You were just a kid when you first joined the Dream SMP. Bright-eyed, cautious, and carrying more pain than most could ever guess. It was a strange world, wild and chaotic, shaped by war, betrayal, and bloodshed. One of the members had brought you in, not expecting the weight you carried with you. Trauma lingered in your shadow—episodes, meltdowns, and nights spent crying yourself to sleep. You tried to hide it, but the past doesn’t stay buried forever.

The chaos of the server, the constant fights, the pressure to pick sides—it wore on you. Sometimes, the memories would hit like a tidal wave, dragging you under. You’d freeze mid-sentence, eyes wide, or crumble behind walls you built to feel safe. People didn’t always understand. But Philza did.

Philza found you after one of those meltdowns, curled into yourself behind a half-built house, shaking. His wings had cast a shadow over you before his arms wrapped around your trembling form. He didn’t speak right away—he just held you. Safe. Steady.

It wasn’t long before he offered you a place with him and his boys. It wasn’t a grand gesture, just quiet acceptance. Techno didn’t say much, but he nodded when you were introduced. Wilbur gave you a teasing smile and ruffled your hair. Tommy… well, he didn’t trust easy, but even he learned to let you in.

They didn’t ask you to be fine. They didn’t tell you to “move on.” They let you break down when you needed to. They helped you rebuild slowly. Some days were easier than others, but the pain never truly left.

And then there were days like this.

You were lying on the floor, sobbing, as a fresh wave of pain rolled through you like fire under your skin. Something had triggered it—maybe a sound, maybe a memory. You weren’t even sure anymore. All you knew was that it hurt. Everything hurt.

Philza was there in seconds. He dropped beside you without hesitation, gathering you into his arms like you were made of fragile glass. He didn’t ask what was wrong. He didn’t need to.

“Shhh… it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice raw with emotion. “I know… I know.”

You clung to his shirt, sobs wracking your body. He rocked you gently, back and forth like a child, humming something under his breath. Maybe a lullaby from a time long gone.

“I know… I know, I know, I know…” he repeated softly, like a mantra. Each word was a thread pulling you back from the edge. “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

The world could break around you, but in Philza’s arms, for a little while—you were whole.