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#and dream and sapnap were there to veto ideas
geminisync · 3 years
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FUNDY ANALYSIS BECAUSE C!FUNDY IS SO COMPLEX
FULL ANALYSIS (essay) FOR FUNDY because I see some people still confused on how sudden it is and why it’s not good for the plot. And also because he really does deserve way better. And I’ll be vetoing c!Ranboo’s statement about Fundy choosing only winning sides, because that’s not true and it’ll be explained with the rest of the analysis.
(Welp, doing this again for the third time but let’s elaborate further) (I’m starting to main essays about misferns and their characters oh god....) (I’m using mobile and autocorrect doesn’t help with the nation’s name.)
Let’s start by looking into the root of all things, Wilbur and Lmanburg. The things that caused Fundy’s spiral into insanity.
Wilbur was Fundy’s father, we all know that, and apparently, he WAS a good father but the place where he started taking after Phil’s favouritism and started neglecting his only child was the start of the independence war. He was a good father, supportive of c!Fundy being trans, taking care of c!Fundy when Sally was gone and watched him grew up (the last part written in Ghostbur’s diary as something happy he remembered, sadly enough it was the only point about Fundy).
Originally, Wilbur wanted Fundy to be the one to inherit his new nation Lmanburg, as a parallel of Fundy being Theodosia, it was worked into the canon story that he originally wanted Fundy to be the one to take over, believing he would “blow them all away”. “We’ll bleed and fight for you, we’ll make it right for you.” Wilbur used the lyrics as a speech to Fundy (who like I mentioned parallels Theodosia initially), Lmanburg citizens fought for their nation, Wilbur fought for Lmanburg, but before, when the idea was proposed, he fought for it for Fundy.
And it all went downhill after the war.
I’ll be thinking canonically and not meta, so I won’t be using excuses like, these two are extremely great friends so even if they are on opposite sides they’ll quickly recover.
Didn’t you find it weird why Fundy had the least amount of animosity towards Eret, even though he and Eret got into a few mini fights after the war? They maintained their friendship, it strengthened overtime, and he was the only member of Lmanburg apart from sweet and kind Niki to reach out to Eret and be friends again, pranking each other over and over.
The others remained animosity with Eret who was the traitor, who took away one of their lives, they refused his help when Tommy and Wilbur were running away. But Fundy didn’t hold a grudge that long against him, he didn’t care about his loyalty to Lmanburg, and there’s a reason. Bitterness, feelings of unfairness.
Wilbur chose Tommy as his Vice President, and I remember it being mentioned before that Fundy was older than Tommy and Tubbo. The two mentioned had roles in the new cabinet, but not Fundy, who was older. To Fundy, he definitely would feel it unfair, especially since he was promised the nation when the war started, when he was the blood son of the president. He got nothing. He was neglected during the entire war and after.
He wasn’t even in the song. Even Eret was in it, but he, being apart of the main citizens fighting for it, being the blood son of the founder and president, had no place in the song. He was constantly babied, brushed away, talked over during this period. He was, in simple terms, neglected.
He grew up too fast, he was also a veteran, but a veteran who unlike the others received zero recognition at all.
And vetoing c!Ranboo’s calling him a coward for always choosing the winning sides, he chose the side of Lmanberg in the first war because his father was there, because Eret was there. Fundy had always chose people instead of sides.
He was friendliest with Eret, someone not apart of Lmanburg and the traitor, but he was closest with him and also Niki. Does that not say much about his feelings towards Lmanberg, with the reasons of his lack of loyalty said, it does make sense. Eret was the only one that even now gave priority to Fundy and Fundy first.
Example, being by his side during his tough time as a spy. Also, recently, when Ghostbur wanted to come back, Eret was happy because Fundy would have a dad again. Fundy first, out of everything, it was always Fundy.
And Fundy loved that, being neglected for the duration of the entire war and every time afterwards, no longer seen as someone who was just there, no longer mocked and ignored, his voice was heard.
Lmanberg, it didn’t mean much to him except a nation Wilbur created. His friends did, his pets did, Eret’s friendship did. Nikis friendship did.
It must say much too when the pet war started, it was Fundy who wanted to take revenge FOR Niki, Lmanberg be damned, his friends’ happiness matter most. By friends, I mean people he trusts, not his fellow citizens. By friends, I mean, Niki, Eret and his pets.
No one came to help either of them, not any of the L’Manburg citizens, it was Eret who fixed Fungi’s grave, the traitor of Lmanberg.
And guess who gave him acknowledgement and praise and respect? Nope, not Tubbo who was the judge, not the witness Jack, it was Sapnap. Sapnap gave him respect, something he never received from the main Lmanberg citizens before.
Someone who was once his enemy gave him respect.
Neglect started the spiral, slow but steady into doom. Then respect from the enemy started his apathy for Lmanberg, soon leading to him not caring about it.
When he ran the election, his campaign goal was peace for Lmanberg, unity, friends with all. It was the embodiment of Ranboo’s “Choose people! Not sides!” Coconut2020’s ideals will play a big role in the recent events when Fundy finally snapped.
But truly, his main goal was to PROVE to Wilbur that he can! That he wasn’t a baby to be coddled, that he was as strong as the rest, that he deserved the same amount of respect. Even Phil mentioned that Fundy always hated Wilbur babying Fundy.
His strength should’ve been recognised during the post war events. The bee game was Fundy being really good at manipulating and messing with peoples minds. Then the pet war showed his persistence, his mental strength, his scary ability to adapt extremely quick, his ability to learn and his physical PVP strength when he beat Sapnap a lot.
But only the enemy side, Punz and Sapnap recognised this. Because the others didn’t care. (I’m speaking canonically, I’m fully aware they are all friends okay!)
(Also, wasn’t Dream the one who spun the pet war further? When he showed Sapnap Fundy’s pets, when he told Sapnap about what they said even though he said he wouldn’t. When he told Fundy and Niki about Sapnap’s favourite pet. But this isn’t about Dream, so let’s move on, I just wanted to bring this up as food for thought.)
Fundy chose to ran with Niki, Eret supported them. They were looked down because they wanted full-out peace.
When Schlatt took reign, Fundy knew exactly what he had to do after seeing the reactions of the rest of Lmanberg. He knew that Tubbo would be suspected as Tommy’s best friend, Schlatt taking him as his Secretary of State was the definition of “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.” THere was no way Schlatt didn’t know. Niki was outspoken about her anger, Schlatt intentionally raised her taxes.
But Fundy, he didn’t react, instead, he hatched a plan to unravel the government from within. To get the secrets until he was sure it would be his win, and reveal himself to Wilbur as a spy.
And he was a damn good one at that!
Along the way, he felt different about Manberg because he actually received recognition and respect from Schlatt! Something he never received within Lmanberg and definitely not from Wilbur. He wasn’t babied anymore, he was recognised and he was trusted.
But animals mean a great deal to Fundy, and anyone who kills them for fun, no matter who they are, will immediately be on his bad side. Which is exactly what Schlatt did at the festival. Which is what turned Fundy against Schlatt in the end.
But how did Pogtopia and Wilbur react to Fundy’s spy reveal and his important diary? Wilbur told him he despised him. Even though Fundy gave him confidential information that he was trusted with. He was the only one trusted with it.
But no one cared about him. Even Quackity, who was firmly on Schlatts side but left because he wanted Schlatt’s position, left because he wanted POWER, was welcomed more warmly than Fundy, who never was on Schlatts side (enjoying being on his side is one thing, actually being loyal to him is another. Being conflicted about loyalties doesn’t mean bein loyal to Schlatt) and was the one who told them the secrets was welcomed like a fool.
He was actually so comfortable parading the Manberg shield even though he wasn’t the traitor. It was clear from the start of the arc, that he only fought FOR Wilbur. He was loyal TO Wilbur, not to Pogtopia. Which is why he didn’t care about rousing suspicion with playing around with the shield, because he was only fighting for Wilbur. Looking deep into it, everything he fought for in the two wars were because of Wilbur. For Lmanberg, Pogtopia? No. But for what Wilbur wanted? That’s Fundy, even if his character doesnt realise it.
Wilbur’s affection, Wilbur gratefulness, Wilbur’s acknowledgement, Wilbur.
Again, vetoing c!Ranboo, they didn’t know who would he the winning side at the time because Dream wasn’t on their side, but Fundy never fought for Pogtopia because it was the winning side, he didn’t even fight for a side! He fought for people, he chose people, he fought for Wilbur and chose Wilbur!
It was never about Pogtopia or Lmanberg for him, he really enjoyed living in Manberg, but he fought for Wilbur which was why he went to Pogtopia in the first place. If it wasn’t for him, he likely would’ve stayed or left both sides completely and stay neutral.
When Wilbur chose Tommy, he felt angered, betrayed, bitter. He was promised the nation, he was his son, but no, it was always Tommy. Tommy who started all the wars, who never respected him, who only cared about the discs, to which was revealed later that he cared more about the discs than his best friend Tubbo. It was always Tommy, and that made Fundy bitter.
Then in the end, it was Tubbo. And he felt bitter again, he was denied multiple times, he lost hope for recognition. Tubbo, the yes man, the one who was revealed as a spy early on.
And then it blew up. Fundy may not care much but it was his home, it was his nation, where he was born and it was gone. All because of his father, who was killed by his grandfather, his home further blew up by withers from his uncle. His home was gone to the hands of his family. To the man he fought for.
And Ghostbur? He ran away from everything, his existence was painful for Fundy who still missed Wilbur. Remember when he asked if he was ever proud of Fundy and Fundy was happy when Ghostbur said yes, until he remembered. Ghostbur remembers only happy things, and nothing more. He only remembers Fundy growing up. Ghostbur’s existence rubbed salt into Fundy’s deep and gaping wound that would never heal unless Wilbur realized his wrongs and apologised, unless Wilbur did everything to make up for it. But it would never heal, because Wilbur was gone.
He is still babied, looked down on, ignored, brushed off, mocked, and for what? Choosing people only led to his misery. He stayed with Lmanberg, but not for anyone, only for the land.
Which was why it was so easy for him to disconnect from Lmanberg, it was the same for him and Niki, both who fought for and because of Wilbur, and leave the land and create something else to do their projects. Why it was so easy for him to give up on the land, why it was so easy for her to burn the tree.
Ranboo was a breath of fresh air for Fundy and was the only one in Lmanberg he really was loyal to now. Eret forgot to adopt him, Phil left for Techno, Dream cheated on him, but Ranboo stayed.
The last bit of rope that kept him from falling was Ranboo.
When George’s house burnt down, he was pissed because it was always Tommy. It was always Tommy, he couldn’t believe that was his Vice President.
Fundy’s spiral escalated during Manberg era, it slowed down due to Ranboo’s presence, but the green festival (the festival where everything went wrong) when Dream and Techno declared war and threatened to blow up Lmanberg, it speedran his fall to the bottom. Don’t forget before that, he was tortured by Tommy til he drowned. Punz comforted him in the end, and funnily enough, Punz was always on the opposing side of Fundy.
Niki was lost too. Everyone else, though hated Tommy, fought for Lmanberg. There was only one thing left, his feet was nearly touching the gaping void of insanity, Ranboo was left.
Then Ranboo’s speech made the gears in his head start to turn, he didn’t sleep, he was sleep deprived for long and I believe his character still hasn’t canonically slept. The speech made him think of how everyone he cared about abandoned him and left him.
It also says a lot that something from Schlatt means more to him than anything from Wilbur. It means that Schlatt means more than Wilbur to Fundy because Schlatt gave him recognition, respect, trust, etc.
(Also the fact he was mad because his mother was kept somewhere by Wilbur)
Wilbur left. Schlatt left. Eret didn’t adopt him. Phil left. Niki didn’t trust him.
Ranboo was left. And he realised Ranboo was right. Because Ranboo was what Coconut2020 once aspired to be before their fall and being ignored.
Coconut2020, they were once Ranboo. Niki and Fundy both were once Ranboo.
They fought for people, they fought for Wilbur. They didn’t care about which side they stood on, as long as it’s Wilbur.
Fundy and Niki has already been disconnected from Lmanberg. Fundy was let down, mocked, ignored, brushed off and insulted. Niki already knew her Lmanberg was already dead early on.
It was easy for him to sabotage them, he wanted them to suffer and learn a lesson. Because he suffered from their actions, he wasn’t seen nor heard, he wanted them to learn, that it didn’t matter anymore. It was useless, futile, it was their fault.
When confronting Ranboo, he was already on the brink of falling and probably never coming back, he was on the brink of becoming exactly like Wilbur. It started at his arson act of the forest before the Manberg war, where he knew Wilbur would be proud of him burning down the forest. Then the tnt factory. And now sabotaging everything.
But Ranboo was losing it too. He did a low blow and called Fundy a coward for only choosing winning sides, when in truth, he always just chose Wilbur. And now, he’s back to choosing people and chose Ranboo.
But both were spiralling. And Ranboo’s words broke the rope, tipped him over the edge, his mind was gone. Ranboo, on the other hand, spiralled more because of Quackity as he realised what everything meant and that he had to apologise to Fundy but before he could fall, because he had no rope to pull him back as Fundy was gone, Phil showed up and he was okay again.
Fundy had been set up for disappointment his entire life, he had always chose people which was why he recovered from Eret’s betrayal so quick. The only reason he hated Techno was because he was an orphan, he DIDN’T hate him because he helped blew up Lmanberg. He hated Wilbur for leaving him mainly, blowing up his home was a side thing, but leaving him was main. I would also like thinking this as a 5 stages of grief thing, and him snapping is the second stage, anger.
Fundy’s character has been through so much and never got the validation or respect he wanted. His character is complex, and his spiral was subtle and steady, but inevitable.
He chose Wilbur who was his father. Wilbur left him.
He chose Schlatt briefly who respected him, Schlatt left him.
He chose Eret when he wanted to adopt him, Eret forgot him.
He chose Phil who comforted him, Phil left him.
He chose Ranboo who was his anchor and last hope, Ranboo unintentionally pushed him away.
He was already spiralling that day, and now, he’s gone.
He wants to resurrect Wilbur, but will that help his mental health, or will that further deteriorate it?
He’s gone, because no one chooses him after so long, no one respects him, no one sees him, no one hears him.
He’s gone, and he’s happy everything else is too.
He’s happy he at least got to make people cry.
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onecanonlife · 3 years
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careful son (you got dreamer's plans)
Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.
Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.
Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.
(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)
Chapter Word Count: 7,295
Chapter Warnings: swearing, injury, blood, aftermath of (temporary) character death, mild disassociation, slight s.uicidal ideation, references to past abuse
Chapter Summary: The emotional fallout is intense, but they don’t have time to stop and deal with it. Wilbur doesn’t particularly like where they decide to hole up, but beggars can’t be choosers.
(masterlist w/ ao3 links)
(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)
Chapter Twelve: nowhere to run
The sun is too bright in his eyes. Too bright, and wrong, somehow, that it should be shining like this. Should still be shining, after the loss they’ve just suffered, after watching his brother crumple to dust in front of him. But the sun hardly cares for things like that, so they all stumble out of the hole in the ground that serves as the entrance to the spider spawner and beyond, and the daylight surrounds them, unforgiving.
“Where do we go, what do we do,” Tubbo is chanting, and Ranboo is muttering under his breath, a continuous litany of, “I can’t believe he’s gone, I can’t believe that happened—” His own lips feel glued shut, his throat devoid of sound. His skin buzzes.
(the two images interpose: Techno hanging from the vine, head at an unnatural angle, Techno wavering on his feet, blood pouring from his throat, and there is a flash of light and there is ash all at once, as if the first caused the second, as if instead of healing him, shoving his soul back into a body clinging to life, the totem burned him up from the inside out, and unlike the phoenix there was no rebirth)
“We can’t stay here,” Puffy says. Her eyes are wide, and her hands are shaking, but her voice has the same determined cant to it as it always does. “We need somewhere to hole up.”
“And where is that supposed to be?” Sapnap demands. His breathing is unsteady. “Where the fuck are we supposed to go after that? Where isn’t the thing gonna be able to reach? With, with Dream being, being, what even was that? Why was he—how was he—?” He breaks off, sparks crackling at his fingertips, and his face is a mask of distress, of questions
(was he always like that and did I not see or did something happen to him did something make him like that is that my friend or is there something inside of him something behind his eyes that is not him at all and if that is the case how did I not notice how did I not notice how did I not save him)
that Wilbur feels he recognizes. Or would, if he let himself. If he let himself care.
His eyes drift over to Phil. Phil, who stands silently, blood dripping from his wings, a thousand old injuries reopened by thrashing thorns. Who stands with Tommy in his arms, Tommy, who is curled up as tightly as he can reasonably manage, his face tucked into Phil’s shirt. Trembling. Quiet.
(he will die and I will kill him, the Egg says, and I have already begun, and you cannot protect him, you do not have the strength, except by what I can grant you)
“Church Prime,” Puffy says. “It’s the only place that might be safe.”
“Who’s to say it would be?” Sapnap snaps. “You saw it in there! The vines have never moved like that before, and Prime knows what else it can do now. And maybe the Egg wouldn’t be able to get in, but who’s to say that would stop—” He cuts off again, face contorting.
His leg is beginning to hurt, now. All of him is, actually, now that his adrenaline is wearing thin, now that the horror is sinking in, but it’s concentrated in his leg in particular, and he looks down to see that his left pant leg is all but shredded, blood dripping down in steady streams and splattering on the grass by his feet. The vines got him worse than he thought, then, and he bites his lip against the sting.
He’s had worse, though. He’s had so much worse. This is practically nothing, and Puffy and Sapnap are still arguing, and Tubbo and Ranboo are huddled together, eyeing the vines around them with deep suspicion, unmoving as they are just yet, and Phil is silent, and he’s going to stay silent, because Wilbur recognizes all too well the strain in his eyes, the way he’s holding onto Tommy with a death grip.
(he’s watched two of his sons die, now, and Techno will be back, will still have two lives left, but that does not heal the hurt, does not assuage the pain of seeing your brother, your son, your family die in front of your eyes before you can lift a finger to stop it, and Phil’s eyes shine with a grief almost beyond what Wilbur can understand. except he understands all too well, in the end)
He’s had worse, and someone needs to step up.
(the old mantle settles across his shoulders, and if he closes his eyes it’s like nothing’s changed at all, and the sun sets on the city he is determined to give everything for, still standing, walls still strong)
“Boxed in like a fish,” he croaks, and Puffy and Sapnap turn to him as one. “That’s what we’ll be, if we go to Church Prime. Whether it protects us in the moment of not won’t matter once we run out of supplies. We need somewhere better situated. Somewhere we can defend, that might withstand a siege, if it comes to it.”
Puffy makes a frustrated gesture. “I’m open to suggestions,” she says. “The prison, maybe, if we have to? We could probably keep people out as easily as—ah, shit, Sam.” She pulls her communicator out and taps out a quick message, and then frowns. “It’s telling me it can’t go through. Why isn’t it going through? Sam had all three lives, he should be—”
“Admins can read private messages,” Phil murmurs. “Wouldn’t surprise me if Dream could fuck with the whole system, whatever the fuck he is.”
Wilbur reads between the lines. Techno, for the moment, is unreachable. He processes the information and moves on, refusing to let it get to him, refusing to let himself be overpowered by
(Techno’s unreachable Techno’s unreachable Techno’s respawned and he’s on his own and they can’t talk to him can’t get to him quickly and what if something went wrong what if something happened)
emotions.
“Sam will make his way to us,” he says. “I’m vetoing the prison. Like hell are we staying in there. Other thoughts?”
“What gives you vetoing power?” Sapnap asks.
“Somebody needs to make a decision,” he says, and it is with strength he doesn’t feel, confidence he is only pretending at, a force of command that comes from some unknown place, since he feels as though he is miles away from himself, “and I don’t see you coming up with anything. Either help or stop complaining.”
Sapnap’s face reddens, and he opens his mouth, to argue, no doubt, but then Ranboo breaks in with, “Foolish, maybe?” and hunches his shoulders when attention turns to him. “Sorry, it’s just, I’m pretty sure Foolish isn’t, um, a big fan of the Egg or anything, so maybe he could help?”
Wilbur has no idea who the fuck Foolish is.
“Nah, he’s too far out,” Tubbo says. “It’ll take ages to get to his place. And we need somewhere close, but not too close, so we still have a good place to fight back from, right, Wilbur? If we leave now, the Egg’ll just take over the whole SMP with nothing to stop it.”
“My thoughts exactly, Tubbo,” he says, and again, it is just like the old days, and they are standing atop the L’Manberg walls, and Tubbo has just said something particularly clever, and warmth and pride curl in him before he remembers where they are, what they’re doing. They need to decide, and soon. They’re just hanging around near the entrance, and sooner or later, someone’s going to come after them, whether they let them go at first or not. “Is there anyone else who has a good position, location-wise and resource-wise?”
“Wait,” Puffy says. “Eret’s castle.”
“Eret’s castle doesn’t have doors,” Sapnap says.
“No, but I stopped by earlier to see if they wanted to join us,” Puffy says. “They weren’t there, but the grounds were completely free of vines. And sure, there aren’t any doors, but between all of us, I’m sure we could make some. Eret’s got plenty of supplies, last I checked.”
Eret. The name evokes a wealth of associations, most of them unpleasant. His first instinct is to reject this idea like the last, to avoid placing their lives in the hands of one who has already betrayed him, who led them all into a death trap, who almost ended their revolution in one fell swoop. But Puffy has a point. Eret’s castle ticks all the right boxes: it’s defendable, well-supplied, and if there are no vines to clear, all the better. They’ll have to build doors, but between the lot of them, that’s easily manageable.
(a wealth of associations and many unpleasant but there is Eret offering them supplies offering their fragile rebellion help and they tried so dearly to redeem themself and he could not have seen that then wrapped in his own shadows as he was but perhaps he can see it now perhaps he can better appreciate it, give a little more benefit of the doubt, and if he is given a second chance after everything after committing the worst crime of all then who is he to deny them absolution?)
(another memory, more blurry: he is scared but stalwart as they go through the motions, and he does not want to die, is terrified of that endless void, but he knows that the server needs a leader and his living self must be that leader, and Eret is here, and Eret agrees, and Eret acts out their part, and Eret is trying so hard, and he cannot see their eyes behind their glasses but he imagines that if he could, he would see a fool’s hope in them)
“Eret, then,” he says. “We go to Eret.”
And no one disagrees. It’s strange. They have no reason to listen to him, really. They have far more reasons not to listen to him, more reasons to think that following his lead will end in disaster than otherwise. But Puffy nods, and Sapnap backs down, and Tubbo and Ranboo both look to him for direction like it’s the war and he’s in charge of child soldiers once again. Phil looks to him, too, but his expression is inscrutable, and only a slight tightness around his eyes shows that he’s in any pain at all.
So they go to Eret. Staggering through the grass, tripping over vines that still don’t move, thank Prime, and then along the Prime Path, and his leg hurts worse with every step, pain jolting up into his hip, it seems, and it’s not long before he’s walking with a limp. But they’re all hurt in some way, so he hides it as best he can. He can deal with it when they’re safely behind stone walls.
And then, Tommy says, “Put me down, I can walk.”
Wilbur glances over. Tommy’s face is still buried in Phil’s shirt.
“You sure, mate?” Phil asks softly.
“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” Tommy snaps, louder now, turning his face outward, pushing against Phil’s chest. His cheeks are flushed, his breaths coming short and fast, and he’s trying to pass it off as anger, and maybe part of it is. But Wilbur knows him better than to think that that’s all. Knows him better than to think that he would have let Phil carry him in the first place if he was alright.
“Okay, then,” Phil says, and swings Tommy down. Tommy wavers for a step, but slaps away Phil’s hand when he extends it, muttering a sharp, “Fuck off.”
And then they keep going. Tommy doesn’t say anything else. Wilbur keeps glancing at him, but he’s refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, even Tubbo’s. And—that’s another thing that’s going to have to wait. He wants nothing more than to stop now and make sure that Tommy’s going to be okay, but they don’t have time, and the general in him will not call for a halt until the retreat is over, until he is sure the enemy is not biting at their heels.
(retreating from Dream once again, and it is familiar and not, the same and not, and history runs in a circle, echoes and rhymes)
Eret’s courtyard is indeed free of vines, just as Puffy promised. Wilbur half-expects them to be nowhere in sight, based on what Puffy said, but they are standing right there, next to a skeletal horse they’re frantically saddling, and they’re checking their communicator every now and again, with the jerky motions of someone who doesn’t particularly want to but can’t make themself stop.
Then, suddenly, they look up at the sky. Wilbur follows their gaze to the flock of crows wheeling overhead, a dark mass of beating wings, each bird barely distinguishable from the others. All of them completely, eerily silent.
Eret stands there a moment. Just staring. Wilbur can’t tell what the look on their face is, but their shoulders are tense. And then, they look back down, and realize that the lot of them are there, stumbling in under the gate, and they visibly startle.
“Hey, Eret,” Puffy says, before they can get a word in. “Can we crash? And build some gates?”
“What,” Eret says. “What is—Puffy, what is going on? How did Dream manage to kill Sam and Technoblade? Is he—” They run a hand through their hair, and then start striding forward, their cape flaring out behind them. They haven’t said anything about him yet, haven’t reacted to his presence. “He’s out, isn’t he? I was going to come and see, but he’s out?”
“He’s out,” Puffy agrees. “We were kind of hoping you’d help us out on this one.”
“Of course,” they say quickly. “Of course, anything you—anything you need.” They’re rattled, clearly, more than Wilbur has ever seen them, perhaps. “I just—how did this happen? I thought the prison was secure, I thought—are you all okay?”
“Aside from the obvious?” Puffy says. “Yeah, we’re great. You haven’t been around much lately, I don’t know how much you know about the Egg and all of that, but that’s an issue too, along with Dream. And some other stuff that I’ve got no idea about, that we really just kind of need to all sit down and talk about.”
“The Egg? I’ve—I’ve heard of it, I think. I’ve been elsewhere for a while.” Their lips twist into a smile that isn’t quite a smile. “Doing a bit of soul-searching, you might say. Found more questions than answers, unfortunately. Alright. I can get you all whatever you need, you can absolutely stay here if that’s what you’d like, but what was that about gates?”
Right. This is taking too long.
Wilbur still feels a bit outside of his body as he steps forward, but that’s alright. He’s limping, but the pain is distant, and he can let his brain work on autopilot, let his mouth move on its own without regarding the consequences, without thinking too much about
(this is Eret and you know them and they betrayed you and you hurt them and now you’re back and here is a test here is a true test it shouldn’t matter how they react to you you shouldn’t care for their opinion but you do you know you do though you pretend you don’t pretend they’re nothing but a traitor to you but you are a traitor to yourself and you know that between the two of you you are the worse and here you both are and you only need one more and everyone will be back together again like the old days like the old days those good old days)
what happens next.
“Right, then,” he says, straightening his spine and stepping up to be visible just behind Puffy, to the side and a few feet back. Eret’s head whips toward him. “To summarize: the Egg is bad, Dream is also bad, they’re now working together, also with Bad, Techno is gone, we’re all in rough shape, a mind-controlling potentially demonic entity is likely to try to take over the server, and also, I’m here, despite my best efforts. Does that paint enough of a picture for you, or should I elaborate further?”
Eret stares at him. He stares back, doesn’t let himself fidget. He’s putting the general on display, and it has never felt more like a disguise, like yet another mask,
(and didn’t he tell Tommy he wasn’t going to do this anymore?)
but a familiar one, one that’s almost comfortable. He can force himself into the general’s shoes and worry about tactics and battles and numbers and strategy, and tuck the rest of himself away for when there’s time for it. Can think of this as just another alliance to be made, a debriefing to be held rather than
(Eret traitor friend ally enemy the place in your heart is curdled and sour and you do not know if you are capable of starting anew)
and his losses are statistics and cold facts rather than
(Techno’s eyes golden and glittering and then they go dim and pale red pale and staring the light in your brother’s eyes gone out and it is not the first time you have watched a brother die in front of you but Technoblade never dies is never supposed to die never to go to dust never and you cannot make sense of it cannot make sense of the world turned on its head)
“Wilbur?” Eret asks, after a very long moment, and he doesn’t understand why their voice breaks in the way that it does. “You’re—it’s you? Not Ghostbur?”
He spreads his arms, lifting an eyebrow.
“Do I look like Ghostbur to you?” he asks.
“No,” Eret answers right away. “No, that you do not. Um, has this been a thing, or…?” They trail off, and Wilbur can’t figure out exactly what their feelings are, but it’s too late to back down, even if he wanted to.
“For a bit,” he says. “Not for too long. Can we move on? We’ve got bigger issues to deal with at the moment.”
He means multiple things, with that. He means, there’s bigger things to worry about than why I’m here. He means, there’s bigger things to worry about than our history, and as so long as we’re on the same side for the moment, it can’t matter right now. He doesn’t know if Eret catches all of that, but whether they do or not, they nod, seeming to steady themself.
“Of course,” they say. “I—for the record, it is good to see you, Wilbur.” There is genuine relief in their voice, a tone that says they’re actually glad he’s here, more than glad, even, and he really doesn’t have time to unpack that at the moment. They need a plan, and fast, and they need some goddamn gates. And medical attention, probably. The cut on Puffy’s head looks nasty, and Phil’s wings are still dripping blood, and it’s difficult for Wilbur to look at them for too long,
(grief rises up guilt rises up crushing choking your father is grounded and it is your fault)
but it concerns him, how little Phil appears to care for their current state. So there’s that to handle, and it’s almost too much, almost. Almost too much for someone who has spent the majority of the time since he’s been brought back to life cringing away from meeting people, all the confidence he once displayed gone, shrinking, left in the void or in Pogtopia or on the podium from which he announced his own defeat, perhaps. But even still, he remembers how to be the general. He can hide in the general, present the general on the outside, be useful even while he thinks he might be on the verge of collapse, internally. He has been a general, and so he shall be again.
What comes first, then?
He pulls out his comm, scrolling through the messages. There are quite a few in the general chat from just after Sam’s death message, people from all over the server demanding to know what’s going on. His eyes drift over Techno’s, then, and he winces, but keeps reading. There are even more messages after that, capitalization usage increasing dramatically, and his eyes trace over familiar names, a pang in his heart. Niki. Fundy. Quackity. Several from Eret as well. Some from names he doesn’t recognize, like this Foolish person, and someone named Hannah.
But then, they all cut off. There have been none in the past half hour. Since they escaped from the Egg.
Out of curiosity, he taps out a few words: dream and egg have teamed, regrouping at eret’s. Upon hitting send, the screen goes fuzzy, giving him an error message he’s never seen before. So comms truly are down, then, and it’s probably just as well; Dream likely knows where they are, but if he doesn’t, there’s no reason to give him the information.
(and do these old allies old friends deserve to learn of your return from cold words on a screen do you not have the courage to face them yourself face your son your son you have not seen your son)
(the last time he spoke to Fundy, he disowned him. he doesn’t know if he still has a son)
(if he does not, he has no one to blame for himself, and perhaps that is why he is too cowardly to check)
“Right, then,” he says, looking back up. “Gates are the first priority. They might not do much against whatever the fuck that thing is, but it’s better than nothing. Eret, I assume you’d know the best way to go about it?”
Eret’s lips quirk into a slight smile, one that is, perhaps, slightly sardonic.
“It is my castle,” they agree. “The more hands I have, the quicker it will go, but I can get it done.”
“Anyone who’s not bleeding profusely, help them with that, then,” he says. “Anyone who is bleeding profusely—I assume you’ve got pots somewhere, Eret?” Eret nods, gesturing toward the inside. “Anyone who is bleeding profusely gets a pot. Once we’ve got that all covered, we’ll reconvene, come up with a plan for where to go from here. Everyone got that?”
He gets a few nods, and no one dissents, so he’ll take that as a yes. His gaze travels to the kids then, standing clumped together, and Tommy’s eyes are still shadowed, and Tubbo is shifting his weight between his feet, and Ranboo looks lost, awkward, and he wishes he didn’t have to ask anything more of them. But that’s not how wars work, and this has certainly turned into a war.
(child soldiers once again, and how history echoes)
“Tubbo, Ranboo, I want you on the gates as well,” he says, and tries to soften his tone at least a little bit, even if that’s all he can do. “And then afterward—Tubbo, I need you to go through with all of us exactly what you know about—what did you call them? Dreamons?”
Tubbo looks slightly miserable, but he nods. “Right,” he says. “I can try to ward the gates if you want. With, um, anti-demon stuff. I don’t know if it’ll work. I guess last time we didn’t manage to do much of anything at all.”
“Anti-what,” Eret says, but Wilbur shakes his head.
“We don’t have time for that. Tubbo will explain later. We—”
“The fuck am I supposed to do, then?” Tommy breaks in, crossing his arms. “You haven’t given me a job.” He glares, but it is so very obvious that it’s all a front, all a show, and Tommy’s expression dares him to challenge him, but Wilbur thinks that if he does, he just might break something in him. Tommy has always been so much more fragile than he presents himself as, so much more fragile than he likes to believe he is.
(despite it all, despite it all, he is only sixteen, only a child, a child grown old before his time but a child nonetheless, and now a child who watched his brother die for him, an estranged brother perhaps but still a brother, and Tommy has always cared so much and so deeply, no matter how much he pretends otherwise)
He hasn’t given Tommy a job, and he doesn’t really intend to, because Tommy, of all people, needs to sit the fuck down and rest for a moment. They all deserve a break, but in this moment, Tommy is the one who needs it most, and also the one least likely to accept as much.
If the general gives the order, Tommy will follow it, he knows that much,
(because he made his brother into a soldier he made his brother into a soldier and soldiers follow orders)
even if he’ll be angry at him for it, but Tommy angry with him is a sacrifice he’s willing to make. And perhaps directing his anger at him will help. Perhaps it would be better for Tommy to be angry with someone within reach rather than someone out of it.
(because Tommy is hurting, and the cause of that hurt is not here, and so perhaps if Wilbur offers himself he’ll feel better, will feel more in control, because Tommy needs control, because his abuser is out, is wandering free, and his abuser has killed their brother and told him that it is his fault)
But then, Phil breaks his silence.
“I’d like him to stick with me,” he says, with a smile that is obviously strained. “I’m not going to be able to reach everything myself.” He makes a vague gesture toward his wings, still dripping blood, and there is so much of it already drying on his feathers, sticky, tacky, almost blending in with the darkness of the feathers
(but stark against the grey-white of exposed bone)
“Why the actual shit—” Tommy starts.
“Good idea, Phil,” he cuts him off. “Tommy, help him with the wings, would you?”
“Why do I have to—”
“You too, Wil,” Phil says, and his mood sours immediately. “You think I don’t see that leg? C’mon, Eret, show us to the pots.”
When faced with that, he has no choice but to agree, really.
(he wouldn’t have ignored it. he wouldn’t have. He knows better than to leave a wound untreated in wartime. Even if something whispers at him that he deserves the pain, even if the bite of it brings him closer to reality. But his better sense knows: pain is not the penance that is asked of him, not a recompense that will do anyone any good)
**********
They meet again half an hour later in Eret’s throne room. Half an hour later, and his leg is bandaged and tender and no longer an open wound, and Tommy is frowning and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, and the state of Phil’s wings is still bothersome, because he didn’t let either of them touch them beyond what was necessary,
(and he recollects countless nights spent running his fingers through soft, silken feathers as his father told him how to preen them, told him that it was a sign of trust, an activity that only family, only flock is allowed, and now Phil will no longer let them near him, will no longer even take care of them himself and it makes him sick to his stomach to think of what has been lost)
but they are no longer bleeding, and that has to be what matters.
The throne room is not the best location for this, he thinks. It feels awkward. But it’s a room big enough to fit everyone, which is the point, big enough to fit Puffy, presence looming and forehead now bandaged, to fit Sapnap, fidgety as he is, like a caged, snarling animal, all restless energy. Big enough for Tubbo, for Tommy, for Ranboo, for Phil, for Eret and for himself, and big enough that there is an obvious gap at Phil’s right side where someone else should be standing.
Eret eyes her throne, glances at everyone else in the room, and then seats herself at its base. It’s a pithy gesture, meaningless, but Wilbur has more important things to do than to call her out on it, even though the existence of the throne itself grates against him.
“Let’s call this meeting to order, then,” he says, and Eret frowns. Perhaps she doesn’t like that he’s calling the shots in her own
(ill-gotten, dearly kept)
castle, but tough. He’s brought out the general for all of their sakes, so the general is what they’re all going to get.
(it’s a mask again and masks crack but he can keep it up for long enough he can he can they need a leader so he will lead he will lead them)
(you were so good at compartmentalizing, once, go good at shoving it all away in boxes in dark shadowy corners never to be opened to gather dust and cobwebs and faded recollections but the boxes cracked and the demon’s escaped and Pandora was too weak to stop them and it all ended in a bang and he cannot tell if hope remains but that isn’t the point because the box is opened and once opened it is not so easily closed and you are putting on a show a lie and lies come back around again they always do and you should know better than to pretend at strength you do not have you will lead them to ruin again ruin and gunpowder smoke and what gives you the right)
“Yeah, alright,” Puffy says. “Can we start by talking about—whatever that was? What were you talking about, dreamons? What’s a dreamon?”
“That sounds like a made up word,” Tommy mutters.
“I wish it were made up,” Tubbo says, and he winces when all eyes turn to him. But a moment later, he straightens, setting his shoulders squarely, holding his head up high. “I’ll tell you all what I know. Even if that turns out to be not as much as I thought.” He pauses, clearly struggling for words.
“Start from the beginning,” he suggests, and Tubbo nods at him gratefully.
“Okay, right, the beginning,” he says. “In the very beginning, me and Fundy were messing around, and we found some old books. We went through them for a laugh, and we learned about these things called dreamons.”
“Wait, that’s what they’re actually called?” Tommy interjects. “Like, properly?”
Tubbo shrugs. “It’s what the books said,” he says. “We weren’t about to argue over names. Even if it did seem like a weird coincidence. But yeah, that’s what they’re called.” His voice falls into an odd cadence here, recitative, like he’s telling a story, and Wilbur crosses his arms, gripping at his elbows. “They come from the darkness of the void, lurking around the edges of a server’s code. Once they get in, their only goal is to cause chaos and destruction. They corrupt everything they touch, and they can possess people and turn them into their puppets. They have unknowable powers, because they’re a sickness, a rot, like an infection in the code of the server itself. It’s really, really difficult to get rid of them, but it can be done if you have the right tools. Or—” He blinks, stuttering a bit, his voice landing more naturally. “We thought so, anyway.”
“What does this have to do with Dream?” Sapnap asks, stopping his pacing, looking to Tubbo with an expression in his eyes that hurts to look at, a bit, wobbly and desperate and pinched, like he already knows the answer but hopes that he’s wrong, hopes as much as he is able, even though he knows it will be fruitless.
Wilbur has put the pieces together. As best he can, anyway. And Sapnap’s not a stupid man. He can see where this is leading.
“Dream got possessed.” Tubbo sighs, gaze drifting toward the floor. “It was a whole thing. Honestly, we were surprised nobody else noticed. But we—we performed an exorcism. And it was really scary, to be honest. But it worked. We could see it leave, all oozy and black and gross, and Dream was better afterward! He was! So we thought we got it out.”
“But it tricked you?” he asks.
“I don’t understand how it could have,” Tubbo replies. “It’s not—it’s not like the kind of possession that you see in a TV show, where the demon can pretend to be the person or something like that. It’s obvious. It’s too—it’s too wrong to blend in, if that makes sense. It made his voice go all funny and deep, and the way it moved—” He shudders, and then continues, miserably, “The way it moved, there’s no way you could mistake something like that for a human. That’s why we were so sure it worked. Because afterward, he seemed back to normal.”
Something about this doesn’t make sense.
“Tubbo,” he says, wheels spinning in his mind, “when was this?”
Tubbo blinks. “Manberg days,” he says. “Um, that’s why we never told you about it, I suppose.”
He barely bats an eye at the reference. It doesn’t make sense. Because he has sensed that wrongness, as Tubbo puts it, has been sensing it from the moment he set foot in that prison cell for the first time. On some level, he knew that something was deeply wrong, even if a demonic presence was the last thing he would have guessed. But if the whole thing happened during—during that time, and the signs of possession were as obvious as Tubbo says, he would have noticed, wouldn’t he? He had plenty of interactions with Dream during that time.
(unless his own shadows stretched long, stretched far enough to cover Dream’s, to cover the thing piloting him)
But no—his shadows were of his own making, not supernatural. If anything, his mindset should have made him more receptive to suspicious wrongness, not less. So what—
(Dream smiles, and you know what it’s like, to have something whispering in your head, he says, once you let something in, there’s no going back)
“Maybe the first bit was a fakeout,” Phil suggests, arms folded, head tilted. He’s perplexed, which is worrying; it’s rare to come across a being that Phil knows nothing about. “It made itself obvious to lure you in so it could slip under the radar. Faked leaving to put your guard down, maybe.”
It’s plausible. But somehow
(and Dream stands atop the Egg and he says, he says, I tried to fight at first, but it turns out it was right all along, and he says it he says it like it’s separate from him like there is not something else something other speaking from his mouth after all and he tried to fight it he tried to fight it and what does that mean)
“They’re the same,” he breathes, and doesn’t know what he means, not quite yet, “they’re the same, and the Egg controls people, and he was talking about fighting something, about giving in—”
He runs a hand through his hair. Shakes his head.
“Wil?” Phil asks.
“Oi, Wilbur,” Tommy says, almost at the same time. But he needs to—he needs to focus as the pieces click into place, faster than he can process, and he has a conclusion but not the words yet—
He holds up a hand.
“Tubbo,” he says, “you said it can corrupt things. What did you mean by that?”
“I dunno, really,” he says. “It talked about it in the books some, but it was all weird metaphorical language. Couldn’t really makes sense of it. We were more focused on the bits that told us how to get rid of them.”
(he says, you know what the void is like, and Tubbo says that they come from the void, and)
That’s alright. He’s not sure he needs a hard answer to that, because he thinks that if one were to describe the feeling of the corruption, it would be
(it is dark and it is peaceful and there is static at the edges eating away at what makes him himself eating at his soul at his sense of self and it is what he wants, to be nothing, and he does not imagine what it would feel like if it were not what he desired, if he tried to resist it, resist the void all-consuming, all-devouring, resist the void that takes all things into itself and is never satiated)
something familiar.
“Alright,” he says, and steeples his fingers together. “Let me paint a picture for you. Someone gets possessed. You exorcise the thing. But these things can corrupt, you say. So maybe you get rid of the thing itself. Maybe Dream’s pretty much back to normal. But maybe it leaves little bits of itself behind. Maybe he’s not possessed, but maybe that doesn’t matter so much anymore. Maybe it changed him regardless. Maybe it’s still changing him, even though it’s no longer there. Maybe a corruption took root, and there wasn’t any going back from it.” He tilts his head, closes his eyes. “Suppose that the Egg is the same type of thing. Something that forced its way through the cracks of the server, something that’s been smart about it, biding its time. The things that Dream was saying reminded me a lot of what the Egg was doing, you know? Manipulating people, making them into things they aren’t, or into their worst selves.”
He strings the words together as he goes. He’s not sure he’s getting his point across. He used to be so much better at this.
“Wait, so you’re saying you think he isn’t possessed?” Sapnap asks.
“I’m saying we don’t really know,” he answers. “Not unless we get it from him. But Tubbo’s the expert here, and if he says Dream’s not acting like he’s possessed, I believe him. But even if he’s not possessed outright, that doesn’t mean there’s no—influence, perhaps.” He keeps his eyes shut; the darkness on the back of his eyelids is a natural one, but he can almost pretend that it isn’t. That it is darker, deeper.
(void)
“He was right that I know what it’s like,” he says. “I’ve felt the Egg in my head. And I was in the void for—a long time. It felt like forever. I know what it feels like, and there’s some of it in him, I think. Him and the Egg both. They’re the same kind of wrong, the same kind of unbelonging. I’ve never been possessed by a demon before, but if it’s made up of void stuff, that’s the sort of thing that stays with you. Whispering.”
He opens his eyes. Everyone is staring at him, varying expressions of horror on their faces.
He goes back over his words. In retrospect, he can see how they probably came off sounding.
“Wil,” Phil says softly.
“I’m fine,” he says, not at all convincingly, he’s sure.
(once he starts thinking of the void of the peace and of the rest it’s hard to stop even though his desires are now tinged with red and he knows better than to listen but he cannot help himself)
“This is all speculation, anyway,” he continues. “Might not matter at all, in the end, what the particulars are. We just need a way to stop them. Can dreamons be killed, Tubbo?”
Tubbo takes a moment before replying. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Fundy might remember better. But I think the only thing in what we read was the exorcism.”
“Which doesn’t help us much if Dream’s not actually possessed,” Puffy says. “Unless it might work on the Egg? If the Egg’s a—a dreamon too?”
“Worth a shot if we can get to it again,” he says, “but I don’t like risking so much on a maybe.”
“The less we mess with forces beyond our understanding, the better,” Eret says suddenly. She frowns, pushing her sunglasses further up her face. “As I said earlier, I’ve been away a good bit recently, so I haven’t been tracking the Egg’s progress as much as perhaps I should have. But I did notice an increase in activity—well. It was shortly after we tried to resurrect you, Wilbur.” She inclines her head toward him. “I fear that in our efforts, we might have interfered with something we shouldn’t have interfered with. Weakened a barrier of some kind, between our existence and—something else.”
She speaks with a strange kind of gravity. But her words make an unfortunate kind of sense.
He doesn’t look at Phil.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tommy states. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
“I’m with Tommy on this one. What are you talking about?” Sapnap adds.
“We’re getting off track,” he says, snapping his fingers. “We’re going about this wrong. We don’t have enough information, and we don’t have enough power. Those are our problems. How do we solve them?”
“The obvious would be to get the word out,” Puffy says. “Comms are down, but we can go by word of mouth if we have to. Kinda risky, with the amount of vines on this server, but the nether portal’s right across the way. No vines in the nether, I think.”
“I have lots of old books myself,” Phil chimes in, eyes skyward. “Might be something in there to help that I’ve read and forgotten about. And I’ve got another source of info I’ve barely begun to go through. Old shit I found. It might be worth a shot.” He looks back down. “We need to go get Techno anyway.” He says the last in a tone that brooks no argument, and Wilbur doesn’t try, even if it’s perhaps not the most tactically sound option.
(he wants Techno back too, wants to lay eyes on him, hold his wrist in his hand and count his heartbeats, each one a reassurance, because he knows what it is for a brother to die and come back but that has never made it easier)
“It’s better than nothing,” he says. “Alright, I’ve got a plan, then. Some of us go to the tundra, get Technoblade, and go through whatever books Phil has. Some stay here and fortify the defenses as best we can using what Tubbo can remember that he thinks might work, and a couple of us go around through the nether and tell as many people as possible what’s going on. Gather allies, resources anything else we might need.”
It’s not much of a plan. But based on just how outclassed they are, just how little they know, just how much exhaustion shows in their faces, it might be the best plan they’re going to get for now. To throw themselves back into a battle so soon would be folly.
It never sits well with him to bank so much on a hope, though, a mere possibility that things will go their way.
(but certainties were ripped out from under him the moment Dream killed the unkillable, the moment he saw his brother  crumple to ash before his eyes)
“Great,” Puffy says, grimacing. “What could possibly go wrong with that?”
The silence that greets that statement serves perfectly well as a response.
He closes his eyes again. The darkness is no comfort.
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