THE BRITISH FUCK LEFT AGAIN

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Phil hugged the young man tightly, he extended his wings around them like a shield.

Dream was shaking, he couldn't even move. He just let his body fall into Philza's arms. The fat tears rolled down his cheeks, the hot liquid almost burning against his cold skin. His breath was stuck in his throat. That- that can't be true. After everything. He just let his son out of his sight for a second, and now he's gone.

No.









No.














No.
















No.

















No.























No.

























NO.























NO.























⋏⍜.
















Phil was quick to start flying when the man in his arms started to glitch.
"Dream, calm down. I know how it feels to lose a kid! But Fundy wouldn't want you too fucking kill everyone."

The other didn't respond. But he did calm down- the glitching did atleast.

Wilbur. He needed to get him to Wilbur.


The wind whistled as Phil flapped his wings.








They were there in a matter of seconds. Phil didn't let go of Dream. The green screen couldn't be trusted right now.

They walked-well Phil did. Dream was being carried like a princess in distress.

Phil almost dropped said princess in distress, when he noticed two very important things.

1. Wilbur wasn't in the room and the place was tidied up. What's the problem with that you might ask? Well..







2. Wilbur's guitar was gone. There wasn't a single sound in the house besides Dream's crying. So he wasn't being a silly cutie playing guitar to the kids.


And those two things add up to only ONE thing:

The fucker left.




AGAIN.



The coward left.



"He left half an hour ago.."
A small voice came behind them. Phil turned around to see Connor, Tallulah standing behind him. Connor seemed sad, but Tallulah was the exact opposite. She looked angry.

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