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missyart123 · 2 years

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That Faeteful Day (Soulbound AU - Wilbur, Techno, and Phil)

“Techie! Hey, Tech!”

Wilbur’s short legs thumped loudly against the ground as he sprinted through the tall grass, brushing past the branches and leaves that stuck out at odd angles with practiced ease as he ran down the well-trodden path.

“Phil says he’s making your favourite and that if you’re not back in time I can take my serving first! I’m gonna-!”

Wilbur’s eyes widened. Involuntarily, he found himself slowing to a stop, hooved feet skidding across the muddy surface of the ground. He stared, slack-jawed, at the sight that appeared before him.

“Woah.”

Sat, pillowed in the centre of the clearing by a clump of soft-looking mushrooms, was Techno. Bright-eyed, the boy giggled to himself where he sat, not seeming to register Wilbur’s presence. The boys hands were waving about in the air, movements light as he stared around, the faint purple glow of the clearing basking the young boy in a halo of soft light, caressing the soft edges of his awe-filled smile.

But that wasn’t what had caught Wilbur’s eye.

All around them, hundreds – no, thousands – of tiny lights filled the open space. Flittering around in the open air, a kaleidoscope of what seemed to be every shade of light possible painted the sky; tiny little specs that floated through the air leaving trails of colour behind them like brush strokes on a canvas.

They gathered in clusters, flitting through the leaves of the surrounding trees, brushing through the grass, lounging in flower buds and basking in the rays of the evening sun; leaving rainbows of light wherever they moved.

The vast majority of them, however, seemed to have gathered around Techno. Pulling gently at his short hair, hiding amongst the soft folds of his clothes, gushing quietly to each other, they admired his brother like a commodity; picking him apart with child-like curiosity.

In turn, his brother returned their wonder ten-fold, staring around at the flickering lights with glassy-eyed joy, their colourful magic reflected in his gaze.

The moment Wilbur stepped into view however, the hubbub came to a grinding stop.

With what sounded like a million tiny gasps, an incomprehensible number of lights came flooding towards him. A wide, involuntary grin on his face, Wilbur watched as they flittered around him, pulling at him in the same way they had his brother, encasing him in their soft glow, and a warm rush of something flooded his mind.

He giggled quietly as one of the lights – this one a pretty lilac colour – came to a rest on his nose. The creature seemed to titter alongside him as he stared crossed-eyed down at it, bug eyed in his attempts to look at it. Wilbur couldn’t help the sneeze that erupted from him at the tickling sensation that it caused, what could only be a pair of tiny wings brushing against his face at with every movement.

“Hi,” Wilbur whispered, biting down on his lip in absolute concentration as he stared at the little thing. That seemed to have been the right thing to do, as all at once the creature began speaking rapidly at him in what Wilbur could only assume were its own attempt words. The sounds had an almost excited lilt to them, bouncy and playful as they floated, melodiously through the air, slipping into his ears like the beats of a song.

Wilbur could do nothing but stare wide-eyed at the tiny thing as the rest of the world began to filter away, sound drowning out until he could hear nothing but its silky-smooth voice caressing him like a mother’s hand.

He grinned, staring down at the purple light as a sense of belonging swept through him, melting his mind to mush and slowing his thoughts like jelly.

He was safe. He was happy.

Before Wilbur registered even moving, he was on his feet, footsteps leaving trails behind him without his command. And yet, somehow, Wilbur didn’t seem to mind.

Somewhere deep within him he knew, in a way he had never intrinsically understood something so completely before, that should he stumble and fall, a million tiny hands would reach out and catch him. There was no need to worry. Wherever he needed to go they would lead him; with kindness in their hearts and his best interests in mind.

And as Wilbur stretched out his hand, he watched through lilac eyes as a million tiny hands rose to meet it, tugging him gently along to exactly where he needed to be.

He was safe. He was happy.

Taking another step forward, Wilbur stopped. The movement had caused a gentle tug to pull at his chest. He stared down with a frown, rubbing at the spot where the sensation had pooled in his chest.

But before he could think to question it, gentle pressure guided his head up and away from his worries, coaxing him to take another step forward.

With shaky movements, Wilbur stepped forward again. He froze. Almost involuntary, a whine pulled at his throat and Wilbur gasped, rubbing harshly at his chest. Something was being taken away from him. Something was missing.

But with every question that came to mind, the purple light came to soothe him, caressing his cheeks and drawing his eyes away from their wandering.

And with every step forward the feeling got stronger, tugging at his chest, tighter and tighter, like a band pulling taut.

He was safe. He was happy.

But Wilbur couldn’t stop the sense of wrong that nagged at him with every step.

And with one last painful tug, Wilbur stumbled to a halt, gasping as he collapsed to his knees. Crying out, the boy curled into himself, arms curling into his chest and pulling back, further and further in.

Distantly, Wilbur registered the angry cries of the creatures as he undid the work they had been performing on his bond. But, pushing against their ministrations, the roots of his magic seemed to grow back even stronger than before. The thick wood coiled itself tight around his heart, drawing inwards and intertwining further and further with his soul. The white-knuckled grip it had around his organs squeezed tighter, drawing so close that they almost seemed to fuse and at a glance, to even the trained eye, they would seem almost one – a single solid entity.

And with a feeling not unlike horror, the creatures watched as the bond dug itself irreversibly tight, crushing his soul in a vice-like grip and tearing ruthlessly through.

The last thing Wilbur came to see was their teary eyes, staring down at him with what almost looked to be sorrow before the lilac haze was ripped mercilessly from his mind and Wilbur collapsed, a dead-weight to the ground.

---

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. Calm down, it’s just me. It’s Phil.”

Wilbur stilled from his thrashing as the soft words registered in his mind. The feeling of hands in his hair, the oppressing quiet, the smooth voice, had Wilbur jolting up before he could think, heart hammering in his throat.

Strong arms immediately encased him, pulling him in tight against their body. Wilbur couldn’t help but tense as large hands rubbed circles into his back, holding just as desperately onto him as he did onto them.

“You’re okay, Wilbur, you’re safe, you’re home.” Wilbur flinched at the phrasing, murmuring something incomprehensible into Phil’s shoulder.

Not needing to be told, Phil immediately turned around and Wilbur cracked his eyes open, drinking in the sight of his twin, alive and safe, on their shared mattress. His eyes roamed over his brother, checking for bruises or cuts or- or- something, anything, but the only thing that met his eyes was his brother’s bushy eyebrows, furrowed in sleep.

Unconsciously, Wilbur felt himself relax, body slumping in Phil’s hold as his legs came to wrap loosely around the man’s waist.

“That’s right. You’re okay, you’re alright.”

Wilbur nodded into Phil’s shoulder as the man laid down where Wilbur had laid before, dragging the boy down with him to lay across his chest. It was only now that Wilbur noticed the soft pyjamas that Phil had changed him into, the fluffy material comforting to his frazzled mind.

Without a word Phil picked up the cow plushy – Henry, he called it – that the man had gotten Wilbur on his first night in the Minecraft residence. Gently, he pushed it into the boy’s arms. Wilbur immediately curled up around it, arms coming up into a vice-like grip around the soft toy as Phil stroked soft shapes into his back.

“That’s right: you’re okay.” Phil sighed, staring down at the young boy. He contemplated with himself, unsure whether now was the right time to bring it up. But he knew that without reassurance, neither one of them would be getting to sleep anytime soon.

“Those lights back there, Wilbur?” Wilbur hummed, eyes squeezing shut. “They were The Fae.”

‘The Fae’ Wilbur, thought to himself, the name bringing an involuntary shudder through his body.

“They’re magical creatures. Dangerous.”

Wilbur found himself nodding along with the man’s words, lips drawing into a pout.

“But, well, they don’t mean to be.” The boy’s eyebrows shot up at that and Phil let out a light laugh, thumb coming up to soothe the lines of his face. “It may not have seemed like it at the time, but they were actually trying to save you.”

Wilbur squirmed as Phil’s hand came up to tap at his chest, nose wrinkling in distaste at the thought. What they had been doing hadn’t seemed very friendly. It had seemed almost reminiscent of-

Wilbur flinched, shaking his head. Best not to think about that. That was what Techno always said, anyway.

“The magic that bonds you both, it’s natural, but it’s… dangerous. They were trying to remove it for you. They thought they were saving you.”

Phantom pains rippled through Wilbur’s chest and he frowned, pulling Henry tighter against his chest to combat them. Flashes of The Fae crowding around him, grabbing at his chest, tugging, pulling, ripping him apart, flashed like still paintings in his mind; a sketchbook of moments, yet all of the memories seemed to be washed in a murky shade of purple, barely visible in his mind’s eye.

Wilbur curled further into Phil, nose pushing against his chest, and Phil’s hand rose to thread through his hair, letting Wilbur slump against him.

“It’s what The Fae do. They take little children left on their own and try to ‘save’ them. The problem is, The Fae, being magical creatures, have no concept of human autonomy. No concept of freedom of thought; of freedom to speak; of freedom to love.” With each example Phil’s finger came to tap first on his head, then on his chin, and finally on his heart.

Wilbur found himself trailing each movement, eyes finding it harder and harder to stay open as his heavy eyelids followed Phil’s hand further down and before Wilbur know it his eyes had fluttered closed, pink eyelashes resting softly against his cheeks.

“But I’m here to protect you both.” Phil whispered, voice lowering as Wilbur’s breaths began to even out, fanning across Phil’s chest. Quietly, he pulled the boy’s paw print speckled blanket up to rest over his curled body, hand coming to a rest in the boy’s curled pink locks. “I promised to myself the moment I found you in the Nether, that so long as I could help it you boys would never come to harm, and I intend to keep my word.”

His other arm came to curl around the other young boy in the bed, drawing the pinkette close and letting the child snuggle unconsciously into his side.

“You’re safe with me.”

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missyart123 · 2 years

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Something they never tell you is that there are different types of grief.

There’s the grief that everyone feels: the brief sadness of hearing of the passing of someone you never knew; the disconnected feeling that someone, somewhere no longer shares this world with you. That whether they suffered or died peacefully; they left a gaping hole behind that no one else can fill and it is the acknowledgment of that missing piece in someone’s life.

Then there’s the death of someone who you did know. Not someone close mind you, but someone who was in your life. They may have been close to someone you know or they may have been someone you saw briefly but never really got to know. That grief is subtle. It is the absence of their presence. It’s the sadness for their family. It’s the knowledge that something - someone - in your life is gone forever. That that person that you never had a chance to get to know, you never will get the chance to know. They are gone, and it is sad.

Then there is the loss of someone who was important to you. Someone in your life who meant something to you. And those - they ache. It is a numb feeling, a constant throb. You may not even notice it’s there until one day your standing there and it hits you: They’re gone. They’re not coming back.

And it’s a constant pain, one that can hit you in the smallest of ways. It’s going somewhere and knowing they should be at your side. It’s laughing at a joke and wishing you could tell them. It’s picking up your phone and missing being able to call them. It’s holding one of their items and it feeling wrong in your hands. It’s cooking one extra meal or laying one extra place.

And sometimes it hits hard. Sometimes it’s walking into their room and them not being in there. It’s clearing their home and staring at the soulless rooms. It’s looking beside you as you lay in bed and the other side being empty. It’s sitting down at dinner to a missing place and an empty chair. It’s not being able to stand the sound of their voice, or listening to it on repeat. It’s replaying all of your conversations in your head, stewing in your regrets, or it’s laughing fondly, thinking of them.

And sometimes this grief isn’t caused by anything at all. Sometimes it’s just the deep seated ache that they left behind. The screaming, the crying, the guilt, the anger, the sadness, the happiness. Them. Just them.

And this grief can still be subtle, but it is everywhere. It is in everything and every part of your life; a piece of yourself that will never come back, a piece of the picture that is gone forever. And it hurts. It hurts to look at a future and know that they will never be in it. It hurts that every happy moment will automatically be bittersweet simply because they’re not there. It hurts knowing that the only place you’ll ever see them again is in your memories.

And you pray. You pray that one day you’ll see them again, far beyond the unknown. But you don’t know. You never will know. And it hurts.

#grief #tw death #vent #serious post #serious #loss

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