#FUNDY ANGST HERE I COME

[lillylvjy]

On again (off again)

a/n- hello! Been awhile huh?! Um- so a little disclaimer, this isn’t edited. So it’s pretty shit but it’s been sitting in my folder for a bit so. Also the ending is terrible so. Please go easy on me, I’m slowly getting out of my rut. Oh also it’s sirenbur!

Warnings- fluff, angst, blood, crying, kissing, wil is a lovesick fool, reader is stubborn so is Tom, also reader is way to calm with the events that occur but reader is kinda- I wrote them kinda in a self indulgent way so. Please tell me if I missed anything!

Enjoy!!

“Tommy, help.” Wilbur came rushing into the coffee shop, panting as he threw his bag on a random table and ran to the front counter where Tom was.

“What now, Wil? Need me to fix your gaping wound in a dark alleyway again?” Tommy sarcastically asked as he draped the dirty rag across his shoulder. He had bags under his eyes like always, not having been able to catch a moment of sleep with the shop and the group of middle aged villains who needed his help. Yet, his tired eyes turned into ones of fondness when he saw Wilbur’s blush and starstruck eyes. The way he was biting his lip to keep back the huge smile that would take over his face if he didn’t. “What happened?”

“So you know Y/n, right?”

“Yes I know Y/n, Wil. What’s going on?!” Tom asked once again, quickly getting impatient at the older boy in front of him.

“Ok so, earlier this morning they asked if I wanted to come to the park with them and try to help them get out of their drawing slump, obviously I said yes. And, without thinking, I asked them if they wanted to go on a date with me. Like, a date date. And they said yes, and we’re going tonight, but I have no clue what to do, I don’t even know what to wear! I’m like freaking out here and my hearts racing and I have no clue if it’s from the way they smiled once I asked or from running here but I-“

“Wil! Wilbur! Calm down, dude. Go sit down, I’ll bring you something to drink and we’ll talk. Ok?” Tom quickly said to Wil before he started having a panic attack from his thoughts. The man quickly nodded and walked over to the table with his bag on it.

Tom shook his head as a grin took over his face at the sight of his best friend. He always put up this strong outer core, not wanting an ounce of weakness to be seen. You never knew who was watching you at what point, he said. But, who knew that this one person could just, break him down, and create all that hard, tough shell into absolute goo. It amused Tom.

Tom quickly got a small cup and poured black coffee into it, knowing how Wilbur didn’t like it sweet. Walking over to the table, he gently set the cup on the table as Wilbur looked up at Tom and smiled as a thanks.

“So, you asked them out, they said yes and you’re going tonight. Where are you going?” Tom asked as he sat back against the chair.

“Um, we’re meeting at the park again and going to that family owned record shop outside of town. Said they’ve never been so, why not. And then we plan on getting something to eat. Probably chicken sandwiches from Fundy because it’s right next to it. And plus who doesn’t want a chicken sandwich made by Fundy?!” Wilbur asked as he took a sip of the bitter liquid.

“Vegans.” Tom said.

Wilbur looked up at the blonde, straight faced as he ran through ways to slap that grin off of his face. “Tom. You’re not helping! And plus they like his sandwiches. So I’m good on that part.” Wil nodded to himself as he went through the plan.

“Ok I’m sorry. Are you really worried on what to wear?” Tom asked with furrowed brows as he looked at the brunette. The sound of the bell going off when the door opened caught Toms attention. “In all honesty, just wear that. You look good, I promise. Now stop worrying about it, and start getting excited because the person you’ve been obsessed with for who knows how long said yes to a date. Hi! What can I get you guys?” Tom finished as he quickly grabbed the couple that was waiting at the counter.

Wil groaned as he downed the rest of the black coffee. Placing it on the counter for Tommy to clean and leaving with a quick “I’ll tell you how it goes” To Tom before he left.

Later that night before the shop closed, Wilbur rushed in with you clinging to his hand, placed a fiver down on the counter as Tom looked at him with wild eyes, and quickly saying a ‘Thank you!’ To the teen as he rushed out of the shop with you following close behind, both of you smiling and giggling like idiots.

Tommy guessed it went well.

——

“Tommy! Help!” Wil screamed as he quickly took his mask off and carried your limp body into the small coffee shop. Tom quickly came up to the front, starting to say something snarky but quickly stopping as he saw Wilbur lie you on the ground and press on your stomach.

“What the fuck happened?!” Tom said as he rushed around the counter and drop down to the floor to where you were placed. Tom quickly grabbed a towel that was just cleaned and moved Wil’s hands from your stomach. “Wil? You have to tell me what happened!”

Wil quickly shook his head as tears started to pour down his face, the realization of what was happening washing over him.

“I-I was too far away to do anything. They- fuck! This is all my fault!”

“Wil I need you to tell me what happened so I know how bad it is.” Tom said as calm as he could as he tried to soak up as much blood on the cloth as he could. And from the look of the cloth, it seemed bad.

“They were in the middle of all of it. It started when we were just out! We were getting flowers for our apartment and then Dream and all of them showed up and they-“ Wilbur’s voice trailed off as he swallowed down sobs and cries. “They fucking made me watch. Watch as they hurt them, listen to their cries and pleads- Tom they fucking stabbed them! And I had to watch.” Wil’s voice got rough with anger and hopelessness lacing every word. Wilbur wanted to kill every person in that moment but he knew he needed to get to you first. You mattered more to him than any little thing he used to complain about.

“Jesus- ok. I need you to lift their head in your lap, yeah? They’re still breathing but it’s barely there, so if they wake up during this, they need to see you first thing.” Tom said to Wil as he took off the cloth from your stomach, now drenched in blood. Wilbur nodded as he scooted up to your head and gently placed it in his lap as he ran his hands through your hair, wiping his tears when he could.

“C’mon love. You have to wake up. Please, for me.” Wil whispered to you as he lowered his forehead to rest against yours. Tears falling from his eyes as he spoke to you, half believing that you could hear him.

Tom tried his hardest to push through as he pressed his hands into your stomach again and again. Soon enough, his energy was down to the minimum and he didn’t want to risk anything. For him and Wil.

“Wil, it’s not work-“

“Keep going.”

“Wilbur-“

“Keep. Going.” Wil finally looked up to the blonde, eyes swollen and red from crying. Tom inhaled deeply and closed his eyes while he exhaled. Placing his hands back to the wound, he used all what he had left and maybe even more. Yes it would be hell to do anything for the next day or two but, it was worth it.

Soon before Tom was about to give up, Wil saw your hand move, just a little twitch but it was still something.

Grabbing it, he brought it to his lips and kissed it and rested his head against the cold palm.

“Please, love, just a little more. Please.” Wil whimpered out as he slowly saw Tom giving up. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go forever and he didn’t want him to risk himself for it. But, you being gone was something he didn’t want to imagine. And now, it was becoming reality.

“I’m sorry.” Tom whispered out in a whimper as he placed his hand over his mouth to stop sobs and tears from coming out.

After those words left Tommy’s mouth, Wil broke. Tears and sobs coming out freely, yells of anger and heartbreak filling the dead coffee shop. Wil placed his head on your chest as your limp hand was placed in his hair, silencing his cries into your red stained shirt that was once a pretty blue color he loved.

Without realizing, the hand in his hair twitched and slowly tightened its grip in the bed of the curly mess. Wil felt the once limp chest slowly go up and down in a slow rhythm that was familiar to him. Raising his head slowly, he looked over at you with wide eyes, full of shock and disbelief, and saw you with tired eyes and a small smile.

“Why are you crying?! Did you see a stray cat again?” You weakly said as Wil quickly wrapped you up his arms and cradled you into his chest.

“Holy- what- how?” Wilbur asked frantically as he cupped your face and examined you, not fully believing this was real.

“I have no clue. All I know was I woke up to you sobbing like a baby. So thank Tommy for that. Oh yeah, thanks for saving my life bud! I’ll repay you.” Tom just nodded with a smile of relief on his face as he got up and took the bloody rag from the floor, leaving you and Wil alone.

“I thought you were- well you know,”

“Dead? Gone for good? Too bad, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Especially if I haven’t even gotten those flowers yet!” You told him as slowly sat up and held your stomach that was now sore.

“You almost died and you’re still on about these flowers?!” Wil asked with an amused grin.

Leaning up, you pecked his lips with a smile and leant back just enough for you noses to touch.

“Mhm. Now c’mon! We gotta go home and get cleaned up, I’ll leave a fiver this time.”

(Again I’m so sorry the ending sucks!)

Taglist: @mysticalsoot (um I can’t find who was on my taglist so if I forgot you or if you want to be added, my dms are open or send me an ask!)

#lilly writes #wilbur soot #wilburfromlvjy #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur mcyt #wilbur x reader #mcyt x reader #sirenbur #william gold #will gold #x reader

[cgogs]

dear atlas, c!dnf | 4.7k | angst with a happy ending

@dreblrsecretsanta for @purpleglitch !! Sorry for the early upload, it's just that I'm about to be BEYOND busy for the holidays and figured I'd upload this now while I have time. I hope you enjoy it so much!! Happy holidays to you <3

Each step up the castle tower sends a razor-sharp, bone-deep bolt through Dream’s legs. It’s his boot’s fault, mostly. He’s been meaning to replace them, it’s just that every hour more important things are added to his to-do list. Mediate this conflict, protect George, meet with someone here, monitor status on this, go here, deliver that, and try not to die until the day’s itinerary is complete.

Shopping just isn’t a high priority, but he’s beginning to reconsider that sentiment. He really should just give in and invest in another horse, but it would probably just be killed within a month and they’re just far too expensive for that. 

His armor clinks quietly as he moves, uneven and exhausted. A small part of him alerts like a guard dog– straighten up, nobody can know you’re vulnerable, anyone could hear how hurt you are– but another painful step quiets the barking. He traps the groan behind his teeth.

Dream stops for a moment to lean against the wall, hand braced on where the candelabra fixture hooks into the stone. This spiral staircase is dearly kicking his ass, more so than usual. Without the climb to focus on or the pain to blur his vision, he has the opportunity to take in his surroundings.

The castle is quiet, quieter than usual, candles burning low and dripping on the floor. Moonlight cuts through the windows at an angle sharper than it should. 

Dream pulls his communicator from his belt to check the time, a curse slipping out under his breath as the numbers meet his eyes. It’s nearly three in the morning. He’s coming home late. Very late. They talked about this, Dream promised he’d try to get home earlier. 

Guilt settles thick in his gut, despite barely having the brainpower to feel much of anything at all other than exhaustion. He blows the stray hairs out of his eyes, chuffing like an annoyed horse.

Four nights ago, George had been waiting behind the door at the top of the tower. Dream knew he was in trouble before George even opened his mouth. He was holding a clock and asked Dream to guess how late it was. When he guessed wrong, George shoved it in his face, too close to even see the hands, and angrily proclaimed it was nearly one in the morning, and that Dream had been coming home at one in the morning every night the last week after spending all day ‘doing god knows what, who knows where.’

Dream had done his best to be earnest and honest, as much as he could be. If George had it his way and was privy to every little thing Dream did, he’d be stoned in the street or tied to a pyre. Dream’s not sure what events would bridge the gap between these two truths, but he knows it would happen.

He had told George he would try, but that he had so much to do this week. George was anxiously picking at his cuticles the way he did when he was thinking hard, and asked him to promise he wouldn’t come home later than this. Dream thought he’d be able to. And, yes, he’s sorry he broke his promise but… it’s all so important. So important.

He hadn’t meant to let time get away from him. He just had so much to do, and so many stupid things got in the way, Tubbo and Fundy, then Q… and he got in a scrape on his way back and it was all just so fucking stupid.

Guilt grows like a vine up his throat.

He’s sorry. He thinks about what he’s going to say, how he’ll explain himself. He can’t grip on a coherent sentence or script, eyelids heavy like mud, mind fuzzy, feet aching.

Maybe it’ll be fine. George will be asleep, and they can talk about it in the morning. He’ll open the door and see dark hair splayed over feather pillows, still as death. Dream will strip his armor and curl into his body and fit whatever position George fell asleep in, and he’s so excited for it. Though currently, he’s not sure which lover he’s looking forward to seeing more– the bed or the boy.

The last seven days have felt like seven years.

Wax drips onto his fingers. Wincing, he takes another painful step forward. Suddenly things like guilt and excitement were as far away and abstract as distant planets or stars. 

Dream nearly falls through the door when he reaches the summit. He catches his breath, straightens his posture, and prepares to get ready for bed without waking his king. 

He opens the door as quietly as possible. Thankfully, it squeals only a little bit. He tiptoes in, craning his head to look at the boy already fast asleep. He’s curled all the way to the edge of his side of the bed, back facing the door. Dream wonders if it means something. 

He unhooks his cloak first, folding it gently on the table in the middle of the room. It’s a large room that can fit a round dinner table, as well as bookcases and couches and a fireplace. The kinds of things George doesn’t appreciate as much as Dream thought he would.

The boots are next to go, then his sword and his axe, then armor one by one until he’s stripped to his pants and shirt. After a moment’s thought, he shucks off his pants. Shirt and boxers. He looks at the bed and practically salivates, not even thinking to bother with changing his bandages. He sets his comm on the bedside table and attempts to lift a leg to climb in.

Dream’s legs wobble and give out as soon as he leans his weight on the bed. He collapses onto his side, a symphony of pained noises trapped behind the cage of his teeth. He looks up, wide-eyed, to see if he’s woken his Sleeping Beauty. George remains still as a corpse. 

He rather pathetically pulls himself up to spoon him, arm laying limply over George’s side. A sigh of utter relief slides out of his lungs as his chest decompresses. It’s relief like an ice bath in the desert or hot soup in the snow.

The bed is soft on his aching body, George’s sweatpants soft on his bare, bruised legs. Dream drags his calves to tangle with his, allowing himself a relieved whimper into the crook of George’s neck. He sometimes teases George for dressing like he’s living in constant winter, but really he wouldn’t change it for the world. It means soft hugs when he drags his miserable body into bed at the end of the day. If he didn’t wear his sweaters, George wouldn’t be able to cradle his head in his sleeves when he’s bleeding, and Dream wouldn’t be able to bite down on the thick fabric when he had to scream. 

He feels the tension in his body slowly unwind. Every breath has him sinking further and further into the mattress, a taut string slowly, slooowly let to rest. He pulls George closer, hooking his arm tighter around his waist. If he wasn’t used to it it might feel a little like cuddling a corpse. 

That dog in the back of his mind starts growling again. Telling him to check, check, check. 

Dream obliges since it’s a simple request, and he knows he’ll never be able to sleep otherwise. He slides his fingers down George’s arm to find his wrist, pressing on his pulse point. It takes a few adjustments, but he finds that steady beating pressing against the pads of his fingers. Alive. Safe. The last requirement needed to sleep is fulfilled. Dream sighs, nuzzling his head against George’s neck, hand still loosely wrapped around the bone of George’s wrist. 

The midnight air is clear and cool. Dream is warm and holding the love of his life. Nothing outside that horrible wooden door matters here. Nothing else matters. No blood, no bone, no war. Just George.

That is, until he hears the unmistakable sound of his communicator buzzing against the table behind him. Dream ignores it at first, but it comes again and again. His eyebrows knit in frustration. He buries his nose further into the dark space between George’s neck and the pillow, like he could outrun the nagging in the back of his mind. 

It vibrates again, breaking Dream’s resolve. He groans miserably, more than half asleep, as he untangles himself to reach back for the comm. His vision is blurry with sleep, making it near impossible to read the screen until he’s blinked a dozen times. The light of the screen shines too bright for how dark it is. He uses a hand to shield George’s direction so it won’t wake him.

It’s Punz. Punz, in code, telling him he’s finished the reconnaissance he’d been told to do two days ago. Updates on the pet experiments, no luck yet. Their theory about the revive book being exclusive to human souls is seeming more and more solid, but that’s not something he wants to be thinking about at the moment. 

<Dream> thkx

<Dream> domt text me this lat e

He fumbles the buttons, accidentally sending Punz a string of gibberish before giving up entirely on typing a coherent goodbye. He’s about to throw the device down and shove his nose back into the crook of George’s neck when the body next to him begins to tremble.

Dream stares for a moment, wondering if he’s hallucinating from lack of sleep. Then there’s a hiccup, followed by two sharp breaths, both so quiet Dream would have missed them if he wasn’t holding his breath. 

“George?” Dream whispers, voice wrecked from all the yelling he’d done today. He drops the comm on the bed so he can lay his full hand on George’s shoulder. He could be having a nightmare, but he’s not sure. All he knows is that he wants to fix it. “George?”

George gives up on keeping it in and starts crying honestly. Whiny but guttural, more hurt than angry– but it’s with his teeth, not throat. Dream sits up in bed, the exhaustion that had been possessing him instantly chased away. 

“B–by?” Dream whispers, word cracked in two from his shredded voice. “What’s wrong?”

He feels like an idiot trying to catch something that’s about to fall, chasing it around with his arms outstretched. He wants to fix this, but doesn’t know how. George is mad, he can tell, but he’s hugging himself, and that isn’t something George does when he’s mad. It’s something he does when he’s scared. 

“You’re safe.” Dream rubs his arm, pushes those beautiful brown curls out of his face, watches the tears fall over the bridge of his nose. “I’m right here.”

“Why’d’you– why’d you lie to me?” George says, strangled. He seems to decide crying is stupid and embarrassing, because he furiously wipes at his eyes. “Why are you always lying to me?”

Dream bites his lip anxiously. The same guilt from the hallway lacquers his insides again. 

“I didn’t– I’m– I didn’t lie. I lost track of time. I’m sorr–”

“You’re lying to me.” George sits up, eyes red and stubborn. He’s pulling his thoughts together to form an argument, Dream can see the gears turning. “You’re hiding things.” 

“I’m, that– okay, just. What am I lying about?”

“Where you go all day!” George has grabbed a pillow to hug, rocking himself back and forth. Dream thinks, briefly, that he looks cute. He wants to hold him, but the way they’re sitting is classic parley formation, facing each other with crossed legs, knees touching. Neither of them can cross the middle line until the argument is over. That’s just how they do things. “I don’t– I don’t know exactly what, but…”

“I’m not lying to you about where I go. I have a lot of projects, and I’m helping–”

“I know. I know. Helping, helping, helping. Fingers in a lot of pies.” George puts up an honorable fight against the wetness in his voice, still furiously wiping his tears. The skin under his eyes has turned an irritated pink. “But why? Why do you have to do so much? You’re my knight. I’m your king. You should be with me.”

George has a way of shooting arrows straight through him. Dream rubs his eyes as the words dig into his gut. His voice sounds defeated already. “I can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Dream. Like, I– I just don’t understand…”

“Yeah, you don’t.” His voice breaks and turns quiet halfway through, like he could’ve softened the blow.  He doesn’t know why he said that. He’s just tired of this same argument, over and over. It’ll be over soon. So soon. He wishes George would just believe him.

George’s expression screws into desperation, fingers digging into his pillow. “Then tell me! Just, tell me, Dream. I’m not– stupid, I can understand things. I’m not stupid.”

It’s not that Dream is angry. It’s just that he’s tired beyond tired and this is the only time of the day he doesn’t have to wear his armor. The one room where nothing else matters but the people who occupy it. He burrows his head in his hands. 

“Why don’t you trust me, Dream? Did I do something wrong?”

“Why don’t you trust me? Why don’t you just–” 

“Because I can’t even trust you to keep a super simple promise! I’m– you can’t expect me to just, like, be fine with never getting to see you.”

“Well maybe if you tried to be king even a little bit, I wouldn’t have to go do all your shit for you.”

George damn near barks, sharp and angry. Dream watches his mouth form the beginning of a thousand different sentences, hands clenching into fists before his expression breaks entirely. His angry grimace turns into a quivering frown, eyes wet with fear, voice pitched and tight.

“Are you cheating on me?”

Dream feels like he’s swallowed a bucket of ice. His back straightens as he shoots up. Instantly, he regrets antagonizing him. He doesn’t know why he said that. He’s lined with dog teeth.

“No! What? Absolutely not.” He wants to break the rules to touch him. So he does. His side stings as he leans to brush his fingers against George’s knuckles. “Never.”

Whatever angry force of nature George had been channeling before is dying now, Dream can see it fading in his eyes. Fading into some kind of relief. Maybe it was the reassurance, or the touch, but something is pacified.

“Did someone tell you that? Or make a joke?” He knows people don’t have many kind things to say about him these days. George picks at his cuticles, rocking slightly. Dream rocks with him a bit, too.

“No. I guess. Not really…” He sniffles. There’s a stiff silence. Dream searches his eyes, trying to read his mind. “I’m sorry. I’m just crazy.”

“What happened?”

“I just really wanted you to come home tonight. I stayed up.” George shrugs hopelessly, looking anywhere that isn’t Dream. “You have to understand from my perspective. I never see you, and then when I do see you you get into bed and start texting someone else. This isn’t the only time it’s happened.”

“It was just Punz,”

“I don’t care. I don’t care. Not, not my point.” George stresses, “you swore you’d be my knight but you don’t even. Knight. And I guess it’s whatever because I don’t really king either. But I… miss you. I miss you.”

Dream doesn’t know what to say. He opens and closes his mouth like an idiot fish, trying to find a way to comfort him but not make a promise he can’t keep. George waits for it. It never comes. They both feel it when the other gives up on a solution. Defeat on both sides. 

They look at the sheets silently. Their knees rub together. Moonlight makes the room glow, lines the edges of George’s hair in silver.

His voice is small when he speaks next. “Where were you tonight?”

Dream was going to lie so he wouldn’t worry him, but. “I had some trouble with monsters. I got pinned down in the forest. I’m sorry.”

George scoffs. Somehow, Dream knows the frustration isn’t directed at him. “Oh my god. That’s not even your fault.”

“I don’t know. I could have texted you or something. I’m sorry I kept you up.”

George wipes his nose with the edge of his pillow. Dream would think it was gross if it was anyone else. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I’m not around. I want to be. This, it’ll all be over soon. Things will settle down.”

“Does it have to be you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

George nods weakly. He knows he won’t get a better answer. Dream doesn’t have a better one to give him. He’s too tired. 

“And you’re not cheating on me?”

“You are the prettiest thing in the whole world. I’d be an idiot.” He doesn’t know if flattery will get him far, but he can see the corners of George’s mouth flicker, and that’s enough. “You’re the only one that would put up with me anyway.”

“Why is your voice so messed up?” George lays his pillow back down on the bed. His legs unfold and he moves to lay back down. Dream wants to scoot closer, but thinks twice. There’s a moonbeam shining there. He doesn’t want George to see his legs. 

“Screamed a lot.”

“Why?”

“Scaring people to cut their shit out.”

“Mmh.”

This is George’s script for end-of-day. It doesn’t have a lot of heart this time. Dream is realizing it never truly did. He feels bad. George lays his hand in the empty space, beckoning him to come forward or lay down. Dream doesn’t move. He sucks in a breath.

“Are you okay? Did… Dream, are you hurt?”

He’s an idiot for thinking he could keep it from George, of all people. But he didn’t want to worry him.

“Uh. Well, yeah. But it’s okay. I promise. I already treated it.” Dream knows this won’t work. He tries to lay down, legs twitching through the pain. George clocks it immediately, propping himself up on his forearms.

“Show me.” 

It’s not a request. So, Dream does. He pulls his legs into the light in all their bruised glory. His foot, the one that was giving him the most trouble, is a far deeper shade of purple than he anticipated. 

George runs his fingers over each bruise, marble white and cold as stone. His expression is stone. He must spot a hint of bandage from under Dream’s shirt, because his eyes flit from his bruises to his side, and Dream knows the jig is up.

“I promise it’s okay. I promise, George.” Not that his promises mean anything. 

George must think so too. He ignores him in favor of gently pulling up his shirt, spying the blood soaked bandages wrapped around his middle. Dream hisses when the fabric of his shirt catches on the gauze. George frowns.

“Why would you let me just yell at you for being late? You should have told me.” 

“To be fair. I was late.”

“To be fair. You were wounded. You literally got jumped.” 

George gives it an apologetic look, tracing the blood stains with the tips of his fingers. Guilt doesn’t look good on him, but Dream doesn’t know how to fix it. 

“Change those first thing when you wake up.” George sets his shirt back in place. He gently tugs on Dream’s neck to lay down. Nothing sounds better. “And don’t jump around and stuff.”

“I know.”

They curl up together, noses nearly pressing. It’s faint in the dark, but Dream can see the pitiable expression on his face. Thin, cold fingers come to rest on Dream’s jaw. Dream holds his hip in return. Equal and fair, reciprocated and even. George searches his eyes for an anchor, something to respond to. He just looks sadder and sadder as the minutes press on.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I just miss you.”

It’s hard for Dream to whisper back. “I miss y–u too.”

“Do you really?”

“This is my favorite part of the day. Getting to hold you. ‘N be held by you.”

The fingers on his jaw twitch. George’s thumbs cradle his face. Dream watches his face carefully. Though he knows every curve and edge and nasty imperfection of George’s being, it only hits him in moments like this just how much he has to protect. The whole world fits in the curve of his arms. The whole world has a kiss like a nine-volt battery and fury like a god. The whole world waits for him to come home every day, hoping he’s in one piece. Dream wonders if the world knows he’s trying to save it. 

“I love you.” George whispers, barely tethered to the waking world. Maybe he realized he hadn’t said it when they were fighting, or after they decided to stop fighting. Maybe it's the last thing he thinks before going to sleep, and the first thing he thinks in the morning. Maybe it was coating the back of his throat like Dream’s guilt coats his, and he just had to tell him.

“I’m sorry.” Dream kisses him. “I love you.”

George falls asleep with tear tracks that have just barely dried. Dream wipes them away with his thumbs, admiring how peaceful he looks. 

Dream sleeps like the dead, but wakes with the dawn no matter what. He lingers in the warmth for a while before the sun’s light is too much to bear. Properly waking up to pain first thing in the morning is beginning to be a more and more common occurrence. His legs pulse with every beat of his heart, and his side isn’t much better. There’s a few droplets of blood on the sheets, which is what finally gets him to untangle himself from the mess of limbs that snaked around him in the night. 

George stirs lightly, but it’s unlikely he’ll truly wake before eight. Dream gently tugs at the arms around his neck, and they retract with a sleepy, confused mumble.

“I have to change these bandages.” Dream whispers against his temple. 

George makes an agreeable noise before moving to hug his pillow instead. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Dream spends the morning planning his mental itinerary. But also, redressing his wounds, and trying to figure out what to do with his legs. Salve, maybe. A healing potion, but he’s running low and wants to save them for an emergency. Besides, he took a few sips when it happened. It should be fine.

He’s supposed to get up now and meet with Punz. And then work on the book, and then go here and do this, and patrol that. But his legs just won’t move. 

He thinks, maybe for one day, he can spend it doing nothing. Besides, he actually is wounded. He does need to recoup. It’s not an excuse, yeah?

He wants to make it up to George. He’s not much of a romantic, and really he sucks shit at being a boyfriend, but he knows one thing that always makes George smile. The big toothy kind that makes his cheeks pink. He wants to see it before he has to get back to work.

Dream leaves a note on his side of the bed telling him that when he wakes up he should go to the hill outside. The one with the big tree.

Dream hobbles himself to the florist. He hopes that with his mask and baggy clothes, Niki won’t notice his limping. A dozen red roses. By the time he’s gotten there and halfway back, he’s convinced himself he’s walked off his bruising. 

Under the oak tree on the hill overlooking the castle, Dream spies a red cape blowing in the wind, and the glint of gold. The person faraway raises a hand over their eyes to peer, then uses his entire arm to wave at him hugely. It makes Dream laugh. 

They hurry to meet each other. George just seems excited to see him, like he always seems to be, except late at night when he’s already too angry. George doesn’t leave the shade, but he holds out his hands for Dream to take so he can pull him up the hill. Dream gives him one arm, the other holding the bouquet behind his back. 

“Wow. You’re actually in the sun. I never see that.”

“I got you something. I’m, uh, making it up to you.”

George pauses, wide eyed, trying to lean to see what’s behind his back. 

“It’s not a puppy, right?”

“What? No. What? Why would I get you a puppy?” Dream keeps turning to keep him from seeing. He can feel his own smile cracking his face. 

“I don’t know, I got scared! Now gimme.” George tries to blindly reach behind him. Dream grabs his wrist and pulls him close, wrapping an arm around his waist. George smiles at him smugly.

“Not even a thank you or anything?”

“I don’t know what it is yet, idiot. You haven’t given it to me.” George’s busy hands settle for pushing his mask up, instead. The breeze feels cool on the light layer of sweat that’s formed on his forehead. George smiles warmly at his face. It’s a smile Dream doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. But not the exact one he’s aiming for.

Dream’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Ohh, you want me to give it to you? Here? Outside??”

“Oh, shut up! Show me. I demand it. As your king.” He tilts his head regally, crown glinting in the light that’s casted through the leaves. Dream almost forgets they ever had a fight at all.

Dream pulls the flowers from behind his back and presses them to George’s chest. He tries to give him a smile with it, but knows it probably looks a bit forced. George doesn’t seem to notice at all, face erupting into a smile nearly immediately. The smile. Dream can’t help but stare.

Dream thinks this must be what sunbathing is meant to feel like.

“Dream! I love it. I looove it.” George hugs them close, still beaming. Dream thinks he understands religion. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Huh? Oh. I’m sucking up.”

George laughs. Takes a brief break, then laughs again. “You’re so stupid.”

“I wanted to cheer you up.” Dream rubs his thumb on his side idly, soaking in the feeling. 

“You derailed your whole day just to get me flowers?”

“Uhhh, well. I canceled my whole day to recover from my grievous wounds. My life threatening injuries. Oh no. “ Dream spins them a bit dramatically, just to make George laugh. There’s a few rose petals on the ground.

“Oh, you need someone to kiss it bett– wait, really?”

“Yeah, really. Hey, what was that you were offering just now?”

“You’re not doing anything today?”

Dream shakes his head. George’s face lights up. 

“Stay!” He blurts, “You should stay. Stay here. With me. I’ll kiss the stupid boo-boos better.”

“I don’t have anywhere better to be.” Dream shrugs, casual, aloof. “And I like kisses. Sure.”

Unexpectedly, lips crash into his. All of George’s weight crashes into him, really. Arms snake around his neck, and he tries to support them both before he realizes George is trying to make them fall. He goes limp, letting George tackle him into the grass. George is still kissing him. He pulls Dream’s neck to the side, which Dream allows because he hadn’t realized they were on the edge of the hill.

He yells into George’s mouth as they go tumbling, wrapping his arms around George’s head to make sure he doesn’t hit it. Someone is laughing, maybe both of them, as they spin and spin and spin and leave a trail of petals behind. 

The world finally comes to a stop with George cradled on top of him, gloved hand still covering the back of his head. 

George sits up, looming over Dream’s face, laughing like the whole world is laughing with him. Dream might have gotten the wind knocked out of him. The sun is eclipsed by George’s hair, a halo hanging behind him. His actual crown has probably rolled further away, but neither of them can care about such stupid things when there’s so much in front of them. 

Dream breaks the mirage to sit up and kiss him. Then kiss him again. There’s a buzzing in his back pocket, but it’s tomorrow’s problem. 

Today, the world loves red roses and fits in the curve of his arms.

#c!dnf #my writing

[2-sleepy-for-this]

A Father’s Love

I got this prompt a bit ago from @lycaclientt ! I always love some good ol’ found family and angst so here’s a little one shot about it!

also I’ve been pretty busy lately so my next writing pieces (chapters for something to remember and our little brother) may take longer than expected to come out but have this while you wait! :)

tw ~ misunderstanding, grabbing, unintentional fear play, talk of humans, angst (it gets better tho)

word count ~ 1.5k

“IM NOT LIKE YOU, IM HUMAN!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fundy knew that he’d never had a normal childhood. He didn’t even have a family until Wilbur had found him when he was five. Of course, that didn’t make his life any more normal. 

Wilbur was a borrower.

Fundy didn’t care about that, though. Wilbur was still his father, even if he could fit in the palm of his hand.

It had all started when the thunderstorm did. Years ago, there was a thunderstorm that scared him so badly that he had left the safety of his box in an alleyway and tried to find some form of shelter from this terrifying storm.

Eventually, he had stumbled into an old abandoned house. It was easy to sneak into when the door was falling off its hinges already. Rain pelted against the cracked windows as Fundy tried finding any place in the house to muffle the sounds blaring in his sensitive ears. He had passed the kitchen and dining room. They were too open, too many windows showcasing the sudden blasts of light outside. 

Fundy ended up stopping in the living room and huddling up on the old dusty couch. It looked rat infested with holes in the fabric and foam, but he couldn’t complain.

He fell asleep after a few minutes but he could’ve never expected what happened next. 

Apparently, once he’d gone to sleep, a large colony of borrowers came from the walls. They didn’t seem to react so kindly when they noticed a human walking around their safe haven.

Later in his life, Fundy would hear about how eager his colony was to get rid of him back then. Luckily, one borrower in the colony thought differently.

Wilbur soot.

His father.

Not biologically, of course, but as soon as Wilbur saw the scruffy, dirty human child, he fell in love and knew he couldn’t let anything happen to him. 

From that day forward, Fundy became part of the colony. Well, at least to Wilbur, he was. Everyone else didn’t like him very much, either completely untrusting or scared of him.

However, once they realized how valuable he was, able to do things more efficiently and faster than any borrower, more of the colony accepted him.

Even as a child, Fundy was able to farm in the backyard easily because of his size.

Even over a decade later, Fundy was able to farm easily because of his size. But he didn’t want to.

Can you blame him? It just got so boring after a few years. 

When Wilbur gave him one of the rooms in the old house and helped him get clean and have food, Fundy started to look like an average kid.

Eventually, he found a school and friends, just like a normal kid. Everything was how he dreamed it would be.

Until he went home.

Home to his colony in an old house where he had to do his chores, gardening and doing whatever else they couldn’t do just because he was human.

It was fine, though. Until Wilbur grounded him for seeing his friends.  

All he wanted to do was go out with his friends so when Wilbur said no for no reason, he snuck out, let any other teenager would! 

Wilbur found out when he’d been seen sneaking into his bedroom window and made the colony think there was an intruder. The leaders were very angry that the colony was put on lockdown for a false human intrusion. But nothing compared to how Wilbur felt.

He was angry, Fundy could tell just by his posture, and the stern look on his face confirmed it.

His dad tried yelling at him, scolding him for risking himself and scaring the colony… it only heated up from there.

“We’ll it’s not like I have to try hard to scare the colony.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Fundy?”

“I mean, look at me! I don’t belong here. "

“Of course you do. You’re my son. "

“I’m only here because I’m useful! Otherwise I would’ve been thrown out years ago!”

“That’s not true… I wanted you to be my son because I love you. It doesn’t matter what your size is…”

Wilbur started to get nervous. In all the years Fundy had been with him, he’d never acted out like this. Wilbur watched as Fundy crossed his arms, subconsciously moving closer to his small father, looming over him. Wilbur…

Wilbur was scared.

Scared of his son.

Scared of what his son could do to him.

“Fundy…I-I think you should go to your room… to calm down. "

Fundy didn’t listen.

“It does matter what my size is, I’m not a borrower, dad! I’m not part of the colony!”

Fundy moved closer, only a few inches from Wilbur, before he bent down and reached for his father, looking so small compared to his hand.

“I’m what the colony is supposed to hide from!”

Wilbur felt the giant fingers wrap around his waist as his son lifted him off the ground.

Fundy pulled his father inches from his face.

“IM NOT LIKE YOU, IM HUMAN!”

Wilbur flinched hard at his loud voice. Fundy could feel the fluttering of his small heart against his fingertips. 

Fundy looked down at his father, struggling helplessly in his hand, and his eyes widened.

“D-dad?”

Wilbur’s eyes snapped to his. They were full of fear while his struggles continued.

Then Fundy realized… in all the years that he’s been with the colony, he’s never held a borrower before, and the feeling of holding his father’s life in his hands made him realize just how small he really was.

“Fundy, p-please put me down.”

His father pleaded with him, and a wave of guilt and remorse crashed into him. He slowly lowered Wilbur to the ground, watching him stumble back as soon as he was set on even ground.

Fundy opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He didn’t know what he could say.

The only thing Fundy could think to do in that moment was stand to his full height and walk to his room, closing the door behind him.

It took Wilbur a few minutes to calm himself down, but soon he was walking to Fundy’s door. He’s ashamed to say he hesitated to ring the bell that announced Fundy of his presence.

Fundy’s door opened but not to the terrifying human Wilbur expected to see… instead it was his son, teary-eyed and seeming smaller than Wilbur ever thought he could be. Like he was a little scared homeless kid again.

Wilbur’s heart melted at the sight, beckoning him closer as Fundy leaned down, kneeling on the floor to hear what his father came to say.

“Fundy…”

There was a slight waver in his voice when he spoke and Fundy caught it, his shoulders dropping more.

“Come here… you’re okay,”

Wilbur reached his arms up in the air, not unlike a toddler asking to be picked up. Fundy was confused but very carefully scooped his father up in an open palm, as if waiting for a protest.

When none came, he slowly brought his hand closer to his chest until Wilbur reached out and grabbed at the fabric of his shirt.

To any normal human, it would just look like a teenager holding his hand to his chest, but looking closer, you’d see a purring borrower cupped carefully in shaking hands, holding onto the fabric of a baggy band shirt like his life depended on it. 

“I-I’m so sorry, dad”

“I know… it’s okay, I’m right here… I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Fundy seemed to shake more at that. He’d acted out and almost hurt him. He’d yelled at him and grabbed him… yet his father seemed completely relaxed in his hands now, held against his chest.

Tears fell from his eyes as he squeezed his hand to his chest so very gently to press his father closer to himself… he’s never hugged Wilbur before, there was always a slight barrier between them, always slightly distant, shying from each others touch.

But now, being so close, both of them thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad… maybe they’d have to do this more often.

Slowly Fundy drifted off while leaning against the wall, still holding Wilbur in his hands. Soon after Wilbur saw this, he too closed his eyes and slept, head resting against where he could feel his son’s heartbeat.

It was the best both of them had slept in a long time, and if Wilbur started going to Fundy’s room before bed after that, no one said anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ hope you enjoyed, it was bit hard to write since there was so many ways it could’ve gone but I’m happy with how it turned out :D

#giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t #mcyt g/t #tiny!wilbur #t!wilbur #giant!fundy #g!fundy #We love angst #And fluff too #…sometimes #<3

[the-final-sif]

re: the dreblr shipping poll, here's a list of my c!Dream ships off the top of my head. I'm not a big shipper when it comes to the stuff I create, just 'cause I tend to focus on platonic stuff. But in general, I tend to be cool with any ship as long as the story/idea surrounding it is interesting, but there are some dynamics that I think are more interesting than others.

c!Dream x c!George (c!dnf) - Both very fucked up & I love that for them. Great h/c potential, most likely of the c!Dream ships to end up canon. Let cc!Dream have his villain boyfriends he deserves them! >:(

c!Dream x c!Sapnap (c!dreamnap) - Excellent angst, very funny if they end up together post-prison b/c c!Quackity just cannot get a break. Lots of interesting dynamics throughout their storylines.

c!Dream x c!Fundy - Shortlived but very funny, I enjoy this ship but I also like them as really awkward exes. Becomes 5x funnier with c!Wilbur being Fundy's dad.

c!Dream x c!Punz - It's them against the world!!! I like them no matter what dynamic they have, but I do think romantic has some excellent angst in there, and a good deal of comedy.

c!Dream x c!Techno (c!Dreamnoblade) - The concept of these two idiots managing to get into a romantic relationship is absolutely absurd. 10/10 for miscommunication potential, with an added bonus of the rest of the server's reaction.

c!Dream x c!Wilbur (c!Dreambur) - Lots of great routes this can go, from angst, to horror / thriller, to the amazing humor of c!Tommy finding out his brother has decided to get with c!Dream. Great dynamic, excited for it to be confirmed they canonically fucked and for cc!Wilbur to say their relationship is open to interpretation and that the sex was a part of both of their character's competitive nature.

c!Dream x c!Quackity - Excellent horror / thriller pair, fucked up no matter how you look at it. I want to see them ruin each other.

c!Dream x c!Sam (c!Awesamdream) - Hey cc!Sam? Hey. Hey. Hey cc!Sam? Why does your character want to own men so badly? Why was there glass? Why scrapbook? Please explain the words you've said. I have. Questions. Thoughts. The general desire to kinkshame. Good dynamic 10/10.

c!Dream x DreamXD - Listen, DreamXD is canonically a god who liked Dream's look enough to steal it. Their relationship is incredibly weird, and I cannot think of anything funnier than finding out XD has a crush on the guy he's kinning.

c!Dream x c!Philza (c!Dreamza) - The beauty of this ship was recently introduced to me by the dreblr poll itself. The sheer comedy of c!Wilbur needing to emotionally deal with c!Dream being his new step-dad, to say nothing of anyone else's reaction, makes this the best ship on the list. I don't even need them to actually be dating, I just need the server to be convinced they're dating. I've broken down laughing about this idea 4 times now. Absolute gold.

#dsmp #dream smp #dreblr #c!dream #sif speaks #my headcanons #also to be clear in c!dreamza c!kristen is still ther #shes just busy in the death world and probably set this situation up for her own amusement

[ikeavrouw]

Yan!C!Fundy x GN!Reader

Summary: Just as always, you’re walking through the park to clear your mind from the stress that work brings you. When you’re doing this, however, you quickly find a sobbing young adult sitting by the lake in the park, trying to hide away from anybody else. And you, the good-hearted person you are, can’t help but sit down with him to see if you can offer your aid in any way, unaware of the feelings this mere action sparks. 

Genre: Comfort, angst

Words: 3.9K

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, (mentions of) stalking, unhealthy relationship with parents, hint of age gap between c!Fundy and reader.

Pronouns: you/yours, they/them

Request: [YES]/[NO]

AU: More Realistic AU (Or however I should call this)

Enjoy!

By the Lakeside

The sun shines through the leaves of the trees, lighting the grass on the ground beautifully. The alluring melodies of the birds only calm you more, giving you the much needed distraction from life. 

You’ve always liked wandering through nature, so living close to the best park in your region, has always been a nice addition to your current living space. 

With your hands in the pockets of your pants, you breathe in the pure fall air, the dark clouds above you only letting the sun through as it’s already predicting the rain that will fall soon. You do realize that it’s a lot more lonely to walk around here ever after you always had a partner to work with, but your solitude is welcoming as well. 

While you keep wandering, your mind trailing off as well, rain drops already start falling down when you approach the lake that will forever hold a place in your heart. It’s very usual for you to come here. What is not usual, however, is the sound of sobbing coming with it. 

Curiosity and empathy taking over your heart, you come closer to the source of the crying, where you quickly find a young adult sitting with his knees up to his face, hiding the tears that are flowing down his cheeks. There’s such a familiar image to see, yet you don’t dare to think of the day you sat in this same spot, hoping for someone to save you. 

The boy, who you assume to be at least ten years younger than you are, is not aware of your presence at first, until you walk away from the original path to sit next to him in the bushes, almost hidden away from the world as well. The breaking branches catch his attention as his head snaps upwards, his eyes widening as he looks at you suspiciously. 

“Who are you?” he stutters, trying to wipe away the tears quickly in the hopes that you didn’t see him crying. He’s not someone who wants people to know he’s upset enough to let the tears leave his eyes, after all. Living with a neglectful, narcissistic father and an emotionally absent, alcoholic mother does that to you. Fundy’s entire life, he’s been told to just suck it up. And thus, that’s all he’s been doing. The only moments he’s ever cried, has been the moments he was alone. Whether he was sitting in his room or in the nearby park at the lake, where nobody has ever bothered him: he’s always done it alone. 

So, seeing a stranger come to him while he’s letting it all go for once, is quite new to him, to say the least. And in a way, it’s also giving him an anxiety he doesn’t recognize. 

“The name’s Y/N,” you say with a gentle smile as you hold out your hand for him to shake. When you see that he doesn’t trust you enough - which, in your opinion, only makes sense and you cannot judge him for whatsoever - you put it in your pocket again as you tilt your head at him. “I heard you crying, so I thought I’d check up on you.”

Fundy looks at you, a stranger, with expected suspicion in his eyes. You sit a bit further away from him, assuming that he's feeling uncomfortable with you being so close already, but it instead seems to offend him. He doesn't admit it though. "Fundy."

"Hm?"

"Fundy. My name is Fundy." Fundy wipes away some more of his tears and you nod at him with another faint smile.

"Pleasure meeting you Fundy. Do you come here often? You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, by the way!"

Fundy looks away from your friendly eyes. "Sometimes. Why?"

"Just asking," you say with a shrug. For a short moment, the two of you sit there in silence, until you continue. "Do you want to talk about what upset you? We don't have to, but if it's bothering you, you can tell me. I might be a mere stranger, but telling someone may help." You're not asking for his life story, of course, but to Fundy, it does seem like a burden to just tell you what makes him feel so shitty. After all, what are you getting out of this?

"Just my dad being a dick," he lets out a sigh as he looks away. "I recently moved out and he's making a big fucking deal about it." Much to his parents' dismay, he got hired at a bakery of a family member's friend he met at university. Sure, he could be doing something with his education, but he has no passion for law whatsoever. Now, he isn't passionate about baking either, but it does piss his parents off, so it is good for something. Only problem is that now that he's moved out, his father insists on visiting him and just spending time with him, something he's refused to do when Fundy was an actual child, always prioritising his job in politics over his own son.

"Parents can be a lot, can't they?" you laugh and Fundy shakes his head right away.

"That's the thing. Never has Dad paid any attention to me, but now I'm leaving, he suddenly wants to be a father. And honestly, my mother isn't any better. She's trying to change my mind too, but she's being less fake about it, at least."

"Damn, I'm sorry to hear that. I first assumed you were still in your teenager rebellious phase, or something," you joke, lightening the mood just like you attempted to do and Fundy growls, although it's not meant in a hostile way whatsoever.

"I'm in my 20s, I'm not a child anymore."

"Yeah, my bad," you laugh and Fundy smiles to himself, although he doesn't dare showing this. Fundy is still looking at you through the corners of his eyes, while you continue speaking. "You want to know something? I used to come here a lot as well, whenever I just needed to stand back and think. When I was younger, I had a couple of arguments with a friend of mine. They were honestly quite childish and neither of us were brave enough to admit we just had some problems we couldn't really deal with, if that makes sense. So, whenever we had an argument like that, I'd do the same as you: I came here and cried my eyes out. And yes, I was a teenager and a young one at that, but age doesn't really say anything, since I might as well have been an adult. Only thing is that once we both resolved those problems, or rather when I discovered that he had a hard time at home, I felt bad for him, you know?"

"What did you do after that?"

"I made it obvious that my anger issues weren't meant for him, whenever I actually hurt him in one way or another. Now that I think of it, I suppose my age did matter in this case, since I was still open to learning and growing. Or at least, a lot more than older people nowadays are." As much as your comment is meant to be taken as a joke, Fundy can find some truth in it.

"What are you trying to tell me with that?" Fundy asks, looking over at the helpful stranger that is you, and you chuckle.

"It's okay to cry and be upset, but don't let it consume you, I suppose. Life is full of surprises. I mean, that friend I used to argue with? I'm still besties with him now. One time I cried here, when I was just a little younger than you, after the death of a family member, and I met an amazing person who ended up becoming a lot more than I thought we would ever become, especially since she first was a simple stranger as well, just like me." As soon as you say that, Fundy starts repeating the words in his mind as he already starts overthinking them. The rain starts pouring down now, the sounds filling his ears and being a little too loud to his liking. You seem to notice this. As you let out a small laugh, Fundy looks away from you and you put your hand on his shoulder. It's a careful movement, probably a hesitant one as well, and you apologize softly. "What about we bring you home, huh? I have an umbrella, you can borrow it if you want to."

And there it is again. That kindness. That welcoming sweetness he hasn't seen in anyone else up till now. "Why?" he asks, almost stuttering. "Why are you doing this? What are you getting out of this?"

You look confusedly at him, surprised by the uncertainty in his voice as you're already standing up, knowing you'll get your hands dirty in the mud if you stay there for too long. "I don't think I'm getting anything out of this," you comment nonchalantly, shrugging as you already opening your umbrella, holding it above your and Fundy's head, who's still sitting in the leaves. "I mean, if God wants to reward me, I'll accept anything in cash, but I'm pretty sure that's not the case."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to understand. Come on, stand up, before your pants get all wet and muddy." You hold out your hand for him to take, unaware of the butterflies that emerge in his stomach, and he takes it so you can help him up. "I'll just give you the umbrella, by the way. Need a shower anyway."

"You can come with me, if you want to," Fundy mumbles, avoiding eye contact and you look at him surprisedly.

"You sure? I'm okay with it, but my house isn't far from here. And I don't have the time to stay or anything, so I really don't want to make you feel obligated to invite me or something."

"No, it's okay, really."

So, after this interaction, you and Fundy walk towards his house so you can make sure he gets home safely. The entire walk to his destination, he glances at you curiously, analyzing every single detail of your face. There's a comfort to find in your eyes which he cannot explain. There's love that you are able to give; all the love that he's missed throughout his life. The love and care that his parents should've given him, but they didn't have the time nor will to even give him as much as a smile.

And you did this with no problem.

It's something Fundy doesn't think he'll ever understand, and he's too nervous to admit it to you. He's scared he'll drive you away if he tells you about the quiet feelings he's developed for a stranger, feelings which he's never genuinely felt for someone before. Maybe at school, but never this strong. Never this present. Never this loud.

"It seems like this is where our paths part, Fundy," you say with a grateful smile on your face. "It was nice meeting you. I hope your family won't be too... bothersome. May you have a prosperous and good life."

"We can stay in contact, though, can't we?" Fundy asks, thinking of reasons that could give him the opportunity to see you again, but you just laugh at that.

"I'd love to, but it's unlikely I'll actually be able to keep talking to you and whatnot. And I think that you'll also lead a busy life once you've found the job of your dreams. That, and I think that it's smarter to find friends that are closer to your age." Fundy tries to convince you, but you seem to have made up your mind. With a sigh, you put your hand in your pocket and give him a card with your name on it, along with an e-mail address. "Here. If you really need to talk to me, you can send a mail to my professional e-mail address. But please, only when it's really necessary, okay?"

"Thank you," Fundy says, disappointed, but still proud to have more of your personal information.

--------

The sound of the water cooking overpowers the talking of Fundy's parents in the living room, who are discussing the, according to them, 'surprising' change in both Fundy's behaviour and taste. Fundy is actually glad to have the ability to drown out their voices, already being exhausted enough without their presence. But here they are.

"I didn't know you were this much into literature, Fundy," his father shouts, the only time Fundy has ever heard him raise his voice to say something positive. "Who is this Y/N L/N, if I may ask?"

"They're a writer, Wilbur," Fundy's mother already answers before even allowing Fundy to process his father's words. "Apparently, they've helped Mr. Schlatt out with coming up with arguments for some of his debates."

"And you like this Y/N and their stories?" Wilbur asks, his forced sweetness being obvious to Fundy. After the young adult puts some tea in the cups and carries it to the living room, avoiding his parents' eyes, he hums. "You support Schlatt too?"

Fundy shrugs. "I prefer staying out of politics, actually," he states, sitting down in the couch with his own drink. Sally scoffs and Wilbur simply lets out a sigh.

"That's not at all like your father," she simply comments, taking a sip of her drink while reading through some of the pages of one of the books you've published, before going to the last page to get some more information on you.

"Writing books is more like a part-time job they have," Fundy explains plainly. "That's not what they make most of their money with."

"I assume that they're not involved in any politics either?" Wilbur asks with a raised eyebrow and Fundy shakes his head. "Of course not. Quite a shame. Maybe I would've had the pleasure to have a debate with them."

"Well, Schlatt is one of their closest friends, so," Fundy starts, but he's quickly interrupted by his mother.

"How's your job going?" Fundy falls silent. He hasn't told them yet. He hasn't told them yet about how he got fired due to his lack of decent work. According to his boss, he'd always get distracted or get too late or come too tiredly.

"You've made too many mistakes, Fundy," his boss had told him. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to let you go until you've pulled yourself back together again." Even if his words were meant at first, after Fundy's anger outburst towards him, he knew that he could never come back. Niki, the friend who also happened to be related to his boss, explained how Fundy gave the man a broken nose, which was pretty serious. She said that the likeliness of him ever working there again was close to non-existent, but that she could look for a better job soon, if he wanted to. Fundy refused, however. Maybe it was the realization that no matter how many jobs he'd find, he'd always fail. You are on his mind 24/7, after all, and he's find something that he can do without failing, which is being there for you, even without your knowledge.

But that's nothing with which he can make money, so he just hopes he can get some financial support of his parents when he needs it. "I got fired."

While Sally's neutral facial expression falls to that of disappointment, Wilbur just bursts out laughing. "I told you you shouldn't have chosen that career path? They don't appreciate the people with our intellect and intelligence there, son. It's way better to go for a job that fits your personality more."

"I'm not going to join politics, Dad," he mumbles and Wilbur simply rolls his eyes with a grin. Their parents keep talking with him, pretending as if they've always had a close relationship, but Fundy can't ignore the distance that he feels between him and them. The emptiness he feels when talking to them. An emptiness which he can fill, if only he had the guts to go to the person who made him actually feel loved.

When his parents finally leave again, he locks the door and feels tears pushing against his eyes, but he keeps them in. He really doesn't want to cry today. No, not now. Today is a special day, after all. It's been a month since he met you, an event which both led to a possible escape and unexpected tragedies.

He goes upstairs where he grabs his notebook, which is filled with all kinds of things related to you. There are photos he found on the internet, the card with your contact info, information he found online, etc. He knows your exact age, along with your birthday, but unfortunately he hasn't been able to discover as much as he wanted to.

One of the first things that upsets him quite, is that he cannot find too personal information about you. He has no idea where you went to school or who you live with, only that you have a pet of whom you make photos and put on a private account online, which he follows. He also knows you're pretty close with the politician J. Schlatt, who is in a relationship with Quackity, so it's unlikely that you've ever been more than friends with that drunk. Besides that, he has very little information on your friends and acquaintances. He is, however, pretty sure you also know Niki, since she mentioned you once.

Second problem which he had quickly come across, was the lack of information when it came to contacting you. He only found your professional email address over and over, but he has mailed it before and hasn't gotten any answer yet. When you didn't answer the next day, he sent another one and another one and that's how it kept going. Just telling you about his day, or about how he wants to meet up sometime: he tries everything, yet you seem to be unavailable. He has even thought of returning to the park and crying his eyes out in the hope you would appear, but he hasn't found the courage yet to do that.

That's when his phone buzzes. Hopeful, he opens the social media app of which it came, smiling when he sees that you posted another picture of your pet. This time, however, it's something way more useful.

Your street. Fundy can see your street in the background.

Screenshotting the photo immediately, he zooms into the sign that tells every person to pass it what the name of the street is, and thanks to his knowledge of the place he lives in, he immediately knows what street you live in.

Looking through his window, he sees that it's already gotten dark outside. So, with his heart beating in his chest, he makes a decision. A decision which he will not be able to back down from.

He'll go to your house.

----

It's not hard to tell which house belongs to you, thanks to the familiar animal lying behind the closed curtains and seeing Fundy approach already. Fundy, however, makes sure to stay out of sight. Having put his hoodie over his head, the darkness hides his face, so he is safe to jump over the fences to your backyard, which will shield him away from the rest of the world as well.

The curtains to your backyard are not entirely closed as the light goes through it, showing three happy people sitting on the couch and having dinner. Fundy gets close to the window, but makes sure to watch out, having the luck of not being in any of the people's sight. He recognizes you without even trying, but the other two women are tricky at first. The one, he discovers to be a well-known therapist, while the other's face he cannot see, thanks to her back being turned to him. After some closer looking, though, he identifies the stranger to be Niki.

Hold up, you and Niki are actually friends?

Fundy watches as the three of you finish the food and once the therapist stands up to put the plates away, he lowers to the ground to make sure he doesn't get seen. When the shadow of the woman covers the ground and gets smaller, telling him that she's returning to the table, he dares looking through the window again.

Sitting up right, he looks closely, seeing that she's carrying a box with some food inside. Is it cake? Why do they have cake? Fundy knows that it's not your birthday and it can't be Niki's either, but it wouldn't make sense for the therapist to be the one carrying the delicious food if it was hers either. What are you celebrating?

He can hear your laughs through the window regularly, and it's quite easy to tell yours apart from the giggles of the other two people present. After all, your laugh is the one that makes his body feel all warm inside, while neither of them can make him feel anything at all. When he concentrates enough, he can even hear your voices.

"To this special day of Y/N, Niki and Puffy! May we..." Puffy. Yes, that name sounds familiar. That's the therapist.

His mind wandering off, he doesn't understand what she's saying, so the least he can do is assume that they're pretty close friends. But close friends don't look at each other like that, right? They don't hold hands the way they do. Every gesture of theirs, every kiss on the cheek: it's something that he can only wish you did to him. But still, he's lying to himself, trying to get himself to believe that these people are just your friends.

But he can't do that any longer, when it's your voice that overpowers theirs. "We've known each other for so long already and I could not be more grateful for you two, so I first want to thank you for being in my life." The two women hold each other's hand when you say that, before looking at you, allowing you to continue. "Which is why I want to officially put a label on what we have, also to the public." You can see how much happiness these words give Puffy and Niki, but you are unaware of the shattering heart of a certain young adult.

Fundy watches as you sit down on one knee, clearing your throat uncertainly. "Puffy, Niki. Will the two of you marry me?"

That one sentence. That one sentence hurts Fundy more than his parents ever could have. Puffy's and Niki's happy cheers are drowned out by the high-pitched sound that fills his ears. Tears leave his eyes as he stands up with shaking legs, running out of the yard and tripping over something. Although he manages to get himself up after this mistake, it does not go unseen and unheard, unlike his sorrow.

Shot in a panic and overflown by emotion, he runs and runs. The tears in his eyes blind his sight and he quickly picks up the scent of rain and nature. He has entered the park. Still running, he approaches the lake, where he jumps into the bushes by the lakeside, at the exact same place where he was sitting when he first met you. And there, he sits down, crying and sobbing and doing everything he did that day.

Except now, there is no one to save him.

#c!fundy x reader #c!fundy #dsmp x reader #fanfic #dsmp #angst #yandere #dsmp yandere #yandere dsmp #reader #comfort #c!wilbur #sally salmon #c!puffy #c!niki #c!schlatt #c!quackity

[mono-dot-jpeg]

antarctic idiots [pt.6] - c! technoblade

summary; in which two anarchist piglins adopt an ender boy.

genre; child! ranboo, piglin hybrid! reader, slight canon divergence from dream smp, fluff, found family au is my shit, reader is now ranboo’s parent i don’t make the rules, techno is a grumpy father but it’s okay you love him, realistic minecraft? (idk how to describe it-), uh angst (if you squint)

pairing; c! technoblade x reader, platonic! ranboo x reader

word count; 2.4k

spotify playlist | main masterlist

< previous - next >

a/n; regarding techno's death, i have decieded to continue this series after it's long hiatus. i am not trying to stain techno's death with writing. i see this as keeping his character alive and keeping the memory of him alive. i am also coping this way. kind of. i was really sad about his death on the day it happened but now i'm feeling much different in a good way. i dont think techno would want to see any of us sad especially since he was usually the reason we smiled and not why we cried and i intend to keep it that way.

i will be writing for techno but i refuse to do anything nsfw with him as that just feels so disrespectful to him. obviously if there is any statement from his family about fanfics, this will be taken down.

i will continue to write for techno.

i am saying this to lighten this note, techno himself wrote fanfics about hypixel so there's not much of difference between him and a lot of other writers out there. if you don't like what i'm doing, that's fine, to each their own. i like to think i'm preserving his memory like artists.

today was the festival. you hadn't prepared too much (because how did you really need to prepare for a bombing), only bringing your armor and your trusty sword. you were with techno,, the male wondering if wilbur and tommy were coming to join you both.

"no, techno, they can't. they were exiled."

a beat of silence before, "hah, losers. imagine not being invited, L." techno said as you started to walk to l'manburg. you and techno meet up with other citizens and friends of l'manburg. techno greeting them much easier than you were. you didn't even know why you were invited in the first place, who else knew about you helping pogtopia? "is this where everyone who actually got invited meet up?" techno asked as you noticed some familiar faces. he started to ramble a bit though it didn't last long.

you stood behind techno, both of your shadows looming over the much shorter people in the crowd.

"oh, fundy is here."

"yeah! i got some fun games!" you looked at the fox hybrid. he showed the dunking tank, pranking poor niki for a moment. "hey, hey, technoblade! you have a trident right?" the male piglin nodded. "you think you can shoot yourself into the tank?"

"uh, i can try." techno offered, standing in the lake. his arm rose up in the air as he aimed for the sky, but before he could fly, “you’re not gonna drown me in the tank, right?”

“no.” fundy said, the sly fox was very obvious with his intentions, however techno didn’t seem to mind. 

“alright, doesn’t sound like something you would do.” techno shrugged before flying up in the air and into the dunk tank. 

“i would not trust fundy-” niki started but got cut off by the male piglin.

“i made it.” his voice muffled due to his helmet and the water. he partly made it. his head was just in the dunk tank while the rest of him hung out on the edge of it. you laughed a little bit as techno goes back to the lake to try again. he made it this time, yelling in victory before he looks up to see a block above his head.

laughing loudly, fundy looks at the piglin, “i lied.”

you and niki start to help him as techno starts rambling, “i should’ve expected this. well, this is the end for me. any second now i’m gonna drown.” he said dramatically. you put your helping to a stop, remembering what the pink haired male told you about his armor. you knew that technoblade won’t die this easily.

“hey, does anyone have popcorn? i want to see how this ends.” you asked anyone nearby you. they said no, leaving you pouting and eating your baked potatoes in despair as you watched techno dramatically lament about his upcoming “death”.

“i only have a few hours with my respiration 3 helmet.” you laughed loudly with others as techno continued his antics. “i’m feeling kind of hungry actually.” he started to eat his steak while fundy seemed to crumble down, complaining about how techno should’ve just died already. 

“have you seen how much time this man has put into the smp? he probably has four backup sets!” fundy complained as your laughter calmed down to a few chuckles. 

“hold on, i left the stove on at home.” techno broke the block and flew right out with ease. you could tell the fox had long given up at his task of killing techno with the dunk tank.

❚ Quackity > GATHER AT THE MANBURG PODIUM

before the speech had begun, techno shows off his fireworks that he had prepared for the festival. "woo fireworks!" he says in his usual monotone voice as everyone else cheers in awe othe the colorful explosives. you, on the other hand, had seen techno prepare the fireworks in his own base. how did you find that base underwater? he will never know. 

"hello everybody and welcome to the manburg festival!" schlatt annouced. "i have invited all the citizens of manburg and some close friends of mine. i just- i just wanted to throw a party to be honest." during the small speech, you glance over to your right and see techno staring up at schlatt. he seemed to have that confused look in his eye, maybe wondering why he was at a party about government. you were wondering that same thing about yourself but even more so as schlatt never really knew you. you were never really around often, especially during the time of the election.

"chat, i'm not gonna do it. i'm literally surrounded by enemies.." your ear twitches, hearing techno muttering to the voices in his head. after a moment, he cheers, "woo party!"

quackity starts leading everyone to pokimane islands. everyone dances and cheers happily until niki and techno start talking about state secrets. "anyone wanna talk about state secrets?" techno asked not-so-subtly.

"you know for the fact that you're really smart, you're really unsubtle with getting private information."

"like you could do any better." 

"i can actually. you're talking to the pandora's box after all." you smiled smugly. "how do you think i know about your other base?" techno narrows his eyes at you as your smile turns innocent while you brush your hand against his arm. "i know a lot of things, mr. blade, i would hate to have to pull anything over your head."

after a while, fundy suggested to do a boxing match. "yeah violence! yeahhh!" techno is quick to cheer on as you follow along.

"promoting violence. hell yeah!" you sound just as monotonous as techno does while everyone gathers at the ring. 

nearly immediately, fundy is asking for a fight with techno. techno excuses himself for a moment. you watch the pink haired male fly with his trident to do something. you have some idea of what he's doing. just as fast as he flies away, he quickly arrives back and takes off his armor, setting it by you. "watch m' stuff f' me." his voice is a bit more gruffy as you raise an eyebrow upon noticing some familiar particles bubble around him. "don't look a' me like that."

you smiled, "hmm, mr. blade using a potion in a boxing match?" you talked quietly, humming in amusement. techno snorted, a telltale sign that a piglin was not very pleased. you laughed a bit, "don't be so mad, techno. i thought you were the mature one. i'm just pointing things out." techno is silent for a moment while you look at him. you would never say it to his face but he wasn't a bad sight to see or maybe it was just your piglin instincts to admire other piglins. you snort to yourself quietly, a sound that was close to a piglin admiring gold, but techno picks up on it.

"you seem to be admiring me. i am amazing so i get it." you laughed at bit upon seeing his smug smile as he faces you. 

"glad to see you're warming up to me now."

"i still don't trust you." he huffed.

"well, trust and warming up to someone is different. i can be an acquaintance. i don't need to be trusted. not yet at least." you hummed. "anyways go beat up fundy, pig man." he snorted at your statement as antfrost starts to count down.

and in just a few seconds, the fox is down and techno is victorious. "who's next!? who's next?!"

"techno, we're gonna have to initiate a drug test on you."

"can we wait 30- no, 29- 27 seconds until then?" you started to laugh watching as techno counts down his potion effect while he fumbles over his words. quackity and fundy seem to not accept that, asking techno for a drug test. but techno is quick to escape. "all of a sudden, i'm gone-" and he's flying before anyone else can say anything.

he does come back as another speech was gonna happen in a few moments. and yet this one gave you a bit of a sinking feeling..

"who am i to say no to that, right? so without further ado, i think i’ll put big man tubbo, my right-hand man, my uh… my protégé, up on the mic to spit some bars!" everyone cheers for tubbo as you clap for him as well. you almost frown upon seeing how he can barely reach the microphone. he's so young for this… him and tommy… you can only think to yourself, hearing his speech. words are being heard and yet you can't listen well enough. you knew what was going on. 

"so with that in mind, i'd like to thank everyone for coming to this wonderful event!" a deep chuckle fills your ears as tubbo's speech ends. "what- what's wrong schlatt?"

"i was just thinking about it. you know how we like to have fun, tubbo?" that sounds anything but good. you grip on your sword, something's gonna happen and you don't know if you have the guts to handle it right now. 

"yeah.. what- what's up schlatt?"

"you got anything else in that speech?" 

"uhhh no! on that note, let the festival begin!" after that all you see in quackity and schlatt whisper to each other and hand each other some bright yellow item. this was looking worse and worse as you watch the two surround tubbo with the paste and soon pouring water over the paste. it was now concrete. tubbo was stuck with no way out.

"what the fuck are they doing.." you muttered, feeling your anger rise. you can hear techno and niki mutter in confusion as they watch everything slowly unfold.

niki's pleas are unheard to schlatt as he speaks, "I know what you've been up to, tubbo."

"what- what have i done? what have i been up to? what are you talking about?" tubbo's eyes are glazed with fear and panic as his hands are pressed against the yellow concrete. he's trying to back up against the chair but he can't move any farther back.

shlatt laughs mockingly, "what i have been up to, he says.." and soon he's yelling, "he's been CONSPIRING with the idiots! with the tyrants! that we kicked out of this server! that we kicked out of this great country!" his voice was as loud and booming as you remember the past. when you escaped before the results were even out for the election, when you decided that this country was not what you wanted to stay in for very long. “i don’t know if you know this, tubbo but treason… isn’t exactly a respectable thing around here… y’know?”

“do you know what happens to traitors, tubbo?” the dark look in schlatt’s eyes have you gripping tighter on the worn out handle of your sword. the leather wrapped around the grip does nothing to help your bubbling anger. 

“n-no…”

“nothing good.” he stops looking at tubbo to look into the stunned crowd, “technoblade, why don’t you come up here?” your neck nearly snaps with how hard you turned to look at him. was he working for schlatt? you asked yourself for a moment before seeing how surprised and concerned he was, looking around and having no response to the president. techno glances at you for a moment. both of you seem hesitant on what to do but with an unsettling feeling in his stomach, techno tridents his way to the large stage podium. you can barely keep yourself focused on everything. the whispers of everyone around, the choking atmosphere, and knowing that tubbo might just be in danger of losing a life. your mind is fuzzy as you can’t listen to a word of what schlatt is saying. you can hear snippets but it doesn’t go through your mind. you hear nothing. but then you hear everything.

“take care of the traitor. take care of him.” schlatt’s graveled voice suddenly feels grating to hear.

“you want me to get him- get him some breakfast?” techno’s voice is muffled and yet so clear. 

“no…” niki’s cries are unheard as they’re overpowered by the shattering of your heart and the aching of your brain. you wished you could comfort her.

“he won’t. he won’t. he won’t! he’s on our side!” wilbur? when did he get here? how long has he been here? you’re getting rusty, old woman. you shouldn’t have retired, you idiot.

“techno, i need you to take him out.” take him out…?

“to dinner?”

“no! not to dinner! i want you to kill him!” schlatt’s voice screeches through the microphone as techno oh’s in realization. 

“techno, you don’t need to do this!”

“it’s- it’s a festival today schlatt…”

you can see him hold his crossbow. he’s gonna do it… he doesn’t have much of a choice. not when they don’t know that he’s with pogtopia. suddenly you’re aware of how surrounded you are, marburg citizens were all in the crowd. you were sure that if techno or you made a wrong move, you would both lose a life.

“i’m sorry tubbo.”

“t-techno?”

your mouth is dry, failing to say anything to help techno in this situation. the battle of the lake was different, it wasn’t this. at least with a battle, you didn’t need to think about what to do. but to be fair, it’s not like you even tried to do any thinking at the time. but either way, this wasn’t a battle. this was an execution.

“i will try to make this as painless and as colorful as possible, tubbo.” techno can only mutter but the mic just barely picks it up.

“technoblade…” 

“tubbo, i’m sorry! i’m being subjected to mild amounts of peer pressure.”

“DO IT TECHNOBLADE!”

with a yell, techno fires off the fireworks to tubbo. the thundering boom of the fireworks rings in your ears as you try and cover them to soften noise, just for a little bit. of course it didn’t help but there was nothing else you can think of doing. your feet frozen in place as you watch tubbo die. and soon everyone else would too. you can see the bloodthirst in techno’s eyes as he loads the bow again. so much was happening at once. tommy landed himself onto the podium in tears as he looks at where tubbo’s body lays. he was distraught at techno’s betrayal.

but techno could only see blood.

and you needed to run.

everyone who survived techno’s reign of fireworks is fleeing in panic, including yourself. you can only trip over your feet before using your own trident to get away, going in the same direction as techno while everyone was yelling to get tommy. why didn’t they bother with techno after killing so many citizens? that was something beyond your understanding really. the government ruling over manburg was a really bad one to say the least if they were doing such public executions. what a government that was.

taglist; @justahostaccount, @olyink,@aikochan4859, @classycookiebailiffstudent, @stickk-bugg, @goldensunshineshit, @sadlyitsme-boohoo, @2cuteforyourlies, @jace-the-ace12, @potenzel, @lvlyjuro, @kiinokochii, @anxiousnarwhale, @jaciahbabes, @lunna-does-real-doodle, @reeeeeeeeeebear, @iamsuchasimp, @morgan8or, @that-can-of-fizz, @sparesaber, @floprinceps, @spiralingtoinsanity, @imwaytootires, @dabbingintoart, @jadynchronicle, @v10dw4lk3r, @victory-is-here, @fromzeepewithlove

[taglist open until it's too much for me :')/hj]

[if you want to be added or removed, please click me]

#mcyt technoblade #techno x reader #technoblade #technoblade x reader #dream smp #dream smp technoblade #dream smp x reader #dream smp techno #antartic idiots

[fizzoralli]

C!tommyinnit x reader

Pt1

-this is written in the 2020 exile era btw :) enjoy, school might delay more parts coming out but ill try my best-

-angst-

I'm sorry tommy, I'm sorry" "Dream-" tommy tryst to get another joke in, egnoring tubbo then gets interrupted "Tommy I'm sorry." Tubbo says in a more serious tone as he looks behind him to where tommys standing. Tubbo looks back at dream hesitantly. "Dream, I've come to the decision... that it would be best for the nation, the most logical thing to do,"

"For tommy to be 𝔢𝔵𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔡 from lmanburg."

"Teaming with technoblade is am awful idea, it's an awful idea-" tubbo says, trying away from Dream and looking at tommy, "We just had this conversation!?" Fundy yells, defending tommy "no, no, ok. It's awful" tubbo continues as quackity yells at him "What are you doing tubbo?"

The yelling continues, just a back and forth between everyone on the platform, as tommy stays silent staring at tubbo with the most bewildered expression on his face.

"Nothing war is not the best of this nation-" "Tubbo.." "Nothing! Evolving any kind of conflict is for the best of this nation, ok. You guys are thing emotionally, irrationally! You need to think logically, it's more then just us four that live here."

Tubbo shouts, the others silent as tubbo continues his rant

"War is gonna bring destruction, terror, ok. A new regime that we don't want to imforce appon our citizens."

"Tubbo.. we just agreed on this-" "WE JUST HAD A FUCKING CONVERSION WHAT ARE YOU DOING??" quackity yells interrupting fundy, "Tubbo what the.. tubbo what the fuck, why??" Tommy finally spoke up "what the fuck, what the fuck man? I-" "Be quiet ok! Be quiet.. you have undermined my authority from the get go. Ok, all of you, no one here has respect in me. You all jump on these martial band wagons of destruction, it's not..it's not ok.. and its- you definitely don't have the best interest for this nation at heart. And you have made that more apparent then ever before today." Tubbo argued.

"Tubbo- you agreed that this is what you'd- why would you go back on the.." Tommys

Tommy began to zone out, clutching his arm as he proceeded what was happening. Dream grabbed Tommy's wrist and began pulling him to the docks.

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #dsmp #dream smp #mcyt #dsmp x reader #x reader

[hatchetislostpog]

A/n: Hot take, but i think stuttering in fanfic is terrible (only when the person is embarrassed/shy) it honestly is v annoying, but I'm being a hypocrite I put stuttering (bc reader is crying and I stutter when I cry so I think its a normal think)

ALSO "The moon is beutiful isnt it?" is a poet way of saying i love you from a translated phrase of Japanese

anyways

TW: DEATH AND KINDA ANGST

I Hear Symphony (Wilburxreader) (Angst!)

Blood drips down my head. Down my arm. Down my leg. Clothing soaked. Ears ringing. Vision blurry. Pain being an invisible phantom taunting me. My legs trip over one another.

"MY L'MANBURG, PHIL! MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED! IF I CAN'T HAVE THIS, NO-ONE CAN, PHIL!"

His words sound broken; broken as if someone dropped a mirror. 

My pace picks up.

I don't know if I want to punch him for what he did, or kiss him for being alive. He's a terrible man, but he's mine, and I'm his. I wouldn't change it any other way. Although, he's not the man I fell in love with, I love him just the same. 

He needs stopped, he's hurt so many people; it feels like my fault. I could've tried harder to help him, I should've pushed, but my efforts failed. If I continued pushing, things would be different.

"Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me, Phil, kill me!  Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Killza, Killza, do it! Kill me, Phil! Murder me! Look, they all want you to! Do it, Phil! Kill me! Phil, kill me!" 

My pain was numbed for a mere moment, so I ran. I got to the entrance to the room...

"I CAN'T YOU'RE MY SON."

The image of Phil holding a sword to Wilbur's chest almost made my own heart stop. 

The scenery behind them was a hole blown in the wall; craters scattering the terrain. This used to be my home. 

"PHIL KILL ME."

He's going to die. This moment I realized it. If Phil didn't do it... the rest of the SMP would do it.

Memories flashed across my mind knowing it could be my lover's death.

Our encounter.

"Darling~ I know Dream sent you, no need to play any games, give me some information I need and I'll let you go"

"I was told you were a charming man Mr. Soot--was even warned not to give in to your charm--but before I could even say anything, you tied me up and started being a jerk asking for info."

Our confession.

"Hey Will, the moon is beautiful isn't it?"

"I love you too"

Our Future.

"One day we can run off together and live without war. Live in a cottage. Maybe even get a few kids running around, Fundy's always wanted a sister."

"Ha, you wish; I'm sorry to break it to you Mr. Soot, but before we even think about children you need to put a ring on it."

It has come to an end. Our future ended before it began.

"I CAN'T YOUR MY SON."

"DO IT PHIL, DO IT."

That moment was frozen in time, no one moving; only movement is tears starting to fall down my cheeks. I was trying my hardest to at least make a noise. Finally, my voice came through.

"PHIL PLEASE DON'T, WILBUR PLEASE-"

I wasn't even acknowledge before a sword went through one side of Wilbur and came out the other.

Things blurred.  

Time stopped.

His body fell to the floor.

"Phil..." he barley heard my voice. He looked me in the eyes and I looked at him in the eyes. Just looking at him makes my rage bubble up, he's gone because of him, because of Philza. "GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE." I wasn't even yelling, my sob that was building up just escape me, escaped in louder than I wanted.

He pulled his hat down to cover his face, and his wings spread out behind him. Then he was gone. 

My wounds didn't matter in the moment when I jumped over to Wilbur, his eyes barley fluttering. Both of my hands lift his head and lets them rest on my thighs. One of his hands came to my cheeks.

"I'm sorry love, I'm sorry we can't live in your cottage."

Tears fell freely now, all ending up in his hand, hair, or face.

"P-ple-." I couldn't get a word out, "Wilbur pl-please don't go."

"I love you."

"W-wait for m-me"

His voice got softer, his last moments approach. His cold hand brushed my cheek.

"My love, please sing, it's my last request."

Our song.

"I used to hear a s-simple song."

He continued the song--as always--but in such a soft voice.

"that was before you came along..."

"Now in it's place is something new"

In that moment his eyes closed, and my heart broke.

He wasn't going to finish the song, it was our unfinished symphony.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur x y/n #dsmp wilbur #wilbur x you #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp x y/n #dream smp imagine #dsmp imagine #dsmp #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #dsmp x you #dsmp angst #philza #philza minecraft #dream smp

[brett-is-afraid]

I Guess I'm Just A Play Date To You

Ship: cc!Fundy x George

Rating: Explicit

Request: Fnf one-sided love modern au based on the song "Play Date" - Melanie Martinez. George and Fundy are friends with benefits, Fundy develops feelings but he knows very well that George only plays with his "toys" (Dream, Fundy) or always chooses Wilbur over him and his company.

Warnings: Top Fundy, bottom George, safe sex, pillow princess George, anal, one-sided attraction, pining, friends with benefits, unhealthy relationships, angst.

Words: 1,175

Fundy groaned as he fucked into George harder. They’d been together long enough that he knew how the older man liked it, especially once he got closer to coming. As expected, it worked and George whined a bit higher in his throat. George was currently on his hands and knees in his bed, Fundy pressed close behind him and fucking into him. 

One hand was tight on George’s hip and the other was wrapped around his leaking cock, jerking him off in pace with his thrusts. George was still, just letting Fundy fuck him. He’d always been a bit of a pillow princess, but Fundy had never minded it. The view was great and he didn’t mind putting in the work. It certainly helped that George sounded pretty. 

Honestly, he hated this position. He liked being able to watch George’s face, pretending they were a real couple and not just two people who fucked sometimes. He knew it was a little messed up to pretend they were closer than they were, but he needed every now and then. It wasn’t fair that they were so close, yet still so far from where he wanted to be. He’d never pressure George, but he often wished he’d realize one day that he loved him. 

“Turn over for me,” Fundy panted once he realized he wasn’t going to be able to come like this. It felt too impersonal today, too much like George was only using him to get off. Which yeah, that was the case, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be reminded of it. “Flip over, baby. I wanna come in you,” He encouraged, pushing at George’s hip. 

George made a disgruntled noise, but flipped himself over. He watched Fundy expectantly until Fundy positioned himself in between his thighs. It didn’t take long before he was pressing back inside of him. His eyes were focused on George’s face now, watching every expression and taking pleasure in the fact he was causing them. 

He knew George slept with other people, but here in this moment, he was with Fundy. Every ounce of pleasure he experienced was from Fundy. He was letting Fundy fuck him. They might not have every moment, but they had this one and he was going to savor it while it lasted. Maybe that was why he always ran back. No matter how many times George blew him off to hang out with someone else, he kept crawling back to George. Having George even like this, it was better than not having him at all. 

“I’m close, Fundy. Keep going,” George encouraged, more like demanded, but Fundy complied either way. One arm curled under George’s waist to thrust into him quickly, the other hand reaching for George’s cock again. He was rewarded with a sweet moan and it only spurred him on more. Nothing felt as good as George did and getting to stare down at him now, it was close to perfection. “Keep going, sweet boy. Keep going,” He repeated. 

“I will. I’m gonna come inside you,” Fundy rambled, holding George tighter and pounding into him a bit rougher. He was so easy because the second George started using pet names, he would do anything for him. “Gonna fill you up,” He told him, although they both knew that wasn’t actually possible. George always made him wear condoms when they messed around and Fundy kind of resented it. 

He wished he could fuck him bare sometimes and a part of him wondered if he let his other partners fuck him without one. The image of actually getting to finish inside of George was hot, though, so he could look past the rational aspects of it. Fundy continued watching George, smiling when he saw his face scrunching up in the way it only did when he was close to finishing. He jerked him off a bit quicker, tightening his grasp. 

“Oh, fuck! So good,” George praised as he was finally pushed over the edge. He whined through his orgasm, spilling over Fundy’s hand. Fundy kept moving, thrusting and tugging in tandem until George was teetering on overstimulation. “Are you close?” He asked and Fundy knew that was his cue to take his hand off. He gave a nod of his head because he really was close. He doubled his efforts, pulling George a bit closer and quickening his pace. 

George looked downright bored by now and Fundy guessed he couldn’t blame him. He knew George was in it for the pleasure and once it was gone, he had a hard time pretending he was still invested. Fundy didn’t normally mind, but today, it was making it more difficult for him to come. If George had been visibly enjoying it in any way, he would’ve finished with no problem. He thought for a minute before devising a way to get himself off quicker, not wanting to take too long and risk having George make him pull out before he was done. 

“Let me kiss you. Please?” Fundy knew he sounded pathetic, he felt pathetic. He’d never had to beg for any kind of intimacy, let alone just a kiss. Now, he was willing to get down on his knees and beg for hours if it meant George would kiss him. George seemed to consider it for a moment and Fundy thought he was about to be rejected before George gave a small nod of his head. “Thank you,” He ducked down to press their lips together. 

It was brief and soft, but it was everything Fundy wanted and more. He wanted to be able to do this with him every day, whenever he wanted. He wanted so much more with George and in that moment, he could pretend that he might get it one day. Fundy continued kissing George until he came as well, groaning against him because he didn’t want to pull away. Soon, he needed air and had to break away, though. 

Fundy panted for breath and George was already nudging him off of his body, rolling over and sitting up in bed. He stretched out and Fundy could hear his bones popping quietly. He wished they got more time together after they were done, it all ended so abruptly. Every time he tried, George found a way to get out of it and Fundy had eventually given up on trying. Sometimes, George would be willing to cuddle with him, though.  “I’m going to go take a shower,” George told him and if it had been anyone else, Fundy would wonder if he was being invited to the shower as well. He’d very quickly learned that when George said he was showering, it meant he was showering alone. “I have to get up early tomorrow, you know?” And that was another cue Fundy understood. It was a nice way of telling him to fuck off. No cuddling tonight, that was okay. There was always next time because no matter how much Fundy knew he should walk away, there was always next time.

#fundynotfound #cc!fundynotfound #floris #george #smut #nsft #rpf #rpf smut #rpf nsft #writing #requests #ao3 #brett speaks

[totallynotbat]

Bonding - Tickletober Day 4

Prompt: Day 4 - Reward

Summary: Fundy and Phil have some bonding time together, which is rare for these two usually. 

Relationship is platonic. No ship tags! 

Wooo! I’ve been waiting for this! I love Fundy and Phil’s relationship. You don’t see it often! I figured this fits well enough with the two prompts.

Takes place after Wilbur’s revival. 

T/W: Swearing, Stress attack, Bit of angst.

Phil was stunned. 

Wilbur, his son, lied to him. He starred back up on the destroyed L’manburg, thinking about everything from when he first joined up too now. 

Was he really that gullible? Why’d he believe those letters? 

“Phil?” 

Philza turned his head, seeing Fundy to the right of him, the two sitting on a piece of near crumpled rock, across from the L’manburg flag, what was left of it at least.

“Are you alright?” Fundy asked, Phil shaking his head, looking down.

“No…I’m not…I just…” Phil mumbled, placing his hands over his face. Fundy placed a paw on Philza’s shoulder, ears lowered, but a small smile on his face.

“C’mere Phil.” Fundy pulled the avian into his arms, hearing a few muffled sobs as Phil pressed his face into Fundy’s chest. 

“Aw…Phil, I know. I know.” Fundy stroked a paw through the blondes hair, curling it with his claws. “This okay?” 

Philza simply nodded, as he continued sobbing. “Am I that gullible? Fundy? Why did I believe those letters?!” 

“Shhh, no your not, it’s okay Phil, it’s okay buddy, just relax and breathe, okay?” 

Fundy continued, using the same tactic Wilbur used on him sometimes when he was younger, stroking the blondes hair carefully, curling a few strands.

Fundy couldn’t remember much of his childhood, but he did remember this tactic Wilbur or his mother would use whenever he was stressed. 

Fundy wished he could spend more time with Phil but he didn’t know how to even ask, or even if Phil wanted too. What would they even do? 

Fundy heard Phil’s muffled sobbing, feeling like he wanted to strangle Wilbur soon if he saw him again. Fundy sighed, not thinking of any other way to calm the hybrid down.

Or maybe…

A sneaky idea came upon Fundy’s head, him placing a paw, wiping tears from Phil’s face, slowly tracing a claw towards and across Phil’s ears, noticing how they twitched and flapped a bit. 

“Fundy!-“ Phil squeaked in surprise, covering his mouth with his hands. 

“Aw, your ears are twitching!” Fundy chuckled, using one finger to tracing across the avian’s ears, which continued flapping as Phil squirmed and shook his head.

“Eheheasy Fundy!” Phil chuckled.

Fundy luckily stopped, allowing Phil to breathe from the attack. 

“Whahat the hell Fundy?” Philza said with a chuckle. 

“Just tried a tactic, Wilbur used with me.” Fundy smiled, releasing the avian from the hug.

“Heh, he got it from me.” Phil thought to himself.

The two climbed up to the top of the crater, walking over to Phil’s house. Phil allowing Fundy to talk, while Philza was thinking about what happened earlier.

Philza thought for a few minutes, he kinda didn’t want Fundy to stop, but how would he ask about Fundy, his grandson. To tickle him? He didn’t want to be an inconvenience to him but…given there history and rocky relationship it was going to be-

“Phil?” 

Phil looked up at Fundy, who stood in front of the doorway, confused. 

“Ah! Right, come in mate!” 

The two sat on the couch, watching TV, Philza still flustered a bit, the pros winning over the cons in this situation, but god it was getting frustrating. 

Philza doesn’t get flustered easily and here he was.

“Erm…Fundy…uh…” Phil shyly spoke, already feeling butterflies immediately at the pit of his stomach. 

Fundy turned his head, looking up at the avian. “Yeah?” 

Phil sighed, inhaling, gesturing to his ears. “You know how you traced my ears earlier?” 

“Yeah, what about that?” 

Philza began getting red again, dammit lee mood showing up at the wrong time. 

“Erm uh, could you possibly…uh…will you?” Phil mumbled, his wings flapping and twitching. 

Fundy smiled at the avian, noticing his wings. “You want me to tickle you, again?” 

Philza pressed his face into his hands. “Yes!” 

Fundy smirked, leaning back. “Of course, you need it anyways.” 

Phil smiled, a red flush on his face, Fundy allowing him to get comfortable on the couch, Phil laying his back on the armrest, his wings folded back.

“Just tell me when, okay?” Fundy asked, Phil giving a weak nod. 

Fundy started tracing Phil’s ears again. The older flinching and covering his mouth with his hands. 

“Aw!” Fundy cooed. “You can laugh Phil, this is kinda like a reward for you helping me.” 

Phil squirmed, him resting his head on the couch cushion, squeezing his eyes shut, a flustered smile on his face. 

Fundy smiled, using a claw to trace around the feathers behind the wing-ears, which continued twitching. 

“PFFT-Hehehe!!! Hahahaha! Ehehehehaha!!! Nohohoho! Hahahaha!!!” Phil began softly breaking into light bubbly giggles, he couldn’t keep his laughter contained for that long.

“Aww! There we go!” Fundy smiled. 

“Fuhuhuhndy!” Phil giggled, covering his mouth with his hands. 

“Yesss?” Fundy cooed, scribbling across the sensitive ears, which flapped and moved under the gentle touch. 

“It-Itit thihihickles!” Phil muffled laughter broke through his words.

“Aw, well that’s the point!” Fundy smirked, bringing his paws down to the man’s underarms. 

“FUNDY!” Phil squeaked, slamming his arms right uptop of Fundy’s paws, showing Phil’s flustered smile. 

“Aww, sensitive spot? TickleTickleTickleTickleee~” Fundy teased, wiggling his claws against the hollows. 

“Ehehehehahaha! NOHOHOHO!!!” Phil laughed, squirming around. “Gehehet out of therehehe!!!” 

“Hmmm nah!” Fundy smirked, continuing to tickle the man’s underarms. 

“AH! AHAHA! FUHUHUHNDY!!!” Phil squeaked, letting out an embarssed snort. 

“Aw! You snorted like a pig!” Fundy cooed, trailing a hand down to his sides. 

“Ihihihi! cahahant hehehelp it!!!” Phil snickered. 

“Heh! That’s on you when I do this!” Fundy scribbled across Phil’s sides.

“FUHUHUHNDY!!!” Phil giggled, a high pitch squeal escaping his mouth. 

“Someone’s a little giggly here~” Fundy cooed, wiggling his claws in between. “Who’s a lil ticklish giggle monster! You are! You are!” 

“Shuhuhut up Fuhuhuhndy!!!” Phil squeaked. 

“Shut up? Why I outta!” Fundy immediately sprung his claws to his bottom ribs. 

“EHEHEHEHAHAHA!!!” Phil squealed. 

“Oh little sensitive here?” Fundy moved his claws across the top of his ribs, sending Phil into high pitch laughter. 

“NAHAHA FUHUHUHNDY THAHAHAHAT THIHIHICKLES AHAHA!!!” Phil squealed, a set of embarrassing snorts escaping his mouth.

Fundy happily yipped, never hearing Phil laugh that much, slowing down a bit when Phil began wheezing.

“You mind?” Fundy placed his snout near Phil’s neck, Phil shook his head, he didn’t care. 

Fundy nuzzled Phil’s neck, his nose tingling against the avian’s neck and skin. 

“F-Fundy!” Phil snickered, trying to stifle his laughter. 

Fundy smiled, nibbling as lightly as possible across Phil’s neck.

“Ehehehehe!!!” Phil squeaked, pushing his head to the other side. “Nahat neheheck thihihickles!!!” 

“Oh, can’t handle nibbling? Too bad!” Fundy continued, nibbling faster up and down on the skin, switching over to the other side of his neck to blow a raspberry into the skin, sending the avian into a series of snorts and squeals. 

Fundy stopped, allowing Phil to sit up and walk over to hang up his kimono, revealing the green t-shirt and shorts he wore, his wings flapping a bit in response. 

Fundy smirked, noticing a red quill on the table. 

Phil was going to turn back and sit back down when a squeeze at his hips made him squeak. Fundy smiled, squeezing his hips again, the avian nearly falling over, Fundy catching him in his arms. 

“Fuhuhndy! Ehehehehahaha!!!” Phil fell apart like a sack of bricks, Fundy yipping in delight at Phil’s laughter. 

The two laid on the floor, Phil laying down as Fundy held him in his arms, continuing to squeeze and tickle Phil’s hips. 

“Plehehease Nohoho! Stahahap! Ahahaha!” Phil giggled softly. 

“Awww!” Fundy cooed. 

Fundy stopped, looking at Phil, whom was a giggly mess on the floor. 

“Mind if I play a game with you Phil?” Fundy asked, watching his grandpa carefully, attempting not to force him. 

Phil blinked, sitting up and nodding as Fundy sat in front of him, grabbing the quill. 

“Now, I wanna try and use this feather over a few spots, I’ll go lightly okay?” Fundy smiled softly, not wanting to force or hurt Phil, the avian nodded. 

“Okay, here we go, ready?” Fundy held the quill in his fingers, Phil nodding with a sharp inhale. 

Fundy stood up, walking and sitting behind Phil’s back, moving the quill towards Phil’s ears, stroking it behind, back and forth, back and forth.

“Phil, you can laugh, it’s okay, your adorable when you laugh anyway.” Fundy smiled when Phil bit his lip, noticing Phil squirming when Fundy told him that. 

Fundy sighed, moving the feathered quill faster, the ears twitching and flapping in response. 

“Hehehehehahaha!!! Fuhundy! Nuhuhu! Hahahaha!!!” Phil began giggling, a flustered grin on his face. 

“Aww! Someone got ticklish ears? How cute!” Fundy teased, moving the feather across Phil’s neck. 

“Nahahahahat! Cuhuhute!” Phil squeaked. 

“Yes you are, your adorable!” Fundy smiled, continuing to move the feather across the skin. 

“Ehehehehahaha!! Ehehehe! Itit Thihihickles!” Phil squeaked. 

“Oh I’m aware.” 

Fundy stopped after a few, leaving a giggly avian on the floor, going back to sit in front of the avian. 

“Lift your arms up?” Fundy asked. “Please?” 

Phil did as followed, holding his arms on his head. Fundy lifting his shirt up a bit. 

“Here we go…” Fundy smiled, moving the feather across Phil’s armpits. Phil squeaked and began giggling, a flustered blush on his face. 

“Ticklish?” Fundy asked teasingly. 

“Yeheheah!!!” Phil squirmed around. 

“Awww! It’s okay!” Fundy smiled softly, tracing the feather towards Phil’s sides. “Besides your giggles are adorable to hear!” 

“Nohoho thehehey arehehe nahahahahat! Ahahahahaha!!!” Phil squealed. 

“Yes they are! Here is the proof!” Fundy smirked stroking the feather across Phil’s ribs, lightly tracing his right lower with his nails and using the feather on the other side on his left upper ribs. 

“PFFT- AH AHAHAHAHAHA!!! FUHUHNDY! HAHAHAHA!!!” Phil squealed, wings flapping in joy as he laughed. 

“Hmm?” Fundy smiled, slowing down a bit. 

“Itit reheheally thihihickles!” Phil chuckled, letting out an embarrassed snort. 

Fundy stopped after a few minutes, Phil resting his arms back down, curling up into a ball and resting on Fundy’s chest, his back on his left side. 

“Aww, Giggleza!” Fundy thought to himself, trailing the feather across Phil’s exposed belly. 

“Hehehe!” Phil giggled, nuzzling his head into Fundy’s shoulder. Fundy moved the feather faster, trailing it around Phil’s belly button. 

“FUHUHNDY NAHAHAT THEREHEHE!!! EHEHEHE!!!” Phil squealed, frantically twisting right and left to avoid the tingly feeling. 

Fundy yipped happily, trailing the feather back and forth faster, relishing in the squeals that escaped his mouth.  

“FUHUHNDY!!!” Phil screamed out, letting out a snort, rolling over onto his back. 

“Well what do we have here?” Fundy smiled, wiggling his claws into the ticklish skin of Phil’s stomach. 

“GAHAHAHA! FUHUHNDY! HAHA!” Phil squealed. 

“Hmm?” Fundy hummed. 

“PLEHEHEASE HEHEHE! Stahahap!” Phil curled up, wheezing and coughing. 

Fundy slowed to a stop, lightly tracing Phil’s neck and ears, which made Phil giggle from the light tickling. 

“Okay, your all good Phil.” Fundy smiled, tracing the avians tickle spots, smiling at the giggles escaping his mouth. 

Phil fell asleep, Fundy continuing to tickle the giggly man below him.

#mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #lee!philza #ler!fundy #augtickletober2022 #tickletober2022

[cyncerity]

Finding Family

Chapter 3

1 2 3

notes:

ITS HERE IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS CHAPTER

Literally I’ve had this moment in the plot planned for months. I’m talking probably more than half a year. It’s been in the making for a while, which might explain why it’s so long, i’m so sorry it’s like 4k words.

with that said, tw for panic attack, angst, and general cursing, and i hope you enjoy!!

The day it all started began fairly normal. The humans in their apartments woke up and made breakfast, like any other day, and the borrowers in their walls minded their business while waiting for the humans to leave.

On this particular day, however, three of those said borrowers were preparing for what may be the riskiest thing they ever did.

“And you’re sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course, bossman! We’ll be careful, promise.” Tommy said as he finished rewrapping the line to his hook, triple checking it before passing it off to his nervous looking best friend. Tubbo looked down at the hook and Tommy sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We run at the first sign of trouble, nothing bad will happen. It’s just a little detective work nothing serious.” Tubbo laughed half heartedly. “Right, just a little detective work to see what’s up. Mom and Dad won’t even notice I’m missing.”

“We ready to go?” Ranboo interjected, coming up to the two with packs of back up rope and supplies he had been packing. Tommy looked to Tubbo, waiting for approval.

“Yeah, we’re ready.”

…

Packing up for a long trek was always quite a task. For Charlie, most of the time all he needed was a backpack, knowing fully well that Schlatt’s apartment was fully accommodated to him and it would be an easy trip. But going with other borrowers? That was different.

So he dressed himself like anyone else would, with backup food, water, ropes, and weapons in case there were any “wild animals.” He looked to Mochi, who was minding her own business at the other end of the room being fed by Minx, and laughed to himself. What kind of wild animals were they concerned about, anyway?

Minus Jambo. Seriously, fuck that cat.

It didn’t take Charlie long to find his group and meet up with them. He was accompanied by his captain, of course, and two rookies. Fundy, who’d gone borrowing a few times for survival purposes only before moving there and becoming a guard member. Apparently, though, since Charlie had been to Schlatt’s apartment numerous times with no issue, they said Fundy should try picking up borrowing again, despite his fear of humans. Meanwhile, Aimsey seemed over the moon. This borrower was younger than any of them, but had been bugging the captain to go borrowing, wanting to help out their colony any way they could, and this was their first time.

And with a few reminders from the captain and a review of the rules, they were off.

…

“So we just…wait here?” “It’s called a stakeout, boob boy.” Tommy sighed, holding a poorly handmade telescope through a high vent grate. “We wait here for the other borrowers to show up and watch them for any sus behavior. I saw it in one of Tubbo’s weird movies once.” “Isn’t that just stalking?” “We are far too cool for ‘stalking,’ its a stakeout.” “Quiet! Both of you, look!!” Tubbo interjected, pointing up to the kitchen counter. The thre of them watched as Charlie pushed a roll of paper towels away, gesturing to the kitchen, though they were too far away to hear anything being said. And they watched as three more people came from behind him, all strangers. One was tall and nervous looking, white streaks through his ginger hair. And with his pointed ears and slits for pupils, he looked almost fox like. And if they were gonna use animals for comparison, the next one, wearing a patchwork of blue and stripes and long hair under a beanie of sorts, was almost reminiscent of a bunny, the way they were bouncing and barely staying still, having a shocking amount of energy for a borrower even shorter than Tubbo. And the reason for their excitement seemed to come from the last stranger, who was talking to the three. For some reason, Tubbo got a sinking feeling in his gut while looking at him. He tried to ignore it and just focus on how he looked and not why the very presence of him made him feel as awful as it did. So he just looked, especially taking note of how odd he was compared to the other three. He had short brunette hair, and a red and gold pitare-looking jacket on, which struck Tubbo as odd. What borrower would go out of their way to make an expensive looking coat? Who would even get him those supplies? Wh- “Is that their captain??” Tommy asked, staring like he’d never seen another borrower in his life. “Uhh, what?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy snapped his head in his direction, looking confused. Looking past Tommy, Ranboo had the same expression. “What??” “Borrower colonies, they have captains.” Tommy explained. “They’re in charge of everything that happens in the colony, and I mean everything. All the big decisions come down to them.” “They’re like royalty in borrower culture.” Ranboo added. “So why would one come on a random borrower trip? And since when was there even a colony in this building??”

“…You think it’s the old one?” Tubbo asked, only to get more weird looks from his friends. “There was a colony here before? What happened?” Ranboo asked. “There was a whole colony just in this apartment! Have I never told you?” Both of the others shook their heads. “What happened to them?” Tommy asked quietly, like something bad was going to happen if he spoke any louder. Tubbo subconsciously touched his scars, only noticing he did so when his friends’ expressions turned to pity and he put his hand down quickly. “I was really little, I barely remember it, but from what I can piece together from my memories and what Dad and Jack said happened, it was bad. An extermination. No one lived, or at least we thought. But what are the odds that people not only survived, but started a new colony and went to a different part of the building?”

…

It didn’t take long for Charlie to get his group to Schlatt’s apartment. He knew the way by heart, but was holding onto an impossible hope that this time it would somehow take longer, delaying the inevitable. However, when he got there, he had to hide a sigh of relief. Schlatt was nowhere to be seen, probably messing around with his friends next door. Not a single ladder, rope, or haphazard handmade staircase in sight. No proof that a borrower lived here full time.

The captain led them all through what to do, what the rules were, and where everyone should look for supplies before sending them off. Charlie was the last to be sent somewhere, and he could see the look in the captain’s eyes, the same look he had seen a hundred times before in the eyes of the others from the colony that had once been in this apartment. Survivors guilt. Even when the captain was done giving him directions, he didn’t go immediately. He didn’t want to leave him to wallow in his self pity.

“If this gets to much, we’ll understand. You can go home, I’m more than capable of getting them home. I know this must be…hard for you.” The captain didn’t even look him in the eyes, just nodded. “I’ll be fine, Charlie.” Was all he said, only turning to give him a small grin to show he was ok, even if Charlie could tell it was faked.

So, he left.

God, he was glad Tubbo wasn’t here.

…

Aimsey walked across the tops of the few supplies on the kitchen, ears trained on any subtle noise that may let him know danger was coming. Lord knows it had taken him long enough to get up the few boxes on the counter, he’d hate to have gone through all that effort jut to be seen now, though Charlie had assured him that the resident human wasn’t home today.

Although, he was more scared of the part coming next.

Looking up, he spotted the cabinet holding the food he was supposed to get. And shit, was it high. But if Charlie could get to it, so could he. He just wouldn’t focus on how high it was, or how he’d be that high up, or how a fall from that height would kill him…

no. not thinking about that.

“Oh, fuck, oh my god.” Aimsey said, nervousness making his hands shake while swinging his flimsy paper-clip hook to latch onto a nearby handle. “You got this…” he whispered faintly to himself, fingers already turning white from his death grip on the rope before jumping off the counter and preparing for a tug on his middle from the belt.

…the tug should have happened after a few seconds, right?

…oh no…

It was like time slowed as Aimsey looked up to find that the hook had fallen off the handle, and, ok, maybe they should have checked that it was secure before leaping off the counter.

He screamed, trying to alert any nearby source (maybe not the cat, but it’s not like he could afford to be picky at the moment) to save him, and as the floor got closer and closer and closer-

he finally felt the tug.

He felt himself being pulled up from the ground, and practically went boneless with relief. Someone had heard, seen, whatever, his fall and went to his rescue.

He looked up, expecting to see his captain or teammates but…who was that?

The boy at the helm of pulling him up seemed just a bit taller than him (aka short by borrower standards) with fluffy, surprisingly well kept hair and a patchy green jacket. But what shocked him most was the myriad of (dare he say) horrifying scars on the boys face when he barely looked younger than her, scars somewhat similar to the ones the survivors of an old extermination from when the colony was newer held. She found herself unable to keep her eyes of off his scars until finally her eyes landed on his, an unsettling feeling filling her gut. Maybe because the hazel-grey color was familiar, or maybe because he didn’t look all too happy with her.

“You gonna keep staring or are you gonna fucking help?” the (apparently also british, which she didn’t hear often,) boy said, and, oh, she was pretty close to the edge, maybe she could pull herself up some. Aimsey took the hint to finish climbing up the counter and was quickly helped over by the scarred boy, who was quick to catch them as they collapsed breathless. Holy fuck, they almost just died. Cause of their own stupidity, no less. If the captain finds out about that, they’ll never be allowed to leave base again-

“Hey..Uh…you ok?” the boy said, putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly. “Tubs, they almost just fell to their death, give them a minute,” another, harsher, british voice spoke out, startling Aimsey as he quickly shot his head up. This other borrower was taller than the earlier one, though not as well kept. His clothes and hair were dirty, and his arms and legs were covered in scabs and healed over scars, more like the other borrowers Aimsey knew. And behind him was another more traditional borrower, though a good bit taller than anyone they’d ever met and had weird blotches of white that they’d never seen before on anyone, either, as well as split colored hair. But these two were just as unfamiliar as the last one.

“Who are you people??” Aimsey said, only for the three to immediately look at each other with horrified expressions before the tallest one spoke up. “Uh, we’re, uh…new around here! Yeah, we, um, just moved from another colony, but we’ve never seen you around before! Who are you?” He said in an american accent, weirdly enough. “Oh, I’m, uh, Aimsey! And you are?” “I’m Tubbo!” Said the brunette, shoving his way in front of the split haired borrower. “And these two are by best friends, Ranboo and Tommy!” He said, gesturing to the taller of the two and then to the blonde. “Are you from a colony?” He said, turning his attention back to her. “We weren’t aware that there was one in this building anymore.”

“Uh, yeah! My colony used to function out of this apartment i think, actually, but that was way before i joined.” “And you’re here with…?” “Oh, another guy said that this apartment was safe to borrower from, and my captain wanted to see it first hand and i needed the borrowing experience.” “Looks like it,” the blonde, Tommy, spoke up again. “Not checking your hook is secure is a rookie move. But, you said your captain is here, any possible way we could talk to him?” “Tommy!” both other borrowers shouted at once, making Aimsey flinch back. “We’ll be, uh, one second.” Ranboo said, before waking around a tall object on the counter and dragging Tommy behind him as Tubbo followed behind fuming in anger.

Aimsey couldn’t pick up much of the fight, but from what he could tell, they were fighting about meeting the captain, or whether one was “allowed” to, if he heard that right. But before he could even question it, Tommy ran back around, grinning widely as Tubbo glared and Ranboo looked anywhere other than the group in front of him.

“Alright, my friend,” Tommy said, eagerness clear in his voice, “lead the way.”

…

Tubbo couldn’t believe he agreed to this. He didn’t want to meet this fucking captain, at this point he just wanted to lock himself in his room. Uncle Charlie was right, he shouldn’t have involved himself in this. All he wanted to know was that the other borrowers weren’t evil, and Aimsey seemed as not-evil as they come. He could just talk about all this with his family later. Just a simple ‘hey i saw the other borrowers in the apartment today and they don’t seem evil, why aren’t i allowed to meet them?’ Then maybe everything could have been explained to him and he could have been introduced or something like a normal person.

But that wasn’t what was happening. Tommy had twisted his arm (damn Tommy and his impatience and surprisingly good negotiation skills), and, ok, maybe he felt a bit bad that Ranboo and Tommy had to live alone in the walls without company other than him and his family. Maybe Tommy had made a good point that if all went well, he and Ranboo could be part of a colony again. So here Tubbo was, unable to deny his best friends of something he knew they wanted desperately.

But as Aimsey led them closer to where he said the meetup destination was, Tubbo couldn’t quite explain the feeling that something was about to happen, nor could he figure out if said thing was good or bad.

He saw the excitement on Tommy and Ranboo’s faces and decided to ignore his instincts.

…

It had all gone to shit faster than Charlie could have predicted.

Meeting back up with the captain had gone about as planned. He was greeted by a man who was just staring out at the apartment before him, seemingly not having moved since Charlie left. He knew that his captain wouldn’t want to talk about it, though, so he just tapped him lightly and tried to distract him by listing off what he’d found and how hard it was to get it, as was protocol. He seemed more pleased, finally having something to take his mind off of the massacre that had left him a widowmaker and a guilty survivor to a slaughter that he apparently still blamed himself for, even over a decade later. Charlie eventually took to making small talk, trying to keep the poor man he called his captain from reminiscing even more on what had happened in the very spot he stood.

Eventually the small talk dwindled as they both saw a couple of hooks appear on the edge on the counter they stood on. Aimsey climbed his way up first, and, while they had both been expecting Fundy, Aimsey reached down to grab a much paler, unclaimed hand, and, to Charlie’s horror, helped to pull up Ranboo, who seemed very unsure of what to do with the situation. But to be fair, the captain seemed equally weary. Charlie, from his spot diagonally behind him, could see the captain’s ear raise and tail sway in curiosity, while Charlie was trying to physically express how frustrated and he confused he was to Ranboo in a terrible game of charades without tipping off either borrowers that he came with. Ranboo stared at the captain and only glanced at Charlie before two more hooks came over the counter. Ranboo quickly turned to help the remaining two borrowers up (not before slightly shrugging and mouthing ‘it was Tommy’s idea’ to Charlie), and the two of them pulled up Tommy and, as much as he’d tried to keep him safe and warn him, Tubbo.

…

It didn’t take very long. Tubbo had just been helped up to the counter and had only just managed to stand when the captain collapsed to his knees, head down in his hands. Aimsey quickly ran over to help him and Charlie looked back over at the group, unsure of what to do other than just give them a sympathetic look. Tommy and Ranboo at least had the decency to look ashamed, but Tubbo didn’t share their expressions.

He looked scared.

The four of them turned their heads as Aimsey helped the captain stand, letting him lean down on them to keep upright as he looked up to stare at Tubbo, tear lines clear down his face. It lasted what felt like hours before either of them said something, but the captain broke the silence. His eyes became glossy with unshed tears as he said only one word.

“Toby…” he whispered, trailing off, but Tubbo had heard it well, as his brows furrowed and his tail wrapped anxiously around his ankle. The man took a few steps forward, letting go of Aimsey and Tubbo reflexively took a step back away from him, making the captain frown. “What’s wrong?” “How do you know my name? My..my real name.” Tubbo whispered harshly, unable to keep the edge out of his voice, even when he saw the man begin to cry again. “Wh…What?” He sputtered trying to take another step forward as Tubbo backed up again and put his hands out in defense. “You heard me. Who the fuck are you and why do you know my real name?”

“You don’t remember me…?” He whispered desperately, and Tubbo felt a little bit guilty for having no clue who this man was. But somehow, he knew that he knew him. He knew the second he felt the weight settle in his stomach when he looked at him. He had no reason to be that weary of a man he’d never met, but like hell was he about to explain that. For one, Charlie would be pissed that he didn’t just turn tail and run if he felt like that, and two, this man already seemed distraught enough. The last thing he needed to be told was that just looking at him made Tubbo upset.

“…No,” Tubbo half lied. “Should I?” And that was all it took. Tears poured down again, harder than before, and he desperately tried to even out his breaths in between sobs. And, despite his precautions, Tubbo started to step closer. Whether it was out of pity or empathy he didn’t know. “…oh god, what happened to you?” He asked, reaching out to try and cup a hand around the scarred side of Tubbo’s face before Tubbo jerked back and slapped him away. “What the fuck, man?! You don’t just get to..to touch people! Personal space and shit! What the fuck is your problem with my scars, anyway? Not like you aren’t sporting a few yourself!” But the man just laughed, brushing and hand over his own scars, laid over his cheeks, nose, and eye, leaving his left eye dead. “Looks like we match…” he muttered to himself, pointing from his eye back to Tubbo’s own scarred and blurry one. “I’m sorry that happened. I’m sorry I.. I couldn’t protect you. I’m so sorry, Toby.”

“Sorry for what? What couldn’t you protect me from? What the fuck are you on about??” Tubbo yelled, getting more and more frustrated with how long this stupid conversation was going on for. He could feel the stares coming from all around him. Ranboo and Tubbo rightfully confused, just like he was, Aimsey looking on in slightly more awed confusion, and Charlie looked at him pitifully, as if he could understand something that Tubbo didn’t quite yet grasp.

“…You were my responsibility, and I let you get hurt. You were so young, and..I didn’t know where she hid you. I couldn’t risk the lives of anyone else, and I couldn’t even know for sure if you were even still alive so…I had to leave you behind.” He said, voice heavy with grief, guilt, and even more unshed tears, and that’s when Tubbo put it together.

“…You were my captain, back when I was a kid, people did survive…” he said, eyes wide as he pieced together why this man was so familiar to him, “my mum hid me in the vents when she heard the exterminator come in. I was the youngest, I couldn’t defend myself, I could barely walk. She didn’t tell you where I was, and you couldn’t find me, so…you left.” He said, meeting the captain’s eyes. “Is that it, then? You had to leave behind the youngest to save everyone else? You feel guilty that you left a toddler to live alone? Cause, if it makes you feel any better, I’m fine, man. I’ve been good.” He said. But to his shock, the.. his captain just stared. “Toby…what’s your last name? Do you still know it?” He asked, seemingly afraid of the answer. Tubbo thought for a moment, but just shook his head. “Not really. I have a new one now, though, so i guess it doesn’t matter as much.”

“Sparklez.”

“…what?” Tubbo said, the dread he felt getting heavier as he processed what the man had said. “Your name is Sparklez. Toby Sparklez.” And oh god, did that sound familiar, but not it a good way. Like he had some sort of negative association with the word. And it was his name, for fucks sake, if this man was telling the truth. “…ok,” Tubbo replied wearily, “…so what? Why…why is that all of a sudden so important? I don’t have a family, they’re dead, my mum is dead, my dad is..” he trailed off. In all fairness, Tubbo had no fucking clue what ever happened to his dad. He didn’t remember that fucker at all. All he remembered was his poor mother raising him alone, sacrificing her damn life to hide her only son in a vent to save him from certain death. Where was his dad then?

And as if the universe hated him more than it had already proven to, as if the multilaton of his face, the death of his colony, and the death of his birth mother hadn’t been enough, the man held out his hand to Tubbo.

“I’m Captain Jordan Sparklez,” he said, a genuine smile on his face and tears filling his eyes as Tubbo’s world began to violently shatter around him. “And I’m so, so happy to see you again, Toby.”

…

It was like all of the air in him evaporated into nothing, like his lungs had been crushed by led and could no longer expand. Every muscle in his body began to spasm, and he was slowly losing feeling in everything, spreading from his hands and feet up to his arms and legs like a disease. He remembered seeing Karl have a panic attack once, remembered how hard it was to watch someone he love feel so much terror, remembered the pain on Sapnap and Quackitys’ as they desperately tried to help him. He felt bad that the people around him were scared for him right now, but, hell, he was scared for him, too.

He felt hands, familiar hands, thank god, begin to grab at him as he collpased, and he saw the blurry outlines of his best friends help lower him and shout concerns and questions that were getting harder and harder to hear by the second as the world darkened around him. Ranboo tried to tell him it was ok, (even if nothing was ok), and he heard Tommy yelling at his d- the captain about something that he couldn’t be bothered to listen to, and somewhere in the blurry background he could see Aimsey anxiously just standing around, unsure of what to do. He felt himself be lifted as shaggy light caramel hair and a pair of shoddily handmade glasses came into view. Right, his Uncle Charlie was there to witness all of that, too. He laughed internally to himself, remembering the night he and his actual dad had spent trying to make those, when they realized how little Charlie could actually see. It had taken half an hour to unstick the hot glue from Schlatt’s hands, Tubbo laughing at him the whole time, and lord knows there’s probably still hot glue stuck to the counters, it was a mess.

He wondered if Charlie knew. If the reason he’d been told to stay away was because Charlie knew he couldn’t handle something like this.

Well, he was right.

“Take him back,” he heard Sparklez say, as the world began to simmer away, “Ponk and Niki will fix him up, and Eret will know what to do from there. They can get him what he needs. Just..Just hang in there, Toby.” He felt an unfamiliar calloused hand on his shoulder and, suddenly, he was out cold.

#cyncerity #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #dad’s troubles au #cynwrites #IM SO EXCITED #I HOPE YALL LIKE THIS #g/t #tiny!tubbo #tiny!tommy #g/t writing #giant/tiny #tiny!ranboo #tiny!charlie #tiny!aimsey #finding family #IDK IF YALL WERE EXPECTING THAY BUT IF YOU WERENT #BOOM PLOT TWIST #THE MAIN PLOT OF THIS STORY HAS BEEN REVEALED >:D #AND IT ONLY TOOK 3 CHAPTERS

[one-strugling-bean]

DSMP Fanfic Rec List because I’m bored - part 1

(IF YOU READ ANY OF THESE, DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT - even a simple "great work" or "this was a lot of fun" suffices, just  comment)

Manburg vs Pogtopia Era (lots of Manburg cabinet, Pumpkin Duo, and Schlatt studies)

depressing final moments for an equally depressing man by cottageaddict

Your chest aches, a twinge you can’t quite place shooting through your ribs, and all you can do is sigh and lift the bottle to your lips once again.

“Are you- Are you drinking?!”

-

I’m a big fan of 2nd person narration and this particular work delivers it beautifully. I also adore the way they wrote Schlatt - the fear of death, the understanding and semi-acceptance of all the wrongs he’s done to everybody, and his response to it all being just Well fuck *proceeds to drink more* - he’s so very much in character.

That very specific, and honestly pretty fucking sad implication at the end hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting too, actually-

___

I Will Sing No Requiem by Rjeealdleyr 

"Fundy wouldn't cry for Wilbur."

-

#cfundydeservesbetter

I second the author by saying we don’t have enough Fundy fics in this fandom, so here is one. Be prepared for angsty angst!!

___

Exorcise My Fat Old Heart by orojiratsu

On the day you die the sun is beaming.

OR: The death of a villain.

-

More of Schlatt’s POV for November 16th and more 2nd person. This one is written so tragically and in such short sentences, it feels like a poem. Needless to say, I like it a lot.

___

Welcome Home, Theseus. by orojiratsu 

Schlatt is their president, and they will stay by his side. 

-

Aka, an AU where Schlatt tries to get over his alcoholism with the help of those around him and the Manburg Cabinet actually works out. Sooooooo, basically S1 heaven for me.

You get it all: functional pumpkin duo, dadschlatt with Tubbo and Fundy, Tommy getting away from Pogtopia!Wilbur, a happy, hopeful ending- 

When I say that in the DSMP, Schlatt is the character that could have had it all and changed the course of the the story towards a much brighter future, this fic is what I mean.

That last chapter always gets me, i swear-

___

The Nation That Got Better by lb1412 (WIP)

In one world, L’Manberg is no more, its citizens are divided and its enemies reign supreme.

In another world, however, there is still hope.

In another world, a traveller comes with a message, a warning, an omen.

In another world, everything depends on Schlatt.

And maybe, just maybe, there is hope left for him too.

Come, gather around, everyone, for I am about to tell you the tale of the nation that got better.

-

OR, Schlatt gets a visit from a certain time traveller the night before the election and that changes a few things in the lore’s future.

Basically, it's just more Manburg Cabinet working out, although slightly differently and taking longer. I love the broship that Pumpkin Duo has in this.

The lack of heavy angst in here is a real breath of fresh air for me, btw.

ALSO, kids are treated as kids! I repeat, kids are treated as kids!

___

Swagtopia AU by PrincessLunaLover 

It was supposed to just be a secret rescue mission. Tubbo was going to get his father free from prison and let him run into the wilderness, voter fraud charges be damned. But then Fundy found out about the fake charges, and went to Quackity for legal advice.

It wasn't supposed to end with Wilbur publicly executing his own son.

-

Ahhhhhhh Swagtopia AU, my beloved :,)

The title speaks for itself no? An AU where Wilbur cheats to win the elections and it’s all dandy and good until Fundy finds out and decides that justice should prevail.

Schlatt and Wilbur basically switch roles and with them, lots of other things change. (I love this idea so much.)

Dad!Schlatt is a thing and the Pumpkin Duo dynamic reminds me a bit of an edgier Happy Duo - that married couple who can't stop bickering. They’re great.

Fundy gets a lot of spotlight, Quackity is really intelligent and gets to show it, Techno and Schlatt are old friends, and Sweater Duo angst is a thing, so really, what else could you want??

(Also, this fic is finished, I'm not sure why it’s marked as WIP, but it might have to do with the hints to a possible sequel that just never came to be.)

Think thats it for now - happy readings :>>>

#no one asked me to do this i felt like it #if any author whose works i mentioned ever wants me to take their fic from here i will do so immediately no problem #if you feel like adding your own fav fics to here feel free #reblog or comment or whatever #im getting desperate for new good fics #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #manburg vs pogtopia #fanfic recs

[clingyduoapologist]

Ok, since it’s been a bit and I’ve had some time to sit with it, here are my thoughts.

If you separate this stream from the greater narrative that Wilbur has been weaving, then it’s fucking superb. The c!Crimeboys parts are some of the best we’ve had in the entire history of the server, the Utah bit is fucking hilarious, and the overall message of the stream is so heartwarming, literally I’d have no problems calling this one of my top 3, maybe even top 2 c!Wilbur streams.

The issue is, that this isn’t a standalone story. This is the conclusion of c!Wilbur’s story on the dream smp. More specifically, it’s the conclusion of revivebur’s season 4 arc, and as an ending, it kind of makes no sense?

Like sure, the message of Wilbur freeing himself from the narrative by actually crossing over into the real world is cool, but at least to me it comes off as so much more of a downer ending than it was probably meant to. Basically, I’m left to assume that this guy who’s struggled for so long is now just sitting alone in a random gas station in Buttfuck, Utah? The final poem even goes so far as to suggest that he’s never going to forgive himself (which is also supported by the crimeboy’s conversation on the peninsula)? There’s no suggestion that he’s going to be doing better, which just feels like angst for the sake of angst.

That’s not even mentioning how this slots into the other apology streams. Like, this stream takes all the juicy character dynamics we got introduced to in those streams, and throws it out in favor of showing Wilbur being potentially miserable for the rest of his life? Like, looking at the Fundy stream in particular just makes this ending ring that much more hollow, as it’s just Wilbur leaving fundy again, showing that he’s learned basically nothing from any of those interactions?

To me at least, the point of the apology streams seemed to be showing how Wilbur’s negative self-image damaged his relationship with other characters, making these apologies extremely superficial and one sided. Inconsolable Differences especially seemed to prove this point, but now these streams just seem so much more, idk pointless? Like, they seem so boring in context of this finale.

Basically, this ending is the safest, and least interesting out for c!Wilbur in my opinion. The only logical takeaway this arc gives the audience is that if you think that you’re a bad enough person, you don’t deserve your friends and family and should

And again, in context of the greater narrative of not only c!Wilbur’s arc, but the entire dream smp, it just feels cheap.

Feel free to add on if you disagree but I just don’t think this ending works.

#discourse #negativity #to be clear I don’t think this stream is bad at all #I just think it fails as an ending #but again just my opinion #Dream smp analysis #c!wilbur

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Fake fic titles time!!!!

In Ink and Blood (heheheh I like this one)

A feather Quill with a tale of old

All in all, I have you

Nobody’s pawn (the angst potential >:3)

Just one drop

Hehehe have fun with these!!

WHOOP WHOOP thank you very much becky !!! :D

in ink and blood

becky genuinely i cannot think of ANYTHING for this. everything else came to me easily but i've been sitting here trying to think...i'll take another minute or so,,, i'm thinking vampires? pen manufacturing? a deal?? tnt duo??? IDK!!! aha i listened to a song called ink and blood so ig a horror setting could fit!..nah i'll stick to tnt vamps

quackity is a borrower, wilbur is a vampire. when quackity comes in contact with said vampire due to wilbur's enhanced senses, he realizes that wilbur is scared. quackity is too, which puts them in an untrustworthy position of "who is lying" despite both of their "shows" being completely real. (legit just wrote tommy there. that is my fifth time using tommy as a filler word today) quackity comes forward one day and requests that wilbur leaves him alone, or quackity will tell his colony of this find. (which is a total lie, quackity's been a loner for half of his life). wilbur states that while quackity wants comfort in writing, wilbur wants comfort in blood, as in, turning quackity. the man is hesitant at first, but he really isn't spiritual enough to embrace death just yet.

so quackity, having had read a few books in his lifetime, especially horror ones that he'd stolen from a human he used to live with, agreed. and wilbur, stupid as it was, wrote in words that he wouldn't do anything to quackity, despite being his soon-to-be-sire (GAHHH i'm so happy with this and i love it- esp quackity wanting it in writing and him being a lawyer- yk- HDFSHA)

a feather quill with a tale of old (holy SHIT i love that)

archeologists recently discovered the ruins of an old, small camp. the only thing about it, is, it's massive. there's towering stone walls with ropes of ivy and overgrown plants surrounding the entirety of the old place. phil, in charge of the plan to uncover the giant civilization, immediately sets off to work with his large group. they work for days, starting only with the jungle of ferns and growth. tubbo, the youngest of their party, slips off and starts investigating on his own. he'd always had a weird kind of deja vu that was in the back of his mind, flaring up whenever he did something like write in a book or watch a paranormal show. but it flared up bad here, it felt familiar.

tubbo wanders into an old tent where only the foundation stands and sees a book buried under a pile of sediment. some trouble later, he unearths a chest filled with dirt, a feather sticking upright out of it like a plant, and a book settled in between it. the voice in his head grows loud and his gut churns, it's so familiar. on the cover, it reads: dreamons. (i like tubbo and fundy and sapnap's little dreamon adventures, okay? also this rlly isn't g/t....sorry)

also just bc this is short, maybe tubbo sneaks away from camp and visits this place. maybe a dreamon comes for him, or he finds the remains of fundy, sapnap, or even himself. or.....something entirely different >:) i could totally write this...

nobody's pawn (angst. >:D)

usually, when a human finds a borrower, they capture it and put it to work. sometimes they're cruel, sometimes they're on the nicer end of the spectrum while still enforcing rules. they'll make them do work, like basic chores.

tommy had a big ego. he thought highly of himself, so when he was caught by a human, he was startled to hear that dream didn't want anything from him. not a single job was worth tommy. tommy took offence to that, and continued popping up at random times to pester him about the offer, any every time dream declined. tommy was clouded by the thoughts of why he wasn't able to. maybe he was too small, he had been unusually small compared to some other borrowers he'd met....but that doesn't mean he was any less capable.

tommy started trying to help dream. setting dream's alarm when he was too tired to, rolling lost items out from under furniture, anything. until, of course, dream would call him out on it. tommy, in the end, was always left wondering why dream did not want him. (not rlly angst...more just miscommunication involving traditions lol but i like this!! also primeboys my beloved <3)

all in all, i have you

(this just yells shrinking but i gotta figure out how to make it not a typical shrinking story... boom okay got it!) tubbo had always enjoyed tinkering with things. his attic is filled with junk he'd acquired while sneaking into junkyards and walking in the dangerous part of town. so, naturally, it didn't startle him that he'd actually perfected a shrink ray. he'd tried it on a duck lamp he had, and it worked perfectly. it was no more than a few inches when he'd hit it with the ray.

his next test subject would be their son, a little boy ranboo and him decided to adopt when they hit eighteen. it was a little nerve-wracking, sure, and for a second it thought he may have...died...but all in all, it worked!

ranboo didn't exactly know about this. when they asked where micheal went, tubbo lied and said that the boy had went to spend the weekend with jack (who was also in on it, and in on the shrink ray). he practiced on everything. and it helped with his inventions, like too-big pieces of metal that he needed to be smaller. he added settings to it to adjust things. it was amazing. tubbo, foolish as it would be to admit, felt like a mad scientist. ("i have you" refers to the shrink ray...cause yk...mad scientist...OKAY IT WAS SOMETHING I CAME UP WITH TO SWAY AROUND HONEY I SHRUNK THE KIDS LMAO)

just one drop

(ooh do i chose drop like liquid or drop like height....) for class, wilbur needed to do one of two things: find a subject, and test his concoction. his school focused on magic while including the other basic things. but mainly magic. he had magic blood from his mother, but he's the only one who did, seeing as both tommy and techno were adopted. wilbur's subject was tommy, in the end. he was the only one home at the time, otherwise it would've been techno, because he's much more enjoyable to work with (sometimes...)

he'd tried to make a shrink potion and was testing to see if it worked. the instructions for his assignment was to use just one drop from a pipette, but somehow wilbur managed to fuck that up. mainly because tommy was complaining and he squeezed just a bit too hard. which would've been okay. but he panicked and ended up spilling the vial onto his brother. his potion had worked, so he'd get a good grade...but he had to hide his three-inch-brother from his other brother and father. and...they don't exactly know that the school he goes to deals in magic. the "real" classes were more of a ruse. the magic his mother told him he had was whispered to him only a few weeks before she left, as far as phil knows, wilbur was normal.

#brickquiries #becky brickling #becky my beloved <33 #brickfic titles #GOD this took ages so sorry #mcyt g/t #dsmp g/t #happy w these ngl

[cinnamon-fam-studios]

"TO THE NEVER WEDS"

Dsmp! Quackity & Fundy Fic (Not a Ship/Platonic)

"Two of the most tragic ex-fiances have a somewhat drunken conversation about love and loss of love at a Las Nevadas club"

By: Maple_Fair (aka Me!)

Tags: Alexis | Quackity & Fundy, Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity & Noah Brown & Charlie Dalgleish & Floris | Fundy & Grayson | Purpled, Fundy & Liam | HBomb94 & Yogurt the Fox (Dream SMP), Alexis | Quackity, Fundy (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Dream SMP Ensemble, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Karl Jacobs, Mentioned Sam | Awesamdude, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Mentioned Noah Brown, Mentioned Liam | HBomb94, Mentioned Sally the Salmon (Dream SMP), Floris | Fundy Has A Child Named Yogurt, Mentioned Yogurt the Fox (Dream SMP), Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Winged Alexis | Quackity, Sad Alexis | Quackity, Alexis | Quackity Needs a Hug, Alexis | Quackity-centric, Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Floris | Fundy-centric, Floris | Fundy Needs A Hug, Sad Floris | Fundy, Floris | Fundy Has Abandonment Issues, Floris | Fundy Angst, Alexis | Quackity Angst, Soft Alexis | Quackity, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Past Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, One-Sided Clay | Dream/Fundy (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy's Wedding, Engaged Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Past Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap Angst, Engaged Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Drinking to Cope, Alcohol, Mentioned Charlie Dalgleish, Mentioned Grayson | Purpled, Talking, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Wedding Rings, Friendship/Love, Past Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Past Alexis | Quackity/Wilbur Soot, Past Relationship(s), Promises, Broken Promises, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), manipulative but not at the same time

Note: Some parts might be a little ooc, but I wanted it to be more of healing arc direction . This is my first time post a oneshot of mine here (it's an old one from like December 11, 2022)

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The day was coming to an end as orange hues began to bleed over the blue sky. The sun lowered itself in the horizon, leaving those of the world to flee or embrace the growing darkness. One who seemed to embrace it was a dark haired avian who stood in the large windows of a building. It was uncommon for him to indulge in such simple behaviors but he had grown to appreciate them. Especially since he's always thought big for himself. After a harrowing incident had brought him down from his high horse, he searched to better himself and live the life he had left out in peace. Taking small moments to appreciate the little things. He had been leaving his office when he stopped to enjoy the sunset. After what seemed like forever, the large light had flicked out as smaller ones switched on. The orange hue let a darker blue take over, along with its little suns to decorate the sky. The golden winged avian exhaled softly before continuing down the hall. He might as well leave for the day since there was no reason to stay in the vacant building any longer. Maybe he'll go see if he could find any of his crew to spend time with since he was attempting to make amends to people. He already spent many days with the certain totem demi-god and creeper hybrid since they had been re-building the nation's highlight builds after they had been destroyed in the "incident" together but the two had dismissed themselves for other affairs. A traitor had been snuffed out and was probably no longer an option. Said traitor had taken another member of the crew with him and basically disappeared without much of a trace.

Which left one person left.

As the avian exited out the front doors of the building, he pulled out his communicator. He scrolled through his contact icons until a pixel fox icon popped up. He clicked on the call icon and awaited for a response. The device ring echoed through as he made his way down the concrete path. Since the sun had disappeared, the streets were light with artificial light from lamps and lanterns. The once busy streets were seemingly deserted as the darkness settled in. His communicator stopped ringing, so he tried again to call the person. He allowed it to ring in his hand as he took in his surroundings more. Though lamps were evenly spaced out on the path, they were dull enough to bring the other forms of illumination to life. Such as a bright sign with a very provocative figure of a woman on it hanging above a double door entrance building. The sign read: “The Drunk Ram Club '', while red & white lights surrounded it. The golden winged avian has spent a lot of time in that club for the sake of a change in atmosphere. The energy was upbeat and the drinks were intoxicating, so much that you would forget most of one's sorrows. A temptation began to grow on him as he felt attracted to the entire building. Yet not for the reason who would normally be. The upbeat music that would usually be playing had softened to slow jazz and the lines at the entrance were nowhere in sight. It was calmingly inviting and what was in a docile state. He looked both ways on the path before crossing the road towards the building. Just a few drinks wouldn’t hurt, since he needed a way to relieve some stress.

He pushed the doors open since the guard at the door was long gone. The area was light with fainting and flashing blue lights as the jazz music reverberated off the enclosed space. The sweet smell of flowers entangled with the bitter scent of alcohol and sweat. The population of the club was very little, leaving what seemed like two or three drunkards blacked out at tables, a lone pole dancer who was preparing to leave, and the bartender watching over someone at the bar. He squinted his eyes at the person before realizing who it was. A ginger & white haired fox man slumped over the countertop. His bushy tail sweeped gently across the dark floor as he swirled his finger around the tip of his glass.

It was just the person he was looking for.

The dark haired man placed his communicator back into his pocket as he made his way over to the fox man. He sat in the bar stool on the fox man's right before asking for a hangman's blood in old fashioned glass. The bartender nodded before walking away. It was only then when the ginger acknowledged his presents.

"Quackity?" muttered the fox man, looking up from his glass.

"Hey Fundy, didn't expect to find you here at the club. Thought you would have gone home to that your kid by now" greeted the avian, as he turned to face him.

"Yogurt? Oh, Hbomb is babysitting him right now. I needed some time to myself" replied Fundy, as looked down at his glass once more.

"So you came to the Drunk Ram?" uttered Quackity.

"Yeah, I need something to keep my mind distracted for a while" nodded Fundy, as picked his glass to take a drink from.

As he did so, Quackity took in the ginger's appearances. The familiar white freckles danced across his nose, though his face looked a bit puffy as if he had been crying. Eye bags sat loyally under his eyes while what looked like light mascara smudged against his face in a tear like direction. The white streaks amongst the orange hairs were a bit more prominent and some fell into his face. His large black tipped ears were almost constantly pinned down to his head. Instead of the common white work top with tie, a familiar black jacket was across his body as his matching hat sat on the countertop. His posture was far from straight up and all confidence the fox man had was gone. Overall, two words that came to Quackity’s mind as he looked at him.

Pathetic.

And Sad.

Fundy was sad right now and gave him a pathetic look.

Yet it was something the avian could empathize with. Because he, himself, was a pathetic and sad man.

The bartender returned with his order and placed it in front of him before he started to speak.

"Has something happened?" asked Quackity, as he accepted the glass.

"A Lot of things happen, Q. Be more specific" remarked Fundy, holding his glass out for a refill.

"To you then. What has happened to you? I know you aren't much of a drink since you tried avoiding becoming like the people you hate"' restated Quackity, pointing to his glass as the bartender.

"So I must ask you. What drink have you had while you've been here?" He inquired.

The fox man furrowed his brows as he looked away from the dark haired man. Though he wasn't dismissing his question, more of sitting on it. Like one would sit on sweet glass.

"Well, I had the hard stuff earlier. Such as whiskey and vodka. Really wasn't in the best state" informed Fundy, as he tapped his clawed finger on the table.

"Did you have another nightmare?" questioned Quackity.

"Well yes but that was after I blacked out here. Something happened earlier today." claimed Fundy, as his tail curled around his stool.

"I got a letter from Slime, or Charlie as you've named him. I thought it was odd until it was who the letter was written" he explained, resting his head on his hand.

There was a pause in the conversation. It seemed Fundy was trying to keep his composure. Quackity wasn't much of an emotional comforter but he hesitantly placed a hand on the fox man's shoulder.

"The letter was from Dream, shockingly. I never expected to get a letter from his sorry ass but here I am." sighed Fundy, as he reached his hand into his pocket.

A crumpled piece of paper was revealed from the pocket and was unrolled to reveal sloppily written words in dark green ink.

"It's basically a shitty celebratory letter because today was, or would have been, our wedding anniversary. A pathetic apology for something that happened two years ago and an awful way of showing his 'devotion' " the ginger reported, as he handed the letter to avian.

"It shouldn't have upset me as much as it did but it already hasn't been a good week" he added, watching as the bartender returned his glass.

"So you tried drinking your sorrows away?" questioned Quackity, as his eyes landed on the poorly drawn heart.

"Yes, but it only made things worse considering my life before I started working for you in Nevadas" sighed Fundy.

A silence hung between the two of them after that statement. The jazz music was still playing around them but it seemed to slow the world down as the duo were losing themselves in the conversation. Quackity swirled around the cubes of ice in his glass while Fundy slowly sipped from his. They both were very aware of how shitty things were before Las Nevadas was even an idea. The fox man was raised in a time of warfare, lived under a tyrant rule, went through the grief of losing his mother & later his father, was basically abandoned by his family, was forgotten by all his friends after their country was destroyed and just became the butt of everyone else's joke for entertainment. To throw a romance that was treated as joke into the mix, can really fuck somebody up. At Least with the aftermath it felt like a joke. The letter in hand wasn't really concrete evidence that the fox man's ex partner really cared for him. Though Quackity’s life has led a different road than Fundy's, they shared many experiences. Especially when it comes to love.

"I'll have to agree with you on that one. Life was shitty after Doomsday" remarked Quackity, as he took a swig from his glass.

"No one really could agree on anything and blame was being thrown at every one. People went their different ways and found their places somewhere else or with others that they could somewhat agree with" he uttered, as he shook out his tensing feathers.

"When there is no place to call home, you are just forced to either find a new one or make one. Which is one of the reasons I built Las Nevadas." he proclaimed.

"Especially that garden venue over by the hotel. A wedding venue, actually" he added, with a slight scoff.

"You said you were going to marry Sapnap and Karl there, right?" inquired Fundy, one ear twitching upwards.

"Was going to marry" corrected Quackity.

"From all the relationships I have been in, I thought the one I had with them would be the one to last. Last long enough to prepare a life for them here" he expressed, as he reached for the hanging rings on his neck.

"But I still haven't learned my lesson. Some things don't last with some people" he remarked, dryly.

"Sapnap visited one day and brought me to the kingdom that he and Karl ruled over, along with George. Everything was so pretty and huge. Better than anything I could have provided them." Quackity stated.

"When I was able to speak with Karl, he was different. He seemed more hostile compared to the last time we spoke and more skeptically. That led to a big argument with him and how everything we ever had meant nothing. As if we had no history at all" he uttered, his voice quivering.

Another patch of silence. Quackity stared into the ice in his glass, seeing his reflection in it. He could tell Fundy was giving a look of empathy but also curiosity. The avian cleared his throat as he tried to get his thoughts back in order.

"What I'm trying to say is, I feel your pain. Your feelings have been played with for so long. To the point where the one time you feel validated and you are being acknowledged, you put all your emotions into this one thing. Just to find out it meant nothing to them." explained Quackity.

"And when you react to it, you are turned into a joke once more. It didn't matter to them yet it was everything to you" he included, his voice growing shake.

"So to me, and I'm being as honest as I can right now, that your feelings matter to me. I know how you feel and I would go and try to beat Dream' teletubby looking ass" proclaimed Quackity, as he placed his hands on the fox man's shoulder.

Silence accumulated the two for a short moment. Then Fundy lifted his hand and placed his hand on Quackity's ,as his dark amber eyes grew shiny with tears.

"Thank you Q. I accept that your feelings matter as well and I wish I could say the same thing in return for trying to get revenge on those who hurt you" replied Fundy, as his brows wilted.

"Then instead of seeking acts of revenge, since we are both very vulnerable at the moment, let us do something else" remarked Quackity, as he reached over for his glass.

"What are you having right now?" he asked, gesturing to the ginger's glass.

"Hm? Oh, Arise My Love. It was one of the cocktails I had at the failed wedding" hummed Fundy.

"Then I shall have one too" claimed Quackity, looking towards the bartender.

They nodded in response before going off to create the drink. The duo watched patiently as they watched the skilled drink maker shake and pour ingredients into the drink mixer. Once finished and freshly poured into the glass, Quackity shakily stood to his feet and lifted his glass into their air.

"I am, Quackity HQ. A man who has been doomed to eternally failed love and being a horrible person. Tonight I shall be taking you, Fundy Soot, as a companion of forlorn life and to attempt to stay at each other's for as long as well both shall live" declared Quackity.

"And I am Fundy Soot. A man who lives as a forgotten child and the victim of every sick mockery. I accept you, Quackity HQ, as a companion of a shared forlorn life" replied Fundy, with a weak smile.

"To the Never-Weds" spoke Quackity.

"To the Never Weds" nodded Fundy.

With that, the two hooked their arms together and drank from their respective glasses. A promise yet a not promise made in the middle of a nightclub. As soft jazz music began to drown the drunken duo laughter as they talked about everything to nothing into the night.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #fanfic #fanfiction #mcyt fanfiction #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp fundy #dsmp quackity #fanfiction writer #Quackity and Fundy #archive of our own #ao3 writer #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #oneshot #platonic #angst with a happy ending #dsmp angst #fundy angst #quackity angst

[hotcocoandwriting]

Good Dad c!Wilbur fic recs

Hi, so if you've read my writing you probably know I am a big fan of Good Parents. In particular, I like Good Dad Wilbur fics. And since the ones I love most are hilariously underrated, here are my recommendations! Because God knows we can't get it in canon.

The Winner Takes It All, by @alwerakoo. Ngl, I sobbed multiple times while reading and it's got some amazing vibes. It's set in an ambiguous time period if you're a fan of those, and has a healthy dollop of angst. Also, Wilbur's not quite as much of a disaster as he is in some of my other recs, but he's still having issues. Very good, 10/10. Completed!

I don't think I want to leave you, by Anonymous. Very dark, very angsty. Wilbur is trying his best to be a good dad while struggling really hard, and it's heartbreaking. But it's also great because the emotions are so raw and how much Wilbur loves Fundy comes through in every line. Incomplete, but we're at 4/6 chapters. Also, has a happy ending! Also my current favorite.

If you find what you're looking for - be sure to send a postcard, by BialyLis. I know, recommending the 'I'm Ready Now' series when it's currently on the front page of 'Good Parent Phil Watson'. But this fic is genuinely so good, and having read the entire series, it's great to see the continued adventures of Phil and this three little disasters. This Wilbur is probably the second most disastrous on this list, only because he seemingly is holding down a job and a two month old baby by himself. It only has two chapters right now, but it's probably going to be long.

That's it for now, but if I find more I'll definitely update this list/make a part two! I highly recommend these fics, even though they do cover darker topics. Happy reading!

#dsmp #dream smp #c!wilbur #wilbur dsmp #good parent wilbur soot #fic recs #c!wilbur fic recs