Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Antelope, Guggenheim, Albert, Salami, Giggly, Jumpy, Tambourine, Leg-Face McCullen,“ a voice rattles through the trees, coming from an energetic little bot with blonde hair, carrying a small pig in his arms. “Artichoke, Penguin, Pete, Steve... But I think the very worst name for this pig is—“

“—Tommy,” the older figure walking beside him interrupted his little brother’s rambling, “where are we?” He asked, looking around to see if he could spot any recognisable feature.

Tommy paused, “In the Woods?” He answered, deadpan.

His older brother paused, “I can see that, but what are we doing here?”

Tommy adjusted the crown that he had set on the poor pig’s head, “walking home, is something wrong Wilbur?”

Wilbur started walking around in circles, trying to find where they came from to no avail, “Tommy, I think we’re lost!” He cried, “we-we should’ve left a trail or something!”

Tommy takes a piece of candy out from his pocket, “we could leave a candy trail!” He places one on the ground and takes a few steps forward and leaves another one.

Wilbur sighs as he watches his brother, “no…” he mutters then them holds his hands as if he would be playing a guitar and started singing a slight tune about being lost.

An distant sound of what must be a tree falling interrupts the two.

“What was that?” Tommy asks.

Wilbur grabs Tommy’s hand and starts heading towards the noise. It doesn’t take long and only a minute or two later they get there. When they do, they both hide behind a tree and hear a slight tune being sung by the man with an axe.

“Do you think it’s some kind of deranged lunatic waiting for us in the woods that mum is always talking about?” Tommy asks Wilbur, trusting his judgment.

“Maybe?” He phrases it as a question which is a bad idea. Tommy runs out from behind him and over to the man, “Wait, Tommy!” He calls out, leaving the safety of the tree to go get his brother.

Tommy stands behind another tree, closer to the man now, “we should ask him for help!”

Wilbur shakes his head, “ No ! We should not ask him for help! He could be a creep!”

Tommy shushes him to make him be quiet. In return, Wilbur shushes him. They keep going back and forth like that until the Woodsman leaves to a different area of the Forest.

A small voice calls out and interrupts their arguing, “Maybe I could help?”

They look around for the originator of the voice, seeing a Crow sitting in a hole in the tree above their heads.

They disregard it as it is a Crow, which we all know are not capable of forming human words.

The voice calls again, “You guy’s are lost right?”

They look up agin at the Crow. It is tilting it’s head to the side in a curious manner.

Wilbur, believing he is going crazy, slaps himself in the face. “What on Earth is going on!” He cries out.

Tommy chuckles, “Well, you’re slapping yourself and—“ he points up at the Crow on the branch.

Wilbur cuts him off, “No. A bird’s brain is not advanced enough for human speech!”

“Hey!” The voice calls out, “That’s just rude, mate!”

Wilbur looks up to the bird, which looks almost angry, but thats not right, birds cant possibly look angry… he rushes to apologise even if he doesn’t understand why. “I’m sorry, I mean, I-I'm just saying, you're, you're weird. Like, not normal. I, I mean—“ he cuts himself off and smacks himself on the face once more, “Stop talking to it!”

The Crow caws and the voice calls out, even more enraged than before, “IT?!”

Wilbur stammers as Tommy tries sticking a piece of candy into his pig’s mouth. They notice the light stop coming through from behind them and they turn around to see the scary man with the Axe.

They both Briefly scream and the pig somehow rolls it’s eyes.

The Woodsman holds a lantern up and starts yelling at them, “What are you kids doing here!” Somehow, it seems like he is afraid to yell at them. They could not see his face as he wore sunglasses and a black and white mask, split perfectly down the middle. It matched his hair which as they looked closer, they could see two small horns poking out from either side of his face, one white and one black, with a golden ring flashing on one of them.

The Crow startles, “Sorry mate, see you kids later!” He spreads his wings and flies off.

Wilbur’s voice cracks, fear evident in his voice, “S-sorry sir!” He cries, “Please calm down! We didn’t mean to trespass!”

It is clear that is not what the Woodsman is angry about, “These Woods are no place for children!” He pauses and leans in closer, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper, “Don’t you boy’s know the Beast is afoot?”

Tommy jumps up in surprise and Wilbur steps in front of him, “We don’t know anything about that, Sir!” He stammers, “We are just two lost kids, trying to fing our way home!”

The woodsman pauses to consider, holding up his lantern and looking longingly at it and then he sighs, “well, Welcome to the Unknown. You’re more lost than you realise.”

The woodsman beckons for the two lost boy’s to follow him. Tommy jumps up and immediately follows, hugging his pig close to his chest. Wilbur spares a glance behind them, to a fallen tree, and he sees a scared face carved into the wood, leaving massive gouges as if the tree had grown like that. He gulps and quickly follows after his brother and the Woodsman.

They end up at an old wood mill, the building torn and falling apart at the slightest gust of wind. The Woodsman starts telling his story as Wilbur turns and whispers to Tommy,  “This guy is a lunatic, we have to get out of here.”

Tommy shrugs, setting his pig down on the floor, “Okie.”

The Woodsman interrupts their small discussion, “You two should be safe here while I work.”

Tommy smiles! “Really! Thank you!”

Wilbur clears his throat, “What is it you do , exactly?”

The Woodsman smiles nervously, “I chop down the Edelwood trees, turn them into oil to fuel my lantern.” He stares longingly at the Lantern again, “This is my lot in life, this is my burden.”

The two kids pause for a moment until Wilbur leans in close once again, gesturing to the pig to come over. It listens and comes over. “He must know the woods really well, so we may need to knock him out, first. Except—that might turn out really badly, huh? Yeah, bad, bad plan, eh, forget it, bad plan.”

Tommy nods solemnly, “ok.” He sits on the floor and hugs the pig, trying once more to come up with a good name.

“What are you guy’s talking about?” The Woodsman asks, the glasses over his eyes and his mask over his mouth not betraying any kind of emotion. “It’s okay, im not going to hurt you.”

Wilbur gulped while Tommy jumped at the chance to be a part of the conversation, “We were talking about running away, Sir!”

The Woodsman stands up, knee’s creaking as he does. Wilbur notices that the man is taller than any human had the right to be, tall and slender, arms dropping almost down to his knees. “You can leave if you want. But be careful, the Beast seeks lost souls such as yours.” He warned.

Wilbur suddenly realised that it was not a mask that the man was wearing, his chin never moving as he spoke, almost as if he didn’t have a mouth to speak with. The glasses had an ominous glow underneath, one side red the other side green. Was there a reason The Woodsman wore them? To protect himself? Or to protect others.?

Tommy on the other hand was very joyous, “To help us find our way back home!?” He asked.

The Woodsman shook his head, “No.” he stated firmly, “No. Not to help you, never to help you.” He tosses a twig into the Lantern. He stands up to leave, grabbing his stack of branches, “I have to go work in the mill. When I'm finished, I will do what I can to guide you. If you are still want my help when I return.” He ended ominously. He left into the greater part of the old Wood Mill.

Wilbur and Tommy watch him leave. Wilbur walks over to the lounge chair that had been placed in the corner, “We could leave.”

Tommy doesn’t pay attention, focusing instead on playing with his pig and fixing it’s crown.

“Do you think there really is a Beast out there?” He asks himself more than Tommy, “Or, is, is that guy just messing with us?”

Tommy nods absentmindedly.

Wilbur turns and peers out the window, “I mean, he could've done away with us by now, if that was his plan. And he lit that fire, that's—pretty nice.” He holds his hands up and feels the warmth bring a slight tingling feeling to his fingers.

Tommy finally notices and nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, he was really nice!”

Wilbur hugs himself, “I guess it's possible there's a Beast, since there was a talking bird, but...” he trails off and Tommy does not gesture for him to continue. He instead, picks up a twig and starts drawing around with it.

“What do you think the Booby Boy is doing?” Tommy asks from his place on the floor. The pig Oinks as if agreeing.

Wilbur bolts up, “ what ?”

Tommy shrugs, “Booby Boy, the Woodsman.” He explains, “He gives off Boob vibes.”

Wilbur sighs, “what did mum say about calling people names?”

Tommy pouts, “she isn’t here.”

Wilbur frowns, once again being reminded of the fact that it is just the two of them alone. It stings more than it should. “Yeah, i guess you’re right.”

Tommy smiles triumphantly and puts his hands on his hips, “See? I can call him Booby Boy as much as I want!”

Wilbur chuckled at his half-brother’s antics. “Why don’t you go play with your pig while I figure out what to do?” He suggested.

Tommy leaped up and looked around, searching for his pig and finally settling on a name, “okay!” He looked around only to realise he couldn’t see the small pig anywhere. “Shit.” He sighed and ignored Wilbur yelling at him not to cuss.

“Ham!” He called out, looking for the pig, “Ham! Where are you!” He heard an intimidating oink and turned to see Ham staring of into the bush. “What’s wrong?” Tommy asked, leaning over and picking up the pig.

Two, big rainbow eyes stared back at them from the pitch blackness of the Woods.

Tommy screamed and ran back inside, straight into the Woodsman, knocking him over. “Fuck!” He yelled, as the Woodsman hit his head on a stray piece of wood hanging out of its place and fell unconscious.

Wilbur ran out when he heard the commotion, “Tommy!” He scolded his brother, “no cuss…” he trailed off when his eyes landed on the Beast standing just outside. “Grab the Axe.” He said and Tommy did what he was told.

The creature tilted its head and opened its mouth to reveal razor sharp teeth and it snarled and growled at them before pouncing.

They ran into the mill but the old wood would not stand against such a powerful foe and it fell to the ground as they ran through, Wilbur snatching the old axe from Tommy’s hands declaring “You’re too young to be holding this!” as they ran for their very lives.

“How did the Beast find us?” Wilbur yelled, “I thought The Woodsman said that we’d be safe here!”

Tommy screamed, “MY CANDY TRAIL! IT MUSTVE FOLLOWED IT!”

Wilbur groaned and grabbed Tommy’s hand, dropping the axe to help them run faster. They run right into a dead end.

“T-Tommy,” Wilbur starts, “Give the Beast the rest of your candy.”

Tommy hesitantly grabs the final few pieces of his candy and throws it at the beast, it happily gobbles them up, burping loudly and a small, black turtle falls to the ground and where the big black monster once stood was now a peaceful puppy.

Wilbur and Tommy stared at it.

“What the Fuck.”

“Tommy, don’t cuss,” Wilbur scolded, “There is no way that is the beast.”

The Woodsman walks out, rubbing his hand over his. Head and near his horns. “You’re right. It wasn’t the Beast.”

“What is the beast like?” Tommy asked.

The Woodsman considered his answer, “He stalks like the night,” he explained in a quiet voice, much unlike the yelling he was doing earlier, “He sings like the Four Winds, he is the Death of Hope! He steals children, and, he'll... ruin...” he trailed off and rubbed the ring over his horn. “You should take your brother North, look for a town or something.” He shook his head, “I’m afraid I’ll only make things worse.” He stalked off back into the now ruined mill.

Wilbur and Tommy watched as he did so. “I’m sorry for yelling at you Tommy.”

Tommy nodded, “I accept your apology, I yelled too.”

Wilbur chuckled slightly, “You really need to give the pig a proper name.”

Tommy raised him up, “I did!” He looked over and saw Wilbur’s face, “I did! I named him Ham!”

Wilbur chuckled, “That has got to be the worst name for a pig, even he dislikes it!”

The pug did indeed look very unimpressed with the name and made his displeasure known with a small ‘Oink’.

The two brothers walk off, laughing and heading in the direction they hope is North, their pig wearing a crown following behind. In the shadows, a black figure watches them, the only thing visible is their smiley mask.

Chapter Text

Leaves gently fall from the trees as Wilbur, Tommy and their pig walk down the road. The forest is still dark, quite a few trees being evergreen trees, however this particular part seems more open. 

Tommy yawns and Wilbur sighs, “It’s almost morning!” He complains, “This is the way the Woodsman told us to go, right?”

Tommy shrugs and Wilbur groans, walking 10 paces ahead of his brother. “Hey!” Tommy chases after him, “Don’t leave me alone!”

They both laugh when Tommy finally catches up. They are interrupted by the sounds of struggle and a cry for help.

“Help!” The voice calls again. The two boys turn in the direction of the cry. It came from a bush. They look at each other and stalk up to it, peering inside the bush. 

It was the Crow. “Aw, its you two again.” It sighs, “Look, mate, help me out here and I’ll owe you a favour.”

Wilbur pauses for a moment. “Will you help us get home?”

The Crow pauses for a moment. “I’ll help you guys get into town, someone there can help you.”

Tommy ‘tsks’, “Nope, if we help you out then you have to help us get back home.”

The Crow pauses, as if considering his options. It lights up after a moment, “Alright, I’ll help you get home, now get me outta here!”

Tommy and Wilbur smile to each other and both reach in and untangle him.

“Okay,” Wilbur begins, “We are heading to a town first,” he points to a sign, “‘Pottsfield’, we’ll stay there tonight and tomorrow we can head home.”

Tommy nods his head and the Crow bobs up and down while flying in agreement. 

They start down the path to town. 

“So…” Tommy begins, “I’m Tommy and that is my big brother Wilbur, what’s your name?”

“Phil.” the Crow answers.

The pig Oinks angrily,  it doesn’t seem to like being forgotten about. “Oh,” Tommy startles, “And this is our pig, Ham.”

Phil scrunches up his face as much as he can, being a bird and all, “I think thats a horrible name.” 

Tommy pouts, “No it isn’t!”

Wilbur glared at the two, “Stop arguing, and it is a horrible name.”

Tommy crossed his arms over his chest, “Fuck you.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes as the pig Oinked angrily, “Tommy, what did I say about cussing?”

Tommy picked up the pig and held him in his arms, “You’re not Mum!”

“I’m the oldest here!” Wilbur turned around and yelled back, “What I say goes!”

Phil cleared his throat, “Kids, if you dont stop arguing right this second I’m gonna have to get the belt.”

They both turned to him. “What are you, some kind of old man?” Tommy asked, eyebrow raised and voice filled with condescension.

Wilbur glared at him, “You’re a bird, what are you gonna do?”

He sighs,  “Whatever, lets just go.”

They walk for a little bit longer, Phil eventually getting tired of flying and instead riding on Wilbur’s head, nestled right atop his beanie.

Wilbur cries out, “OH CIVILISATION!!” He runs up to the fence separating them and the small town, “Oh, Finally!”

Tommy jumps up and down with glee, the pig’s belly jiggling as he does so. It makes it’s displeasure known with a small ‘Oink’. 

Phil sighs once more and starts flapping his dark wings and hovers around eye level to Wilbur, “You sure you wanna go in there?” He asks, “It could be full of creeps.”

Tommy jumps over the fence, “I’m so ready to rejoin civilisation!” He yells before he falls, knee-deep into a puddle of mud mixed with shit. “Ew, gross.”

Wilbur sits atop the fence and carefully climbs down as to not fall into the mud either, “It may be gross, but not nearly as gross as Americans!”

Ham the pig Oinks angrily.

Tommy pauses for a moment, “you know what? You’re right.” He says to Phil, “Ham is a bad name, I’m gonna name him Bacon.”

Bacon the pig Oinks angrily a few times, climbing under the fence and knocking Tommy over so that he is now waist-deep in the mud.

Wilbur and Phil laugh like the traitors they are.

“Screw you.” He mutters, before thrusting a handful of mud into his mouth, all while staring his brother directly in the eye. He sees him go green and decides it is totally worth it. He chews for a second then swallows, “Hey, this isn’t half bad!” He declares and Wilbur drags him out of and away from the mud before he can eat any more.

Bacon meanwhile, decides to roll around in the mud, his crown falling off but thankfully not getting muddy. “Bacon!” Tommy screams, “You cant lose your crown!”

“I think Bacon is an even worse name, mate.” Phil used his wing to shield his face as he said that. How a bird manages to look so smug is absolutely beyond him.

Tommy scowls and gets up to start looking around. Wilbur and Phil follow, Bacon the pig following not far behind. For all it would seem the town was well-kept, there was nobody around.

“Hey, not to be obnoxious, but an abandoned ghost town doesn't seem like it's gonna be that useful getting you guys home.” Phil said. Phil was glared at for his trouble.

Bacon ‘Oinked’ to agree.

They continue looking around, checking in the windows of buildings for any sign of life. In the distance, they hear a kind of vocal melody playing from the barn. 

The brothers gasp at each other, and the group all approach the barn.

The song is beautiful, Wilbur realises. The dancers, not so much. They are all dressed in pumpkins and are wearing all browns and it must look so uncomfortable with a scratchy potato-sack material. They are all dancing around a big Maypole at the centre of the barn, singing their beautiful melody.

Some are off to the side, carving pumpkins and chatting with one another.

One of them approaches the Brothers and their two animal companions, “Say, you folks ought to don your vegetables and celebrate the harvest with us.”

Wilbur chuckles, “Oh! So its costumes you’re wearing?”

The costumed man nods his pumpkin, “yeah, pumpkins can’t move on their own, can they!” He walks off and joins everyone else dancing around the Maypole.

They all pause for a moment. “This place is creepy as hell.” Tommy comments, only to get smacked in the arm by Wilbur. 

“Tommy!” Wilbur screams, “Don’t be disrespectful!”

Phil nods, “Shame on you.”

Tommy pouts and crosses his arms, looking down at his pig, “Bacon?” He asks.

Bacon turns up his nose and walks off, Phil landing on his back and riding away, leaving the two human kids alone with each other.

Wilbur and Tommy stand there for a moment, wandering around for a little, mainly keeping to themselves. Eventually the villagers start looking at them suspiciously and start muttering among themselves.

“You guys seem a little…” one villager starts, “Early.”

“What?” Tommy asks, voice riddled with angry confusion.

“Yeah!” Another villager agrees, “They must be there to ruin the harvest! Steal our crops!”

Wilbur’s eyes widen in confusion, “No! We’re not here to do any of that!”

“We’re just passing through!” Tommy screams back, grabbing Bacon and pulling him close to his chest.

A chuckle comes from over head, and the big Maypole moves. The Maypole, Wilbur notices, is covered in all types of fungus and mushrooms as well as the other pumpkin-themed motifs. The pumpkin is carved to have a happy smile on, one that would normally show all the pumpkin’s innards, now just shows the black abyss. It has goggles carved out of it’s pumpkin flesh as well.

“Hold on everybody,” It says, leaning down and seemingly scrutinising the two kids, their pig and their guide the bird, “I’m sure they have a good explanation.”

A villager turns to look at the Maypole, “What shall we do with them, George?”

Phil startles, “I’ll wait for you guys at the edge of town!” He leaves no room for objections as he takes off and flies away.

George the Maypole sighs, “How did you kids get here?”

Wilbur uses his hand to cover Tommy’s mouth. He might say something and get them in even more trouble, “Well, you see…” he trails off and starts over, “we were trying to get home. We came into town from the woods. Ehh, we saw your farms, and your houses, and thought, ‘hey, here's a normal place with normal people.’“

He chuckled nervously and removed his hand from Tommy’s mouth in order to make hand gestures, “And then, we heard the music from the barn, how about we just leave?”

George becomes angry at the notion of them just leaving. “Now let me get this straight: you come to our town, you trample our crops—you interrupt our private engagement—and now you wanna leave?”

Tommy jumps up, “Yes!” He declares, hands on hips.

A villager enters from the barn doors, holding up Phil in one hand, his feathers ruffled and wings flapping indignantly, “This one's trying to escape!”

George doesn’t even glance in it’s direction. 

“Let me go!” Phil screams, “I’m not even with these idiots!”

“Kids,” George says, “It makes me sad that you don't wish to stay here with us,” he tilts his pumpkin head down then back again, making it stare right into their souls, “Especially because I have to punish you for your transgressions.”

Tommy and Wilbur swallow nervously. Phil yells at them, “I told you guys this place was bad news!”

Tommy turns around and yells back, “Oh yeah?” He points an accusatory finger at the bird, “You didn’t tell us it would be like this!”

George clears his throat to get their attention. “So by the order of the Pottsfield Chamber of Commerce, I find you guilty of trespassing, destruction of property,” he leans down to get right up in their faces, “And disturbing the peace.” He leans back up again, “For these crimes I sentence you to a few hours of manual labour!”

Tommy groans and Wilbur sighs in relief. Phil groans, and Bacon oinks.

As the day goes on they find themselves in beautiful fields, full of corn and pumpkins. They pick the corn and the pumpkins, making sure they’re ripe first and ready for picking. Tommy is manning the wheelbarrow, putting what they pick in a seperate barn for safekeeping. 

Phil sits and overviews their work, unable to do anything really as he is a crow, instead he sits and stares, sometimes another crow will land next to him but only briefly. 

Bacon follows Tommy around, making sure he is okay and oinking angrily at any the creatures that goes near him. He is a good pig like that.

Finally, the last thing they need to do before they get free is dig two holes in these very specific locations. They get right too it, ignoring the weariness deep in their bones and the painful pull in their muscles. They can rest after they finish.

Its only when they are nearly done that Tommy asks the question with the dreaded answer.

“Hey Wilbur,” he asks, pausing in his digging, “What do you think these holes are for?”

Wilbur shrugs, “I dunno, why don’t you ask?”

Tommy shakes his head, “Hell no.” He keeps digging.

Phil has an idea, “What if you’re digging your own grave?”

Tommy scoffs, “As if they would make us do—“

He gets cut off by Wilbur, “Oh, thank God.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow while Phil and Bacon look concerned. When Wilbur doesn’t answer, Bacon leans over to peer inside the hole then he squeaks, and stumbles backwards.

Wilbur sighs and gets a dopey look on his face, “Finally, death.” 

Tommy looks down into his hole and see’s a skeleton, laying there. “Oh shit.”

He jumps out of the hole and tries pulling Wilbur out of there as well. His brother is a lot lighter than he realised and he gets pulled out no problems whatsoever, although the adrenaline rush probably helped in that matter.

Just as the two get out of the hole, Tommy sees George and his horde of pumpkin villagers coming towards them at a rapid pace, he takes a deep breath and drops Wilbur on the floor, Bacon oinking and trying to get them both to run away but he has to stand his ground, for the sake of humanity.

Tommy would think he is being just the right amount of dramatic in this situation.

They get there and see the holes, “Oh!” One villager exclaims, “You’re done with the holes!” They don’t phrase it as a question but Tommy wishes they did, if only to give him time to stall.

He nods in return. Then, the skeleton in Wilbur’s hole jumps up, as if alive. Thats when it hits Tommy, as Wilbur groans and mourns what could’ve been behind him, that all these villagers are skeletons.

They joyfully welcome the new member in their circle, George swaying happily in the breeze as the Skeleton from Tommy’s hole jumps up and runs to be greeted and welcomed too.

Tommy sighs, and in a moment of peace, allows Phil to rest on his shoulder as Bacon the pug snuggles up to his leg.

George sighs wistfully, “What a wonderful harvest...” he turns to face the group, addressing them, “And what about you? You sure you wanna leave?”

Tommy cover’s Wilbur’s mouth before he can agree, “Nope!” He hurries to say, “Uh, nooo…” he chuckles, “ We’re fine just trying to get home thanks!”

George chuckles, “Oh well, You'll join us someday.” He states and Tommy picks up Wilbur, helping him to stand though his own legs feel like they could give out at any moment.

“Psst!” Phil calls at him, he and Bacon are already a few paces ahead, “Why are you still here?” He asks and Tommy forces his legs to move, Wilbur following close behind.

When they finally get into the clearing and out of the town Tommy turns to face Wilbur, anger clear on his face. “What the hell was that about Wilbur?” He asks his brother.

Wilbur scoffs, “I was tired, you’d do the same thing!”

He tries to come up with a retort but finds he can’t. He would’ve if he had been there much longer. Besides, Wilbur was always more of a pessimist than Tommy.

Phil clears his throat. “So…” he trails off then begins again, “So, I could take you lads to Eret, the good Witch of the Pasture.” Seeing Tommy and Wilbur’s confused faces he elaborates, “I’m going there anyways. Trust me, Eret will be able to help you guys get home.”

“Why are you going there?” Wilbur asks.

He shrugs, tilting his wings upwards a little, “Eh, you could say I’m trying to get home too.” He doesn’t elaborate any further, despite clearly needing to.

Tommy sighs, “I hope Eret is more helpful than Booby Boy was.”

Phil tilts his head in confusion as Wilbur sighs, “Booby Boy?” 

Wilbur is the one that answers his question, “The Woodsman.”

Phil nods and the pig oinks for some reason. “Well,” Phil flaps his wings and heads along the road, “We should get going, the sooner we get to Eret the better.”

Wilbur and Tommy agree and they all head off. What a group they make, two half brothers, a pig, and a talking bird. As the sun makes it’s grave along the hills, marking the end of a long day, somewhere a lantern glows just a smidge brighter and a tree grows with a face permanently etched onto it’s bark.

Chapter Text

so

hi.

this was going to have manny more chapters, and i was hanging around to write this in autumn again, but whith everything that has been going on in the community... with fucking dream and wilbur and george and fuucckkkk.

and it makes me feel like shit. i giot into this fandom very late, like not very soon before the dsmp ended and all the allegations and shit started being thrown around. this was written when i could still say 'hey, i cant blame them for this, they didnt know.' or whn it was something so very small and a part of their past that i could say 'if they dont support it now, then its okay.' but its not. im not okay with it. 

i cried writing this note here. i cried going through my dsmp photo album, not being able to stand looking at the art that others and I have made of a better time. i cannot continue this, not because of me wanting to support these people (and not everyone has done bad things, i can still stand to laugh at Tommy's jokes, follow Philza on twitch, laugh along with Ranboo) anymore, but because i just cannot stand to hear their names. the things ive heard being said about them, some things said by people they have done these things to i just cannot stand it. 

so all my works containing people i no longer can look at, or hear their name or music or watch their videos without feeling physically ill will be getting this not. by golly i hope this is the only one. ive just lost so much hope in these people, in this generation's role models. 

its late. i have to go now. thank you for reading this, and im sorry if you wanted a continuation of this fic. as i understand, its not popular. still, feel free to continue it in your own notes. watch the show, imagin the characters there. just dont copy or repost my work. thank you, for everything.

i hope you have a wonderful morning/noon/night wherever you are in the world, if its late get a drink, put down your phone, go to bed. if its early, call your mother or father or someone, tell them you love them. dont be afraid to let them know. Technoblade never dies. 

love you guys. <3