[ starter for @memorybooks || set ablaze that long pavilion, and run ]
The moment he sees Ranboo standing on the docks, all gangly limbs and shaggy hair and poorly fitting tuxedo, even after all this time, he runs.
He runs straight into his son, warm and alive, and the two of them tumble down into the snow (and of course, Technoblade makes sure that it is his back lying in the cold, because Ranboo is alive and he never wants to see them hurt again if he can help it). It is the first time in his life that he wants to cry over someone that isn’t Philza, shed tears out of happiness that someone’s body is fragile flesh and blood returned to… well, not just him.
But he is selfish and weak when it comes to his son, so he quietly thinks to himself that he’s allowed to believe that Lady Death did him this favor for a moment. That he can hold his child now. That he can press the palms of his hands against traitorous eyes that threaten to let tears fall, for the briefest of moments.
“I missed you. Wasn’t the same in the commune without you. I’m sorry. I love you, I didn’t get to say it enough when you were…” and he chokes slightly, voice already rough with withheld tears, “...when you were there the first time I got to call you my son.” He promptly shoves his face into Ranboo’s shoulder, squeezing her tight like she’s going to disappear right in front of his eyes (she is warm and alive, they are not taking her again without a fight) and mutters apologies into the fabric of Ranboo's clothes.