got that feeling from touches his hunger bar would fill up. So maybe he was hungry for that feeling.

Either way, it was safe to say that he got barely any touches during the war and the election. He remembered very briefly grabbing Wilbur’s hand when the taller man announced they had won the election, but Wilbur snatched his hand away(granted it was because they didn’t actually win, but that wasn’t the point). That interaction gave him half a hunger bar.

Now he was entering MCC with his fanmade team, and he was starving. He had only actually starved twice like this, once when he went to a new country and he didn’t know anyone there, and it was weird to just ask a stranger to cuddle. The other time was when his schoolwork got so heavy that he was basically at his desk for two weeks straight.

Both times, he passed out from starvation.

He was nervous that this would be the third. His hunger bar was at a painful zero when he entered the arena. He was already feeling dizzy.

The tournament started with some Skyblockle. Tommy didn’t mind this one. Wilbur, on the other hand, made his hatred for the minigame apparent.

“UgHHHH I suck at Skyblockle.”

“Big W. You’re being a Little W.”

“Tommy how could you.”

“Tommy’s right. We’re the alpha males here.” Techno butted in.

“Wrong, Technoblade. I’m the alpha male. You suck, Technoblade.”

“Tommy, be nice.” Philza said.

“The child speaks of lies.” Techno said.

Wilbur was just bitching to himself about how much he hated Skyblockle in the background of their mini argument.

Eventually, and not surprisingly, Techno wiped the floor with the competitors(except for the Dream Team, who he admitted were hard to beat). “Get owned!!!! Y’all just got owned!!!!!!”

Wilbur laughed at Techno’s winning attitude. They were teleported back to the Decision Dome, where they learned that the next round would be parkour. Tommy was getting tired. He was tripping over his own feet before they were even teleported to the parkour hub. Wilbur took a look at Tommy, who was visibly struggling, and turned to him. “Tommy, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Okay. Take a nap after this is over.”

“Yeah, okay, dad,” he mocked.

Philza looked over, offended and fake-crying. “My role has been taken. My son has taken the father role…. What purpose do I have…. This is so sad…..”

“Noooooo Philza! You’re still the dad.” Wilbur said, and was the physical representation of the :D emote. Philza wiped his nonexistent tears and turned
to Wilbur, putting a fatherly hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, son.”

God, Tommy didn’t wish to be anywhere but where Wilbur was standing in that moment. With a fatherly hand on his shoulder. He was feeling lightheaded and the world was starting to wobble.

He heard Wilbur call out his name before everything tilted and suddenly the floor was really close-

Was he in the void? It was dark, for sure. He felt like he was underwater. It was warm, stuffy, the air felt humid and damp around him, but tasted crisp and clear. He tried to look around to figure out what time it was, but he realized that there wasn’t any gravity. Which way was up? He didn’t see a floor, and he felt like he was falling but he didn’t know what direction he was falling.

All of a sudden, the direction he was falling became clear. He saw the decision dome, his teammates, the competitors, and everything else before he got another taste of the floor. This time, though, he didn’t feel it hit. He braced himself, sure, but he didn’t feel the floor under him.

He realized he could see light coloring his closed eyelids a warm orangey yellow. He wasn’t in the void anymore? The sticky humidity from before was gone, so he assumed he was back in the real world. He cracked his eyes open to see a concerned Philza with Wilbur and Techno next to him. Wilbur’s eyebrows were furrowed in distress. It was difficult to see through Techno’s blank expression, but Tommy knew he was concerned too.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Tommy, you scared us!” Philza said. Tommy still felt like passing out. Oh, how he wanted the distance between him and his basically-family to be closed.
He tried to use his voice to console Philza, but nothing came out. He tried harder.

“I’m hungry.” His voice was incredibly raspy and his speech was slow, but he got the words out. Immediately, Techno got some stew out of his inventory. Tommy tried to reach out to hold the bowl(his actual hunger wasn’t full anyway, but this wasn’t what he meant by being hungry), but his arms didn’t
respond. Techno seemed to already have figured this out, as he blew on a spoonful of the stew and fed Tommy.

Tommy moved his face accidentally when Techno was taking the spoon out of his mouth, getting a tiny bit of stew on his cheek. Techno let out a quiet ‘oh’ before getting a napkin and wiping the stew off. This would have been normal, had Tommy not leaned into the napkin. Techno didn’t mind it, he knew Tommy was delirious right now, but he put the pieces together when Tommy whimpered as he took his hand away.

The war. The election. The sleepless nights. The violence. The betrayal. People barely expressed their affections during that time. Techno had heard of touch-starvation before, where someone has another hunger bar for touch, and Tommy was giving him every reason to believe he had that. “Tommy, are you hungry for food?”

Tommy shook his head lightly. Experimentally, Techno cupped Tommy’s cheek. Tommy leaned into the action, willing his arms to work so he could hold Techno’s hand against his cheek. Tommy looked less pale already.

“Guys, he’s touch starved. It’s cuddle time.” Techno said, not dropping his deadpan. Philza leaned back onto the couch that Tommy never noticed was behind them, patting his lap. Tommy happily went over to Philza and lay his head and his upper back on his lap(he was lying sort of diagonally), while still being on his back. Wilbur lay so his head was on Tommy’s chest, hugging the boy. Techno curled up with his head in the bend on Tommy’s shoulder, hugging him and laying a loving hand on Wilbur.

Philza brushed Tommy’s hair back from his forehead, earning a smile from the teenager and started combing through Tommy’s hair with his fingers.
Tommy felt that warm feeling. He was really happy. He pulled Techno closer to him, the pink haired man snuggling more into Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy rubbed Wilbur’s back, and he heard Wilbur sigh in contentment. The three of them fell asleep like that, and Philza just kept combing through Tommy’s hair, occasionally dismissing any curious people looking into their room to see a pile of sleeping bois.

Tommy’s hunger bar was full when he woke up.

Chapter Text

Sapnap was always happy. That was his brand. He would make vulgar jokes and fuck around with his friends and he would die sometimes but that didn’t matter. He was always happy. Always.

But that was his persona. This character of himself he create was always happy. But in reality? Things were starting to get to him. He’d gotten a lot of hate comments recently that his playful bullying was going too far, that he was a jerk. People mentioning “the Dream Team” became people mentioning “Dream and George”.

Was he being erased?

No, people liked him. He got tons of donos every stream. Though a lot of them were about Dream…. no, he was popular.

People liked him.

Sapnap got ready to stream with Dream and George, just to chill on the SMP for a while. About thirty minutes into the stream, Sapnap had just teamed with Dream in teasing George to within an inch of his life. He didn’t think he had ever seen the man so red. Bad would have passed out form the vulgar language they were using.

Sapnap was in a really good mood. He loved this kind of banter, and he loved his friends.

Then the donation came. Ten dollars, with the caption “Why is Sapnap even here? Dream and George are way funnier than him”. Luckily, Sapnap didn’t have his facecam on, so none of his viewers saw his lighthearted smile drop.

“Thanks for the dono.”

“Sap, ignore them. People on Sap’s stream, can you not be dicks?”

The stream went silent for a bit. Sapnap’s chat was going super fast with a bunch of “god has spoken”s and “uh oh dad’s mad”s and “OHHHHHH”s. The next donation Sapnap got wasn’t any better than the last. Sapnap turned off Text to Speech.

The donation read: “Why are u mad u know Dream and George are the funny ones lol their better off without you”.

Sapnap didn’t want to be here anymore, at least for tonight. So he simply said “Wrong they’re. I’m gonna end the stream. Bye guys.”

“Awe, Sapnap don’t leave-”

“George, he left already.”

“Oh.”

“I’m actually gonna end too. Are you gonna keep streaming?”

“I’m not really feeling like streaming solo.”

“Okay. Well, bye George’s stream.”

“Bye chat!”

They ended the stream, still on call.

-

Sapnap was sad. He knew everyone who was anyone got hate comments. Yeah. But as he read through this stream chat, he saw so many comments agreeing with the people who donated. The hate comments almost outweighed the normal ones. Occasionally someone told the haters to stop, but he only saw four comments like that. Sapnap, being the overthinker he was, concluded that since only four out of the ten thousand people who were watching the steam stood up for him, then that meant that 9,996 of his 10,000 viewers hated him.

They’re not wrong. No. Sapnap wouldn’t think like that. He had good friends who loved him and liked having him on their streams and thought he was funny. But George and Dream are so much funnier than you.

Sapnap couldn’t deny that. The viewers liked George and Dream more than him. Therefore they were better than him. Therefore he didn’t deserve to be there.

He didn’t deserve to be their friend.

He didn’t deserve to be here.

He got up from his chair and walked to his bathroom, opening the cabinet under the sink.

-

“He won’t answer my calls,” Dream said. He heard George sigh through his headphones.

“Do you think he’s okay?”

“I hope so. His viewers were being total dicks though.”

“Yeah. Do you know if this has been happening before now?”

“Yeah, it has. It’s just been stream chats and youtube comments before this, though. Never donations.”

“Putting it in a donation is pretty blatant.”

“I’m guessing that was the point.”

“I’m sure.”

They were quiet for a little while before Dream spoke again.

“I’m gonna call him again.”

“Okay. Call me back after.”

“Yeah. Love you George.”

“Bye Dream.”

Dream sighed and hung up, scrolling through his contacts to find Sapnap’s name.

-

Where was it? Sapnap couldn’t find any of his razors. Did he run out? No, he remembered buying a ten-pack. He fished around in his cabinet for the razors, and eventually found them. He breathed a sigh of relief and took the blades out of the cabinet, placing them on the sink.

He hadn’t done this in a while, but he decided that he deserved to feel a little pain, if only to get his mind off the hate comments. He was overwhelmed with a feeling of not deserving the life he had. He took a razor between his thumb and index finger and turned his hand over to expose the inside of his wrist. He took a look at his phone on the sink. The screen was dark.

He quickly sliced a thin line across his wrist, admiring the tiny drops of blood that hurriedly leaked out. There was a sting, but it was bearable. He put the razor a little bit above the cut, and did it again. He did it three more times. He was getting a little high on his forearm, so he put the razor right on his vein, admiring how the blue got slightly more saturated when he pressed the razor onto it.

He started to quickly drag the blade against his wrist, but was startled by an incoming discord call. His hand lurched and he cut way deeper than he intended. Blood immediately came gushing out. He started freaking out, trying to get a tissue to hold onto it, but his mind went fuzzy in panic. He was gonna die. He was gonna have committed suicide.

All he wanted was a little pain! All he wanted was to get his mind off the hate comments!! He didn’t want to die! Not like this!

In his haze, he remembered his phone was ringing. With a shaky hand, he pressed accept, not looking at who was calling, and held the phone up to his ear.

“Sapnap?” he heard Dream’s voice filter through the tiny speaker.

“Dream. Dream. Help me. Dream, I messed up. Please help.” His voice was hurried as he gave up on putting pressure on the wound and sunk to the tiled floor.

“Sapnap??? Are you okay?? What happened?!”

Sapnap was full-on sobbing at this point. “I was cutting, and it was fine but then I got startled by your call and my hand slipped and there’s a lot of blood Dream, there’s a lot of blood-”

“Sapnap-”

“Dream there’s so much blood I’m gonna die-”

“Sapnap listen-”

“I’m gonna die I’m gonna have committed suicide Dream I don’t know what to do-”

“Sapnap. Shut the fuck up and listen to me.” Sapnap shut his mouth.

“Turn your camera on. I need to make sure you’re doing what I tell you.”

Sapnap turned his camera on, leaning his phone against the sink so he didn’t have to hold it.

“Fuck, Sapnap.” Dream said under his breath, before continuing. “Get a towel. Hold it against the wound. apply a lot of pressure. I’m in Texas right now. I’m getting in my car. I’m staying on the phone, and you better be fucking alive when I get there. Okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes. Can you hear me?”

Sapnap nodded. He heard a car door slam shut and an ignition start. He also heard some wheels squeaking as Dream pulled out of the driveway really fast. He hoped Dream didn’t get into a car crash. He was seventeen miles away. Even in his panicked state, he calculated that that meant Dream was going 102 miles per hour. That was really fucking fast.

“Are you holding it?”

“Yeah.” His voice was shaky. Fuck, he was weak. Weak and disgusting. He didn’t deserve to be here. Maybe he should just let himself bleed out.

“Sapnap, you’re loosening it. Fucking tighten it.”

“Dream,” Sapnap pleaded. “Just let me go. I shouldn’t be here anyway.”

“Sapnap, don’t fucking talk like that. Tighten the fucking towel.”

“But Dream, I don’t care about-”

“I care about you!!! Sapnap, please stay alive until I get there. I’m on the highway. I’ll go faster. Just please stay alive. Please, Nick. I need you to stay in my life. I need you. Please. I’m begging you. Don’t die. I’m almost there.”

Sapnap didn’t respond to Dream’s pleas, he just kept sobbing and holding the towel on his wrist.

Barely any time later, Dream was outside his house door, realizing it was locked. He kicked the lock hard, breaking it, and kicked the door down. He sprinted to the upstairs bathroom he knew Sapnap was in, throwing the door open.

He knelt down, grabbing the towel and pressing onto the wound hard. Sapnap didn’t stop sobbing. Dream took Sapnap’s phone with his other hand and shoved it into his pocket after hanging up the call. “I saw a hospital on the way here. I’m picking you up and we’re going there.”

Dream didn’t ask for permission, shoving his arms under Sapnap’s knees and mid back.

“Hold the towel on as tight as I did.”

Sapnap didn’t respond verbally, just held the towel on his wound again and tightened his grip.

“Good,” Dream said softly, getting up with Sapnap in his arms and sprinting through his house. “You’re doing good. You’re gonna be okay,” Dream cooed down to the crying boy in his arms. Sapnap was trembling. Dream unceremoniously shoved Sapnap into the passenger seat and slid over the hood of the car to get to the driver’s seat faster.

He stepped on the gas and Sapnap thought he might throw up. Dream went from 0 to 110 mph in, like, 30 seconds. He was swerving to avoid the slower cars on the highway, but Sapnap knew Dream didn’t give even a shred of a shit about them.

After only two minutes, they were at the hospital. Dream pulled Sapnap by the elbow out of the car, picking him up immediately and sprinting to the hospital doors. Sapnap was about to pass out from blood loss, and the formerly white towel was stained red and damp. Sapnap dropped the towel, all of his limbs feeling heavy and going limp.

“Nick, stay with me. Stay awake. Please, Nick.” Dream kicked the door to the hospital open , startling some of the people inside. “Help me! He’s going to die if you don’t help me.” Dream’s voice was hurried and frantic, and Sapnap vaguely felt this taller man pull him closer to his chest. Then he felt nothing. He heard Dream scream for him to wake up, but then everything paused for a second.

Only a second.

He immediately woke up to find himself in a hospital bed. Dream was sleeping next to the bed, leaning his torso on Sapnap’s legs. He noticed George was here, too, asleep with his hand on Sapnap’s and his head on Dream’s shoulder.

When had George gotten here?

Somehow, Dream sensed the heart monitor Sapnap was connected to speed up its beeping, and opened his eyes.

“Sapnap?”

“Hey.”

Dream jumped up and hugged Sapnap, pouring himself into the shorter man’s chest. He was sobbing.

“I thought you were dead, Sapnap please don’t scare me like that again.”

George, groggy from just waking up, whirled around the bed to hug Sapnap from the other side, crying silently. Sapnap rested his bandaged hand on George’s head, as if making sure George was really there, and the other hand on Dream’s head, carding through his dirty blonde locks.

“Sorry I scared you.” He paused. “How long was I out?”

“Two days,” Dream replied through uneven breaths. He had been out for two days? He guessed George flew over in that time.

“Sapnap, please don’t ever do that again.” George’s voice was whiny and congested from crying.

“Okay.”

The three boys stayed like that for a while, falling asleep on each other at some point. A nurse came in later on, but saw the group and simply turned the lights off and closed the door, letting them sleep.

Chapter Text

Tubbo was told by Wilbur, his big brother, to go hunting. They were low on food, and they obviously didn’t want to starve. Wilbur had offered to go with Tubbo, but Tubbo denied his help(“I’m almost an adult!! I can go places by myself!”) and exited their humble abode with an iron axe and a fishing rod in his pack.

Tubbo loved the outside, especially the forest. Their house was in a really pretty area, and Tubbo sometimes liked to just wander. There was a hollowed out tree trunk a couple miles west of their house, and Tubbo had made it into his and Tommy’s secret hideout.

Fallen leaves crinkled and crunched under Tubbo’s worn leather boots as he breathed in the autumn air. The trees were warm and the sky was clear, and Tubbo fiddled with his pack’s strap as he watched some geese fly over him in their classic V formation. He wondered what it would be like to touch the clouds like that. Would they be soft? Philza told him once that they were just gas, but Tubbo liked to believe they would be soft, like Techno’s old cotton button-up.

The air smelled crisp and wet, and Tubbo liked it. He debated sitting down for a bit to look for shapes in the clouds, but when he knelt down and felt that the grass was dewey he decided against it. He would come back later, maybe bring a few glass jars to catch fireflies. Tommy always liked those, and Tubbo smiled knowing the blonde would never admit he was afraid of the dark.

Tubbo thought back to that January night, when the sky was dark and clear, purplish in its majestic beauty. Tubbo wanted to show Tommy the fireflies, since Tommy rarely came out at night. They snuffed the torches that were around and watched as the tiny lightning bugs slowly congregated. Tubbo had brought a ton of jars that night, and they ended up catching enough fireflies to have at least three in each of them. That was the night they found the hollowed out tree. It was kind of cramped inside, which was difficult for Tommy with his height and all but for Tubbo it was cozy. When they huddled into the trunk and scanned for bugs, the sky turned dark and it started pouring. It was really dark out, and there was lightning and thunder.

Tommy looked stiff, in discomfort or fear Tubbo didn’t know. Regardless, he went to cuddle the taller boy. Tommy accepted the cuddles, as he usually did, wrapping his arms around Tubbo’s middle as the smaller boy situated himself between his legs and leaned his back on Tommy’s front. Tommy rested his chin in Tubbo’s fluffy hair, sighing happily. Tubbo had arranged the jars of fireflies around the trunk, illuminating it. It was small, cramped, stuffy, and some of the rainwater from just outside was flowing in, but to them it was cozy.

They ended up sleeping there. Tubbo let the fireflies go in the morning, feeling bad that he kept them in the jars the whole night. (After he learned Tommy was afraid of the dark, he would bring in jars of fireflies to put in Tommy’s room until he fell asleep, then he would let them go.)

Tubbo smiled to himself. He loved his family. Everyone was so great in such different ways. Tommy was his best friend and partner in crime, and his brother. The two went everywhere together, and they almost had a telepathic connection. Neither could hide anything from the other, as they would immediately know something was up.

Techno was a different kind of lovely. He was all tough and violent on the outside, but when he was home with nobody but his family, he was really cuddly and tired. He was addicted to coffee, and he stayed up late. He also had the most exceptional hearing out of anyone Tubbo knew. One time, Tubbo was really sad because he accidentally killed a firefly, and he watched the tiny light flicker off. Tubbo was heartbroken, and tried his hardest to stifle his sniffles. Techno’s room was all the way across the house, but he still walked into Tubbo’s room quietly and cuddled him, petting his hair(he said he heard Tubbo’s shaky breathing, and that’s why he came in) until he stopped crying.

Wilbur was tall. Tubbo really liked hugs from Wilbur, since they were all enveloping, if not hard to reach. Wilbur was best to hug when he was sitting and Tubbo was standing behind his chair. Wilbur was also a really good cook, and he usually made eggs for everyone for breakfast. Once, when he was still learning how to flip the egg without a spatula, he flung the egg over his shoulder and into the food chest behind him. Philza was mad, but not really. He just made Wilbur clean it up, which he did begrudgingly. Tubbo loved Wilbur.

Then there was Philza. Philza was basically made to be a dad. They were all adopted by him. Well, adopted isn’t the right word. They were all abandoned at one point or another.

Tubbo was left in a well to drown at 7 months old, or so he was told by Philza, who found him when he was going to take water from the well. He said it was a miracle he survived, he didn’t know how long he was down there.

Tommy was left in a nailed-shut wooden box on the side of a road at 10 years old. Philza found him and brought him home. Tubbo supposed that was what created Tommy’s fear of the dark. He was surprised Tommy didn’t have claustrophobia.

Wilbur was rescued from an abusive household at 14, and it took him a while to get used to physical touch. Eventually, he warmed up to it.
Techno apparently just strolled into Philza’s house like he owned the place only a couple years prior, at the age of 16, sustaining multiple stab wounds, arrow wounds, third degree burns, and a skull fracture. And he just calmly walked in like nothing was wrong, asking if Philza had any food. Philza offered to clean and dress his wounds, but Techno said he would do it himself, unceremoniously ripping out the arrows and applying alcohol to his wounds without breaking a straight face. The pain tolerance on that man was genuinely a bit scary.

Philza had been abandoned at 9, and he learned to take care of himself alone. He built a house, hunted for food, grew crops, went mining, and journeyed to far biomes on a horse he tamed by the age of 12. Tubbo guessed that was why he let all of them in, he knew what it felt like to be left alone. Philza gave them everything he could so they could be happy. Tubbo loved Philza with his whole heart, and he smiled at the memory of the first time he called Philza dad. Philza actually started crying and hugged Tubbo tightly, planting kisses on the top of his head. To Tubbo, Philza was his real dad.

Tubbo loved his family. So he wouldn’t let them starve.

He tightened his grip on his pack strap, puffing out his chest for no reason and continuing his trek. After a bit of walking, he found a river. Tubbo liked this river. It was wide, but there was a small rock in the middle that you could step on to jump across. Tubbo got a running start and hopped onto the stone and onto the other side of the river. The stone was a little slippery, but he crossed safely so it was fine.

He continued walking for a little longer before he felt a rumble coming from the ground. A low vibration, like the earth was humming. Or like there was a stampede. Oh.

It clicked in Tubbo’s mind a little too late, since the stampede barreled over a nearby hill, running towards him. There were about a hundred Ravagers. Just Tubbo’s luck.

The small boy tried to run, screaming at the top of his lungs for help, hoping to whatever deity was around that his family would hear him.

The Ravagers caught up easily, and the front one caught his foot under its giant hoof. It didn’t hurt that much, but it made Tubbo fall. Directly in the path of the Ravagers. That hurt. A lot.

He could feel his bones breaking under the crushing weight of the Ravagers’ hooves, and used the last of his strength to roll out of the way of the stampede. He was breathing heavily and it hurt, since his lungs were contracting and moving around his several broken ribs. Tubbo just hoped he wasn’t paralyzed.

He managed to get onto his knees, confirming that he wasn’t in fact, paralyzed, and surprisingly it didn’t hurt that much. He guessed it was the adrenaline. Then he heard it. Voices. Calling his name. It was his family! They heard him!

Tubbo thanked whatever deity he had asked before, and ran towards the voices. How he was running with the injuries he sustained, he didn’t know. How was it even possible? The voices were getting closer the more he ran, and eventually he saw the river. He went to jump across.

He saw a flash of pink hair before he landed wrong on the slippery rock, his ankle making a deafening crack before he was plunged into freezing cold water.

His limbs were stiff and unmoving in the water. He urged his arms to move so he could at least try to get a little air, since he was running out quickly. The icy water froze him to the bone, and he thought for a moment that this was how he would die.

He found it ironic that he was dying in the way he should've when Philza found him.

He closed his eyes and stopped struggling, letting the cold take over his body. It reminded him of the feeling he got when he tried that weird stuff a villager gave him once(he distantly remembered the villager calling it ‘gum’), cold and fresh. He listened to the muted sound of rushing water from within, almost being lulled to sleep by it. He thought that this was actually a rather peaceful way to die. He only felt a dull pain throughout his entire body, but that was all.

He saw some snippets of his life, playing before his eyes like a slideshow.

He was looking up at two people he didn’t recognize, a man and a woman. The woman had hair like his, and the man had similar eyes. Were these his biological parents? Before he could ponder it any longer, he was in still water. He saw sunlight filtering down, but it was hazy. He felt a bucket hit his head before he was taken out of the water, met with Philza’s worried face.

Then he was in their farm, and Philza was teaching him how to plant seeds and till soil. The memories were going quicker now. He saw Philza reading a thick leather-bound book. Tubbo asked what it was, and Philza helped him pronounce “encyclopedia”. Then he saw Philza with his hand encircling Tubbo’s tiny four-year-old one, teaching him how to write. He saw Philza smelting sand to make glass, and then Philza patching up his burn that he got when he touched the hot coals. He saw Philza gifting him paint that he had made from the pigments of exotic flowers and seashells. He felt the vibrations of Philza’s voice on his back as the man read him Ferdinand for the first time. He felt the warmth of the quilt Philza made him. He saw Philza teaching him how to correctly shear the wool off a sheep without hurting the sheep. He saw Philza teaching him how to properly milk a cow. He saw Philza teaching him to bake bread, and to know when wheat was ready to be harvested.

He saw Wilbur when they first met, scrawny and jumpy and scared of touch. He saw Wilbur when he gave the taller boy a painting he made of a bee. That was the first time he saw Wilbur smile. He saw Philza teach Wilbur how to crack an egg without getting the shells on the pan. He saw Wilbur’s chest, the first time he hugged him. He saw Wilbur’s smile when Philza made him his guitar. He had made it out of thin strips of dark oak and acacia, both of which were nowhere near their house. Philza had went really far to get the material for that guitar. The wood was polished and shiny and Wilbur smiled really wide that day. He saw Wilbur play the first song he wrote on the guitar. He remembered learning how to sew. He remembered embroidering little bees and dotted white lines following them on a leather guitar strap he had made. He gifted the strap to Wilbur on his fifteenth birthday. Wilbur still used that strap today.

He saw Tommy when he was first brought in by Philza. He was thin and clearly malnourished, and Tubbo remembered the relaxed expression Tommy wore when he got a whiff of Tubbo’s homemade mushroom stew. Tommy had never really grown into his height, remaining pretty lanky, but healthy. Tubbo remembered Tommy’s smile when Philza gave him the white shirt with the red sleeves. Tommy didn’t take it off for a week. Tubbo remembered hugging Tommy at night when it was especially dark. He saw Tommy befriend a cow who he named Henry, calling Henry his best friend before reassuring a crying Tubbo that Tubbo was his bestest friend.

Tubbo saw Techno sitting at the table, calmly applying a salve Philza made on his wounds. That was the first time he saw Techno. He saw Techno struggling to eat small berries with his odd teeth(they reminded him of a boar’s teeth). He saw Techno putting way too much pepper on his steak, and the horrified look Tommy gave him(“You’re ruining the steak.”).

He remembered the first time he showed Tommy fireflies. He remembered cuddling in the hollow tree trunk. He remembered the bitter hot liquid Philza told him was called ‘coffee’. He had said he gotten the beans for it in the jungle.

The memories were getting blurry. He couldn’t really pinpoint anything else, it was just flashes of his family smiling.
He was about to let himself finally go, to give in to the peaceful splash of the river around him. Then he felt something that wasn’t water grabbing his wrist.

What?

He registered that it was a hand pulling him out of the water. But it wasn’t just a hand now. He was being carried. He didn’t know how his face got into this person’s neck, but he liked the closeness.

When he came to, he was lying on the side of the riverbed in Techno’s arms. So Techno was the one who saved him? Tommy was also there, hugging Wilbur and crying into his chest. Philza was doing chest compressions.

Wait, hold on. Philza was doing chest compressions. On him. Before he could think more about it, he vomited an obscene amount of water onto his shirt.
“Oh my god, Tubbo!” Philza gently held Tubbo’s face in his hands, wiping away tears that Tubbo didn’t know were falling. Tubbo looked up to see Techno, unbelievably worried, but it seemed like he was helpless. He smiled at Techno before passing out.

Tubbo woke up a couple days later covered in bandages and in bed, with his leg propped up on a hammock consisting of one strip of cloth nailed to the ceiling. Tommy was sleeping in the bed with him, his head buried in Tubbo’s shoulder and his arm lying across his waist. Tubbo could hear his slow breathing. Even though there was no way of really knowing, he knew he would be okay. He began to count the lines in the wood on the ceiling, feeling warm.

Chapter Text

Today, the whole MCYT group went to VidCon. Well, most of them. Philza wasn’t able to make it. An hour into the convention, Techno and Tommy and Wilbur and Fundy split up so Wilbur could go look at merch guitars he saw at one of the stands(Fundy went with him) and Tommy and Techno continued walking together.

“So, Dave.”

“Why, Tommy.” Techno didn’t spare him a glance.

“Well, I mean, you’re not a pig anymore. You’re a person.” Tommy puffed out his chest, acting cool, like he just said something an anime protagonist
would say before they ran into battle.

“Wait, really? I’m a person? Like a real person? I’m not actually a pig??” Techno was gesticulating wildly, an out of character sort of action that Tommy found really dumb, if not slightly off-putting. A second later, Techno just kept walking like he hadn’t done anything.

Tommy didn’t say anything for a second.

“Color me surprised. I thought I was a pig, really.” Techno put a hand on his chest to be mockingly genuine. His brows were furrowed as he side-eyed Tommy for any sort of reaction. He only noticed Tommy wasn’t walking as proudly as he was before.

“Question for you, Techno.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you stupid?”

Techno let out a quiet chuckle, not willing to give Tommy the satisfaction of a real laugh from him.

“I beat Dream for 100k.”

Tommy turned his head in an exaggerated manner, sort of like an owl, gawking at Techno. He put both hands on his cheeks and let his mouth hang open. Techno, a man of class, noticed it was a little similar to the character in The Scream, a painting by Edward Munch. “Wait, you did? You did, Techno??? You beat Dream for 100k?? I would have never known!!!” Tommy had turned his head back forward, wildly gesticulating like Techno had been before. It was more in character for Tommy, though. “Man, that’s the first I’ve heard of that!! I’ve got memory loss, you see?” He turned back to Techno, walking sideways now, with the tip of his index finger on his temple, poking it repeatedly for effect. “I can’t remember the ninety five billion other times you’ve told me you beat Dream for 100k!!” Tommy comically dropped his over-the-top attitude for a very over-it one, aimed right at Techno. “Man, you gotta really invest in a personality.”

“I’ve got plenty of personality.” Techno’s face was stoic and his voice was monotonous as he claimed he had plenty of personality. Tommy found it ironic.

“Your three personality traits are that you spent way too much time trying to beat a sweaty twelve year old at potato farming, you’re good at bedwars and you beat Dream for 100k.”

“I am pretty good at bedwars.” Techno closed his eyes, as if reminiscing.

“You’re impossible. Impossible.”

“You could probably say I’m actually the best at bedwars.”

“Techno, you need to do something about this superiority complex of yours.”

“After all, I did win a thousand times straight.”

“Techno.”

“Yes?”

“You are. The worst.”

“No, I’m actually the best.”

Tommy decided he couldn’t win this argument. Suddenly, both of them stopped.

There’s one thing that every person who plays games for a living knows. Or at least something that Techno and Tommy definitely knew. And that was the scent of Taco Bell. The two made eye contact, silently agreeing to go to the Taco Bell, and started walking. Tommy noticed Techno walking a little funny, like he hadn’t slept in a while. His movements were sluggish and robotic, like Techo had gone on autopilot. Tommy brushed it off. After all, it wasn’t improbable that Techno actually hadn’t slept in a while.

When they got to the Taco Bell, Tommy ordered his food. So did Techno. Tommy didn’t notice that Techno was leaning on the countertop for support, or that he was breathing a little more shallowly.

When their food was ready, Tommy slumped down into the booth and eagerly unwrapped his taco. He was muttering something about having wanted to try it for a while, since he saw it in a commercial. Techno commented that he was the kind of person they aimed for with those commercials(“What do you mean I’m ‘that kind of person’?” he said, offended).

Techno opened his taco gingerly and grabbed it with slightly shaky fingers, bringing it up to his mouth to take a bite. He looked at Tommy, noticing the boy was looking straight at him while chewing an unnecessarily large bite of his taco. Techno looked down at where the boy held half a taco, before looking up and plastering a ‘what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you’ look on his face.

“Pechno, awe you gub?”

Techno swallowed his bite. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, swine.”

Tommy’s entire demeanor shifted from calm and slightly irked to offended. He couldn’t believe his ears! “Youw kin ith litrawwy a thwine!!!” (Your skin is literally a swine!)

Techno realized his mistake and raised his taco to his mouth, shrugging. “Poor word choice. Toddler, child, infant, goon, synonyms. Those all work too.” He took a bite smugly.

Tommy swallowed his food aggressively. “Great. Mouth empty. Happy?” Tommy stuck out his tongue and opened his mouth wide for good measure, showing Techno that there was no food in his mouth.

Techno swallowed. “No thoughts. Head empty.”

“Are you calling me dumb, Technoblade?”

Techno looked Tommy straight in the eyes. “I would never.”

“You’re so full of shit, Technoblade.” Tommy took another aggressive bite of his taco. Techno smiled softly and took a bite as well.

Techno noticed Tommy looking at him like he was doing before. Studying him. He didn’t say anything about it, just chewed his taco.

“Techno, are you okay?”

Well that wasn’t what he expected the teenager to say. He guessed the surprise showed on his face based on Tommy’s follow-up.

“It’s not anything crazy, you’re just acting weird and sweating.”

Techno frowned. “I don’t get out a lot Tommy.”

“But it doesn’t look like exercise sweating. It’s like, nervous sweating.”

Techno hadn’t even noticed he was sweating. He was feeling a little lightheaded, sure, but he didn’t think he was sweating. He swallowed his bite and put the last of his taco in his mouth, looking at Tommy and shrugging. Tommy was fiddling with his crumpled taco wrapper, folding and unfolding the same corner over and over again. When had he finished his taco?

Techno wordlessly got up, still chewing his last bite. Tommy narrowed his eyes and got up too, following him to throw away his taco wrapper.

Tommy wasn’t stupid. He acted childish and and boastful, and did some bits that made him look….. less than average IQ, but he wasn’t stupid. He was actually pretty intelligent. Once, off stream, Dream said he was “actually really smart. Like scarily smart”, to which he had replied with some snarky comment(“of course, Dream, it’s really not that hard to be more intelligent than you.”). The point was that he wasn’t dumb. Something was up with Techno. He was walking funny, sweating, his breathing was kind of uneven, and he seemed fidgety. Something was definitely wrong.

Tommy’s theory was confirmed moments later.

They were walking around the convention, saying hello to anyone who recognized them and taking a few pictures, and just generally enjoying themselves. Tommy was having a good time, and Techno looked like he was too. Tommy was almost ready to dismiss his earlier suspicion. That is, until Techno fell flat on his face out of nowhere.

He didn’t run into anything, or anyone, and he didn’t trip(or at least Tommy didn’t see him trip). His legs just… stopped.

“Shit, Techno! You good man?” Tommy quickly knelt down, helping Techno to sit up. The man looked dizzy and nauseous. Tommy knew Techno wouldn’t want to make a scene(even though everyone was already looking at them since they just saw someone faceplant into the ground with no prompting whatsoever), so he took his hand and started to pull him up. He didn’t comment on how Techno was holding his hand like it was a lifeline.

Tommy put his free hand on Techno’s forehead when they stood up, checking his temperature. Definitely a fever. Tommy frowned and put a supportive hand on Techno’s back. When Techno got to his feet, his stance was wobbly and Tommy didn’t trust him not to fall again, so he pressed his left side up to Techno’s right, putting the older man’s arm around him and holding his hand over his shoulder while resting a hand on Techno’s left side for support. Techno leaned into Tommy, not voicing his appreciation for the support.

“We’re gonna go back to the hotel, okay?”

Techno just nodded and they made their way out of the convention. Luckily, the hotel was only a block away, so they didn’t need to walk that far. Tommy led Techno to his room, fishing his room key out of his pocket after making sure Techno was stable enough to not fall for a second. He opened the door and ushered Techno inside, letting him take his bed.

“Uhh, what do I do here…. Oh, aren’t you supposed to put a cold towel on their head? Yeah, yeah I’ll do that.” Tommy was muttering to himself. He got a small towel from the bathroom and ran it under the tap after he set the temperature to cold. He squeezed out the water and folded the towel over a couple of times over the short walk back to where Techno was.

He gently placed the towel on Techno’s forehead, noting the sigh of relief that the man let out. He grabbed the extra blanket that was folded neatly at the bottom of the bed and put it over Techno, hoping it would help. He was basically going off of what he remembered his mom doing for him when he was sick, and he was rarely sick(and even then, he didn’t really remember much).

He checked the room for any medicine, not expecting to find any, which he didn’t. So he would have to go to the pharmacy. He took a last look at Techno on the bed before leaving.

In the elevator down, he had a sudden realization. He was a minor.

No, that wasn’t the realization. The realization was that he was a minor, and therefore he couldn’t buy drugs. In a moment of brilliant thought, Tommy formulated a plan. He would get that NyQuil to Techno, and he didn’t care what he had to do for it.

He walked out of the hotel and made his way to the pharmacy, holding his breath. It took him around a minute. When he got to the pharmacy, his face was pretty red. He started breathing shallowly and made his gait less stable, coughing a little into his elbow for good measure. He saw a dude walking by who looked like a nice enough person, and motioned towards him.

“Sir, sir, I need help. I’ve got a really bad cold and my parents aren’t home.” He coughed again into his elbow, wheezing for effect. “I’m not allowed to buy NyQuil since I’m only sixteen. Can you take this ten dollars and go in there to get some? Please? I don’t-” he coughed again, harder than the last ones so his face could turn more red, “I don’t know what else to do.”

The man seemed pretty convinced, saying he would do it before taking Tommy’s ten dollars and going into the pharmacy. Tommy smiled when he knew the man couldn’t see him, holding his breath again and going to lean against the building next to the door. A minute later, the man came out with the NyQuil and Tommy’s change, and Tommy pushed the change back into his hand.

“It’s-” he took a breath, “it’s the least I can do. You’ve been a big help. Thank you so much.” He looked weakly at the man, who was looking at him, worried.

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to-”

“Please, sir, you don’t know how much you’ve helped me.”

“Uh, okay.”

“Have a great day!” Tommy coughed into his elbow again, before turning the corner and making his way back to the hotel with the NyQuil.

Techno was in the same place he left him when Tommy got back. Tommy unwrapped the NyQuil and poured the medicine to the line in the little cup that came with the bottle. He set it and the bottle on the table next to his bed. He gently shook Techno’s shoulder, but it didn’t wake him up.

Tommy wondered if he should actually wake the man up. He decided it was necessary, Techno needed the medicine. He shook his shoulder a little harder. Still no response.

“Techno.” He stretched out the ‘o’ in Techno, calling to him. Still no response. He decided the best course of action was to fish his earbuds out of his pocket and connect them to his phone, putting the earbuds in Techno’s ears. He turned the volume up as high as it could go before going to YouTube and looking up ‘monsters inc theme bass boost’, tapping on the top video with a thumbnail of Mike Wazowski floating on a white background. He pressed play, hearing the beginning clearly despite not wearing the earbuds. Techno didn’t stir. How asleep was this dude?

Tommy pressed two fingers to the artery under Techno’s neck, making sure he was alive. He was.

Then the loud part of the video came. Techno jolted awake, sitting upright(effectively flinging the towel on his head across the room) and screamed bloody murder, yanking the earbuds out of his ears and looking at Tommy, who was kneeling by the bed and looking at him smugly.

Techno was breathing heavily. “What the fuck Tommy.”

“You needed to wake up. I got you medicine.”

Techno glared at Tommy before eyeing the NyQuil. “How did you even get NyQuil? You’re a minor.”

“Because I’m god. Drink.” Tommy took the cup and held it out to Techno, who sighed before reluctantly downing it like a shot. Tommy took the cup from him and put it back on the table, trying to think of what else his mom did for him when he was sick.

Oh, he remembered her petting his hair so he could fall asleep. Without asking Techno, he walked around the bed and climbed onto it, situating himself behind Techno, straddling him. “What are you doing?”

Tommy didn’t answer, he just took Techno by the shoulders and pulled him back so he was lying on Tommy’s chest. “Sleep.”

Techno, deciding he was too tired to argue, didn’t answer. He just sat up, got off of Tommy’s lap, and piled the pillows up how he liked them. Tommy thought he had overstepped, starting to apologize, but Techno didn’t respond. He just pointed at the pillows. “Lie down.”

Tommy shot him a confused look but did it anyway, not breaking eye contact as he lay down on the pillows Techno arranged. Techno lay down too, moving Tommy’s arm so he could lie his head on the younger boy’s shoulder. Tommy realized Techno was just getting comfortable, and he relaxed. Techno cuddled up to Tommy’s side while Tommy started to card his fingers through Techno’s hair. The Nyquil put Techno to sleep pretty quickly.

A couple hours later, Tubbo came back to the hotel room he and Tommy shared. He saw Tommy and Techno asleep on Tommy’s bed, and didn’t question it or the NyQuil on the table. He just walked over to the bed and put the blanket over them, letting them sleep.

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/689402655456124566/

^a quick sketch i made for this chapter

Chapter Text

Tubbo was a great kid. Everyone knew it, and everyone adored him. Techno was no exception, even though he hid his love for his little brother’s friend under a thick skin. A very thick skin.

Techno loved Tubbo. But he wasn’t expecting this.

Tubbo was sitting at his doorstep, bawling. Techno had moved out of his family’s house a while ago, deciding he valued his alone time more than he valued spending all hours of the day with his family. He loved them, but it got to be a little much, so he moved a couple hundred blocks away. Not so far that they couldn’t easily see each
other if they wanted, but not close enough that they would come uninvited when they were bored.

He had built his house himself, with some help from Tubbo, out of dark oak and stone bricks. It had a nice medieval feel, and Techno liked that it fit his king persona while also being compact and cozy. Tubbo added a fireplace, which Techno was thankful for. It got scarily cold in the winter, and he was too lazy to install a heating system.

Tubbo was nice enough to do the entrance for him, since he was no good at entrances. He put a couple steps and a small outdoor area, covered by a balcony on the second floor in case it rained, like it was raining today.

Tubbo was on his knees on the floor right outside Techno’s door, looking heartbroken.

A couple minutes earlier, Techno had been sitting in bed reading The Art of War by Sun Tzu. He heard a tiny noise coming from outside, like floorboard creaking. Floorboards creaking? He dismissed it before he heard the subdued knock on his door. Looking a little disappointed to have to get up, Techno put his bookmark in and left the book on his bed while he went to go check to see who was visiting at this time of night.

And in this weather. He looked out his window to see that it was thundering.

He unlocked and opened the heavy mahogany door to see Tubbo in the most frail state he had ever seen him in. He didn’t immediately see any injuries, but he saw Tubbo on his knees on the floor, curled in on himself, holding his sides with his arms crossed. He was crying.

Techno knelt down to Tubbo’s level, tentatively reaching out to brush his wet hair off his forehead. Tubbo leaned into the touch.

“Tubbo, please come inside. You’re gonna get sick,” Techno said softly.

Tubbo shook his head rapidly. “They’re after me, Techno. I don’t want to drag you into this. I just found this puppy in the rain and it looked so sad and alone and I couldn’t leave it there, but it’s probably gonna die if it stays with me. Techno, please, could you take care of him? Please?” Tubbo was clearly desperate. He kept his voice surprisingly even, though that didn’t match his blotchy red face.

“I don’t know where else to take him, Techno. Please.”

Techno didn’t respond, just looked in Tubbo’s arms at the tiny puppy he didn’t notice before. It was a baby australian shepherd, that much he could tell. Its fur was matted with mud and grime, but Techno supposed it was pretty cute. He reached out to let it sniff his hand, and the puppy jumped out of Tubbo’s arms and went into Techno’s house. Tubbo smiled and sighed in relief.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Techno.”

“It’s fine. Are you hurt?” Techno held out a hand to help Tubbo off the ground.

“Nope.” Tubbo took the hand and stood up straight.

Techno wasn’t really known for physical affection. He was good with words. Good with violence. Not good with hugs. But he still tried, because he loved Tubbo and he could see the boy was holding himself together with duct tape and Elmer’s glue.

He took the step closer to Tubbo, pulling him against his chest. He wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, resting his head on top of Tubbo’s. Tubbo was surprised at first by the gesture, but wrapped his arms around Techno’s broad back anyway. He loved hugs, and Techno was huggable.

“Please be safe. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but please just come home.” The ‘I don’t know what I would do without you’ went unsaid, but both knew it was there.

“I’m really sorry, but I can’t guarantee that.”

Techno tightened his hold on Tubbo. “Can you come in for a minute?”

“Techno I really don’t-”

“Please?” Techno was the king. The best. He didn’t plead even the biggest, most powerful people. But he was pleading Tubbo.

Tubbo paused before responding in a small voice. “Why do you need me to come in?”

“I want to give you something.”

“Okay. But I can’t be in for long. I really don’t want to get you involved, Techno.”

“I understand. It’ll only be a minute.”

Tubbo nodded and released Techno. Techno held the door open and Tubbo walked in, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Techno closed the door and walked to his bedroom. When he realized Tubbo wasn’t following him, he turned around and waved him over. Tubbo hurried to him.

Techno’s room was pretty small, with a bed, a double chest, and a desk. His desk had some drawers. He opened the middle drawer, taking the papers that were in it and dumping them on the desk. Tubbo looked confused as he watched Techno remove the bottom of the drawer, revealing a tiny space between the two drawers. Usually desks don’t have wood between the drawers, so Tubbo guessed Techno designed the desk alternatively for this purpose.

In the tiny space was a little pendant. Techno pulled it out and held it out to Tubbo, putting it gently in the boy’s hand.

The pendant itself was really sad-looking, Techno thought. It was just dental floss, strung through a tiny hole Techno had poked through a small piece of bark, and tied at the ends to make a necklace. Tubbo looked at the bark, only about an inch tall and wide. It had a tiny engraving on it, a ‘T’, and there was a tiny crown and an even tinier bee painted on it badly. The paint was worn and chipping, but you could still tell what they were.

Tubbo recognized it immediately as the thing he and Techno made together when they met. They had gone off the fact that both of their names started with the letter T, and then painted their brands on it with some paint they stole from Fundy. That was years ago. Techno kept that?

“Techno, I-”

“Take it with you. I know you won’t take me with you, so take that with you.”

Tubbo held the pendant in a light fist, looking at Techno, whose expression was unreadable. He held it out to the pink haired man. “Can you put it on for me?”

“There’s no knot, you just put it over your head-”

“It’s different, Techno! It’s like being knighted by the Queen. You can technically put the sword on both shoulders, but it’s only special if the Queen does it.”

Techno gently took the pendant from Tubbo’s hold. Tubbo stepped closer to Techno and tilted his head up a little, closing his eyes. Techno sighed and took the final step towards Tubbo, putting the pendant over his head and positioning the bark at his chest so it was neatly in the middle.

“Consider yourself knighted.”

“Thank you, Techno.”

Techno nodded, and let himself be pulled into a hug. His grip was loose at first, but then Tubbo hugged him tighter and the weight of the situation really settled in. Tubbo was in trouble. Tubbo could die. And he wasn’t doing shit about it. “Tubbo?”

“Mhm?” Techno felt the vibration of Tubbo’s soft voice in his chest.

“Please let me come with you.”

“No, Techno.”

Techno felt like a child being denied something by a parent. He had no power in this situation. He was helpless, and he hated it. He took a deep, shaky breath, and Tubbo noticed.

“Techno? Are you okay?” Tubbo slowly leaned back in the hug so Techno’s arms were still loosely hanging behind his back but he could still look at the taller man. Techno’s eyes were watery.

Techno stayed silent for a bit, his breath hitching and his mouth molding itself into a trembling frown, and that was enough of an answer for Tubbo. Tubbo pulled him back into the hug, and Techno let himself break.

He didn’t want this to possibly be Tubbo’s last memory of him, but he couldn’t stop the broken sobs from pouring out of his mouth like smoke from a chimney on a winter night.

“I just want you to be safe, Tubbo.” He hugged Tubbo tighter, bending his back a little to bury his head in the crook of Tubbo’s neck. Tubbo didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. He just held Techno and ran his nimble fingers through his soft hair until his sobs died down into gentle crying.

“Techno, I’ll try my best. And even if something goes wrong, I’ll always be by your side. Okay?”

Techno didn’t trust his voice to answer, so he just nodded.

“I love you.”

This was the relationship they had. Brotherly, platonic, and physical. When Tubbo needed it, Techno was his shoulder to cry on, and vice versa. Techno didn’t want to think about what his life would be like without Tubbo in it. He melted into Tubbo’s caring touch, exhaling and letting his entire body relax. “I love you too.”

Tubbo’s hand stopped moving, just holding Techno’s head on his shoulder.

Techno reluctantly pulled himself from Tubbo’s hold, standing up straight but not letting his arms fall from around Tubbo. “Did you name the dog?”

Tubbo laughed lightly. “Nope. What should we name him?”

Techno looked at the dog, who was sitting in the doorway and getting mud everywhere. “He looks like a Pluto.”

“Pluto it is then.” He smiled up at Techno. “You have to give him a bath.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s getting mud everywhere, you asshole.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell the difference since your house is such a… what’s the word…. a pigsty.”

"You can’t say shit. Your house is perpetually sticky. Why do you insist on living with the bees? Just leave them outside or something.”

“They’re my bros!!”

“They’re causing you actual physical pain.”

“I don’t judge. Maybe they’re sadists.”

“You…. How do I respond to that?”

“Wow, you’re illiterate too.”

“Wow, you’re an asshole.”

“You love me.”

“Sometimes I question my decisions.”

“Awwww. This is so sad. I’m heartbroken. I don’t think I’ll ever come back from this.”

“Good.”

“Mean!!!”

Techno smiled and let out a tiny laugh, more like an aggressive exhale, and looked at Tubbo. He noticed his bittersweet smile.

“Well, I have to go.”

“Okay.” Techno walked him to the door, opening it for him.

“What a gentleman.”

“Only the best.”

Tubbo smiled brightly at Techno. “I’ll see you later.”

Techno looked down at his feet to see Pluto rubbing against his leg like a cat. He decided to pick the puppy up so his little paws were up in the air. He raised and muffled his voice in Pluto’s matted fur to get the point across that he was talking as Pluto. “I’ll see you later Tubbo! Woof!”

Tubbo laughed and planted a quick kiss on Pluto’s head. The small dog was slightly panting with his tongue lolling out, and it looked like he was smiling. Tubbo held Techno’s smiling face with a hand on each cheek. Tubbo’s smile softened, and he walked out, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Dream’s mask was, well, his mask. He masked his personality, his face, his real self with this mask. When he had it on, he was Dream. Not the awkward boy underneath it.

He had been in the forest outside L’Manburg, getting wood and berries since George said he needed them for something or other. Seriously, he would have to learn how to say no to this guy at some point soon.

The sun was setting and the shadows around him got longer and more ominous, but he had his axe and his shield in his inventory so he wasn’t too worried. It was a few minutes later when he heard the familiar rattling of bones, and he thought it might be time to go back home.

He finished cutting the tree he was halfway through chopping down, checking his inventory for everything and then checking the ground to see if he missed anything, but every item he brought and collected was still there. He held his axe and shield protectively, slinking through the forest and trying to avoid any mobs.

About a minute into his trek, he stepped into a moonlit clearing, looking around. He couldn’t see much past the edge of the clearing, the thick spruce trunks providing more shadows and hiding places than was comfortable. He felt something was off. He didn’t know what, and as he looked around the clearing there were no obvious threats. That was, until he heard the throaty groan of the undead next to his ear. He felt the cold, almost slimy hand grab him before he saw the greenish skin, nonetheless turning quickly and striking the being with his axe, watching it fall to the ground. Its glassy unseeing eyes stared up at him blankly, and he pulled his axe out of it with a disgusting squelch.

An arrow whizzed past his head, just barely missing his face. He turned quickly to see several skeletons with their bows ready, and he raised his shield just in time to not be pelted with an onslaught of arrows. He replaced his axe with his sword, running forward and swinging it horizontally across the fleet of skeletons, killing them before they had a chance to reload their bows, their bones rattling as they fell to the ground. He knelt down and collected the bones and arrows they dropped, deciding not to keep the nearly broken bows. Suddenly, something behind him aggressively knocked him to the ground.

He picked himself up, but wasn’t quick enough to pull up his shield before he was tackled again by the Enderman, staring into its unhinged jaw. When had he looked at it? The force has slammed his tailbone into a rock on the ground, making him wince and stay down for a second. This was enough time for the Enderman to loom over him, studying him.

Sapnap had done some research on Enderman when he was trying to collect a ton of pearls, trying to find a way to collect them faster, more easily. He had noticed, while he was observing them in the wild, that Endermen examined blocks before picking them up.

He had concluded that they looked for interesting things, and picked them up when they found them.

Dream could tell the Enderman was examining his mask. After all, the porcelain was crafted by his late mother, a talented mage. She had infused the porcelain with magic to make it extremely durable, light, and transparent from the inside, like a one-way mirror. Dream could see everyone around him perfectly fine, but nobody could see him. He loved the mask, and valued it over his life.

So why wouldn’t his arms move when he saw the Enderman’s long arm slinking up towards it? Why wouldn’t they move when it grabbed the mask, pulling it off his face and teleporting away?

He just lay there, feeling the cold evening air on his face for the first time in a long while. Then he remembered he was near L’Manburg. He could probably go there, find something to cover his face, and be on his way. He got up, ignoring his aching tailbone and starting towards L’Manburg before he had a critical thought.

How would he get there, walk in and see everyone…. Without his mask?

Nobody there had ever seen his face. The only person alive that had seen his face was Sapnap. He could potentially get Sapnap to come get him, but he knew Sapnap was busy doing something with Tommy.

He was busy doing something with Tommy. Sapnap was probably in L’Manburg!!

Dream fought the smile that tugged at his lips and brushed his dirty blonde hair out of his face. He would have to wash it soon, it was oily and left his fingers feeling smooth.

He looked down at himself, at his trademark green hoodie and black pants, and realized that this just wouldn’t do if he was gonna try to conceal his identity until he found Sapnap.

He slipped off the hoodie, hiding it away in the back of his inventory and debated whether he should take his white t-shirt off too or keep it on. He had a small wound on his shoulder from the zombie, so he decided to take off his shirt and rip a strip from it, wrapping it around his shoulder. Some of the wound had already scabbed over, but barely, so blood still seeped through the light fabric. He discarded the rest of the shirt and continued walking.

When he got to the doors of L’Manburg, he realized people would probably recognize his voice. How would he not speak?

He remembered he had a voice changer that he used accidentally once, and took it out. It was a small bottle, it looked like a potion, and worked similarly to helium but went the other way. Dream knew a small sip lasted ten minutes, so he took 3 large chugs from the bottle before putting the cork back into it and returning it to his inventory. He tested it out quietly, and was satisfied with the lower tone.

Tubbo came over, seeing the new person at the gates of L’Manburg.

“Hello! Welcome to L’Manburg, why are you here? I don’t think I’ve seen you anywhere.”

“Hello T-” he cleared his throat in an attempt to cover up his mistake. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Tubbo looked at him expectantly, clearly not recognizing the voice, to Dream’s relief.

“I just need something for my shoulder,” he gestured towards his bandaged shoulder.

“Do you have any form of payment?”

“Not on me.”

“You’re gonna end up owing debt to L’Manburg, me specifically. What’s your name?”

Oh. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He was about to say Tommy in a quick scan of anyone he knew who was tall and blonde, but immediately shot down the thought when he remembered he was talking to Tommy’s best friend. He said the next best option.

“Felix.”

“Okay Felix, come with me.”

“Thanks. What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m Tubbo.” The boy smiled brightly and held out his hand for Dream to shake, which he did. He found it cute how his large hand contrasted to Tubbo’s small one.

He followed Tubbo through L’Manburg. They were walking towards the podium. If he was lucky, Schlatt wouldn’t be there. Schlatt made him uncomfortable. He seemed to see right through people, picking them apart with that sharp smirk of his.

He wasn’t lucky.

When he and Tubbo entered the area behind the podium, Schlatt was sitting in his bed in his usual three piece suit, his eyes darting up from the book he was reading to Tubbo, and then to Dream. They narrowed. Dream could tell he thought he had seen him somewhere, and hoped he wouldn’t figure it out.

Dream’s anonymity gave him so many benefits, and he wasn’t ready for those to be gone.

“Hi Schlatt. This is Felix. He just needs something for his shoulder. Just thought I’d let you know.”

Schlatt’s eyes narrowed even more at Dream, giving him a hard, calculating stare and a clearly suspicious “Hey Felix”.

Dream nodded, mumbling a hello before following Tubbo out and to the dock, Tubbo taking him inside before shutting the door and locking it. “Hold on please, I need to ask my friend for supplies. You can sit there.” Tubbo gestured towards a wooden chair next to a table.

Dream nodded and sat down, pulling the chair out and hearing the wood groan under the sliding. He plopped down and leaned back. He had almost forgotten he was shirtless, not expecting to feel the cold wood directly against his back. He brushed his hair back with a hand, sparing a glance at Tubbo, who was typing into his communicator. He guessed he was talking to Tommy.

Right, Tommy wasn’t in L’Manburg anymore. Hell, it wasn’t even called L’Manburg anymore. Tommy was likely in Pogtopia, and if Sapnap was with him, maybe he would come. Dream hoped he would.

“Okay, I contacted him. He should be here in a bit.” Tubbo turned to Dream, walking to the table and taking the seat next to him. It was a round table, and Tubbo’s chair was perpendicular to Dream’s, so they could still easily face each other without too much trouble.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem. So, Felix, what brings you to L’Manburg?”

“I’m here for my shoulder.” Dream looked at Tubbo with a raised eyebrow, because didn’t he already say that?

Tubbo waved a hand at him. “No, not that. I know you’re here for your shoulder. I mean what were you doing so close to L’Manburg. I haven’t seen you before, so I’m guessing you’re from far away.” Dream knew Tubbo was smart, but never disliked the trait as much as he did right now. Dream was good at lying, but it felt dirty to lie to Tubbo. Like it was a sin to lie to the sunshine child. He also knew he had no choice.

“There aren’t spruce trees close to where I live. I came to chop some down and pick up some saplings so I could grow a forest. Coming here was a one-time thing.”

Tubbo nodded, then studied him. His features, his hair, his scarred chest and face, his vibrant green eyes. “You know, Felix, you remind me of someone I know.”

“Oh yeah?” Dream tried his best to conceal his nervousness.

“Yeah. Have you heard of Dream?”

Dream’s heart lurched into his throat. “No, who’s he?”

Tubbo continued like normal. “He’s this guy who comes to L’Manburg sometimes, he doesn’t live in L’Manburg but he’s really powerful and cool. He’s really good at fighting and parkour, and he’s got this smile mask that makes him look really ominous. You remind me of him since you smell really similar.”

Smell. Of course Tubbo had a great sense of smell. Of course he had run into the only person who would classify people by their smells. “Huh.”

“Are you okay? You seem nervous.” Tubbo looked at him knowingly, which Dream hadn't expected. He would have expected concern, but Tubbo looked almost wise. It made him apprehensive.

Had he really been that obvious? “I’m just tired. I’ve been out all day, and with the zombie bite too, I guess I’m just jittery.”

“Well, I mean, you don’t have a shirt. You might just be cold. I can get something for you if you want.”

Admittedly, something warm to wear did sound pretty nice. The cool night air was biting at his bare skin and he didn’t like it. There was a reason he wore that damned sweatshirt everywhere, even in deserts. He didn’t like the cold. “Please, that would be great. Thank you.”

“No problem, I’m gonna lend you a sweatshirt Dream gave me. Hold on, could you stand up for a second?” Tubbo stood from his chair.

Dream stood up, towering over Tubbo.

“Weird. You’re the same height as him too.”

Dream felt a bead of sweat roll down his face. Tubbo went to the dresser behind him and opened the second drawer with a creak, digging around a little before taking out an old yellow hoodie. He held it out for Dream to take.

“Dream lent it to me when I stayed at his house for a bit, while there was a war going on here. It wasn’t safe, so he let me stay with him. He’s actually a really nice guy. And his clothes are comfy. Him smelling nice is a plus, too.”

“Are you saying I smell nice?” Dream quipped, before realizing his mistake.

“What?”

“You said I smelled like him.” Good save.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I did.”

Dream smiled and put on the sweatshirt. He remembered giving this to Tubbo, feeling oddly protective over the boy. Like a father would be. Did Tubbo even have a dad? Philza was Tommy’s, Wilbur’s and Tehcno’s dad, but what about Tubbo? When Dream had his mask back, he would try to spend more time with Tubbo. Maybe he’d ask Philza how to become a dad.

The door quietly clicked open, Dream and Tubbo both turning their heads towards the noise. Tommy peeked his head through the ajar door, making sure Tubbo was there.

“Hi Tubbo. I brought the shit you wanted. Who’s he?” Tommy, blunt as ever, switched his gaze to Dream.

“That’s Felix.” Dream waved at Tommy awkwardly.

“He reminds me of Dream.” Jesus, were these kids psychics?

“I said that too!”

Sapnap threw the door open, causing a ruckus. “Tommy, we need to do this or it's never gonna get done. And, why the hell did you leave me there??? We could have gotten caught by-” Sapnap stopped in his tracks. He was the only one who actually knew what Dream looked like, so he knew that he was looking at Dream.

“I’m Felix.”

A flash of understanding shone in Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m Sapnap. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Tubbo got to work on Dream’s shoulder after telling him to “sit down, how long does it take to sit down??”, using Tommy as an assistant. Dream noted that Tubbo and Phil and occasionally Wilbur were the only people Tommy actually listened to as he watched Tommy quietly do everything Tubbo asked. He kept sneaking glances at Sapnap, who was looking at him with concern. He was clearly wondering what happened to his mask. Dream knew the shorter man would pester him about it later.

Once Tubbo patched him up, he got up, giving Tommy his materials back and promising he’d wash them later. Tommy nodded and rolled his eyes, dragging Sapnap out the door with him and shutting it with a soft click. Tubbo walked Dream to the door after them, putting his hand on the knob but not turning it, and turning to face Dream.

“Dream, what happened to your mask?”

Dream looked at Tubbo, shocked. “I’m not-”

“Stop the act, Dream. I knew it was you when you came into L’Manburg.” Tubbo looked unimpressed.

Dream sighed, opting to look at the door. “How?”

“When you came in, I could smell the voice changer potion. That in itself was kinda sus. I also knew I hadn’t seen you before, and the only person I haven’t seen the face of is you, on the SMP at least. That was the first sign. Then you almost said ‘Hello Tubbo’, but you stopped yourself. Then I really knew it was you. You also shook my hand the same way, walked at the same pace and rhythm, and got nervous every time I talked about the similarities you had to… yourself. Plus you smell the same, plus you’re the same height and build, plus I’ve seen your hair color before, plus you got a bit flustered when I was talking about how cool you were-”

“Okay, stop. I get it. It’s me.” This kid really was too much. He was a lot smarter than he ever let on.

Tubbo just smiled sweetly up at Dream. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I hope not.”

They just stood there, smiling at each other for a few seconds before breaking out in laughter at the situation. When their laughing died down, Tubbo asked Dream if he was taking the hoodie.

“Oh, yeah, I was planning on it. I can lend you another if you want.”

Tubbo nodded.

“Okay, come with me.”

Dream took Tubbo to his secret base that not even Sapnap knew about, and Tubbo looked around the small stone cavern in awe. “This is your house?”

“Home sweet home.” Dream took off his shoes and walked to his dresser, opening the first drawer and taking out two sweatshirts for Tubbo. He turned to the boy, who was sitting on the red rug he had by the furnace, warming his hands. “What did you put in there?”

“Some pork. I had enough for both of us, are you hungry?”

“I can eat.” Dream walked over to Tubbo, putting both sweatshirts next to him. “One for here, one to take home.”

Tubbo grabbed the top one, already pulling the soft dark green material over his head. When his head popped out the top, he looked at Dream. “Can I take both?”

“I have like four sweatshirts.”

“You only need one.”

Dream sighed, deciding to check if the pork was done. It wasn’t, so he sat back down. “So how do you like it? The place, I mean.” Dream didn’t know why he cared so much about Tubbo liking his house.

“It’s kind of cozy.”

Dream smiled at the boy who had pulled the sweatshirt sleeves over his hands. “Glad you like it. You’re welcome whenever. Just don’t-”

“Don’t tell anyone, yeah yeah. Dream, you’re so secretive.” Tubbo playfully glared at Dream.

Dream laughed. “It’s because I don’t trust you numbskulls.”

Tubbo gasped, pulling his hands up to his mouth. “Dream, I’m offended! Me, a numbskull?”

“You’re the numbest skull.”

“Says the one who couldn’t hide their identity from a kid.”

Dream frowned at him. Tubbo had gone back to warming his hands, letting out a small yawn.

“I’m tired. Do you have a blanket?”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor. You’ll get a cold. Take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Okay.” Tubbo rubbed his eyes, getting up and flopping on the bed, promptly passing out. Man, how tired was this kid? He was perfectly fine a minute ago. Dream adjusted him so he was lying normally, and tucked him in. Tubbo turned to his side, putting an arm under the pillow and bunching up the cover so he could cuddle it. Dream smiled. He would really have to ask Philza how to do this.

Chapter Text

LMAO REMEMBER WHEN I STILL UPDATED HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OK IM GONNA WRITE A COUPLE CHAPTERS TODAY SORRY I DEADASS FORGOT ABOUT THIS FIC LMAOOOOOOO

my bad

-moggin

Chapter Text

It was a normal overcast day. Puffy was sitting in her home in Snowchester, writing down a list of things she needed to do that day. I went mining yesterday… I don’t think I really need to do it again but more diamonds couldn’t hurt.

Tubbo came in in the mornings occasionally, sometimes to drop off something cute(once he made her a small sheep plush. She nearly cried) and sometimes just to chat. So when she heard the front door open and someone enter, she didn’t even look up from her notebook.

“Puffy?”

Her head snapped up. That was an unusual voice to hear. Jack was standing in the doorway, looking conflicted. Conflicted and devastated. Puffy set down her pen and pushed up out of her armchair, calmly walking over to Jack and pulling the smaller boy into a protective hug. He flinched, but then he wrapped his arms around the giant woman and took handfuls of the back of her shirt in an iron grip. He pressed his forehead against her collarbone and tried not to cry.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Puffy said softly, running her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. While he didn’t answer verbally, his tiny nod communicated his answer. Puffy nodded to herself and gently guided him to sit on the couch.

To Puffy’s surprise, Jack situated himself on her lap, so she crossed her legs to accommodate the position. Jack awkwardly maneuvered his legs to straddle Puffy’s waist before hugging her again and pressing his forehead against her clavicle. She hugged him back, going back to petting his head.

“What’s on your mind, Manifold?”

He let out a wet sob. “So many things, Puffy.”

Puffy didn’t speak for a short while, letting Jack cry into her chest until he seemed stable enough to go on. “Where are you coming from?”

“The hotel. There’s… There’s a rumor going around. That Tommy died.”

Puffy’s hold on Jack got tighter at that. That was new information.

“And I didn’t get to say goodbye, or apologize for being a dick to him that one time… Puffy, why does everyone always leave? First everyone leaves me alone in L’Manburg with Schlatt, then Tommy throws me into lava when I try to apologize… I just want a real friend, Puffy. I want someone who won’t…” he trailed off.

“You want someone who won’t?”

“I just want someone who won’t leave me alone again.”

Puffy held him tightly, trying to communicate that she wouldn’t let him go unless he pulled away first. They sat in silence for a while, neither of them wanting to break the fragile peace they had created. A pigeon cooed somewhere nearby, shallow waves lapped against the ice. Footsteps could be heard, and then Ranboo’s quiet voice asking Tubbo for help carrying supplies. The barely audible snorts of affection from Michael, who was probably with Tubbo. The faint sounds of leaves rustling in the nearby forest. It all created a serene ambience, and it helped to calm Jack down.

“Hey, Manifold.”

He moved his head to look up at Puffy. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment, not wanting to sound croaky.

“You know you can always come here for any reason. If you have something on your mind, if you want to chat, if you just want to sit around. It doesn’t matter, yeah? You’re always welcome here.”

Despite his best efforts, tears welled up in Jack’s eyes, and he buried his head back into Puffy’s chest to try and stop them. Then in a quiet, nearly broken, and definitely very croaky voice, Jack mumbled a quiet, genuine “thank you”.

Chapter Text

It had been a long week. Maybe that was it. Tommy had been streaming almost constantly, or at least that’s what it felt like. Three hours a night being his TommyInnit persona was exhausting on its own, plus he was filming new modded Minecraft videos with Phil, Wilbur and Charlie, then the rest of his waking hours were spent editing… Tommy was drained, to say the least.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe that was why his breathing was quickening, maybe that was why the world around him was blurring. He didn’t know if that was because of the welling tears in his eyes or something else.

He couldn’t bear to look at his monitor anymore. It was giving him a headache, and he had other issues to worry about. Speaking of things to worry about, he didn’t have time to be panicking right now! There was nothing to be panicking about!

God, he had to finish this video. He hadn’t uploaded in a couple days and the fans would lose interest if he didn’t upload frequently(just like everyone else did).

What was he saying? He had friends that didn’t lose interest in him. He had Tubbo and Wilbur and Techno and Phil, and everyone else on the SMP called him their friend.

You’re boring and annoying. Everyone’s going to abandon you at some point. It’s a miracle they haven’t already.

His breathing got even quicker and shallower. He needed to calm down. Calm down. Breathe.

You’re so fucking weak. Can’t even breathe properly. No wonder everyone thinks you’re annoying.

Well, there goes that. His eyes filled up with more tears, some spilling over his cheeks. Somehow, through his stupor, he heard an incoming discord call. He didn’t bother reading the small print on his phone, just desperately tapping the vaguely blue splotch in his vision. The screen turned black, and he raised the phone to his ear with a shaky hand.

“Hell-lo?” God, he sounded like shit.
“Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice filtered through the scratchy phone speaker. Hearing Wilbur’s slightly worried tone broke something in him, and he let out a sob. “Tommy, are you okay?”

“W-Wilbur, can’t breathe, can’t- Wilbur-”

“Okay Tommy, I want you to try to do what I tell you, okay? Breathe in for four.” Tommy shakily breathed in, but let out another sob after only three beats. “It’s okay, Tommy, you’re okay. Let’s try it one more time. I’m here. In for four.” Tommy tried again, this time shakily inhaling for four beats. “Okay now out for four beats.” Tommy didn’t slow down his exhale, but after a few repetitions Tommy’s breathing was almost back to normal.

“Sorry about that. What did you need?” Tommy asked.

“No, no, Tommy. I’m here for you. If anything like that happens, just know you can always call me or anyone else. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Have you been overworking yourself?”

Tommy didn’t answer.

Wilbur sighed. “Tommy, you have to take breaks once in a while. The fans will all still be there when you get back. Okay? When’s the last time you got a decent night’s sleep, anyway?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Okay, Tommy, screw what I was gonna talk to you about, you’re going to sleep. If you want I can stay on call.”

“Sure.” Tommy sighed and got up, stretching his legs out from being in a computer chair for so long. He brushed his teeth and did everything he needed to do before bed, before peeling back the covers and slumping into the worn, soft sheets. After a couple of minutes, Wilbur started playing guitar and singing softly.

Twenty minutes later, when Wilbur checked to see if Tommy was awake, he received silence.

Chapter Text

They were just kids. People seemed to have forgotten that with how they took positions of power and led groups of adults, not to mention how they handled stressful and potentially life-threatening situations. How many wars was it, now? Five? Did it really even matter anymore?

This world tore these kids apart. Their relationships? Ripped but sewn back together. Their mental state? They’re working on that.

It had been so long since they even had the opportunity to just sit and feel, that they had forgotten what it was really like.

That’s why it was a little strange(though not unwanted) when Tommy showed up at Tubbo’s door in Snowchester, eyes a little puffy. It looked like he had tried to clean his face after crying, but failed.

Tubbo opened his door, rubbing his eyes tiredly and yawning through a half-greeting before he noticed it, but when he did he pulled his friend into a tight hug. Tommy hugged him back firmly, hunching over to bury his nose in Tubbo’s neck. He took a deep breath, and Tubbo stifled a giggle at the exhale into his neck, since it tickled.

He moved one of his hands from where it was resting on Tommy’s back to his mop of blonde hair, just running his fingers through the soft curls. They stood there for a short while until Tubbo’s back started protesting being arched up to hug his taller friend, and Tubbo reluctantly pulled away.

“Sorry, my back was hurting. Come in?” Tubbo looked hopefully up at Tommy. Tommy nodded, and Tubbo took his hand and led him across the living room to the plush red armchair in front of the window. He motioned for Tommy to sit, which he did(Tubbo didn’t miss the way the blonde’s eyes widened in wonder when he practically sunk into the chair). Tubbo clambered onto his lap, putting his legs over one of the armrests and leaning into Tommy’s chest, his head resting on his collarbone. Tommy settled his arms around his smaller friend, who started fiddling with Tommy’s long fingers.

“I miss you,” Tommy mumbled into Tubbo’s soft hair.

“I miss you too. All that L’Manberg shit was pretty exhausting, I’ll be honest.”

“Yeah. Shit’s… shitty.”

Tubbo giggled. “How profound.”

They stayed like that, watching the stars outside and listening to each other’s breathing. It was as if the world was stopped. They were stuck in a tiny shard of time, silent and still. The only sounds were that of the placid night and their soft breathing, punctuated by the occasional bird or mob.

Tubbo looked out the frosty window in awe at the night sky. The heavens painted an elegant picture of a proud moon accompanied by ghostly lights, mirrors into the farthest reaches of the universe, and wispy clouds that glowed in its steady light. He felt the closeness of the worn fingers that threaded through his hair and could hear the rustling of the evergreen trees outside.

The stars were bright and small, and Tubbo wondered how many lifetimes it took for the fragile light to finally cast deep shadows in his living room and in the bedroom where Ranboo slept. He thought about how the ancient mothers of those tiny lights were nothing now, and yet he could still feel their pride.

He thought about how eventually they all would become nothing, relying on a distant stranger to look out their tiny window with wide, hopeful eyes and appreciate the tiniest fleck of alabaster paint suspended in the deep midnight hues. He focused on one star, a slender soul that seemed insignificant when lost in the crowd of infinite others, and wondered if when they were alive, they lost themselves in the stale light and the steady breathing of another.

He came to the conclusion that when he was a fragment of timeworn pale light, he hoped he could be a part of someone’s shard of time, keeping them quiet company until morning provided a new canvas. He hoped he could be next to Tommy and Ranboo and Jack and the rest of his friends in those final moments, gazing onto the earth below for one last moonrise.

And then he would be gone, erased, likely forgotten, but maybe the tiny window would remember his light in that stranger’s wide eyes. Somehow, knowing he would end someday brought him peace, and in that moment he was content in the warm embrace of his oldest friend.

They heard footsteps behind them, turning to see who it was. Neither of them jumped to grab a weapon in case it was a mob, and Tubbo guessed it was because both of them were okay dying like this.

It was just Ranboo.

“Sorry, did we wake you?” Tubbo asked quietly. Tommy’s breathing had slowed down while he was being existential, and Tubbo didn’t know if he was relaxed or asleep.

“No, you’re good. I just heard the door open but I didn’t hear it close for a while, so I wanted to see what was up. I’m gonna go back to bed.” He turned to walk back to the bedroom, but Tubbo interrupted him.

“Wait, one sec. We’re coming with.” Tubbo gently nudged Tommy, asking him so quietly Ranboo couldn’t hear him, but so gently, like Tommy was the most delicate porcelain, if he wanted to go to bed. Tommy nodded. Tubbo got up from the chair and held out his hand for Tommy to take while they walked into the bedroom, and Tommy pulled himself out of the armchair before taking his hand.

Ranboo and Tommy made eye contact across the room, and Tommy let go of Tubbo’s hand in favor of bridging the distance between them. Soon he stood right in front of Ranboo, looking the enderman boy right in the eyes(forgetting he didn’t like that), but for some reason it didn’t bother Ranboo. Tommy posed so little of a threat in this drowsy state that Ranboo could look him in the eyes and only be slightly bothered by habit.

It seemed like Tommy was searching for something in Ranboo’s eyes. Once he found it, he wriggled his arms between Ranboo’s arms and his sides, wrapping around the taller boy’s waist and pulling him into a hug. He put his head on Ranboo’s chest, holding him firmly. Ranboo wrapped his arms around Tommy slowly, resting on the boy’s lower back and feeling his rhythmic breathing.

He looked from Tommy to Tubbo, who was watching the scene with warm surprise, and like he was internally combusting from the cuteness he was witnessing, because Tommy hugged no one. He insisted most of the time that hugging was for small men and he was a big man, and that big men ‘didn’t do hugs’. And here he was, initiating one.

Ranboo softly urged Tommy to walk with him to bed, so Tommy released his hold on Ranboo’s waist in favor of holding his hand and letting him lead him to the bedroom. Tubbo followed.

Tommy was the first to crawl into their king-sized bed, lying on his side right in the middle of it. Tubbo was next, wrenching the covers from under Tommy(though they were already messed up from Ranboo and Tubbo sleeping under them just before) and crawling under them next to Tommy. He scooted up so Tommy could bury his head into Tubbo’s chin, which he did as soon as Tubbo settled. They were very close, practically pressed up against each other, but neither was complaining. Tommy wrapped his arms around his friend.

Then Ranboo lifted the covers and slid in behind Tommy, spooning him and situating himself so his chin was almost over Tommy’s head and his arms were around Tommy’s waist. He pulled the covers over the three of them before really settling, though. Tommy pulled his arms back from where they were around Tubbo, opting to lay on where Ranboo’s hands were on his stomach. Ranboo flinched, thinking Tommy was going to make him take his hands off, but Tommy just held them there, intertwining their fingers.

Tubbo ran his knuckles across Tommy’s cheek affectionately before looking at Ranboo. Tommy started snoring, and they both let out a soft chuckle. “We’ll sort everything out in the morning, yeah?” Tubbo whispered.

“Okay.” Ranboo replied just as quietly. Tubbo smiled and cupped Ranboo’s cheek for a moment then moved his hand back around the two of them.

They all fell asleep like that, warm and finally together, basking in the comfort of the other two.

Chapter Text

Techno leaned his forehead against the rough wood of the door, hoping to feel the pressure signaling that someone was pushing it open but knowing that the only person he wanted to open it wasn’t going to. He only knew one way to cope with negative emotions(alone, that is), and that was completely ignoring the problem, so he turned to the dog. He was sitting by him obediently, even though Techno gave no orders for him to. “Let’s get you bathed, huh?”

The dog seemed to understand him, standing up and wagging its tail. Techno walked to the bathroom and Pluto followed him, and Techno closed the door behind them when Pluto walked in.

Techno turned the water on in the tub, letting it run on his hand so he could feel the temperature. After some fiddling with the knob, he decided that it was a fine temperature, and started taking off his clothes. He folded his tunic and put it on the closed toilet seat, followed by his folded undershirt, pants, underwear, and socks.

He turned back to the tub and turned off the faucet. He bent down to pick up Pluto, who was surprisingly heavy for a dog his size, and put him in the tub. Pluto squirmed a little, only getting some water on the tiled floor, and Techno stepped into the tub. He took the shampoo from where it was next to the tub, and squeezed a dollop into his open palm. He rubbed it into his hair aggressively, as he usually did, and washed it out by filling the bucket that was also by the tub with water and dumping it on his head.

Once he was sure he wouldn’t get shampoo in them, he opened his eyes and looked at Pluto, who was sitting with about half of his body submerged in water. “Alright buddy, your turn.” Techno got the shampoo, briefly wondering if it was bad to use human shampoo on a dog, but dismissing the idea when he remembered it was his only option. He drained some of the water and got Pluto to stand up, then drizzled shampoo on the dog’s back. He started rubbing the shampoo into the dog’s thick coat, the suds turning slightly brown from all the grime. He used the same bucket he used earlier to wash the soap from the dog’s coat, making sure he got all the dirt off before putting it back where it was. The rusty metal made a loud clunk when it met the tiled floor, ignoring Techno’s attempts to put it down quietly. Techno frowned and stood up to get a towel. He only had one, so he quickly and ineffectively dried his hair before laying the towel out on the ground.

He picked Pluto up and out of the bath, putting him on the towel and quickly wrapping him up so he wouldn’t get water everywhere. Techno held the wrapped up puppy in his arms for a bit, cradling him like a baby. Then he used his baby voice, saved for only very specific occasions. “You’re a little burrito. Yes you are. A little baby burrito.”

He sat down on the tile floor, forgetting he was naked and wincing slightly at the cold tile, putting Pluto down and making sure the towel didn’t come off. “Stay.”

Surprisingly, Pluto sat down and obeyed. Techno had guessed he was some stray(it wasn’t the first time Tubbo had taken home a stray he found somewhere), but maybe that was wrong. Maybe his owners abandoned him or something.

He hated that he knew what that felt like.

Techno took his clothes from where they were neatly folded and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him gingerly so Pluto didn’t follow him. As soon as the door closed, he could hear the scratching of nails on tile and the clatter of something falling. He smiled to himself and walked to his room, throwing the clothes on the bed(effectively unfolding them) and walking to his dresser.

He laid his fingers on the cool metal of the knob on one of the drawers, the reality of the situation setting in. Tubbo had just come to his house, given him a dog, and told him he might never come back, and Techno had let him leave. His brain was numb, a headache blossoming that felt strangely similar to brainfreeze, and he gripped the knob tighter. He felt the knob move a little, signaling that it might break if he kept doing what he was doing, so he resorted to tracing the thin engravings on it. He traced the ‘T’ and the flowery design around it. Tubbo had helped him make this dresser.

What was he talking about, Tubbo helped him make the entire house.

Techno shook the intrusive thoughts, the clearly incoming guilt from his mind, instantly regretting the movement with his headache. He blinked slowly and opened the drawer, abandoning the warming (and now slightly sweaty)knob. He dug around the drawer looking for a specific baggy white tee shirt, eventually touching it and recognizing the soft material. He pulled it out and put it on, relishing in the odd comfort the cotton gave him.

Philza gave him this shirt. It was his before he gave it to Techno. Techno really didn’t need to cherish it so much, since it was just a plain shirt Philza had given him when his was soaked in blood because when he went out at night and got ambushed by a horde of zombies. There was no emotional subtext, nothing any ordinary person would acknowledge to consider the shirt a prized possession, but Techno had something that only Tubbo also had, and that was a scarily good sense of smell.

Philza’s scent had been permanently ingrained in the fabric of the shirt from years of wearing it over and over again. Since Philza was his father(not biologically, but Philza was the only father figure he had and he would die for his old man in a heartbeat), his scent was calming. Techno asked him once a month to sleep in the shirt so that his smell would be more prominent, and Philza agreed. He didn’t know what his son was doing, but he supported it nonetheless.

Techno brought the collar of the shirt up over his nose, closing his eyes and basking in the scent. His headache melted and his blacked out vision filled with warm-colored blotches. A wave of calm washed over Techno’s entire body, and his breathing slowed. He gripped the hem of the shirt with clammy hands, crumpling the fabric in his fist, and focused on his breathing.

He should probably let Pluto out of the bathroom.

He blinked once before letting go of his shirt and pulling on a pair of green plaid pajama pants. The fabric was rough, but he liked how sturdy it felt. Like hugging a tall, buff scottish man, his mind supplied. What the fuck?

Techno opened the door, and the entire bathroom was dripping. Pluto, however, was relatively dry, and he supposed that was the point of leaving him in here with a towel. Said towel was crumpled up on the floor from Pluto rolling on it. He picked up the slightly damp material and hung it over a thin banister he had installed, and turned to Pluto.

Pluto wasn’t there.

Before he started worrying, he remembered he left the bathroom door open, so Pluto had probably run out. Techno sighed and exited the stuffy room, closing the door behind him and going back to his bedroom. Pluto had curled up in the middle of his large bed, seemingly very comfortable. Techno smiled softly to himself and went to pull the covers down after extinguishing the lantern that was hung on his bedpost, getting under them and lying on his side. He threw an arm over Pluto, who shifted back and snuggled into Techno’s concave form, leaning his head on his outstretched arm.

Techno fiddled with Pluto’s little toe pads, liking the coarse texture. Pluto didn’t seem to mind.

Later that night, he woke up. He looked around, trying to figure out what was causing the pit in his stomach. He didn’t have a nightmare, he knew that much. He used to have nightmares, and every time he would wake up from one he would remember what the nightmare was about. This time, he didn’t remember. And he woke up calmly, which he definitely didn’t when he was having a nightmare.

This was something different. He sat up, Pluto shuffling and not seeming too perturbed by the loss of Techno’s arm under his head, and looked around for anything amiss.

He didn’t find anything. His book was in the same place, he couldn’t smell another person in his house, and he didn’t even hear any mobs outside. He lugged himself out of bed, willing his limbs to move and his heavy eyelids to stay open. He yawned and stretched in an attempt to be less drowsy, but the sleepy taste the yawn left in his mouth ended up just making him more tired.

He dug through his small pile of clothes he threw on his bed that night, looking for his communicator. It was bundled in his cape.

He peeled the layers and layers of heavy, velvety red fabric and eventually felt the metal box touch his fingers. He picked it up and turned the screen towards himself.

He powered it on with a tiny click of the button on the side. He saw Pluto’s ear twitch in his peripheral vision. His eyes immediately darted to the familiar name written in pixelated yellow font.

His breath caught in his throat.

Tubbo_ was killed by [Intentional Game Design]

He read the words over and over, hoping it was just his bleary eyes or his tiredness and that wasn’t actually written there--

His hopelessness quickly morphed into rage, folding into itself over and over again until its small shadowy form had grown into a fractal cloud, ominous and all-enveloping. Techno didn’t bother changing out of his pajamas, he shoved his communicator in his pocket and brought his heavy cape around his shoulders, the long fabric billowing behind him dramatically as he spun on his heel to walk to the door. He wasn’t Techno anymore.

He was the Blood God.

And he was about to get his fill of sweet, coppery genocide.

---

Techno weaved through the dense forest easily, following the smell of Tubbo’s hour-old distress. Dead leaves crinkled under his quick steps, but other than that he moved silently. His axe was ready in his right hand, thick blade behind him as if masking its power.

It didn’t take long before he reached the clearing.

Techno had seen a lot of death in his life. He had caused a lot of death in his life, lives that had earned him the title of Blood God. Tubbo’s small, fragile and beaten body in a crater in the middle of the clearing shouldn’t have made him stop in his tracks, the stiff wind his cape created fanning the leaves out under him. He had seen this hundreds, thousands of times before. Why was Tubbo any different?

He timidly approached the figure, who was lying on his back with a loose fist on his chest. He supposed he was praying in his last moments. Even though he didn’t think Tubbo was religiously affiliated, that seemed like something he would think to do as he lay dying in a crater, watching the last bit of sun drain from the sky and breathing in his last gulps of the fresh October air.

Tubbo looked calm, like he was quietly enjoying the gentle breeze and had fallen asleep watching the constellations overhead. Upon closer inspection, Techno realized Tubbo wasn’t praying. The hand on his chest was clutching the pendant Techno had given him mere hours prior, the thin white dental floss still around his neck, just where Techno had put it.

Techno approached him, first kneeling down and pressing two fingers to the artery under his jaw, unsurprised but not any less emotionally distraught. His thoughts were jumbled and his mind supplied TV static as he just kept his fingers there, hoping for the tiniest pulse. The tiniest sign that his eyes were deceiving him.

But alas, his eyes rarely deceived him, and no matter how much he wanted them to, they weren’t deceiving him now. He let the muscles in his neck relax, and his head fall forward. His eyes shut.

It was then that the TV static cleared somewhat, enough for an old memory to seep through to the forefront of his mind.

He was sitting in Phil’s lap, still a child and learning to read. Phil was reading him some story book he borrowed from the library of a nearby village, about two boys. One of the boys died protecting the other, and the boy who lived went on a journey to find a respawn anchor. Respawn anchors were only tall tales, but it was rumoured that some people had found them in Bastions and used them to revive their lost friends or relatives. The boy brought the anchor back to his dead friend, and it brought him back.

Techno opened his eyes to look at Tubbo’s face. The color was still there. In the meantime, he would pretend Tubbo wasn’t…. He wasn’t. He was just sleeping, and Techno would have to carry him home again. Techno crouched lower and gently slipped his arms around Tubbo’s back and under his knees. He picked the boy up easily, and Tubbo’s head lolled to lean against his right pec. He tried to jostle him as little as possible, so not to wake him.

When he got back to his home, he carried Tubbo to his room and tucked him into his bed. Just sleeping. Techno brushed his hair back, off his forehead, and planted a slow kiss there.

“I’ll see you soon, Tubbo.”

Pluto snuggled into Tubbo’s arm, silently asking him to lift it up and put it around him. Tubbo was unresponsive. Techno put out a large pile of food and an equally large pot of water for Pluto, and he made sure to leave the door to the fenced-in area outside his house slightly ajar. With that, he clutched the handle of his axe and left, closing the heavy door behind him.

--

A week later, Techno returned to his house, tattered and bruised but holding an uncommon desperation in his eyes and a respawn anchor in his arms. His sleeves had spots of a variety of shades of crimson, and his cape was mildly charred in a few places. His crown lay as regal as ever on his head though, and his axe was strapped to his back with the blade right next to his head. The smooth netherite glinted in warning.

He walked to his room and placed the anchor on the floor next to his bed. Tubbo’s skin looked less saturated, his hair thin and his body seemingly deflated. Techno could almost make out the outline of his ribs through his shirt. He didn’t want to look anymore.

He slumped down in a physically and emotionally exhausted heap, putting his forearm on the corner of the anchor and resting his forehead on it. He took a long, deep breath, bracing himself for his efforts to end in failure.

He slipped the glowstone he collected out of his pocket, taking a minute to appreciate the small golden shards. Despite their size, they illuminated Techno’s whole hand and his face and torso, and small golden slivers of light shone through his fingers onto the floor behind them.

They looked warm, and they should’ve been warm, since they came from the nether, but the frigid stones provided none of the expected warmth.

Techno closed his eyes, silently praying to any deity that was close by, before slipping the glowing rocks into the little space that was carved out of the anchor just for them. He half expected something to happen, like for them to start glowing much more, or for the anchor to make a weird noise, but nothing happened.

It was then that he began to grieve.

He felt the tears falling down his cheeks, and he tasted the salt on his tongue when a few seeped through his lips, but he made no other show of the outpouring of emotion. While his mind was a hurricane, destroying and consuming everything around it, he kept a completely straight face and let glowstone illuminate his dripping eyes.

It wasn’t the sadness that made his shoulders start to quiver and his breathing more shaky. It was the crushing guilt that he had let Tubbo go. The boy had told him he was in danger, and Techno had let him go. And now he was…. He was dead because of it. And for once, the Blood God didn’t welcome death.

He could almost feel the boy’s warm hand on his shoulder.

“Techno?”

Techno’s head shot up, seeing Tubbo, alive and well, sitting on the edge of his bed with that worried smile of his. Techno had never been so happy to see that smile in his entire life.

The taller man immediately threw himself onto the boy, openly sobbing and clutching at Tubbo’s dirty clothes. He felt Pluto at his side nudging at his elbow, but ignored him. Tubbo let out a small grunt in surprise at being pushed back onto the bed so suddenly, but quickly returned Techno’s embrace. He pet the taller man’s hair, carding his fingers through it the same way he had before he left, and Techno just cried for a while.

When he was done dampening Tubbo’s shirt, he looked up at him, still not quite believing this was real. “I thought you were gone.”

Tubbo just laughed sweetly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Techno smiled too and buried his face in Tubbo’s chest again. “How long was I out?”

“A week.”

“Think we can call it hibernation?”

Techno snorted. “Death and hibernation are two different things, idiot.”

“Idiot! You’re the idiot.”

“No you.”

“No you.”

Techno missed this banter, he missed Tubbo, and he would do everything in his power to keep Tubbo with him for as long as he could. Tubbo held him tighter, and eventually they fell asleep together, listening to the cicadas outside.

Chapter Text

My death wasn’t anything special, really. Just a freak accident.

It hit George pretty hard, as expected. I was his fiancé, it would worry me and everyone else if he was fine after something like that.

I wouldn’t consider my daily activities to be “haunting”, though I’m sure one could easily classify it as such. A ghost peeking into a person’s life 24/7 could send some mixed signals, I guess.

I watched as George slowly started to take care of himself again. I watched as he eventually mustered the courage to leave the house. Enough courage to eat. To sleep. I pretended not to blush at the way he continued to bunch up the covers and cuddle into them, the same way he would cuddle into my arm at night. It’s not like anyone was watching, anyway.

I watched as George started reconnecting with friends, watched as he and Wilbur got decently close. It seemed less than platonic, but he had given it several months before looking for anything resembling a new relationship.

George never smiled anymore. It was all bland, boring answers to mundane questions, plain and frequently one-worded. But George didn’t seem to want to talk, and nobody wanted to push him.

Except Wilbur.

I watched as Wilbur consistently brought little items he found on the walk from his house to ours - well, I guess it’s just George’s now. George seemed to like the bits of thoughtfulness.

On the ninth month after the accident, George invited Wilbur inside.

All the times before, George would look longingly at Wilbur’s small gifts, thank him, and bid him farewell after listening to Wilbur talk about nothing for a few minutes. Sometimes they would take a walk. But George never invited him in.

I watched as Wilbur closed the door behind him, making a quip about something I didn’t particularly care to listen to, but George clearly did.

Bittersweet and hollow, I watched as the corners of George’s mouth began to curl up. It was a sight I hadn’t seen yet since the accident. In a split second, the upwards curl exploded into a toothy grin, the chipper tones of his laughter signaling he had moved onto the next chapter, one that began with Wilbur’s goofy remarks instead of mine.

I watched him look at Wilbur with the same loving eyes I was so used to having focused on myself, and wished I could feel something negative, since that felt like the right thing to feel in that situation. I just thought about how long overdue that laugh was. Wilbur said something else I didn’t pay attention to, and George stopped laughing, looking at Wilbur with a genuinely glad expression.

George smiled.

It wasn’t directed at me, and it didn’t fill any of the longing that still lingered to touch, to feel, but he finally smiled, so I smiled too.

It should have been agony, being forced to watch from a seemingly small but infinitely impassable distance, but it wasn’t like that at all.

I watched as his and Wilbur’s relationship budded into a cute romance, watched as George got better. Watched as he moved on.

I know he’s not mine anymore. I know I’m just a relic now, a memory and some things I used to own. I know my existence now is pointless.

So I’m left here to hope. To hope that George knows that while he can move on, he’ll always be the love of my life. To hope that George doesn’t forget me.

To hope that George can feel that every time he smiles, even though it's not at me, I always smile back at him.

Chapter Text

It was exhausting, being second best.

Sure, Eret was loved and respected by the people he knew, and he was made royalty by Dream! There should be nothing to be sad about. But there was always the nagging at the back of his mind, making everything feel artificial, making it all feel like a flimsy coverup for what the situation really was.

Eret wasn’t an only child, despite what everyone believed. He never talked about any siblings, never mentioned his family at all, actually. Once, a letter came in for him from a “Malcolm Alastair”, but he never discussed it with anyone. The only person to see the letter was Dream, who was delivering the mail that day. The blonde didn’t tell anyone about it.

The truth was that Eret wasn’t an only child. He had a family, a brother and a father, but he never told anyone.

See, Eret’s quick adoption of royal etiquette was not the product of his quick learning skills. He had been in a similar position before.

His father, Malcolm Alastair, was a king. The kingdom no longer existed, but when it was there, Eret had been a prince, along with his brother, Hiro. He and his brother had been close as kids, but drifted further and further apart as they got older.

Hiro became obsessed with one-upping Eret in everything at the age of thirteen, and started considering Eret a threat to his power at fourteen. At fifteen, Eret was off his radar.

Hiro went on to conquer land past what Eret had thought was possible at such a young age. Hiro became a household name, or, well, his alias became a household name.

Herobrine.

Eret had gone into Hiro’s room after he left the castle, to get a pen. On Hiro’s desk was an open notebook, where Hiro had clearly been brainstorming names. On the list was ‘Antihiro’, ‘Hirobrine’, ‘Darkhero’ and others. ‘Herobrine’ was circled on the bottom of the page.

It was hard, sitting pretty at home as a young prince while his brother went and conquered the world. He was jealous. He wanted to do that too, he wanted to have done what Hiro did together, but he was left in the dust, to be forever known as the brother of the man who wrote history.

Hiro didn’t come back to the palace after he left, so Eret grew up normally. When he was 18, he left to become a sailor. He did that for two years before getting tired of the same routine. At 20 he told his father he would be going somewhere far away. When his father asked(rather, demanded) to know where he was headed, he refused to tell him. He wanted to cut all ties to the royal family, to his brother. So he left in the middle of the night, bidding farewell and giving a large sum of gold and gems to a servant who he was friends with.

He went to a new faction, a land called the Dream SMP. A weird name, if you asked him, but it was definitely somewhere his father wouldn’t look for him.

A couple years into his stay at the Dream SMP, he became royalty again. He should have expected that such news would be sent to other factions, but he didn’t consider his father would send him a letter, much less that it would be an apology.

For treating him like a failure, for blaming him for his brother’s departure, for making him feel like he had to leave to be happy, he apologized for all of it. Signed, Malcolm Alastair.

Somehow, he was at peace for a few moments.