#anyway WRITE THAT BIRTHDAY LETTER TUBBO!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chayannesegg · 3 months

Text

something else about fit and tubbo’s relationship: it’s very special to me and they do love each other very much, but i do think this current tension was almost bound to happen not matter what. even without the tubbo homophobia. yes, tubbo self-sabotaged and made the situation current happen. yes, fit is valid to be upset at tubbo. but the unequal footing tubbo was reacting to is VERY real and something they BOTH built and something I think ONLY tubbo is fully aware of.

while i don’t think fit and tubbo’s relationship is paternal at all, i do think it is heavily informed by the age difference. when they meet, tubbo is young, inexperienced, and reminds fit of his son. in contrast, fit is a stable older presence who knows the island secrets. their early dynamic is a bit like a mentorship: fit checks in on tubbo, tubbo asks about the island, fit decides what to tell tubbo, tubbo sees how someone with experience handles the island.

losing the eggs only strengthens this pattern. tubbo is a mess and relies a lot on fit (and pac) to help get him through. fit is hurting too, but obviously he is not going to share all his fears with a teenager having a breakdown (that’s not how he operates, not when he can channel his emotions into something productive instead like checking on tubbo, pac, and the island). tubbo meanwhile strives to have walls as strong as fit's, but even if he won’t talk about it directly, his emotions bleed through a lot of the time anyway. so fit continues to check in on tubbo, and tubbo continues to let fit in and they grow closer because of it. we have lots of sweet moments in their friendship of tubbo letting fit see his vulnerabilities (about the eggs, with fred, about his day to day concerns) but we don’t see a lot of fit sharing his vulnerabilities. early on, fit makes it very clear to tubbo that tubbo has not earned the right to his secrets, and what he knows about the island, and what he does. fit visits tubbo and then leaves to go on secret jobs tubbo knows nothing about and can’t follow him to. tubbo doesn’t know anything about fit’s memories, or his resistance work, or his purpose. this was an initial source of tension between them, and while tubbo eventually decided to trust fit anyway, to this day, tubbo must be aware that he still hasn’t earned fit's full trust. and that fit, for all he knows tubbo’s problems, hasn’t shared many in return. the only exceptions to this that I can think of are 1) fit’s feelings for pac, which tubbo is privy to and while he teases fit, he is supportive of (which tubbo lost access to—at least in his head—when fitpac started dating, hence the acting out) and 2) fit coming to tubbo about the cats (which tubbo does NOT recognise as a moment of intimacy, that baffoon just laughs it off). i’m not blaming fit for this, as much as he loves tubbo, tubbo is an emotionally unstable teenager (turned young adult) whose bad at both secret-keeping and tact (and fit holds some very sensitive very dangerous secrets), but it definitely creates a lopsidedness in their friendship.

especially because tubbo DOES respect this boundary of fit’s. while sometimes he pesters him for access to the office or insider info, he doesn’t seek fit’s personal business out behind his back really. meanwhile, the few times that tubbo has tried to keep something from them (kinda attempting to mirror fit’s own walls imo), fit and pac have gone behind his back to find out what it is. for example, them going to quackity’s house to investigate fred’s kidnapping without telling him, or them going and reading tubbo’s investigation room about the fed worker killings. now, i get why pac and fit—nosy and concerned as they are—do this, but it’s not great communication and it’s not a great show of trust.

all of this results in fit having a LOT of insight and access into tubbo’s life and insecurities and tubbo having comparatively little in return. and fit deciding how and when he interacts with tubbo and tubbo relying on fit to engage (lest he interrupt something secretive). they have all this restrictions and intricacies for how they interact and both of them have fed into this dynamic—it’s familiar and easy for both of them (fit isn't risking his secrets by trusting tubbo more, tubbo isn't risking rejection by asking for more)—even though their friendship has progressed and needs more balance. it worked ok for them for awhile bc they do both care for each other a lot, but it was NEVER going to be sustainable. any shift in dynamic that lengthened the distance between them would have unsteadied it.

but while tubbo is acutely aware of this tension and sensitive to it changing (and lashing out in response), fit has never really had to think about it. given the way they’ve interacted, fit’s own feelings have always been a bit separate from their friendship. it’s only now that tubbo's emotions/actions have hurt fit that fit wants his feelings acknowledged. he wants a more even dynamic, but he doesn’t realize that their friendship doesn’t feel like a “two-way street” because it never has been, almost by design.

i don’t think tubbo has the experience or insight into fit’s emotions to realize what fit needs organically. i don't think fit can understand how his relationship with pac isolated tubbo even if he wants it to stay the same. i don’t think fit recognises the ways tubbo continues to show his trust in fit (like still inviting fit to follow him on the fred date or not investigating his secrets). i don't think tubbo understands why fit is upset with him (just that he is) or confidence to ask.

i don’t think either of them are going to properly explain their concerns to each other, if they have the words to properly explain it. all of this makes me think we’re only in for more fit & tubbo miscommunication in the coming weeks, but i DO think we still have hope. because these fools do love each other and pac (who I didn’t talk about much at all) & ramon & sunny (tho she’s also hurting) aren’t just gonna stand idly by while they continue to hurt each other.

#qsmp #qsmp fit #qsmp tubbo #listen i just think so much about them #have you considered that tubbo has let fit witness every aspect of his relationship with fred #have you considered that level of trust #this doesn't even get into how morning crew is changing as more people join that time slot #and how the fitpac date comes right at the time everything starts to change and tubbo is reacting to that as well #anyway WRITE THAT BIRTHDAY LETTER TUBBO!!#make it good!!!

139 notes · View notes

peninkwrites · 5 months

Text

Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil. Ch 5 of ?

Tommy cannot communicate and hurt someone, so he has to choose. Tubbo doesn't know a lot of things with mixed results. Ranboo has trouble reading.

[CW: c!Dream, impending blindness, maybe injuries? ask to tag if there's anything else!]

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 4

Ch 6

Executing Technoblade was a bust, as Tubbo surely knew it would be. Quackity had been so insistent and Tubbo won’t cast all the blame on him, Tubbo had agreed, he’d gone along with it, and he’d been afraid of Technoblade too. Technoblade disappeared, and Quackity seemed to run off after him, but Tubbo knows that’s a lost cause.

He’s tired of this. He’s tired of the politics and the isolation and the fact that most of the time he feels utterly useless. He’s also tired of being scared to see his best friend. Tommy might hate him, he has every right to, but Tubbo is going out there and try. He didn’t get to celebrate his birthday with his best friend, but surely it isn’t too late. Maybe he’ll apologize for all this too, explain that he’s been trying to find a way to get Tommy home, even if it’s just something temporary like a visitor’s pass or something.

Tubbo is excited to have someone who can sign around him. Unless Tommy has forgotten. No, that’s stupid. Tommy wouldn’t have forgotten everything in the last month or so. Tubbo knows where Tommy’s little camp is, he’s known even if he hasn’t dared go there.

Tubbo can’t help but start to get excited once he reaches the portal. It’s been so hard on his own, Ranboo helps, but Ranboo isn’t Tommy.

The world bends around him, and then the hot air of the Nether is replaced by a cold, salty breeze coming off the sea. He steps onto the path and freezes, staring at a crater spread out before him.

“W-What– What happened?!” Tubbo stammers to the empty quiet. “It’s– It’s all blown up, why is it– Why is it blown up?” Tubbo walks closer, staring into the crater like some answer will make itself known.

That is, until his eyes are drawn to the pillar cutting up into the sky, a pillar with no way down. Tubbo is dizzied by thoughts of Wilbur’s end. “No– No. Surely– Surely not. Surely not–”

Tubbo looks around frantically for any sign, for anything. “Tommy!” He screams at the wilderness. “Tommy! Where are you?!” Tubbo gasps for breath. What if he’s hurt? What if he’s calling for you to help him but you can’t hear him?

Tubbo turns back to the tower, and feels as if a knife is twisting in his chest. He knows Tommy isn’t calling for him.

New L’Manberg is quiet, and Ranboo has no idea what to do with himself. Tubbo came back from Logstedshire and told the cabinet what he had found. Not much else has happened since. Tubbo seems far away, he stares off into space, he doesn’t talk much, and when Ranboo tries to get him to engage, it’s always halfhearted and never all the way there.

Ranboo has done his best not to think about Tommy, about Tommy killing himself all alone. Before, Ranboo had tried writing letters, but Tommy stopped replying. He’d also stopped going out there ages ago, largely because Tommy had told him to.

Ranboo has an awful, nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He gets out his memory book. He hasn’t written anything on Tommy’s death, because he doesn’t want to remember. Maybe that’s not fair, but it’s hard enough to have grief hanging over the crater like a funeral shroud without forcing himself to remember it too. He doesn’t think he’ll forget this, not Tommy dying, not who Tommy was to him. Some things are important enough. He has forgotten something, though, something important, he thinks. He thinks it’s in here too. He flips through the pages quickly, until he finds it.

Ghostbur is nice

techno is interesting but in an okay way

Tommy says that he never wants me to show my face around there ever again but do it anyway because he is your friend

Technos house is located in the certain snow biome to the left of the village as you approach it :)

Right.

Tommy says that he never wants me to show my face around there ever again but do it anyway because he is your friend

“S-Shoot–” Ranboo winces as his eyes begin to blur, the page no longer visible and it’s not like he could focus anyway around the fierce burn now welling in his eyes as tears start to form. “N-No– Stop. Stop stop stop– come on, j-just keep it together–” He takes a shaky breath, trying to blink away tears, but that merely makes the burning spread.

Ranboo can’t see. It hurts, and he can’t see a thing right now. He knows it’s just from the tears, and for the most part, once he stops crying, it will clear.

You won’t cry when your friend dies. You won’t cry when you realize you abandoned him out there. Do you even feel at all?

“I do, I do, I do it just– It just hurts–” Ranboo doesn’t know why he’s pleading with the cruel voice in the back of his head, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He tries to brush the tears from his cheeks and his fingertips burn instead. His hands shake as he takes a corner of his white button down and dabs away the water.

Grief is supposed to hurt.

“Not like this!” Ranboo snaps. He takes a deep breath, he forces his eyes to stay open, praying the tears will clear. It’s all he can do. He cannot think about his feelings or pain or what it will mean if his eyes don’t clear, so he doesn’t move. He breathes, and he stares at the ceiling of his little house, and he waits for the lanterns above to come into a bit more focus.

Ranboo could’ve wept with relief––but he won’t–– when the tears finally clear a bit. The light of the lanterns are still broad streaks across his vision, but he’s used to that. He takes a few more deep breaths. He looks down at his memory book. He can keep it together now.

Ranboo feels icy cold panic deepen in his veins. He can’t read the page.

“No…” he murmurs. “No, no no no that’s not– that can’t–” Ranboo holds the book up closer, hands shaking as he does so, and the letters make themselves known.

Ghostbur is nice

Technoblade is interesting but in an okay way

“Oh my god, oh– thank god, it’s– it’s okay. It’s okay,” Ranboo buries his face in his hands, shoulders sagging as he lets the book fall off his lap. “You could read it… you could read it,” he says it a few more times, just to make himself feel it. “It’s… it’s harder, but… you could read it.”

Tubbo, curse his good eye sight, notices right away when they next see each other. “Oh my god, Ranboo, what– Your face, it’s–”

“W-What?” Ranboo almost recoils, nervous at the thought of Tubbo currently staring at his eyes.

“The… the scars are like, bright red, bossman,” Tubbo guesses he asked for an explanation. “Your eyes are red too like… like you’ve been crying,” his shock fades as he understands. “Oh.”

Ranboo blinks quickly, flicking to the back of the book where he keeps his messages to Tubbo.

I’m okay. Just hit me all at once, you know? Tommy.

Tubbo reads it and he looks so much older than he should. Maybe his face is still that of a boy, but from the way he carries himself, the weight there, Ranboo thinks he looks older. “Right… Tommy…”

How are you doing?

“Um, I’m alright,” Tubbo says, voice pushed into that higher, mild-mannered affect that he forced when he was upset and trying not to be.

If you need to talk about it, you can come to me.

“Thank you, Rambo,” Tubbo turns more genuine, nonetheless weighted. “Are you… are you sure you’re alright? Do you… do you need a health pot for that or something?” Tubbo asks.

No it’s ok!

“Okay. Are you…” Tubbo sighs. “Are you feeling up to taking minutes for me? I wanted to…” Tubbo stops, a tremor in his voice. “I wanted to have a meeting. To… to talk about the funeral.”

Ranboo nods quickly, stopping to take his own shaking breath, as he’s once more struck by that awful fear. It clearly shows on his face.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo’s puzzled worry is immediately pressing for answers. “Something else going on?”

Ranboo starts to shake his head.

“Come on, don’t fuck about, just tell me.”

Ranboo hesitates. He needs to tell someone. Just in case it gets so bad he really needs help. Tubbo steps up beside him, looking over his arm as he writes.

I can’t read as well. My vision got worse from me crying. And I know eventually it’s going to get even worse and I don’t what I’m going to do. I write down things to remember them and if I don’t have that

I don’t know.

“Shit,” Tubbo sighs heavily. “What if…” Tubbo pauses, lost in thought. “What if you… have you tried recording stuff, bossman?”

Ranboo shakes his head.

“Like, tape recorder type deal or something. You could even start reading aloud your books and stuff, so you’ll have them in case… you know, the worst happens,” Tubbo offers.

“Oh,” Ranboo says softly. “I…” He comes back to himself, and grabs the book.

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Yeah!” Tubbo sounds proud. “I could totally get you a tape recorder. And like, do you want one of those stick things?”

Stick things?

“Like… the red tipped… tapping where you… where you walk type deal?” Tubbo fumbles to explain.

Ranboo laughs. I don’t think I’m there just yet. But thank you.

“Alright, no worries, bossman. Do you still want to try glasses?”

I think I might be beyond glasses

“Well, you could just try it, yeah?”

Ranboo concedes to that.

Tommy is dead. Ranboo picks out glasses.

The glasses actually help a bit. Not with the fog, but with some of the blurriness they help, and Tommy is dead.

They get a tape recorder, they wear Christmas sweaters, they spend time together. Tommy is still dead.

Until he isn’t.

Instead, he stands beside Technoblade, with a wailing Connor in tow.

“Tommy?” Tubbo croaks out. “You’re– You’re alive?”

Tubbo takes a step forward. Tommy takes a step back.

“Tommy, you’re– why are you with..?” Tubbo trails off, evidently staring at Technoblade.

Tommy doesn’t answer. Ranboo sees him reach out and tug on Technoblade’s sleeve. Technoblade takes the hint and gets things moving, he takes his weapons off Ranboo in exchange for Connor, and then they start to leave.

“Tommy! Wait! Wait, are you– are you alright?! Can you at least tell me if you’re okay?!” Tubbo calls after him and Ranboo isn’t sure why, but he reaches out and puts a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder to stop him from running after them. Ranboo thinks he sees Tommy look back over his shoulder, but he’s at an absolute loss to guess what his expression is. Whatever it is, it stops Tubbo from trying to pull away from him.

Techno and Tommy head back toward the Nether portal at a quick pace, Techno half expecting all the L’Manbergians to come at him with axes again, but no one follows.

Tommy whines, distressed and panicked, pacing from foot to foot like he has half a mind to turn back.

“The guy exiled you, Tommy. Maybe don’t go runnin’ back to him the second he looks a little sad, alright?” Techno says gruffly.

Tommy nods, evidently more determined, picking up his pace to keep up with Techno’s large stride. Then he stops, eyes wide, the color drained from his cheeks, and Techno turns back to the portal.

“Oh, uh. Hey, Dream. How’s it going?” Techno says casually. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tommy step behind him. Tommy doesn’t have his shield because it makes it so hard to sign, cowering behind a towering pig does the job just as well. Techno also hears glass break and glances back to see Tommy splashing regen potions on them both, shoving a few gapples his way as well, but his eyes stay locked on Dream.

“If I remember correctly, Tommy, you aren’t supposed to be here,” Dream says coolly.

Tommy just stares, wired like a spring, waiting for Dream to step toward him. Technoblade leans over. “Tommy, don’t be scared,” he says in a false whisper. “He doesn’t have no house.”

Tommy does that quiet closed-mouthed laugh where he exhales a little shakily, which has replaced his old cackle. He keeps staring at Dream. Dream is surely staring back from behind that mask, evidently waiting for something. “Tommy, I got one of your discs back.”

Tommy inhales sharply, he takes one step forward, hands balled into fists at his sides, before stepping back in the relative safety of Technoblade’s shadow.

Dream laughs. “What, you’re not gonna argue with me? Demand it back, or whatever?” Dream waits for a reply.

Interesting. From the way Tommy was such a wreck, Techno had assumed Dream had forced Tommy not to talk, from that ominous word HURTS to the dark bruise wrapping around Tommy’s wrist to the way Tommy flinches whenever Techno moves too fast all on top of Tommy remaining adamantly silent, and yet here Dream is, expecting answers. The pause extends.

“Uhhh. So, are we just gonna wait around for somethin’ to happen? Or d’you got some more monologuing to do, Dream?” Techno finally cuts in.

Dream takes half a step forward, and from what Techno can tell around a mask, Dream seems excited. “Wait, you’re… you’re not talking.” He definitely sounds excited. “You’re… really?” Sharp delight. “I didn’t think– I didn’t think it would stick,” Dream laughs. “Oh, that’s great.” Dream waits once more, giving Tommy the chance to disagree, and of course, he doesn’t. “Techno.”

“Uh, yeah, Dream?” Techno is startled to be dragged into whatever staredown the two of them have going on.

“What d’you think of the new Tommy?”

“The new Tommy?” Techno scoffs. “I dunno what you mean, Dream, he’s probably even dirtier and scruffier than he was in Pogtopia. That’s not exactly new.”

“No,” Dream says sharply, before continuing with an eerie, softer sort of pride. “He’s quiet now, isn’t he?”

Something more than a little sinister in the way he said that.

“Oh, is he?” Techno continues sarcastically. “I didn’t notice. I thought maybe I was goin’ deaf like the President back there.”

“No, but, seriously,” Dream seems annoyed that Technoblade hasn’t responded with, what, praise? “He doesn’t talk, like, at all?” He looks to Techno for confirmation.

Techno continues on with determined dry wit. “Oh, I just thought I’d gotten really good at tuning him out or something.”

“Techno, I did that,” Dream finally gets to the point, irritated as well as smug. “I finally got him to shut up!”

Tommy shifts from foot to foot restlessly, sword in hand, but he still makes no move against Dream. Technoblade hasn’t either, but he keeps his crossbow leveled with the man’s chest.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool, Dream. Real tough-guy move there, huh? Scaring a teenager?” Techno says dryly.

Dream ignores Technoblade now, approaching Tommy. “Look, Tommy. You know you’re not supposed to be here, you… you’ve caused problems, just like you always do. And now, you are going to come with me, or I’m going to burn your disc.”

Another sharp inhale from Tommy, still holding his sword in shaking hands, and Techno can see the desperate cogs turning as this kid tries to figure out how he has any hope of getting out of this one.

“Well, that’s gonna be a bit of a problem, Dream.” Technoblade steps forward, putting himself between Dream and Tommy. “‘Cause this guy’s with me.”

Dream tilts his head, clearly calculating something. “Hm. Are you sure, Techno?”

“I am sure,” Techno replies coolly. He glances back at Tommy behind him, amused to see the kid is now grinning like he won the lottery. “This is a… this is a business partner,” is how he describes the terrified teenager that had been clinging to him for the past days. “And we’re workin’ for our own mutual benefit right now.” He turns back to Dream. “So I can’t really have you takin’ him away before I complete my objectives. Before I get my revenge.”

Tommy is on the fuckin’ moon right now he’s so smug. Ha! Sure, he can’t say a single fucking word, and Tubbo screwed him over, but he’s got the Blade stepping up to fight for him!

“Unless, of course. You wanna call in that favor.”

Tommy’s heart drops to his stomach. He wants to protest, he wants to ask Techno what the fuck he’s talking about, but with Dream there, words have never felt further away. He paces anxiously, walking around Techno, getting back in his line of sight, hoping that would count as pleading enough for answers.

“Hm,” Dream mulls this over, but Tommy’s focus remains on Technoblade.

Again, he tugs on Technoblade’s sleeve, as has been his go-to means of getting Techno’s attention, but Techno doesn’t spare him a glance, merely shakes him off, even as he still holds the crossbow up to Dream’s chest, and that hurts. “Not now, Tommy. The adults are talking,” Techno says coolly. That hurts too. Tommy can’t fucking argue. He wants to argue. There’s a weight pressing down on his chest that says he can’t.

Tommy doesn’t fucking understand, Technoblade was supposed to be on his side, how can he, how could he–

“No, I have something else in mind for that,” Dream continues, equally content to ignore Tommy like he’s nothing more than a pesky bug. “I’ll… I’ll keep it. If you’re sure.” Dream backs away. “I guess you live another day, Tommy.”

A horrifying statement, but more importantly, Dream is walking away. If Tommy is going to say something, some biting insult, a daring jab, it would be now. Tommy steps forward, and Dream stares at him, clearly unimpressed. Tommy feels that weight on his chest again, bearing down on him, his body desperately struggling to prevent HURT, and Tommy is helpless, choking on his own words.

He refuses to not try. Tommy flicks Dream off; it’s all he can manage. Dream scoffs and starts to walk away, so in one last shred of courage, he spits at Dream, not quite hitting him, but enough to make him pause and recoil from it crossing his path.

Tommy is almost breathless with delight. He can’t speak, but he can annoy Dream.

“Yeah! Get out of here, you don’t have no house!” Techno joins in jeeringly.

“I have a house–” Dream starts to say irritably.

Tommy feels that giddy rage rising up once more uncontrollable, and he swings, his sword bouncing off of Dream’s netherite armor, hardly enough to even bruise, but Tommy still basks in it. He hit Dream.

“Whoa, Tommy,” Techno says, appraising and maybe a tad concerned, but Dream doesn’t retaliate, he keeps walking away.

So Tommy returns to the nether portal, trembling not just from the adrenaline, but with feverish joy too.

“I–” Tommy signs, before flicking off the portal behind them, the closest approximation he can get to I told him to go fuck himself!

“Yeah! Yeah, you told him, Tommy,” Technoblade crows.

“Time ago I never do that!” Tommy signs with jittery, excitable fingers, not yet fluent enough to properly articulate a week ago I never could’ve done that! but he gets the message across. “Technoblade,” he signs an approximation of his name, the same sign for sword, or Blade, rather. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Tommy.”

Tommy finds out about a festival, but this time he cannot take the lead, he cannot justify letting his anger run loose and hurt Fundy without a cause, because he cannot run an interrogation when he can’t talk, but Technoblade does enough.

Ranboo discovers something too.

“Tommy? Why… why aren’t you saying anything? Why didn’t you say anything the other day? Are you… I know this might not be the time, but are you… refusing to talk to me?” Ranboo asks.

He can recognize that Tommy is shaking his head. Then he glances down and sees Tommy’s hands are moving.

“Oh, Tommy, I can’t… I can’t see signs very well,” he says softly.

Tommy wavers, seeming unsure, before he startles Ranboo by grabbing his hand. Ranboo doesn’t pull away, though, and after a moment, he realizes Tommy is tracing letters onto his palm.

“Can you start over?”

“Can’t?”

A nod.

“You… you can’t talk?”

Tommy nods.

“Why? Did you… did you lose your voice?”

Tommy hesitates, then slowly, he nods.

“Oh. I guess… I guess I’m sorry to hear that,” Ranboo doesn’t know what to do with this information. “And… do you think you’ll… get it back?”

Tommy shakes his head again.

“It’s… it’s not coming back.”

Another head shake.

“Oh,” Ranboo processes this.

“Tommy! Tommy, I got somethin’ for ya. Fundy has something to say,” Technoblade calls Tommy back over, and Tommy leaves Ranboo before he can ask any more questions.

Ranboo doesn’t tell Tubbo that he spoke with Tommy. He doesn’t know how to. Maybe he’ll regret that later. For now, he’ll record this, remind himself that Tommy has changed. In more ways than one.

While Tommy is invisible, he cannot communicate with Technoblade. So when he follows the crowd out to the blown up community house, he has no idea if Techno will follow him. All he knows is that Dream is blaming him, and Tommy has no way of defending himself. He can’t sign, instead, he can only watch on in horror as Dream tries to tear him away from his loved ones one more time.

Dream is arguing with Tubbo, projecting his words to the entire server, which to be fair, the majority of them have circled around the community house to see what’s happened.

<Dream> how can I enforce his exile if I don’t have the disc?

“You– You have one of them, do you not?” Tubbo stammers.

<Dream> I need both

“You need… both?” Tubbo stares at the ruins of the community house, uncomprehending. “I actually just can’t believe he would do this.”

Everyone is talking over each other, but Tubbo can easily ignore it, cogs turning as he thinks.

<Dream> if you don’t want to associate with tommy hand over the disc

Tommy has no way of stopping this. He’s still fucking invisible so he can’t talk to Tubbo. He scrambles to put on his armor, and before he can stop himself, he steps between Tubbo and Dream.

“What– Who’s this?” Tubbo takes one step back, staring at his best friend and unable to recognize him.

Tommy has no fucking clue what to do now. The entire server is staring at him, and this is where he’s meant to defend himself, but can’t if he’s fucking invisible.

Technoblade joins him.

“It’s Tommy. And I’m here, obviously. Ah, wait, you can’t hear me, uh. Someone wanna… translate for the President or something?” Technoblade drawls.

“Tommy?” Tubbo stares at his best friend, knowing him not on sight, but maybe only on hope.

Tommy nods. Tubbo can at least see that with his helmet.

Tommy needs to tell him he didn’t do this, he needs to talk to his best friend. What he really needs is some fucking milk.

Tubbo doesn’t care, nor does he bother asking someone to explain what the fuck is happening, he just looks at Tommy, wishing he could understand him, in more ways than one.

<Dream> Tubbo give me the disc

Tubbo opens his Enderchest, he doesn’t even know what he’s actually planning on doing at this point, but it doesn’t matter, because Tommy shoves him away. Tommy literally cannot use words right now, the only thing he can possibly do is physically stop Tubbo from giving up the disc. Tubbo stumbles but keeps his footing, staring in shock at the figure that must be Tommy. A tense moment, the two of them staring at each other, and Tubbo unable to read his friend’s face.

He scrambles for his Enderchest. It opens once more, and as Tommy tries to shove him away again, he’s not sure if Tubbo managed to grab it or not. Not that it matters, because right now, Tubbo isn’t holding a disc. He’s holding his axe.

“Tommy, are you really going to– to fight me on this?! After everything– After you proving time and time again that I– I cannot trust you?!” Tubbo sounds so wounded, and Tommy wants to scream at him, to tear into him with all of his losses, but he cannot speak, nor could Tubbo hear him, and for now, Tommy cannot fucking sign.

That leaves one language left.

When Tommy swings at Tubbo, he tries to scream, voice ragged and hoarse from disuse, it merely causes him pain, just like the jarring feeling shuddering up his arm from his axe colliding with Tubbo’s chestplate.

Tubbo gasps, not really hurt, merely shocked that Tommy would swing a weapon at him. The shock doesn’t last. Tubbo takes a shaky breath, tightening his grip on his own axe, he swings back.

Tommy hoists up his shield to block it, it wrenching on his arm and leaving the shield all but useless. He knows Techno is saying something to him, warning him of how outnumbered they are, but he couldn’t care less. Tommy shoves Tubbo back with his shield and swings again.

“A-After everything–” Tubbo blocks it with his own shield, both of them forced to take a step back as they recover. “After everything…” Tubbo tries again. “You… you still found one more way to try and hurt our nation. Why the hell would you do this?!” He nods to the ruins and Tommy is furious.

How the fuck is he meant to tell Tubbo he didn’t do this? How the fuck is he meant to stop him from giving up the disc, save this? Save hurting his best friend? So, of course unable to reply, he merely swings again, trying to wrench around his shield, to reach his chestplate, but Tubbo jolts back quickly, dodging him before swinging back, nailing Tommy in the ribs, only enough to bruise through Netherrite but it still knocks the wind out of him all the same.

“You won’t try to talk to me, but you will hit me, is that it?!” Tubbo snaps.

Tommy can only respond by swinging back harder. He can’t fucking sign if Tubbo can’t see him! It’s not fucking fair that Tubbo gets to make his case and hit him and Tommy can only hit back, otherwise defenseless. Rage sharpens like a knife within his chest and Tommy’s arms burn as he does everything he can to break through Tubbo’s shield, bashing against it with his axe, over and over, until Tubbo is sent stumbling back and he hits the water, and Tommy realizes he can see his own arms, still raising the axe, waiting to strike Tubbo down again.

Tubbo claws back onto the platform, drenched but not dissuaded. He raises his axe, bitterly willing to keep going, until he sees Tommy, and he sees his hands moving.

“I didn’t do this,” he signs rapidly, fingers stumbling and frantic, relieved when Tubbo lowers the axe to watch. “Please don’t give him the disc.”

“What…” Tubbo stares at his hands, eyebrows furrowed together. “You didn’t do this.”

Tommy shakes his head furiously.

“Then… why the hell did you attack me?”

“The disc. The disc! Couldn’t talk to you let you do that.”

“I… I don’t know how you expect me to trust you, Tommy,” Tubbo seems to be struggling to hold his resolve.

Tommy is so panicked he has half a mind to keep fighting, but he has to choose, either a return to violence, or he can talk to him. He cannot do both.

Even without violence, the pain bleeds through.

“You hurt me. You let me go. You let me go,” Tommy doesn’t know how to sign betray, but he hopes emphasizing those words, you let me go, suffice. They hurt him enough.

“That’s not true. That’s not fair, Tommy! I tried to keep you here! I tried to bargain and you were the one who ruined– who ruined everything!” Tubbo is still holding his axe.

“You don’t know what he did to me!” Tommy points at Dream vehemently, even as the man had stepped back, along with all the rest, to allow the two of them to tear each other to pieces. “Out away, where I was, he hurt me. You don’t know, you don’t know.”

“I thought you died!” Tubbo sounds like he’s pleading, his voice breaks, and he takes one step closer. Tommy steps back sharply, because Tubbo is still holding his axe. Tubbo puts it away. “I thought you were– I thought you were dead.”

“You never came. You never saw me. You know nothing. You hurt me.” Tommy’s hands are unsteady, he pauses, forcing them to calm, trying to at least. “You made me die not being there.”

"I– What?"

Tommy tries to work around his limited vocabulary. "You went away. Made me start to die. You left me to die." Tommy finally manages it, signing for the direction left, but he's hoping Tubbo can figure it out.

“I didn’t– I didn’t– When I exiled you–” Tubbo stammers, torn between anger and pain. “What was I supposed to do, Tommy?! I was stuck in an impossible position because you decided to disregard our nation, to– to risk everything and for what?! For the discs?!”

Those watching, save Technoblade, are all plagued by the same thought, only hearing half of the conversation. Why isn’t Tommy talking?

It’s a strange sort of dread. Tommy being quiet feels like a warning, a sign that something is seriously wrong with him. Tommy is never quiet. Not that Tubbo notices this, his attention remains on Tommy’s hands, and the words spun from them.

Tommy cannot be impulsive with his words. There is always a delay in a language he hasn’t quite adjusted to. So he never says it. He cannot figure out a way to sign “the discs were worth more than you ever were,” or if he can, he doesn’t, because the thought of them alone hit him in the chest like an explosion.

“Give him the disc.”

“What?” Tubbo sputters.

“I won’t lose you over this. Give him the disc,” Tommy signs this slow and careful, the weight of what he’s doing makes him almost dizzy. He just wanted to have one thing, or two, rather. Two precious objects that represent everything he holds dear. Tubbo is what he holds dear, and he won’t lose him over a disc that he can’t even hear anymore.

What follows is simple as it is painful. Dream gets Mellohi. Tommy chooses Tubbo, as he always does, as he always will, in every universe. And Technoblade is hurt. Dream does not wave Ranboo’s memory book like an accusation, because by then, Ranboo had started recording his memories in a tape recorder. It is far worse for everyone to hear Ranboo’s confession played aloud, but even worse for Ranboo to look at Tubbo, and know he cannot hear a word of it.

That simplifies things, in a sense.

Doomsday could have been avoided, but not for this, and not easily. Technoblade doesn’t bother with words when Tommy never pleads with him to stop. The words had always been insignificant on a day like this, better surely to skip right to the violence. That was what they were really here for. Tommy cannot shout at Technoblade, plead for reason, for understanding, and he cannot call out Tubbo’s name to find him, so they stay together. There isn’t much to be said as their world falls to ash, so Tommy holds Tubbo’s hand through the end.

On Doomsday, Ranboo only sees a blur of white lines and bursts of orange. He had gone to his panic room after the community house, not because he had been outed as a traitor, but rather because he still didn’t know how to do this. Everyone needing to choose sides and always fighting and–

He must have cried. He doesn’t remember it now, but nonetheless, he must have. Because when he woke up, still in the panic room, he couldn’t read the signs on the walls. He stumbled his way back to L’Manberg, his peripheral all he has left, and he gets his pets out. Then he watches, watches as best he can at least. The explosions are almost beautiful, and in the dark, Ranboo cannot see the obsidian grid they emanate from so for them the bombs might as well be from the sky itself.

Phil tells him to get out of there while he still can, he’s offered a place in the arctic, but staring at the darkness, the streaks of hot, painful white, Ranboo thinks of blinding white snow, and he shudders.

Tubbo has his tape recorder, stolen by Dream somehow, but he cannot listen to it himself. Ranboo hates the way that makes him feel relieved.

#my writing #dsmp #wahoo this covers a lot lmao

8 notes · View notes

dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

i think that although the theories/aus of puffy's son dream and wil's brother dream are interesting to think about, especially the implications, the (probably) canon statement that he really has no family to me hits the hardest. because it's just dream, you know. his friends hate him, he has none (p relatable), but i can't really imagine,, both not having friends and not having a family. that's kind of what keeps a lot of us sane and okay ( - quill anon (same anon from the c!tubbo c!wil ask) )

ouch quill anon ,, this ask Hurt. it’s true - usually, it’s our family and friends that keep us going, that are the ones that we fight for and live for and love for. c!dream’s “family” was his reasoning behind ,, a lot of the stuff he did, good or bad, and even now you can hear his desperation in getting someone, anyone to visit sometimes, in wanting to know how people are doing outside the cell.

at the same time, he’s a character very much defined by his solitude, by his isolation, by all of the time he has spent,, alone. by the alliances that had been broken, betrayed, forgotten. by how- at the end of the day - he sits for hours on end in an obsidian box with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. it’s awfully ,, sad, despite everything he’s done. through it all, he’s alone. he survives the horrors of the vault (until this current arc) alone. nobody’s there to hear his thoughts. nobody knows his mindset, or feelings, or wants, or anything that really makes him human. for someone so driven by people, he spends so much time completely isolated - and it’s. honestly really, really tragic.

anyway, this is a sad little drabble set pre-roommates arc abt c!dream in the prison, alone, bc he makes me Sad.

tw: mentioned torture, abuse, violence, broken bones, blood, injuries, mental deterioration, isolation, panic attacks, self-deprecation, trauma, memory loss, death, contemplations of death, dark content, dark imagery

The blank book in his hand stares at him stubbornly, the stark white of the untouched pages nearly burning his eyes, used to the dark walls and floor of the cell. Dream’s hand shakes around his quill, ink splotches marring the pages from where his too-unsteady hand had let the nib brush against the paper and left freckles of black spots behind. He pulls his thumb back from the bottom left corner, hissing slightly when it leaves a dull red fingerprint behind, a smudge of half-dried blood further dirtying the paper.

He’d pulled out one of the books for some reason, probably on a whim, letting his hands run over the leather spine and along the thread of the binding absentmindedly after Quackity left for the day. He hadn’t touched them in a while - he liked to save them, at the beginning, just in case visitors came and he wanted to thank them or if he needed to communicate (though he hadn’t gone silent since Sapnap left, ‘cause Sapnap wanted him to talk and he doesn’t know why he still clings to that visit when it’s been months and he still hasn’t come back, but he promised that if Dream behaved he’d visit again and - it’s stupid to hope, but Dream can’t give up, not yet) and then he kept them because he would need them for the revive book and the Warden would confiscate them, anyway, so it was better not to get attached. Regardless, he’d stubbornly ignored the chest of books for a long time, let the remain closed and the clasp go unlatched as he wasted his days away watching the walls drip bright purple and pretend he didn’t miss his clock.

Until now.

He runs his fingers along the surface of the paper again, ignoring the red and black smudges they leave in their wakes, ruining the previously unblemished pages. The paper is smooth, bearing a very slight grain, and smells clean and woody - this book must’ve been a newer one the Warden replaced into the chest. He’d counted the pages a few times, front and back - there are fifty sheets, so a hundred pages to use as he sees fit, completely empty and untouched. The quill shakes in his hand, the tip pressed against the paper, unmoving.

What is there to write?

He’s forgotten why he pulled out the book in the first place, already - his head keeps getting fuzzier, memory impossibly fragmented and seemingly worsening with every passing day. He knows he had a reason because he’d been very determined about it, had spent what must have been hours dragging himself along the obsidian floor with a broken shinbone jutting out of his right leg and a dislocated left shoulder that he’d taken an extra few minutes to jam back in place by pressing it against the floor. Something had come into his head, probably in the middle of Quackity’s daily session, and he’d found himself desperate to write it down before he forgot despite the throbbing of his head and the pain in his chest making it impossible to take a full breath.

(He must have talked back, or acted defiant, or something - he doesn’t remember much besides the look Quackity had given him after, dark and angry and tight with rage. There had been a hand tangled in his hair, a blade jammed right up against his throat, curses and screams in his ears dying into a singular ringing echo as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Quackity realized that he’d gone too deep and that Dream was choking on his own blood - his memories shatter, and there’s nothing but more screaming, red and black and blood everywhere, warm against his skin, the sweet-sour taste of glistening melon on his tongue, a healing pot desperately stitching his skin together and bringing him back from the darkness that he’d swelled in the corners of his vision - mostly, he remembers everything going cold and numb and he’d realized, halfway into the Void, that he would never leave the Vault alive.)

His hands tighten on the book as he breathes a shallow, harsh breath through his teeth, because - oh. Oh. He looks back at the trembling white plume in his hand, at his shaking fingers clenched tightly near the end, and he swallows the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. Quackity had- and he had- and then-

Right.

He forces air into his lungs steadily, counting the seconds off in his head. He’d learned how to stave off panic attacks on his own ages ago, and the knowledge had come to full use in the Vault - the struggle to stay calm seems harder with every passing day, but he can’t exactly risk himself passing out every three seconds when he’s inevitably set off by the smell of blood or a twinge of pain or any of the million other triggers crammed into this tiny box that’s been the source of all of his torment for months. He keeps up the slow, steady breathing for another few minutes, just enough time to pull back the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, and looks back down at the blank paper.

It stares back at him, almost judgmental of his hesitancy. You opened me up, it seems to challenge him, why aren’t you writing? The quill still shakes in his hand. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop shaking again.

Dear, he begins, almost in defiance, proof that he Is Going To Write Something, thank you very much, he isn’t just going to chicken out and leave it a blank book (like you have before?) but the quill tip digs into the paper as he grinds to a sudden halt, the empty space next to the first word nearly taunting. He feels his mouth dry, heat rising behind his eyes - the book, silent and blank as ever, stays imprinted in his vision even as he squeezes them shut.

Dear, what a stupid, sentimental way to start a letter. He can’t even fool himself into thinking of it as a business venture, turn it into an elaborate plan to escape and address it to either Techno or Wilbur (who would never receive his message anyway), not without admitting his regard for the two edged past his pretense of professional interested and owed favors. He can hardly write it to Ranboo, not without compromising their already fragile alliance (if it even exists, anymore. The enderman hybrid had yet to visit for months - and sure, it was probably for the best, who knows how Quackity would react if he found out about the nature of their relationship, but that didn’t make it sting any less.)

In the back of his minds, name rise from where he’d kept them carefully buried despite his best efforts. Punz. Bad. Puffy. Sapnap. George. He shakes his head, trying to wave away them from his thoughts, but the effort is as fruitless as it has always been - he stares at the first word angrily, like it has betrayed him, and receives no response. The words are messy, shaking, his script overly looping and rounded like a child’s. He hates it, hates how cheery it looks, even on the bloodstained page - it looks like the beginning of a birthday card, or a perhaps a particularly dedicated Halloween party invite. Like he’s some sort of lovesick teen, writing letters to crushes that would never pay him a second glance. He laughed a little, without any real humor - minus the romance, that description isn’t all that far off.

Because- well. His memories might be shot to all hell, but he doubts he’ll ever forget the hatred on Sapnap’s face, a loaded crossbow pointed between his eyes, George’s expression set in disinterested apathy - “George, you can give the word.” Bad’s face, twisted in pity and resignation, voice carefully measured as he looks away and gestures at the cell, “you did do some pretty bad stuff to get put in here though, Dream,” the hidden “you deserve it” that he’d heard, just as clearly behind the words. Punz - “you should’ve paid me more” - jaw set stiffly as people poured through the portal, watching, wordless, as Dream bled out twice on that blackstone floor. Puffy, poorly hidden disgust flickering over her face as she looks away from him being dragged away in chains, sword held steady in her hands. Sapnap, that same fiercely determined expression on his face so familiar that thinking of it aches, even now, “it’s gonna be me, who takes your final life.” Months and months and months and months, alone.

Always, always, alone.

The page makes a quiet, complaining groan under his pen - he looks down to see it torn under the tip of his quill, the word completely unreadable under line after line of black ink scratched over it, each one deeper than the last. He stares blankly at it for a few minutes longer, the brief flash of anger that had seared through his body settling into numbness once more.

To whoever may find this: he scratches the words on the page slowly, keeping his print deliberately blocky and neat. The heavy feeling in his throat returns, stronger than ever, and he ignores it as he pushes on.

He pauses for a moment, wondering what more to write. Apologies? Accusations? He could detail every second that he remembers from Quackity’s visits, describe every inch of pain that had been pulled from his aching lungs, every line etched into his skin. He could apologize for every act of cruelty that had ever been caused by his hands, every bridge he’d ever torched to light the path to a better future. He could explain - everything, every tortured thought that had circled his head for hours on end and every night that had passed without any sleep and every time he’d pushed on without complaint or hesitancy because it would be worth it, even if he was the only one who saw it, it would be worth it because he’d sacrifice too much for it to be anything but. He could- he could, he could write and write until he’d filled every page of every book back and front, and would they even believe him? Would it even matter?

Goodbye, he writes at last. It feels strangely final. (He won’t be leaving this Vault alive. He knows this as surely as he knows that he will leave this world uncared for, unheard. As surely as he knows that he’ll always be alone.) With a quick snap of magic following the signing of his name, the book is preserved, shining slightly with a purple glow as he sets it back down in the chest. He looks around, the cell once again stiflingly quiet without the book to busy him, Dream once again completely alone as he’s been for - well.

(Pandas, eyebrows drawn in uncharacteristic seriousness from the usually painfully spirited eight-year-old, pinkie raised between the two of them, solemnity belied by the gap in his front teeth poking out between his lips.

“We’ll be together forever,” he whispered with the volume control you’d expect from a kid that age, which is to say that it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, but Dream, newly ten years old, remembers being particularly moved by the gesture anyway, moving to hesitantly hook his own pinkie in the other’s.

“And we’ll never be alone ever again,” he’d replied, voice faraway with a disbelieving sort of awe.”

“Never,” Pandas’ voice had been just as firm as his first statement, twisting his wrist to tighten the grip of their linked fingers further. “Best friends for ever and ever, right?”

“For ever and ever.”)

“For ever and ever,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps down against the floor, and only the lava bubbles in reply.

#tw torture #tw abuse #tw violence #tw broken bones #tw injuries #tw mental deterioration #tw isolation #tw panic attack #tw self deprecation #tw trauma #tw memory loss #tw death #tw dark content #tw dark imagery #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks #quill anon !

180 notes · View notes

peachy-rambles · 3 years

Note

Kikis delivery service au? 👀 Please go on, that’s one of my favorites of the ghibli movies and I would love to hear your thoughts on it

(Also really dumb idea but Tommy as Gigi but he’s a raccoon. Who for? Yes. Regardless of who is Kiki- oooooh and there’s that artist lady with the crows-)

-inky

Ok so here's some thoughts I have about it off the top of my head:

When Phil was 13, he left home as young witches do (with his dove familiar, Wilbur) to find his way in the world and whatever his special talent was because every witch has a special talent. He finds his way to a big city and settles there, finding work at a garden centre. He was always good with plants and he enjoys his job, even if it's a lot of work. There's even a bakery down the street he often visits and becomes friends with the owner.

One day when Phil visits the bakery, he notices that the owner is acting different and seems much more quiet and closed off. It doesn't take much pressing from him to get her to tell him what's wrong.

"It's my son. He's sick and I can't afford the medicine he needs," she eventually admits.

Phil gets more details from her about her son and he heads back to where he's staying, pulling out an old book he'd packed before leaving. It's an ancient journal written by one of his ancestors about herbs, potions and brewing medicine. He gets to work, figuring out which potion he needs to make and collects the plants he needs to it from the garden centre. It takes a few trial and errors but eventually he successfully makes the potion he needs.

He brings it to the bakery's owner and gives her the proper instructions on how to give it to her son before leaving.

A few weeks later when he visits the bakery, the owner is delighted to see him and tells him that his potion worked! Her son is still recovering, but he was no longer sick and almost healthy again.

The owner brings Phil to meet her son, Techno, who just turned 3. Techno loves Phil right away, especially because he knows Phil is the one who helped him get better. Over the next few years, Phil often visits the bakery and will sometimes babysit Techno, spending time with him.

Eventually though, Phil figures it's time for him to leave the city and to head back home. Techno is naturally distraught and is angry at Phil, thinking his friend is leaving him for good. But Phil promises he'll send Techno letters and definitely visit whenever he gets the chance.

Phil returns home and makes good on his promise, sending Techno letters at least twice a month and Techno always writes him back (well, he tries his best, being only 5 and all).

But then...Phil's letters slow down to once a month. Then once every few months.

The last letter Techno receives from Phil is wishing Techno a happy 6th birthday, and how Phil will try to visit in a few weeks if he can.

He never does.

Despite this, Techno keeps sending letters, hoping maybe if he sends enough Phil will reply. But as more time passes, he realizes that's it's probably useless and knows that Phil won't reply. Techno doesn't give up completely however and once a year, he'll send Phil a letter, telling him about all the things that have happened to him in the past year. He always ends the letter by saying how he misses Phil and hopes he's okay.

Years pass and Techno grows up, eventually inheriting the bakery from his mother who passed away when Techno was 18. Techno is an amazing baker, but because of his giant size and generally terrifying appearance+social anxiety and awkwardness...he isn't good at running the bakery and interacting with people. So, he hires another local baker named Niki to help him out. They're both great bakers and work well together, but Niki is usually the one manning the front and interacting with customers while Techno stays (hides) in the back.

Eventually, Techno (and Niki) take on an apprentice named Ranboo. He's not the best at baking yet, but he has a genuine interest in it and is great at making cookies and decorating cakes.

One day, while Ranboo is helping closing up the bakery with Techno, he's notices a little yellow raccoon with a green bandana tied around it's neck, digging through the trash. It hisses and runs away as soon as it spots Ranboo, but it's back the next night. This time though, Ranboo is prepared and has a spare loaf of broad to offer the raccoon. The raccoon still hisses at him and runs off, but not before nabbing the bread from Ranboo.

This becomes a routine for about a week, Ranboo feeding the raccoon any spare food from the bakery. At the end of the week, Ranboo decides to follow the raccoon. Because it's clearly going somewhere with the food and the bandana around it's neck probably mean it belongs to someone.

That's how Ranboo meets Tubbo - a witch in training, who wasn't able to find a place to stay and has been wandering the streets for the past week. His raccoon familiar, Tommy, was taking the food that Ranboo gave him and giving it to Tubbo to eat since he had no money or food left.

Ranboo listens to Tubbo's plights and after thinking it over, Ranboo comes up with an idea: Tubbo could live with Ranboo in the spare attic above the bakery that Techno let's Ranboo stay in!

Tubbo doesn't hesitate and accepts Ranboo's offer. They do attempt to hide Tubbo's presence from Techno, unsure of how he'll react to a witch (or you know, just a strange random teenager living in his attic), but Techno catches them on the first day when Tubbo sneaks into the bakery to steal some desserts.

Techno isn't heartless so he let's Tubbo continue to stay with Ranboo, just as long as he helps around the bakery and doesn't get in anyone's way. Even though Techno seems to not mind Tubbo's presence, the others in the bakery still can't help but notice that Techno very much avoids Tubbo and they have no idea why.

Maybe Techno dislikes witches or is scared of them? But if he does, why would he agree to let Tubbo stay.

Of course we know why Techno is hesitant around Tubbo: it's because of Phil.

Techno doesn't hate Phil or hate witches because of Phil, but he is...hesitant to trust them or get close to them. Which is why he's so wary around Tubbo and does his best to ignore and avoid him. Afterall, Techno has no idea what happened to Phil or why he stopped sending letters and why he broke his promise to Techno.

The truth is, when Phil returned home all those years ago, it turned out that while he was gone his parents had made an arranged marriage for him to another witch from a powerful family. Phil didn't really have a choice and went through with the marriage. He didn't tell Techno any of this through his letters because Techno was just a child and Phil didn't think it was relevant to tell him.

All of Techno's letters that he mailed were all sent to Phil's family's house, which Phil no longer lived at (now living with his spouse) and Phil would always send Wilbur over to deliver any letters from Techno to him.

As time went on, Phil became more and more depressed with his living situation, especially because his spouse and their family weren't...the nicest.

Eventually, something happens with his spouse, which makes Phil snap and he runs away, leaving everyone behind. He travels for a very long time until he finds a little abandoned cabin at the edge of some woods, nearby a small quaint little town. Phil decides to make the cabin his own and it becomes home to him. He eventually builds a greenhouse and garden, turning his little cabin into an apothecary, where he makes and sells potions and medicines (he will also sell his plants if people are interested, but it's mostly the potions).

He eventually earns the nickname "the Crowfather" by the town and surrounding area, due to the amount of birds (mostly crows but other birds as well) that tend to hang around his cabin and shop. Sometimes you can ever catch him talking to the birds (usually scolding them for whatever reason).

Phil enjoys the life he's made for himself and avoids thinking about his past, but sometimes he'll remember Techno and feel some regret. He sometimes wonders if maybe he should send Techno a letter and tell him that he's okay, that he misses Techno and had full intentions of visiting him, but life had other plans. Phil has written many letters over the years to Techno, but whenever he tries to send one, he always backs out and ends up throwing the letter away.

Techno was just a child when he last saw Phil and has probably long forgotten Phil already, so there's no need to send him a letter. That's what Phil believes anyway.

Phil pushes any thoughts of Techno out of his head and tries to focus on the life he has now.

Eventually, Phil finds and takes in a toddler named Tubbo, who Phil recognizes as another witch. Phil raises Tubbo and trains him in the ways of witches, until the day Tubbo turns 13 and heads off to go on his own journey to find his special talent.

Phil has no idea that his apprentice ended up in the same city Phil did all those years ago, and somehow found the same bakery Phil did and is now living under Techno's roof and being looked after by him.

But Phil will find out when Tubbo sends his first letter to Phil, giving him all the details of his journey so far, including the bakery he's staying in and the owner - Techno.

#techza #technophil #asks and replies #peachy said a thing #peachy fic prompts #inky anon

56 notes · View notes

daisylore-au · 3 years

Note

To Tommyinnit!

Hello, I’m Ghostbur! I was missing you a lot today, so I wrote this letter! You can’t read it right now, and I do hope you won’t get to read it for a long, long time, but they say writing your feelings down is a good way to think. I haven’t written many letters, but I think I should start by saying I’m sorry. It was very rude of me to leave without saying goodbye. It wasn’t on purpose! But I am still sorry. I know you said you didn’t want Alivebur to come back, but I know you care about him. I hope the resurrection worked and you two are getting along again. I hope it turned out okay for you.

Things turned out better than expected for me! I thought if Alivebur got resurrected, I’d disappear into the void and be alone forever, or that I might just stop existing all together. I was really, really scared Tommy. And for a little bit, I could feel myself falling into the void. But someone caught me.

Did you know Philza Minecraft’s wife is Death? I’m not sure why, but I could have sworn his wife was a refrigerator! I like her much better this way, though. Mumza is a very nice lady and she took me to her home! Its very nice here. She has a big library full of stories, and she says I’m good at music, and there are birds everywhere. She treats me like family, but she doesn’t call me Wil. She says I’m my own person. Its taken getting used to, but I think I like it.

I still miss you, and Philza, and Technoblade and Friend and everyone. I still dream about L’Manberg. Even though this is my home now, I still get homesick for the old times. Mumza says I’ll see you all again someday, but since she’s Death I think maybe she’s talking about when you all die. Don’t rush for me! I can wait, and when you do finally come, we can share so many stories. I hope you find that happy ever after you deserve.

PS. Take care of Friend for me! :)

Love, Ghostbur!

Dear Ghostbur,

So this is pretty stupid because I know you’ll never get this letter (considering you’re dead and shit) but Puffy told me that sometimes writing out my feelings is better than speaking them. I’ve never really been good at speaking (or writing) things so I thought I’d give it a go because I’m the best.

I’m sorry I got you ki

I feel gui

I want to thank you, man. For everything. I don’t want to get sappy because Tubbo might find it or something and I think I would rather blow up a country (sorry not sorry) than him read this but you were kind of there for me when nobody else was. In exile, even if you fucked off halfway through but that actually wasn’t your fault and I don’t really hold it against you. When I got out of prison. When I was alone. When I thought I had nobody. You can tell I’ve been to therapy because I’m being open and honest about my feelings which isn’t exactly something I’d done before coz Wilbur and Philza are shit at feelings and never open up about anything (which actually makes me better than them because I’m at therapy and they’re not. Sucks to be them. They’re dumb.)

But yeah. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for sticking by me even when I was horrible to you a lot of the time sometimes. You were a lot nicer to me than Wilbur was, and I think I took a lot of my feelings towards him out on you at times, which was a bit shit of me. He’s still dead, by the way. I thought maybe when you died, he’d come back, and I was really scared not really sure what to think if he did. But he didn’t, so now I’m just kind of brotherless. Which is fine, you know, brothers fuck off every so often, but it was lonely for a while.

I’m not alone anymore, though. There’s this kid - her name is Henry (yes like the cow, fuck off) - and she’s kind of mine? Now I’M like the big brother which is fucking weird, but she’s cool. You would have liked her, I think. Her favourite colour is blue, and she has a toy sheep that she calls Buddy (think she got that from you, though I have no idea how). Puffy told me to tell you that I’m happy because she was trying to ask me what you’d say if I told you that, but I told her I didn’t think you’d say anything. I think you’d’ve hugged me, and I think you would’ve cried, even though crying hurts you, but it would’ve been happy tears.

It’s nice not being alone. I hope you’re not alone, wherever you are. You won’t be alone for too long - I’ll be coming up before you know it, I mean, fucking hell, I’m twenty now. I think. (I still don’t know when my birthday is actually but Philza Minecraft says I’m twenty and he’s never wrong), but I hope maybe someone is with you. Maybe Wilbur? I dunno how well you’d both get on, but I think even someone is better than no one.

Fuck me, man, this is so rambly. This is the first time I’ve spoken about you properly to anyone. Well. I guess I’m technically just speaking to myself, actually. But maybe one day when I die when I’m old like Philza you’ll see this and then you’ll think I’ve gone all soft (WHICH I’VE NOT BY THE WAY). But I just wanted to let you know that I think I’ve got my happy ending, even after fucking everything over the past few years. I think I’m finally happy. I have a family, a proper family, and I have my friends, and the server is at peace.

If you see Dream by the way, tell him I

Hope you’re having a good time in Heaven, big man. I mean. If you got into Heaven. Coz if you didn’t and you’re in Hell then I’ve got no fucking chance. And I don’t fancy the big flaming ground pit

Does Heaven even exist?

Getting all existential again holy shit.

Anyways. I’m going for dinner at Tubbo’s (WHO HAS A KID TOO CALLED MICHAEL) and Henry’s coming in from school (we finally have a fucking education system in this place) so I’m going to leave it here. Cheers again for everything, seriously. I’m sorry things ended the way they did, and I hope you get peace, because if anyone deserves it, it’s you.

Thank you for being my brother when I needed one the most

Miss you a lot

TOMMY. (AKA Big Man, AKA Big T, AKA Biggest T.)

#anon that letter made me cry when i first read it :')#hope you don't mind my shitty little in-character response !!#brain's scattered so it's not the best but this is c!tommy Growing TM #> daisy lore: writing #> daisy lore: ghostbur #> daisy lore: tommy #tw death #tw grieving #tw mourning #tw grief #tw guilt #long post

43 notes · View notes