Snow-that-is-in-colour-red - The Writer's Bastard

America: Scotland! Hey dude, I just wanted to get your permission for me to marry England?

Scotland: What is this, the dark ages? You know what? Since you asked me, no you can't. Beat me in a duel first.

tubbo is a soldier. it’s in the way he stands, in the way he checks his exits, in the way he speaks, in the way he lives everyday of his life. it doesn’t matter how long he grows his hair out, if his uniform hasn’t been touched in years, if he’a thrown away his promise to fight for liberty. it doesn’t matter how much he distances himself from it, he cannot escape

ranboo watches his stance change infront of quackity, he notices the change of speech and the way he carries himself. he watched tubbo and tommy do the same infront of dream in the bunker. he watches him look for the way out in every room he enters. he watches him make escape ways in the builds he makes. he knows his husband and he knows that people who haven’t been scarred don’t do that. he’s watched tommy, niki, fundy and jack all do the same

tubbo’s uniform is neatly packed away in a box along with any reminder he has of the past soldier he was. it all sits there in the storage closet, his uniform, his off duty jacket, the half burnt flag all folded up. it’s all there on the top shelf of his closet, pushed as far back into the corner it’ll go, out of arms reach. when he saw wilbur back from the dead, he locked the closet door. he cannot be a soldier again

he’s too much of one as it is

GUYS OMGGMGJGM QHAT IF THEY MET 😍😍😍🤩

I've seen so many people go "this wasn't a good end for c!wilbur" and "it wasn't true to his character" "there is no growth!"

It was true. C!Wilbur is a bit of a coward. I'm sorry, but he is. And here, here he grew a bit. He said his apologies. He said his goodbyes. And now he goes home. It takes strenght to realise that a place is not good for you, and by staying you are doing more harm than good. And you cannot tell me that there was anything else for Wilbur on that server other than Tommy. But here's the thing: Tommy doesn't need him. He wants him, sure, it's his brother, but Tommy has had a life without him. He has gone through stuff and he has fought and hurt and healed and fell and stood back up. And while I'm sure Wilbur loves Tommy, Wilbur doesn't need him either. What they both need is space to heal. So Wilbur goes home. Goes to the opposite of his limbo, to the warm vastness of the desert, and he'll figure out who he really is behind all the trauma and l'manburg and all that. Who he is when there is nothing more to fight for or about, when he can just be. I'm sad for Tommy, truly. But to pigeonhole Wilbur into a "Tommy's caretaker" role is to take stuff away from both of their characters.

That's really the thing that annoys me the most. This "But Tommy is alone again! Wilbur left him on a beach just like Dream" Yes he is alone. But here's the thing. You are not evil or abusive for removing yourself from a situation that harms you and where you are not comfortable or safe. You are not bad. Dream was a fucking psychopath who enjoyed the abuse he put Tommy through. Wilbur is a mentally ill dude who desperately needs peace and safety. If I'd change one thing, i wish the offer for Tommy to join him would have been on the table. I would have wanted Tommy to refuse, but i still wanted the offer. But overall? I think it was great.

And you know what? I'm glad it was silly. I'm glad it was fun. Because they ALL talked about how it felt like the smp lost some of its magic due to how big and serious it has gotten. I'm glad that it was a bit silly and fun. Fucking Utah. I liked it.

i like phil being near-immortal, and i like techno being near-immortal alongside him, but i think that it works better when their specific brands of immortality are different. u know?

so it goes a little something like this:

The first time they meet, Philza is still young. Not young, you understand, but young enough that he has not yet been cut down to stark and jaded utilitarianism. He sets out on a journey into the nether and feels a tug on his sleeve and looks down to see some wide-eyed little piglin child whose parents are nowhere to be found, and his heart stirs.

So he teaches him: combat and farming and life in the Overworld, all of the knowledge that he’s gained over the years. Raises the boy like a son.

It takes twenty years before war starts building in the neighboring empire. Twenty years before the piglin child — now grown, of course, but still so desperately young — offers his service. Like he wants blood on his hands, like he wants to make somebody pay.

Phil buries him before the war is over.

He’s lost people before, of course. So many people. But it’s been a long time since those people were family. He plants a tree on top of the grave, a tiny sapling behind their home — his home now — and makes a promise to himself to stop getting attached.

The second time they meet, the sapling is fully grown.

The soul that will one day call itself Technoblade comes gasping into the world again, trembling memories of wings and violence that flit around the edges of his consciousness when he’s suspended between sleep and wakefulness, and he grows up a fighter. Bruised knuckles and scars that crisscross his back and shoulders like delicate lace, and when he runs into a man who holds himself with world-weary poise and the same wings that have haunted Techno’s dreams, he feels a jolt down his spine.

“Sorry, mate,” says the man. “You just reminded me of someone I used to know.” “Oh,” says Technoblade.

They get four years together this time before Phil has to plant another sapling.

Techno lives through six lives before Phil’s certain that it’s the same man every time. There’s another voice added to the chorus in each one, another whisper in his ear demanding things of him; at night, his dreams are full of a man with long blond hair and gray-purple wings and cold blue eyes. The memories slip through his fingers like sand whenever he tries to get a solid grasp on them, but the surety with which he holds a sword can only come from years of muscle memory that he’s never practiced.

They say that ‘Technoblade never dies.’ And it’s a lie, but there’s some piece of truth in it: Technoblade dies, and then he comes home again.

There’s a room for him in Phil’s house, kept tidy and waiting in his absence. There’s a journal that Phil keeps, writing down the history of each new lifetime, so that when they find one another Techno will be able to remember. There’s a vault beneath the floorboards that holds bits and pieces of the lives that Techno’s lead, armor and items and memories. There’s a place for him in the world, and Phil keeps it carefully maintained for the next time he finds it.

One lifetime becomes ten lifetimes becomes a thousand lifetimes.

It’s never quite the same, of course. Techno’s a grown man, battered and beaten and bitter but still standing tall; Techno’s a child, tugging on Phil’s sleeve like he did so long ago and asking if they’ve met before; Techno’s already in old age, battle-scarred but determined to track down the man he sees in his dreams. Sometimes they raze empires together, side by side in a blaze of glory. Sometimes they’re content to simply live in one another’s company. Sometimes they don’t meet at all.

Phil’s journal becomes a library, his vault an archive. The valley he lives in goes from open grass to a dense forest of trees that are planted in far-too-orderly rows to be natural.

And for every life that Techno leads, Phil’s always the one to bury him.

i feel like we're too hung up on the whole Utah thing, like it doesn't fucking matter that it's Utah, c!Wilbur is going back to where he was raised and where he lived before the SMP

the Utah bit is just supposed to be funny but the implications are genuine, he's going back to his roots wherever that is

a lot of people remembered tommy as the hero, the one to kill dream, the one to put him in jail, the one who "did it all" and survived it all. so they built big statues of him after his death, commemorating how great he was. but that wasn't what he was at all. he was a kid. he was a kid that was beaten in a dark, hot cell. the statues seemed to be compensating for the death tommy actually had: a death without dignity or grace, a death painfully unfit for a hero. tommy was a kid, but only one of his graves reflected that. unsurprisingly, it was the grave built by tubbo, the other kid. that was the grave tommy deserved.

"I am the world's worst man. I have killed, kidnapped and tortured millions only for money and power. I have looked to the world's misery in the face and I have taken all that they had left and yet here you are with a smile in your face and your eyes, calling me kind, polite, sweet and noble, showing me love even when I don't deserve it. Do you know how much pain it causes me? That you love me even when there are a hundred reasons of why you shouldn't, that you kiss me and smile to me even when I don't deserve it. Do you know how much it makes me want to love you back?"

Part of a story that I will never write ;-;

the thrilling saga

it's the way that afterward everyone was running around in the dark and exclaiming over the cool bell thingy and frolicking under the stars and phil. stays on the hill. glancing everywhere frantically. taking note of mobs. on edge. ough.

and then foolish tells him to just chill and look up at the stars and phil looks up. smiles. and goes right back to keeping on guard.