Despite finally feeling at peace, you still weren't exactly sleeping regularly.

At least for now.

Sleep was tempting, and you were more then eased enough to hope for a dreamless sleep, but something in you told you to stay awake.

So you did.

You spent your entire day on the hill where Tommy apologized to you, and you didn't give a shit if anyone didn't like it.

When Tommy came back to Pogtopia, catching sight of you still sprawled out among the tall grass and numerous dandelions he just shook his head at you and muttered about 'getting up to go to bed.'

Which you ignored in favor of keeping your eyes closed, grinning, and saying, "I'm good."

He must have seen how content you were, because he had no quips to poke you with, only good-naturedly shaking his head. When you peered a single eye open to look, you caught the end of his eye roll.

"Sometimes I question your judgment-" Tommy laughs, and you just scoff and close your single eye, half chuckling at his pushing.

"You know- me and Tubbo hang out a bunch- you should come with us some time. It'll be fun and you'll get to be around me. Tommy. The best person to have around."

It was a good-natured suggestion, until he tacked on, "Only bitches deny my presence- have I ever told you how much people love me?"

Moment ruined.

"No Tommy- I've never heard how much people love you." Your tone of voice was sarcasm at its finest- a still twist to your words that were easily recognized.

He ignored the tone, merely continuing, "Well everyone does- Techno wishes he could be me, and so does Wilbur, every woman I've ever met has loved me-"

Like the cheeky gremlin he is, he winked and said, "Don't tell anyone I told you."

"Uh-huh." Was all you replied with.

"That was an awful reaction-" He pointed a finger at you and while half laughing mimicked you, "'uh-huh. look at me I'm (Y/N) and I use sarcasm-'" Tommy's mockery of you finally made you stir, and you sat up to jab a finger at him.

"Alright buster- another word out of you and I'm putting so many bread crumbs on your bed that ants will be crawling in the linen weeks after you've cleared it all-"

He didn't respond, grinning at you from his spot standing above you.

For a moment- for just the smallest moment panic seeped into you.

What if this was a nightmare?

What if you were drowning in your own minds darkness?

The moment of dread was quick- like a pebble falling into a lake- the break of surface tension the only real sense of dread-

Tommy laughed- he laughed his jovial, and proud laugh- and you knew things were fine, "Made ya move." He paused, only to look again at your facial expression, before cracking up again. So proud of himself over the stupidest things.

So you laughed too, before waving him off, "Yeah yeah- get out of here you dork. I'm tryna relax." Without farther ado, you flop back onto the ground and wait for nothing.

His footsteps walk away, and Tommy's gone off to bed.

It took you awhile longer to do the same, rolling thoughts back and forth in your mind as you pondered odd ideas.

You only finally moved spots when the lurking presence of monsters became known- the growling of a distant zombie making you shrug and stand, displeasure coursing through you as you weaved down the many steps of Pogtopia.

Everyone was asleep-

No noise echoing through the caverns as you descended to the bottom of the ravine like a ghost. Silent. Calm. Cold.

The torches along the walls near your nook flickered, framing your shadow against the wall as you approached and took a seat in your chair.

There was a lot of preparing to do if you wanted to win a war- but you also had to consider that this war wasn't nearly as big as others you've seen.

This was a few people, split between each other.

Not armys against armys, and beast against beast.

Merely friends against friends.

So maybe you didn't need as much preparation...

You sighed, not that it mattered.

From what Techno hinted to you, it sounds like he's got something up his sleeve, and anything from Techno was bound to be incredibly over the top.

Pulling your communicator out of your pocket, you pull up all the different names of people you've met, hesitantly hovering over Techno's.

Hesitation didn't suit you well, so after a moment of mulling it over, you tap your finger on the cold screen and shoot him a simple text.

'Are you sure I shouldn't work on anymore armor?'

You weren't expecting a reply so fast.

'Yes.'

'Yes I shouldn't, or yes I should?'

'Shouldn't.'

'Why?'

'Because you'll waste your time.'

'What if I want to tho-' You really did want to. Your fingers were itching for something to do.

'Don't say I didn't warn you.'

You purse your lips at that, mulling over the armor you hadn't finished repairing.

You know what?

What was he even doing up this late?

He should go to bed.

'You should be sleeping-' was the next whisper you sent him, and there was a pause in replying.

A long enough pause that you started getting suspicious.

'Hypocrite. We are both awake.'

His reply was as blunt as always, and with a final grin you decide you'd let him have the win.

Gently, you place your communicator down on the table, resting your head on your arms and taking in a deep breath.

The nook reeked of coffee, the residue smell hanging on the wood after so many cups of the stuff being made here.

Coffee grinds, sugar, tea-

Everything that might be placed into a drink lingered in the air.

With a fluttering glance you look back at your communicator when it made a noise.

Was it...

Ringing??

Wait wait-

Was Techno calling you???

Your hands fly out, nervous because holy hell you weren't expecting a call-

When you flip over the communicator to see the name, you find that it wasn't Techno calling- but Phil.

Holy shit.

Finally!

Faster then a blink you answer, pulling the com to your ear and smiling at the table as you answer with a happy chime of, "Yello??"

"Ay mate-"

Phil's voice was tired, and gravely, but gentle- and just so.... Phil.

"Long time no chat- how've you been??" You chitter.

"Ah- been worse-" he takes a moment, and you hear the rustling of leaves as he shifts, "I'm currently bunking in a jungle tree... finally took the time to pry the com out of that little shit's mouth."

A caw sounds in the background, and you hear him whisper a, 'say shiny one more time and you're loosing your perching privileges-'

The laugh that comes out of your throat is natural- and he laughs back before asking, "I'm assuming you and your cottage aren't doing so swell based on how urgent you made this call seem?"

What cottage- was what you wanted to say, but you bit down your sarcasm in favor of sighing, a heavy and exasperated one.

"Well I don't have a cottage anymore. Some dickheads wrecked it and burnt down my garden."

"Aw shit- sorry mate-" he paused, "Is whoever did it still harassing you?"

"Not-... hmm-" you put your hand on your chin, "Not exactly- but not having my cottage is the least of my worries."

"Oh?"

You take a deep breath, "Oh gosh. There's so much you don't know-"

"Enlighten me."

"So long story short I'm in a revolution now. And the leader dude went from kinda nice and a little crazy- to absolutely batshit."

Phil laughs, a good hearted one, and you can hear his crows cawing laughter of their own, "Holy shit mate- you always get yourself into these situations-" You can perfectly picture him wiping tears from his eyes.

"I try not to! I swear!" A breath pushes out of your mouth and you run a hand down your face, "But trouble always seems to catch up-"

You pause.

The flash of a familiar smiling mask materializing in your head.

Dream.

He-

He knew things he shouldn't.

"...Someone knows..." You grit out, almost disappointed you were found out.

You hear Phil suck in a breath.

"...Do they know how to-"

"No. They haven't figured out how to kill me. They're aware that there is a way though. And I don't like that they're actively trying to." The ravine felt a little chillier with that sentence.

"Is it that leader dude?" Phil asks, and you raise an eyebrow.

"Wilbur?? Naw- he's just crazy. Dream is the dude who's tryna kill me."

"Wilbur??" Phil's confusion was audible, "Wait- Wilbur? Wilbur Soot??"

"Uuuh... yes?"

"My son?"

"Your son?!"

You slam your head onto the table- nearly dropping the communicator- before snapping your head back up and saying, "Well congrats on having a kid!"

"Did I never mention him to you?" Phil asked, before laughing when you let out a strangled noise.

"Nooo??? When did you have a kid??"

"Well how old is Wilbur? That should answer your question." Phil replies.

"Twenty-one? I don't know. Maybe twenty-three?" You had no idea how old Wilbur was- but you could definitely make guesses, "Wait- do you not know how old your son is?"

"Mmm- it gets a little foggy when I try to remember. You know how time is for me." The playfulness of the conversation dropped at that, and you could hear Phil taking in a deep breath. The crow's cawed consistently in the background.

The shuffle of clothing sounded over the com, his head turning away from the speaker to shoot a look to the crows.

"Please- guys- stop saying Dadza- this isn't the time."

"I'm surprised you never mentioned him to me." Your voice dropped into a hushed noise- suddenly aware of the fact that you've been yelling in the middle of the night, "You love your family."

"I do." He sighed, "I guess I've been pretty preoccupied."

"Are you in touch with him at all?"

"Of course- we write to each other through the crows." At the mention of them, the cawing in the background picks up frequency, and Phil huffs before saying, "One second."

The com is put down somewhere, crunching on a few leaves. He stands- and then yells- and the fluttering of thousands of wings filters through the speaker.

Then silence.

"Alright." The communicator is picked back up, "Sorry. They were being way too loud. Had to chase em off."

"You're good. Back on topic- You write to each other?"

"Yeah- we send each other letters. Mainly just updates on life- Father son stuff." Phil let's out an uneasy breath, "What do you mean when you say he's... batshit?"

Oh geeze.

This just got a lot harder to tell.

You were expecting to just ask him for advice on how to maybe put an end to this, or get him to work his therapy magic, but now that you know Wilbur's his son?

How were you supposed to tell a father how far off the deep end his sons gone?

"I..."

Deep breath. This is Phil. Phil doesn't overreact. Phil's calm.

"He's almost certainly gonna blow up an entire country. And he's neglecting this kid named Tommy that's kinda like a little brother to him- which sucks." You take a moment from the seriousness to say, "If you're kid emotionally hurts my kid again we'll have to talk to the principal."

Despite the seriousness, Phil let's out a small chuckle, "Tommy is a troublemaker, we both know which side the principal's gonna take."

"You know Tommy too?"

Gods- how many people did Phil know that you've been interacting with unknowingly.

Another thought rose to your mind- the similarities between Phil and Tommy. Blonde hair, blue eyes- wings???

"Is Tommy your kid?? I know Wilbur said they weren't brothers but-"

"Naw- he's not mine. He just crawled out of the sewer one day and started hanging out with my little Wilbur." Phil laughs, "He's a funny kid."

"He is." You smile fondly, glancing across the dark ravine to where he was sleeping. Hopefully with peaceful sleep.

"Did Wilbur inherent your..." You trailed off, twirling a piece of loose fabric in your hand as you breached a sensitive topic.

"...No-...Will's... normal..." He takes in a breath, "At least I think so...hasn't exactly been long enough to tell."

"Ah." You nod.

A silence passes the both of you, and you swear you hear yet another sigh, but it's difficult to tell. Like he had to turn away from the phone for a moment. Just to take in everything that was said.

"Wilbur told me in his letters that everything was fine. Is it- is it not fine? Are things going terrible while I'm out here?"

You let his question sink into your head.

Phil was incredibly out of the loop- what would even go on in Wilbur's head to make him lie to his father. Much less decide to blow up a nation in the first place?

You didn't know.

So you decide to ask Phil exactly how far out of the loop Wilbur left him, "What all has he told you?"

"I mean other then the fact that he was president, and that everything was going swell- not too much into the details-" Phil takes a moment. A pause in what was assumed to be dread as his mind pieced together what exactly must have been happening without his knowledge.

"Can it be fixed?" Was his small question, "Can any of the damage that he has be fixed?"

"You'd have to tell me yourself. I don't know what he was like before... everything went down. Only after. I was riding the tailwind of his path downwards, so I never truly got to see what people loved so much about him."

With that, the conversation seemed to pass.

A standstill, where both sides reached the highest point of a roller coaster, and both sides where staring down the cliff edge.

"I'm visiting." Phil said, and the roller coaster fell, down the tracks, chugging and clunking against each beam-

"Please do." You breath. You needed help trying to fix the mess you had stumbled across.

"I'm visiting..." Phil assures one last time. The looming sound of feathers dragging across each other sounded. That ever familiar sound, wings spreading out for flight, however harrowing it was, "I'm visiting and helping sort whatever it is my son's been up to."

"Thank you Phil."

"I'll be there as soon as possible."

The call ends just before his wings harshly swing against the air, the half cut off beat of his wings ending with a small quiet beep.

Then, you're left to the ravine- dark, and cold, and nearly lifeless if it wasn't for the knowledge that Tommy and Tubbo were in the room over.

The torch light flickered again, low lighting leaving a soft glow against the back of your frame.

"Was that Philza Minecraft?"

Your head whips around, narrowing in on the figure that slowly approached you.

Tommy-

His figure stepped out of the darkness and into the light- torch giving his golden hair a soft glow to it.

"Yes." You answered, "How much did you hear?"

"Only the end- all the yelling woke me up." The boy approached your nook's table, finding himself a seat and plopping down in it.

Dark circles were weaved under his eyes, and he looked incredibly frazzled. Almost too frazzled, "How do you know Phil?"

"Long story. You should head back to bed." You murmur, softly titling your head to look at how tired his blue eyes were.

"Nah. 'M good." He plopped his arms on the table, and then flopped his head into his arms, and frankly closed his eyes.

"You sure? You look really tired there bud." You reach your hand across, placing a hand on his head to which he pried his eyes back open and swatted it away.

"I'm good. 'Sides, it's not like sleep has been that pleasant recently."

"Can't sleep?"

"Something like that."

"Wanna talk about it?"

He hums, keeping his eyes closed, but not saying anything.

His hand stretches across the table, feeling the wood before settling on picking at a rough patch of splinters near the middle. He still didn't open his eyes.

You let him take his time, merely humming back and turning to look at the cabinets in silence.

"Wilbur told me we won't win." He mutters eventually, his finger picking at the wood just a little harsher.

"He told me he hopes we don't."

Tommy huffs, and stops picking at the table, and you're silent.

It doesn't at all surprise you that Wilbur is actively discouraging Tommy. Not at all.

You've heard this tale sung before, ever since you joined Pogtopia, so you let Tommy keep gathering his thoughts.

"I just want my Wilbur back." He says, and an air of finality hangs on that.

"I think everyone can agree on that." You murmur, shuffling where you sat before standing.

"Come on big guy- the both of us should get to sleep." You tap the leg of Tommy's chair with your foot, and he stirs.

"I suppose."

With that, you both head back to the bedroom, Tommy crawling back into his bed, and you flopping on your own.

Tubbo was still dead asleep, ear occasionally flicking and sprawled out on his bed.

As you curled up into your blankets you let your mind drift, sorting through all the many things that happened since you joined this silly little revolution.

From the friends you've made, to the enemies you've made, and even the shaky alliances. Most of it was bad news. And any good news was savored.

Phil would be visiting, and you decided that that's the best news you've heard all month.