Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s late at night, and Wilbur can’t sleep, he has been having trouble with that lately. Maybe it’s the stress of working forty hours a week, or maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t had a solid idea for an article in two weeks. No matter how long he sat staring at his computer screen nothing would come to mind. To sum it up, Writer’s Block is a bitch and it’s also detrimental when your job is to write things. Wilbur often thinks that he should have majored in History instead of English, maybe then his parents wouldn’t be disappointed in his life choices. Either way the ideas just aren’t flowing, and his job is frustrating and stressful as it is.

Wilbur rolls over in bed, he puts on his glasses and reaches for his phone. Checking the date, it’s October 1st, spooky month. He groans, of course now he’ll have to do something Halloween themed for their readers. Speaking of readers’, how many of them had tweeted him this week? He gets that he is one of the only four people working at an incredibly popular newspaper, but that doesn’t mean he wants it to affect his twitter account! All the tweets seemed to express the same concerns, where is Wilbur Soot? Why hasn’t he been writing articles? It was stressful having so many people know his name, especially considering he had never really had very many friends before the newspaper blew up. Now suddenly everyone wanted to hang out with him and talk with him. Even his..his family. They had always been dismissive of his job, never really approving of it. Hell, they had actively been telling him that this was a shit decision for the two years he had been working at the newspaper! Now that he suddenly was thrust into fame, they wanted him over for dinner again. Wilbur had very kindly told them to fuck off, but they were still trying to reach out.

It suddenly dawns on the twenty three year old that something felt...off. Something about his apartment seemed emptier than usual...the barren walls seemed to stretch for miles. Wilbur sits up and finds that he isn’t actually in his apartment. What he had originally had taken to be his bed was just grass, and the bedside table a tree stump. Had he passed out somewhere?

Wilbur suddenly finds himself in front of a barn. (What? When had he…?) Something seems to call to him from inside and he pushes the door open. The barn is empty, a blank space filled with nothing but endless white. “Hello?” He calls unsteadily ,”Is there anyone there?” Wilbur isn’t sure why he calls out, but it feels practiced, familiar, like..he’s done this before.

Suddenly he’s walking through a house with a camera, he trudges through the house, opening doors and checking them at random. “Mary! Mary Willams!” (who’s Mary?) he calls as he opens up the door to the basement. He doesn’t bother with turning the light on. In the basement there are a few shelving units and a closet. As he’s approaching the closet, it bangs open and a box falls out. Wilbur opens it and finds a Ouija board, nice. He’s never really used one of these but he figures that the ghost will know what to do (Ghost? What ghost?).

“Are you here tonight Mary Willaims?” No response. “How old are you?” Again nothing. Frustrated, Wil turns around to find a shadowed figure. It takes no hesitance in rushing towards him.

He jolts awake in a cold sweat, what the hell was that? He looks around the room and finds himself in his bland looking apartment. Oh, must have been a weird dream. Wilbur pulls himself out of bed and gets ready for work. Phil wanted to meet today to discuss some Halloween ideas for future articles. Wil had no clue what exactly he was going to be writing about, maybe some tacky bones? A skeleton in the proverbial closet? He chuckles aloud at that, October has always been his least favourite month. Always filled with morons who believed in shit like ghosts and monsters. Most of their readers had been practically begging for an article on spooky stuff, not like they’d ever get it but-

“THAT’S IT!” Wilbur suddenly shouted ,”Ghosts! I could write about Ghosts!” After weeks of nothing he finally had a solid idea. Forgetting to eat breakfast, Wilbur puts on his shoes and rushes out the door. He might regret leaving his apartment in such a way later, but for now he has to get to work!

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“Ghosts?” Phil asks him incredulously. Wilbur nods enthusiastically.

“Think about it Phil! Our readers have been dying for something spooky and this is just it!” The brunette is filled with visible excitement as he tells Phil his plan.

“That’s great and all Wil, but what about ghosts? We can’t very well write ghost stories! Who would even read it?” Phil brings up a good point and Wilbur knows it, but he also knows that he can make it interesting.

“Please Phil? I know I can make it good! You just have to give me a chance!” He is practically begging at this point, but what else can he do?

“But-” The voice of his boss is cut off as someone barges into the room.

“SUP BITCHES!” Their layout artist, Tommy, yells at the top of his lungs.

“Tommy!” Phil scolds, “We’re having a private meeting! Also this place is full right now! You’re going to get us evicted!” The blonde seems undeterred as he sets some papers down on Phil’s desk.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure thing Dad.” Tommy mocks, “What were you guys even talking about anyways?” The youngest sits down on the wood much to the behest of Phil, who has already told him off for it several times.

“Wilbur was trying to convince Phil to let him do an article about ghosts.” Techno chimes in from the doorway. Everyone jumps, because Technoblade did this thing where he just kind of...appeared? No one could really explain it, but he would just show up out of nowhere randomly.

“Yes but as I was explaining to Wilbur,” Phil points at him for emphasis, “There’s no way we can just put ghost stories in the paper, no one takes us seriously as it is, and this will not help our case.” There is a sudden silence in the room and Wilbur fears that this discussion is over.

“What about ghost hunting?” The blonde gremlin on Phil’s desk suddenly pipes up, “People love shit like Buzzfeed unsolved, so what if we did an article about a haunted house?”

“...I guess we could try that?” Phil says. “But there is no way in hell I’m stepping in any haunted houses.”
“Since I’m writing the article, I can do it!” Wilbur excitedly states. “I just have to find a location and some supplies!” Everyone in the room seems satisfied with that.

“Where the hell are you going to even find that stuff?” The entire room falls silent at that, the stuff needed for ghost hunting aren’t exactly mainstream products.

“I have some.” Technoblade says without hesitation. “It’s in my car.” No one questions this because the pink haired editor has been known to have a lot of strange hobbies outside of work. He then promptly disappears, another strange thing he is known for doing. Tommy flips Wilbur off before exiting, it had practically become a habit at this point for Wilbur to return the gesture.

“Alright Wil, looks like you’ve got a story. Get to work.” Philza minecraft says as he turns to the disorganized stack of papers that have been left on his desk. Wilbur exits the room and promptly logs onto google. There has to be at least one haunted house in his area. After scrolling for about ten minutes he finds an interesting one.

“A haunted church huh?” This idea is perfect and Wilbur can’t help but contact the owner telling him that he is interested in checking out the place. They arrange for him to look at it on Saturday, and with that Wilbur feels a sense of content.

What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

Wilbur Soot once again finds himself up late, he seems to be having even more trouble sleeping as of late, and he can’t help but think that it has something to do with his new story. He had been dreading it all week for a reason he couldn’t decipher. Could he be subconsciously warning himself of something and if so, what? A loud crash from the kitchen pulls him out of this circle of thought and he sits up slowly. Wilbur quietly gets out of bed and walks towards the source of the noise. He couldn’t dismiss it as roommates as he lived alone, and Wilbur had no pets. The mounting stress as he appeared in the doorway suddenly skyrocketed at the sight of a feminine silhouette.

“Hello. Would you like some tea?” Wilbur did not want any fucking tea, he wanted to run upstairs and call the police, but he finds himself sitting down at the table anyway. The woman smiles to herself as she pours foul-smelling brew into a chipped china glass. There is something oddly familiar about her long hair and white gown.

“Have we met?” Wilbur asks, he hadn’t even realized that he had been planning to ask that. The strange woman chuckles as she shakes her head.

“Not yet dear, but all in good time.” Wilbur takes another sip of his tea and finds that its viscosity has changed dramatically. He suddenly gags, the liquid fills up his lungs, choking him. He spits it out and it runs down his face, with a sudden horror he discovers that it is blood. Wilbur falls backwards in his chair and goes crashing to the ground. He catches a glimpse of the woman standing and leaving and he reaches out to her.

“H-help.” he croaks out, suddenly unable to speak more than a few words. She keeps on walking and Wilbur finds himself unable to move after her. His last sensation is of the life draining out of his body, then it all goes completely dark.

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Wilbur jolts awake with a noise of alarm, not yet processing his surroundings he falls out of his office chair and into his wooden desk. Fuck. The dream is still fresh in his mind and an embarrassing whimper escapes his throat. A sudden hand on his shoulder brings him out of his head and into the present. He turns and is met with the sight of one Philza Minecraft.

“Hey mate,” His voice is etched with concern and Wilbur mentally hits himself for causing the older man to worry, “You doing okay?” He tries to blink away the tears that spring at that question. Phil quietly leads the brunette into the office and sits him down before shutting the door.

“Sorry Phil, I just-bad nightmare.” Wilbur says in a hushed tone of voice. Suddenly a box of tissues is placed in his lap and Phil sits in front of him.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Wilbur finds himself explaining the incredibly vivid dream from start to finish. Phil’s expression gets incredibly more concerned with the description of Wilbur’s dream.

“The worst part was, I could feel myself dying,” Wilbur finishes off with. He is still visibly shaken but no longer crying. At least he is spared from that humiliation.

“How’s your mental health been recently?” Phil suddenly asks. “Do you think that could have possibly brought on this dream?” Wilbur thinks for a moment.

“Admittedly that is plausible, but my mental health has never really affected any of that. Even last year I hardly got dreams like this!” They both thought about this for a moment. Wilbur’s mental health had completely deteriorated last year due to the death of his grandmother. He had sworn for months after that he would see her sitting on the end of his bed, she would sometimes comb his hair with her fingers and sing him lullabies. It would have been comforting if she wasn’t fucking dead. It got to the point where Wilbur’s friends started staying over so he could get more than an hour of sleep. After that he never saw his grandmother again.

“I’d make sure to keep an eye on it still, but if you’re sure then I guess I have nothing else to ask of you.” Phil opened the door and Wilbur thanked him before leaving. Techno was waiting at his desk with a cardboard box. He waved at his pink haired friend as he steadily made his way towards him.

“Hey Techno, what is all of that?” Wilbur gestured to the box with a confused expression on his face.

“Ghost hunting gear.” This short clipped answer would have been seen as rude to almost anyone else, but Wilbur knew that this was just how The Blade talked. “Do you need me to go over all of it?” The brunette nodded and pulled out a notepad, there was no way he was going to remember all of this. Techno held up a small black box.

“What the hell is that?” Wilbur asked in fascination, noting how it seemed the perfect size and weight for his hand.

“It’s called a spirit box, basically it helps you communicate with the dead through scanning radio frequencies.” After a while of explaining various equipment and their functions, Technoblade then holds up an Ouija board. “Obviously you're familiar with this one so I don’t have to explain it.” He moved to push it to the side when Wilbur noticed a particular detail on it. A red smudge mark near the top left corner.

“Wait, can I see that for a second?” Wilbur asked frantically. Techno gave him a look of confusion before shrugging and handing it over. This couldn’t be, was it the same one from his dream? “I’ve seen this one before.”

“I mean it is a Ouija board, they’re pretty mainstream.” Techno mumbled back. Wilbur shook his head.

“No, I saw this in one of my dreams.” Techno’s entire face paled and he went silent instantly. The pink haired editor had never looked so serious before.

“Wilbur, you can’t go to that church on Saturday.” He says in a grave tone with that same grim expression stretched across his facial features.

“Wait, why not? And how did you know I was going to a church? I didn’t tell you that.” Wilbur feels a sense of unease overwhelm him. How did Techno know? Was there something more to the “Blood God” than he had previously thought?

“Promise me. Promise me right now that you won’t step a single foot into that unholy place.” Techno shakes furiously, and Wilbur is concerned that his friend might collapse on the spot.

“Okay Techno, I promise that I won’t go anywhere near that church.” Wilbur feels relieved when the rampant shaking of his companion ceases. “Seems kind of ironic that a church would be unholy though.” He adds as an afterthought, his signature cheeky grin on his face.

“Shut the fuck up.” The Blade rolls his eyes as he walks away. Wilbur sits at his desk and gets started on his article. He might as well write what he can.

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At approximately seven-thirty Wilbur stands in front of the biggest church he has ever seen. Sure his parents had taken him to one a couple of times throughout his youth, but nothing of this size! He spots a tall man standing by the door and he waves as he makes his way over.

“Wilbur?” The man questions, he stands in a timid way that is oddly reminiscent of his father. He would have laughed had it not been an inappropriate time to do so. The brunette nods, and the man smiles distantly. “Good, good. I’m Pastor David.” he reaches out his hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you sir.” Our writer protagonist notices with distaste that his hand is slightly damp, possibly from sweat. “You’re still okay with me filming this, right?” Wilbur confirms with the man.

“I don’t care what you do so long as I can prove them wrong.” Wilbur doesn’t ask who “them” is and the pastor doesn’t elaborate. Noticing the time, Pastor David grumbles something about dinner and nagging wives. “Good luck!” he calls over his shoulder. Wilbur just nods. The man seemed to almost flee from the scene.

“Superstitious bastard” He chuckles to himself. There was no way that any ghosts would even be found here. Technoblade was worried for nothing. He grabs a flashlight and EMF reader before heading into the house.

Things were going to be just fine,right?

Chapter Text

Wilbur walked up and down the pews, occasionally shining his flashlight at certain areas. He made sure to keep up a steady commentary as this would be uploaded to their website later. If it’s interesting that is, Wilbur reminds himself. Not that anything interesting could happen, ghosts aren’t even real for fucks sake.

“Look at those creepy stained glass windows,” He voices aloud to the camera, “I wonder who in their right mind would paint such horrific images, in a church of all places!” This statement was accurate, the windows showed stories of famine, war, plague, and sin. Not exactly the most welcoming images but, it did seem to fit in with how Wilbur remembered church being. Lot’s of talk of going to hell and sin, all bullshit if you asked him. The brunette writer made his way towards the altar, it was empty except for a bible. He makes sure to get a good shot of it, something about it seems to fit in here. In fact, nothing here seemed to be out of place, everything just...fit. A loud bang from behind him causes him to drop the camera in fear.

“Shit.” He mutters while inspecting the camera for damages. It was one of the only things his parents had ever given him and breaking it would surely disappoint them. “Is someone there?” He calls out, even though he knows that no one is. The sky had gotten darker without his notice and it added to the creepy atmosphere of an abandoned church. He turns on the spirit box and quickly explains what it is. Then he makes his way towards the backroom. Opening the door reveals a pretty standard room.

It is littered with old cigar boxes and beer bottles. After noting the various other junk scattered around the room, it is safe to conclude that Pastor David has a bit of a hoarding problem. He settles down on the emptiest couch he could find and begins his work.

“Hello,” He says into the spirit box, “Is anyone there?” It takes a moment for a response to echo back at him.

“Here.” A low voice drawls at him. Wilbur glances at the camera in front of him, shock is evident on his face.

“What’s your name?” The beanie wearing 24 year old gets no response. “When were you born?” Nobody answers once again. Wilbur pulls out a notebook he hadn’t even realised was in his pocket, he throws it on the table and reaches for the spirit box again. “What is your business here?”

“Want...it...back” The voice answers him and Wilbur is about to respond when he notices something happening to the notebook. What used to be empty space is now filled with a strange symbol. Wilbur turns the camera on it for a good few seconds, just to make sure he’s not seeing things.

“Want...you...gone..” The voice speaks up suddenly, without prompting.

“What?” He asks the box in surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

“And so my garden grows…” The voice speaks up before going dead silent. All the noise left in the room now is the static hum of the spirit box. Wilbur goes silent and as he’s about to say something to the camera there is a snarling growl from behind him. He jumps up in surprise and turns around in fear. He catches a glimpse of a tall man in a hat. The man charges at him with a sudden force and our protagonist goes running out of the room, he is not sticking around to find out who that is or what they want. The pews go by in a blur as he races out of the door and into the field. He turns around and finds the ghost stopped in the doorway.

“What the fuck” He breathes out between long gasps. He turns the camera on the ghost just...stopped there. It doesn’t seem to want to move so Wilbur just stares at it. It stares at him with empty eyes, obviously the ghost looks dead, but at the same time, it has a strange sense of life to it. Wilbur shines a flashlight at it and all at once it disappears. Weird. He shrugs and then gets into his car, taking note of some bright purple fingertips on the outside handle.

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Halfway across town, a certain blonde layout artist jolts awake in bed. Tears run down his face after the awful dream that he’s just had. The nineteen year old pulls out his phone and panickedly dials the number of a certain brunette writer. It goes to voicemail after ten rings. “Oh god, oh god, shit, shit,fuck, nononono.” The words come out of his mouth in a panic, something is very fucking wrong here. He dials the number of a blonde editor-in-chief. After two rings he picks up. “Phil-” he chokes out.

“Tommy! Are you alright mate?” It’s hard to hear much on the opposite lines aside from gasps and whimpers.

“Where’s Wil” he asks in a tearful and hushed tone. Phil has never heard his friend sound so distraught and his heart pangs with every sob and gasp from the boy.

“He didn’t exactly tell me, something about ‘keeping the surprise’ or whatever. I think he might be doing research for his ghost hunting article.” Tommy audibly chokes and his breathing speeds up tenfold. Phil is worried that he might pass out. “How is this exactly relevant again?”

“I think he’s in danger, Phil something is wrong.” Tommy had never sounded that serious before. “I can feel something awful beginning.” Phil quickly rushes out of bed, shoves on a pair of socks and rushes to his front door.

“I’m coming over mate, okay?” The fatherly figure tugs on some shoes and races out the door. “Do you need me to stay on call?” He adds in a comforting tone of voice.

“N-no just hurry..” With that Tommy hangs up the phone and looks across the room. His wall is covered in blood red writing. It is just the same phrase over and over “Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow??”
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A fair distance away, Technoblade wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing. “Hello?” he mutters groggily, not even bothering to check the caller ID. He didn’t remember if he was dreaming or not.

“Hey Mate” Why is Phil calling at this hour? Something has to be wrong.

“Phil? What’s going on?” He wastes no time in getting directly to the point. Hopefully Wilbur didn’t-

“It’s Tommy, he called me in a panicked state. Something about Wilbur and danger? I wasn’t paying much attention if I’m honest.” Techno sits up in bed, oh fuck.

“I’ll be there soon” he voices aloud, then more quietly, “So the hunt begins.” Phil appears to have not heard it as he stays quiet. “Just tell him that everything’s fine.” Nothing is fine, they are all fucked. Wilbur especially.

“Okay Tech, see you soon.” With that the old man hangs up the phone and Technoblade is left to collect his thoughts.

That goddamn idiot, Techno had told him to avoid that fucking church. Of course he didn’t listen, he should have predicted this outcome, why hadn’t he predicted this? It’s not an exact science, but it is accurate most of the time. What was blocking him from seeing? And what the hell was that on his wall? As his fingers brushed against the surface images exploded across his vision.

A lady in a white dress, her hair is long and damp. A shivering Tommy, covered in filth and with tears streaming down his face. Philza, knocking impatiently on a front door, Finally, Wilbur lying in a puddle of blood, there is a ouija board to his left, and it moves to yes.

Technoblade knows what he has to do now, but is he strong enough?

Chapter Text

Wilbur walks into work on Monday with a fresh sense of enthusiasm. He had stayed up all night Saturday studying the footage and writing his article, and it had gone relatively well. All he had to do was get Phil’s approval, then he could upload everything to the website. However, when he walks into his place of work, he is immediately called into Phil’s office. The blonde man is joined by both Tommy and Technoblade, both of whom have dark circles under their eyes.

“Philza! My man!” The beanie wearing brunette exclaims while placing his story gently on the wooden desk.

“Hey Wil.” The normally cheery man says in a solemn tone. Tommy looks like he’s about to cry and Technoblade is glaring at him. Great.

“You fucking idiot,” Techno exclaims in an exasperated tone, “You actual fucking idiot.” Wilbur is taken aback at this.

“What? I-“ Then it dawns on him, “Oh.. you’re talking about- I...Okay yeah. Fair enough you did tell me not to, but everything’s fine!”

“I mean it’s not, but that’s beside the point Wilbur wh-“ The normally quiet editor is cut off by a certain blonde layout artist.

“I- Wilbur I thought you were fucking dead!” This sudden outburst is shocking to the lanky writer.

“What? Why would you ever think that?” He asks in a quiet tone.

“I-I had a nightmare about it. Then you weren’t answering any of my texts or calls or-“ quiet sobs cut him off.

“We were worried, mate.” Phil says placing a hand on the gremlin’s shoulder. Wilbur feels an enormous amount of guilt building up.

“I’m sorry..” he whispered shakily, “I didn’t mean to upset anyone.” Wilbur extends his arms to Tommy as an apology, and the younger launches himself into them. Technoblade still sends a ferocious glare his way and Phil just looks plain uncomfortable. Techno snatches a stack of papers off of the desk.

“I’ll edit this.” He growls before storming out of the office. Tommy dislodges himself from Wilbur’s arms and mumbles something about coordinating layout with “The Blade”. Wilbur shuts the door behind him before looking towards Phil.

“Alright mate, let’s see what you’ve got here!” Phil says in an enthusiastic tone as he picks up the paper. Wilbur picks at his nails in a lacklustre manner while waiting for approval.

“How is it? I tried my best, but I’ve got no clue if it’s any good.” Our protagonist nervously chuckles.

“Honestly? Probably some of your best work! Other than a few spelling errors, it’s almost perfect! Just have Techno edit this, and then give it to Tommy!”

“You got it boss man!” Wilbur gives a mock salute. He turns to leave, but stops before reaching the door, “Phil?” He timidly asks.

“Yeah?” The man looks away from his computer.

“Umm how would you feel if I did more of this, kind of stuff? I think it would be cool to do a few more.” Phil thinks on it for a moment.

“I’m not sure about this Wil...I don’t think it’s a good idea...” The man twirls a pen in his hand nervously.

“Come on! Techno’s just being superstitious! There can’t be any harm in this!” Phil sighs in resignation.

“Fine,” the older man finally acquiesces, “But you have to promise you’ll be careful.” Wilbur gives a charming grin before making the biggest mistake of his life.

“Okay, I promise!” The brunette makes his way out of the office and then towards his favourite editor and brother layout artist. The two seem to be in a heated debate.

“Please?” The blonde begs with his signature pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Tommy, I’m not giving you my sword.” Techno says not even looking up from his monitor.

“But it’s important! I need to fight Dream!”

“You’re not fighting Dream with my fucking sword you gremlin.” Tommy sighs and walks back to his desk.

“Hey Techno! My man! My favourite editor!” Wilbur exclaims as he approaches the pink haired man.

“Wilbur...” he says in his typical monotone. He doesn’t even look up from his computer screen. Oh god the brunette had fucked up this time, worse than the last.

“Listen Techno I-” He cuts himself off as the sleep deprived editor looks up at him.

“I don’t want to hear it.” He snaps, “I can’t fucking believe you!” With a familiar gleam of passion in his eyes, the socially anxious 23 year old goes on a tirade. By the end he is shaking and sort of crying? Not fully crying, Techno just doesn’t shed tears. Tommy likes to joke it’s because he’s an alien, Phil is betting on a phantom.

“Techno,” He begins, choosing each word carefully as to not cause further upset, “I should have listened to you. However, I am okay. I’m not dead.”

“For now.” He snorts in disbelief, “But what about next time? How far are you going to take this?” These words fill Wilbur with a momentary silent rage. He shakes his head before continuing, now is not the time to get pissed at Technoblade.

“As far as I can. I can’t stop now! I’ve barely started!” He spreads his arms wide to punctuate his point.

“That’s what I was afraid of. Whatever, you idiot, please just be careful.” With that the editor wordlessly snatches the paper out of his hands. “Go do your thing;I’m going to edit this.”

Wilbur stares at Techno in confusion, How had he known-? Whatever he had more work to do.

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Tommy stares up at the giant white pillar looming above him. Artwork surrounds him, but he doesn’t look at it. Waiting for her is far more pressing. She moves to stand beside him, he leans into the gentle touch she places upon his shoulder.

“More tea dear?” She asks in a tone of voice that grates against his throat and brings him to tears. He wordlessly nods and she reaches over to fill his cup, the liquid is once again viscous and red. “We’ve got big plans for you, little one.” He doesn’t want to drink it, he can’t fucking drink the red sludge. He finds himself bringing the cup to his lips anyways. It burns going down and leaves a slight metallic taste in the back of the throat.
“What do you want with me?” The question is simple and quiet, the red liquid seems to limit his speech. She turns beside him and glares furiously, but after noticing his discomfort she switches her expression to a more pleasant one.

“All in good time.”

“But-” She cuts him off by putting a finger to his lips. Her cold touch burns and he recoils in shock.

“Don’t.” The simple command shuts him up, he wants to listen to her. She makes him feel like warm honey and butterflies. “You want to stop talking now.” Tommy nods his blonde head eagerly, he does want to. He never wants to make another decision by himself again, he wants to do what she wants. If it means he would keep hearing her lovely voice, he would do anything.

“Yes ma’am.” he says blankly, all thoughts other than her leaving his head. He only thinks of what she wants now.

“You want more of this delicious tea, don’t you, honey?” He whimpers slightly at this, just the thought of pleasing her fills him with sunshine. She grins and fills his cup once more. He takes delight in her pleased tone and raises the now full cup to his lips. He drinks it all in one gulp, for her. She smiles warmly at this. “Good, now you want to give me control of your every movement.” He does, nodding eagerly at the thought of her being with him forever. He goes limp, leaning into her side, basking in her gentle warmth. She chuckles slightly at this, the living are so easy to please. She wraps her tendrils around his mind and for a moment he feels a wave of terror, then...nothing.

Chapter Text

Tommy wakes up Tuesday morning feeling...weird. For one, the back of his throat aches like he had just swallowed battery acid. Secondly, his stomach is churning in an incredibly painful manner. Third, something about whatever he was dreaming about last night seems...off. His dreams are usually weird, but never that weird. After a while of being awake, Tommy realizes the fourth weirdest part of this morning. He hears someone beside him.

“Good morning dear,” She whispers fondly. Her voice still brings him to tears. He looks at her in disbelief.

“You...you’re here? But I thought-“ Mary cuts him off abruptly.

“You want to stop talking.” She coldly commands. Tommy compiles instantly, the thought of doing what she says instantly filling him with happiness. “Good.” She pats his head and he eagerly leans into her spindly fingers. “Now you want to go get ready for work.” Tommy finds that he does, he wants to do that as quickly as possible.

He stumbles out of bed before falling flat on his face. (Why couldnt he? What wa-) “You want to get up and walk quickly.” Mary suggests to him with a hint of boredom in her tone. Tommy instantly begins walking properly and efficiently. She commands him through his entire routine, complimenting him every time he does as asks. The blonde can’t help but feel this is wrong, something is definitely wrong here...but what? Mary stops him in his tracks.

“You want to stop doubting me, you want to trust me completely.” He can’t argue with her compelling words and all doubt is erased from his mind. She commands him to finish his routine, and with that he’s at his door with his things. “You want to leave now,” This command immediately is processed by the nineteen year old.

“Yes ma’am.” He vocalizes, making it short and succinct. The overwhelming urge to do as she says fills up his brain. He pushes all other thoughts to the side and sinks back down into an inky black void.

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“Tommy? You doing okay mate?” Phil asks. The blonde is immediately confused, when had he left the house? Why was he in Phil’s office. Where was she? That was his most important question. The gremlin looks up at his pseudo father figure and smiles warmly.

“I’m fine bitch, just not sleeping well I guess...” The fib comes naturally, too naturally for Tommy’s liking.

“Are you sure? You know that you can tell us anything, right?” He compulsively nods, finally taking notice of her in the back corner. Phil says something else, but Tommy doesn’t hear it over the sound of her voice.

“Back to sleep, little one.” The void rushes at him again.
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Techno slams a stack of paper on Tommy’s desk. The blonde looks up at him with an empty expression. Technoblade scrunches up his face in confusion before shrugging, Tommy was probably just being weird again.

“Hey big man.” Tommy says calmly, “Need those put into the layout?” The pink haired editor nods wordlessly.

“Yeah, finish when you can. This is for next week’s issue.” Tommy nods thoughtfully before getting started on the work.

“Mkay bye.” Techno walks back to his desk and delves into a stack of papers instantly. Or at least he tries to, something at the back of his mind keeps him on high alert.

Wait. Why- why wasn’t he seeing anything right now? Normally his head would be full of visions and voices. All pushing for his immediate attention. Today there was only radio silence. Oh fuck. That is never good. Something is very wrong and without an understanding of the current futures, it’ll be impossible to figure out.

—————————————————————

Wilbur comes back from a lunch date to find a scrunched up paper on his desk. He figures it might just be fan mail. He had been getting a lot lately with the ghost hunting stories and footage he was putting out. He straightens out the paper and reads the scratchy handwriting. It has only an address and a date. The brunette flips it over in confusion and finds a single scrawled message.

“Bring your camera, lover boy.”

Huh. Weird fan mail. But a great idea for the next issue! October was almost over, and Wilbur wanted the issues to go out with a bang, and this was just what he needed!

He went to go tell Tommy only to find the obnoxious blonde missing. He never takes lunch breaks this late, so where on Earth could he be? Whatever, Wilbur has an article to write anyways.

—————————————————————-

Tommy comes to in the back alleys, he is also vomiting his guts out. “Ma’am?” He whispers weakly before coughing up more of his stomach contents.

“Hmmm. Never seen anything like this happen before.” Before any questions can be asked, the music obsessed teen releases more of his stomach contents. He weakly coughs before dry heaving. He doesn’t think he can stay standing for much longer. This point is proven by Tommy’s legs giving out from under him. Shit. The intense amount of pain causes him to completely pass out.

—————————————————————

The young adult wakes up to a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Tommy?” A familiar voice he can’t place voices. He groans and rolls over on his side, he’s now facing the person.

“Techno?” The words come out broken and... distinctly wrong. There is something wrong with the way he is speaking. The boy suddenly realizes that he is about to vomit again. He lurches upwards and, ignoring the panicked shouts of his friend, spills his guts again. This time however, he brings up a dark red substance. He heaves until there’s nothing but stomach acid coming up.

“Shit. Are you...good?” Techno asks gently. Tommy snorts at this.

“Probably not? I mean I did just puke my guts out, and get halfway possessed, and-WAIT HOLY SHIT OH GOD!” Tommy stands up, almost falling over in the process. “SHE-WILBUR’S IN TROUBLE OH GOD!” Techno steadies the layout artist.

“Slow down, you’re barely able to fucking stand let alone walk. Just explain what’s going on.” Tommy takes a deep breath before beginning.

“Last night, she-Mary visited my dreams. She made me drink this weird shit, and then she was able to control me or something?” He takes a pause to gather his thoughts , “Either way, she told me what she was going to do to Wilbur, he-we have to find him and stop him from attending her party!”

Techno looks at him in shock. “Shit okay. Can you walk? Cause if not I’m going to leave you here. We need to talk to Phil.” Tommy shrugs before slowly taking a few steps. Seeming to have recovered he and the editor race out of the alleyway and back to the homey office.

———————————————————-
Wilbur gets off the bus to where the invitation said to go. He knew this was a bad idea, but something about the card was calling him. This was sure going to be a fucking party!

Chapter Text

Hey I'm not finishing this...

I thought I would be able to do it but ummm that's not happening.

Sorry if you were looking forward to that but I'm giving up.

So uh yeah bye, thanks for reading.