#even though Ranboo was a little freaked out by Tubbo's pockets in this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

audioaujom · 1 year ago

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Encountering Sachiko Alt [wrong end 8 ★8]

Corpse Party Hub, < prev, next >

This is an alt of the same write from last week, wrong end 8 ★8 from Book of Shadows Episode #5. Same as last time it would most likely roughly take place at some point during Corpse Party Chapter 2 if memory serves.

Pairing: Ranboo and Tubbo

Word Count: 2475

Chapter TWs: Blood and Gore, Graphic Depictions of Violence/Gore, Implied/Referenced Character Death

Whatever you do, don't look behind you.

The note laid neatly beside the candle on the steps, causing Ranboo’s eyes to widen and him to instinctively glance back over his shoulder.

Well, now I'm curious. What happens if I do look behind me?

He blinked as the familiar figure of Bill emerged from the darkness below, calling his name out in relief as they recognized each other. “Ranboo…!”

“Bill…? Wasn't Schlatt with you?” Ranboo asked immediately, painfully aware that he hadn’t left Bill alone by the pool when they split up earlier.

“He was just with me until a short while ago. We ended up getting chased by this fucker with an axe though, so we got separated.” Bill explained, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Oh jeez, I hope he's okay…” Ranboo trailed off as he noticed the blood splattered across Bill’s clothes, instantly stepping closer to his friend and nervously looking him over. “But, what about you? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. This… isn't my blood.” Bill grimaced, wringing his hands out as he awkwardly looked away. “But this school is even more dangerous than I thought. Whoever that guy is, I'm positive he's been going around killing anyone who gets lost in this fucking place.”

“Yeah… I mean, I haven't seen the guy myself, but I can’t imagine he's up to anything good considering he's wandering around a place like this with an ax.”

There was a short moment of silence as Bill awkwardly shifted his weight between his feet, before quietly admitting, “Ranboo… I'm freaking out. We're in way over our heads here… I don't wanna be alone knowing that there's a potential murderer out there in these halls.”

“Then you won't be! I'll stay right with you and we'll look around together.” Ranboo immediately offered, not liking the anxiousness on Bill’s face.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I am! What kind of friend would I be if I just let you walk off after you told me all that?” Ranboo continued, watching the anxiety in Bill give way to relief. “I’ve got your back, man.”

“Thank you!”

Bill instantly threw himself forward to hug Ranboo, who instantly tensed and stumbled back uncomfortably. “H—Hey…!”

“Shit, sorry! You're already dating someone, aren't you?” Bill apologized as he pulled away, his lighthearted chuckle causing a weird knot of dread to begin coiling in Ranboo’s stomach. “Didn't you say his name was Tubbo?”

“What? Oh, no no no! It's uh, not like that.” Ranboo instantly disagreed, shaking his head and hands a little more vigorously than he meant to. “He's… like a brother to me, I guess.”

“I bet life would be a whole lot less boring if I had a brother like you.” The next comment from Bill had Ranboo’s stomach turning again, not liking the strange tone of voice but choosing to just awkwardly chuckle instead of voicing his concerns.

“Yeaaah, I'm not so sure that would be a good thing.”

Methodically checking the next floor as carefully as they could for Schlatt, the two wandered around for quite a ways before the ambient light of the school seemed to dim greatly.

“Is it just me, or is it way darker in here?” Ranboo finally couldn’t resist the urge to say something, stopping in his tracks as he realized his companion had already halted and seemed to be looking around for something. “...uhh? Bill?”

“Hang on a sec. I've got a light.” Bill didn’t glance up from his pockets, complaining, “Ugh. It's not just dark, but cold, too…”

“Yeah… I think we should turn back. I don't like the way this hallway makes me feel.” Shivering a little, Ranboo nodded and turned around to head back only for Bill to sigh sadly.

“Uh… sorry man, but the way back is gone.”

“Crap…” Stomach crashing into the floor as he saw the hallway behind them had caved in bad enough they probably couldn’t even make the jump across the new, large gap, Ranboo hung his head before suddenly remembering— “Wait, Bill. Do you still have that alcohol lamp on you?”

“No, it didn't make it.” Bill shrugged, before finding what he was looking for and offering Ranboo his two handfuls of small candles. “I've got plenty of candles, though.”

“I'm not sure the candles will be enough.” Ranboo said apologetically, gently shoving Bill’s candle filled hands back at him. “This darkness is… heavy. You know what I mean?” He paused for a moment as Bill gave him a blank look, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Nevermind, of course you know. You’re literally right here with me.”

“Well… hey, look! There's a room.” Bill pointed down the hall after putting the candles away, using his free hand to grab at Ranboo’s wrist and start to drag him along. “Let's go see what's inside. Okay?”

“Bill, wait! That might not be safe! Let's stop and think for a—!” He tried to protest, trying to yank away from Bill’s hold to step back, only for the contrasting movement to topple them both to the floor with a loud thud and two shouts of surprise. As soon as Ranboo realized he had landed directly on top of Bill, he quickly tried to scramble away as an uncomfortable blush settled across his face and down his neck. He got up to his hands and knees as quickly as he could, panicked as Bill stared back up at him with a strange look on his face. “Sh—Shoot, I'm sorry. Are you okay?”

“I'm just fine.” Bill smirked up at Ranboo, looking all too pleased at the awkward position they found themselves in.

“Ahh, I'm really sorry. I swear that was just an accident, I should've been more careful, or—” Rambling to try and soothe the rapidly building dread in his stomach and the embarrassed flush on his face, Ranboo’s words choked off as Bill grinned wider and cut him off.

“Never mind that. What say we have a little chat?”

“...what… do you…?” Ranboo wanted to get as far away from Bill as he possibly could as alarms frantically went off his head, but instead stayed rooted to the spot as his brain tried to follow the off-putting offer.

“Don't you like me… Ran…?” Bill’s voice seemed to change pitch suddenly, becoming higher as his eyes bored holes straight up into him. Ranboo felt himself flinch, opening his mouth to shut Bill down only to notice the first drops of blood forming in the corners of his friend’s eyes.

Any words he had to say died in his throat as tear tracks of blood ran down Bill’s face, more blood beading out of his nose and dripping over his lips, a sense of horror washing over Ranboo as he quickly came to the conclusion that something was very, very wrong. “Wh—Who… are you?”

“Who do you think I am, Ran?” Despite the blood now pouring out of his mouth, the words weren’t garbled at all, Ranboo shaking his head as the horror gave way to the rapidly building dread in the pit of his stomach.

“S—Stop it!” He demanded in a panic, trying to find a graceful way back to his feet before adding on, “And don’t call me that!”

Ranboo then went to push himself up off of the floor with his hands, only for Bill to tightly grab both of his wrists to keep Ranboo down on top of him.

“L—Let me go! How do you know about me? About Tubbo?!”

Whoever this was—he most certainly wasn’t Bill, at least not anymore—only giggled, a swirling panic beginning in Ranboo’s stomach as he tried to pull away from him. The grip on him was unnaturally strong as it bruised his wrists, no amount of yanking able to break the grip for several long moments until a particularly hard tug got one of his hands free, his arm then swinging wide and smacking one of the boy’s bloodstained cheeks.

"Oww! How dare you raise your hand against a friend, Ran…" Bill’s voice distorted as he giggled again, thick trails of blood starting to leak out of every available orifice of his face: eyes, nose, ears, and even more from his already bleeding mouth. The skin of Bill’s face began to peel back like burning paper, curling away from the waterfalls of crimson and flaking off in disgusting, bloody patches. A new, blue tinted face was emerging from underneath the peeling, flayed skin—it was young, child-like, and covered in slimy guts and more blood. Whatever was left of Bill disintegrated to the sides as the rest of the young girl’s figure emerged, though half-submerged in the floorboards. Long, dark hair framed the sides of her face, a long red dress covering her body that began to shimmer in the low light of the hallway to make her seem to glow as she grinned up at Ranboo, his mind finally catching up with the carnage surrounding him as the rank smell of death started wafting up from the piled remains and ever growing lake of blood around him. The girl still held onto him, him swallowing back vomit as the two stared at each other, waiting for someone to make a move.

“You… were you always… her?” Ranboo choked out, the smell combined with his overwhelming terror causing his voice to shake. “What did you do… to Tubbo?!”

“Now what did I do to him? Hmm. I remember he wouldn't shut up. He kept chirping 'Ran!', 'Ran!', 'Ran!', like a bird.” The girl mused, giggling to herself as Ranboo tried to keep his mouth from falling open in panicked shock. “But he's not chirping anymore! Wanna see for yourself?”

“No, no… No, that can't be!” The only thing keeping Ranboo from completely collapsing was the girl’s tight grip on his arms, the twinges of pain barely enough to keep him grounded as his mind swirled to keep up.

“I've been watching you, you know. I like you. You've got promise.” The girl grinned, still present blood leaking out from between her lips and staining her teeth. “People like you do show up from time to time. Freaks of nature who have a real affinity for this place.”

“What the hell are you trying to say about me?” Ranboo tried pulling away from the girl again—harder this time—to no avail. “No, wait… what… What does that mean? What are you planning to do with me?!”

“Aw, are you scared?” Her giggle was light and completely unnerving, her vice grip slowly inching up his arms as she pulled him closer and closer to her face. “That's understandable. But the thing is, I get you! You're not afraid of people dying. You're afraid of you dying.”

“What? No! Let go of me! I… I…!” Ranboo was in too much shock to continue struggling, the girl’s breath smelling of a rot and decay that even the viscera around them couldn't match, the two locked in a one-sided staring contest.

“Sure. I'll let you go. And when I do, I want you to walk over to that door. Let the school guide your way.” She shrugged lightly, her eyes lighting up as Ranboo felt his stomach twist with a fresh burst of nausea as she nodded with her head towards a nearby classroom. “It's where you'll find the person you've been looking for all this time.”

A voice then quietly floated through the air, the tone a familiar whisper that sounded from all around. “Ran… don't look at me… not the way I am now…”

“Ahh… Tubbo…” Ranboo couldn't move, the panic and adrenaline coursing through him and fighting for him to do anything blocked by the cold fear that washed over him each time the girl addressed him.

“I'm looking forward… to your reaction…” In an instant the girl let go, her blue-tinted form slowly sinking into the floor boards as she added, “But if it's boring… I'll kill you.”

As quickly as she appeared, she was gone again, leaving behind nothing but the tattered remains of Bill’s clothes and the horrific face mask made of his blood-soaked skin.

The smell alone was enough to rocket Ranboo to his feet, entirely distrustful of the ghost but unable to stop his own burning curiosity and panic for Tubbo from guiding his feet to the nearby classroom that the girl had motioned to, sliding the door open and stepping inside.

This is crazy… I think I’ve completely lost it by now, but… I have to go see Tubbo. I need to know that he’s okay, he… he can’t be dead.

He ran through hall after hall of dilapidated school, his feet carrying him forward even as he wasn’t quite sure where he was going—he just felt a pull that gently tugged him along.

Tubbo, just wait a little longer. I’m coming…

Finding Tubbo’s body was even worse than he could’ve imagined.

He’d been pulverized to shreds on a wall, the only identifying feature being Tubbo’s familiar sneakers on the floor and an odd certainty that this was what the school and the ghost girl wanted him to see. The large splatter of blood on the wall was tacky to the touch, nearly completely dried as Ranboo ran a hand around the outline in order to not look at the pile of shapeless skin and organs at the bottom of the wall.

“Oh god, no… No, Tubbo…” He mumbled as hot tears sprung to his eyes, dropping to his knees in a nearby puddle of blood as something magnified his grief until it was entirely unmanageable. “What happened—! Oh god, you’re…” His chest squeezed painfully as he stared hopelessly into the still slightly warm guts spread out in front of him that once were assembled into a friend of his. “No, I… I’m too late, I… It can’t be…”

So absorbed in his inability to process the horror in front of him, he didn’t notice the blue ghost girl appear in the air behind him, annoyed.

“Tsk. You’re so boring.” She shook her head sadly as Ranboo crumbled to the floor with a loud sob, the misery too much for him to bear. “I’m disappointed.”

A dark tint had overtaken Ranboo’s vision at some point in his crying, his head beginning to pound painfully from the back from the tension of crying— Wait, no, that’s not…

His thoughts trailed off as the pain in the back of his blossomed again, this time coherent enough to recognize that his head was actually being bashed in from the outside. Empty and slightly glazed eyes managed to catch a brief glimpse of the zombie above him, the blunt end of the ax he was holding making one final swing that turned Ranboo’s world to an unrelenting darkness one last time.

#corpse party au #corpse party #fanfiction #fanfic #cross posted on ao3 #writing #whump #ranboolive #ranboo #ranboo fanfic #angst #tubbo mcyt #tubbo fanfic #tubbo and ranboo

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aslitheryprinx · 3 years ago

Note

How did Boo and Tubbo meet in the trust au? Also...headcanons?

Beeduo met when they were both still kids, about ten years old. And there's a lot of trust between them now, but that wasn't always the case. Their first meeting wasn't quite so nice... (Headcanons in tags! :D)

________

Snare

___________

Ranboo sprinted through the woods, panting heavily. There were tears running down his face, burning him, but he couldn't manage to stop them.

"It's getting away!" Came an angry shout from behind him. He heard the slow twang of a crossbow being loaded and screamed when the bolt shot past him, grazing a cheek and landing inches from his face.

He heaved another sob and dove over a fallen log, scrambling back up and sprinting slightly off course. He had to throw them off.

"Where the hell did it go?" Another voice shouted.

Ranboo kept running, praying the thick foliage would be enough to keep him hidden.

He ran until the angry shouts of the humans had faded into the distance. His lungs were burning, and he thought he might be about to throw up, but he'd gotten away.

The hunters had spotted him at the newest village he'd drifted to, and he knew he was in trouble. Usually, someone from the village would come and tell him firmly to leave, that his presence was a danger. He could sometimes manage to scrounge some handouts of food before he was kicked out, which was enough to get by.

Most humans had a soft spot for children, and even a mob hybrid like him could get a little sympathy. He doubted the sympathy would last much longer. He was almost ten now, and was a lot taller than human kids his age. Pretty soon he wouldn't look anything like a cute little kid, and people would start calling the hunters instead of just telling him to scram.

But today, hunters were already there, in the village center. He'd been loitering on the edges of the streets, looking sad an hungry enough that a kinder soul would toss some bread or an apple his way. Maybe a coin if he was really lucky.

But one of the hunters had made eye contact from the other side of the street. His eyes had narrowed, and he'd put a hand on his sword, nudging the hunter he was next to.

Ranboo didn't waste another second and bolted, heading to the forest where he'd hopefully be able to lose them. He wasn't sure how many hunters were chasing after him, but he had heard more than two pairs of footsteps.

The last sounds of the hunters were finally fading in the distance, though, so he let himself relax. That had been the scariest thing that had ever happened to him.

He kept walking, wanting to put as much distance between him and the hunters as he could. He wasn't really sure where he was going, or where he was now, but anywhere was better than back at that village.

His foot landed in on something irregular, and he stumbled. As he tripped, there was a loud thwang and suddenly a net was rushing up around him. He yelped, then the breath was knocked out of him as the trap yanked him harshly off the ground.

His heart was pounding as the net spun in lazy circles, making him dizzy. He reoriented himself with some difficulty, and looked down. The ground was way too far for his comfort, and he made a nervous vwoop sound that would normally get him several dirty looks.

He shifted uncomfortably in the net, wincing when the thick rope scraped against his cheek. It was still raw from the burning tears. At least he hadn't scraped his other cheek. The wound from the crossbow bolt was still stinging painfully.

He wiggled uselessly, trying to see any way he could get out. He was desperately hoping that it wasn't a hunter that had set up this trap, or he was dead.

Suddenly, there was a distant thudding noise. He paused and listened. A half second later, there was another, then another. He was confused as the rhythmic thudding continued, growing louder.

It sounded almost like... footsteps...

Ranboos heart was instantly in his throat, the pulsing almost as loud in his ears as the thuds- the footsteps. He began struggling in the net again, not caring when it scraped his cheeks causing a fresh burst of pain.

He'd take being chased by hunters any day over a giant.

All his struggling seemed to do was get him more tangled in the next. He'd resorted to chewing at the rough ropes with his barely sharper than human teeth, but he hadn't made a dent. All he did was hurt his mouth on the rough texture.

A massive shadow fell over him. Ranboo let out a frightened gasp. He was too late.

"Woah," came the loud voice of a giant from behind him. He sounded younger than Ranboo expected. He turned to look, and a frightened chirp escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

The giant towered over him, even suspended far above the forest floor like he was. His head almost reached the tops of the trees. Ranboo shook as he looked into the curious eyes of the giant.

"You're not a deer," the giant said. Suddenly there was a pair of hands bigger than he was reaching towards him. He flinched, automatically trying to retreat from the terrifying sight. He only managed to make the net swing some as one hand came under him.

The giant lifted his hand up, now supporting Ranboo's weight instead of the net. Ranboo froze, terrified to move when the giant could easily close his hand and squish him. He sniffled once, trying very hard not to cry again.

With his other hand, the giant reached up, untying the net from where it was attached. The rope fell, and the net went slack around Ranboo. He felt relief for a brief second, then the giant's other hand came right towards him.

He yelped, but the giant only pulled at the net, untangling the thick ropes from around him. Once it was no longer entwined in Ranboo's limbs, the giant plucked the net off his hand, stuffing it in a pocket.

Ranboo's stomach churned with anxiety. He could probably be shoved in a pocket just as easily. Something about that was really unsettling, and he tried not to think about it too much.

But that meant he was thinking about the giant. The giant that was currently holding him, could crush him until he was a pile of Rangoo. The giant that was currently staring directly at him with eyes that felt like they were boring into his soul.

He made a frightened noise as the giant lifted him up, closer to his face. He could just barely feel his breaths wafting over him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for the worst.

"Awww, you're hurt!" The giant said, the volume making him flinch. But he opened his eyes again, confused at the concern in the words.

"What happened?" The giant asked.

"U-um," Ranboo squeaked. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "H-hunters. They were trying to k- to hurt me."

The giant frowned. It was something Ranboo would've expected to be frightening, but the giant looked more like he was pouting than anything.

"That's stupid," the giant declared. "Hunters sound mean." Ranboo nodded hesitantly.

"Y-yeah they're really mean. They saw me in the village and then chased me out here."

The giant hummed. He poked Ranboo with a single finger. The ender hybrid let out a startled noise, heart spiking with panic. He stayed very still as the giant kept poking him, eventually playing with his hair. He was very gentle, and it didn't hurt, but it was still pretty nerve-wracking.

"My name is Tubbo! I just turned ten," the giant said. "How old are you?"

"Um. I'm about to turn ten," Ranboo mumbled nervously.

"So you're nine! Ha! I'm older!" Tubbo said. He paused, giving Ranboo a funny look. "You didn't say your name."

"S-sorry," Ranboo said quickly, not wanting to make the giant angry. "My name is Ranboo."

"Hi Ranboo! That's a funny name," the giant said. Ranboo frowned.

"My name is fine," he muttered a little petulantly. First Tubbo caught him in a net, then was super scary and poking at him. And now he was making fun of Ranboo's name! He was too scared to say it loudly, which wasn't fair.

Tubbo started poking him again, and he let out a small stressed vwoop. Then the giant brushed his cheek and he winced, whimpering.

"Sorry!" Tubbo said. "I guess it's still bleeding. Oh! I have bandages at my house. I'll take you there!"

Uh oh. Ranboo did not want to go home with the giant, he decided. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but stopped. What could he even say?

Before he could decide how to ask Tubbo to let him go without him getting angry and squishing him to a pulp, the hand beneath him moved, knocking him off balance.

He was suddenly pressed against a massive chest, and he stiffened. Tubbo was walking, chattering about something, but Ranboo couldn't focus on the words because of the deep pulsing sound in his ears. It was the giants heartbeat, and it was kind of terrifying he could hear it so clearly. It was also a relaxing sound, and Ranboo couldn't really decide which it was more of.

Tubbo kept walking, and Ranboo had no choice but to go with him, trapped as he was against his chest, listening to the steady heartbeat.

Eventually, Tubbo slowed, pulling Ranboo away from his chest. Ranboo stared up nervously at the giant.

"We're here!" Tubbo said cheerfully, ducking into a massive cave. Ranboo looked around wide-eyed at the massive furniture. He jumped as Tubbo's hand moved once more, lowering him onto a table.

"Stay right there, I'll go get the bandages!" Tubbo told him, then he walked deeper into the cave, out of sight.

Ranboo stared for a moment, before he realized this was his chance. He stood quickly and ran to the edge of the table. The drop was steep and high and utterly terrifying. Ranboo backed away from the edge. Maybe his chance could come another time.

"Hey!" Tubbo suddenly said. Ranboo hadn't heard him come back. And he'd come back much quicker than he expected.

Suddenly, he was being scooped up in the giants hand again, and he yelped. The giant was frowning again, and Ranboo realized the pout was kind of intimidating when it was being directed at him.

"No running off until you're fixed up," Tubbo scolded. It sounded like something a parent might say, and Ranboo wondered if he'd learned it from somewhere. It was still utterly terrifying coming from an irate giant.

"S-sorry," Ranboo apologized, a little breathless with fear. Tubbo blinked at him. His frown deepened before his expression became a little guilty, a little hurt.

"Are you scared of me, Ranboo?" He asked. Ranboo froze, not sure how to answer. Tubbo seemed to take his silence as its own answer.

"You are!" He said, and Ranboo flinched back. Was Tubbo angry at him for being scared? If he was, that would just make Ranboo more scared, and he wasn't sure what he would do then.

"I'm sorry," Tubbo apologized, and Ranboo looked up in surprise. Huh?

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Was I mean?" Tubbo asked, sounding genuinely upset. "I was trying to be really nice! What did I do wrong?" Ranboo's brow furrowed. Did he really think he wasn't scary at all?

"You- you caught me in a net!" Ranboo said, reeling a little. "And you kept poking me!"

"The net wasn't on purpose!" The giant protested, and Ranboo shrank back a little. "I was trying to catch a deer, but it was you instead."

"It was still really scary," Rambo pointed out quietly. Tubbo wilted a little.

"I guess it would be pretty scary. I didn't mean to, though," he said. "And I guess poking is pretty terrifying too. I was just curious. I didn't mean to be mean."

"Well... I guess you weren't really mean," Ranboo said honestly. "Not on purpose. You're still really scary, though."

And it was true. It wasn't as frightening anymore, if Tubbo was trying not to scare him, but the giant still loomed over him. He could still hold him in a single hand, and could pick him up or poke at him whenever he wanted. That really scared Ranboo.

"I'm sorry," Tubbo said sincerely. "If I try really hard not to be scary, will you stay until your cut is better?"

Ranboo fidgeted. He didn't really want to stay. But... Tubbo was trying not to scare him. And he actually was nice, nicer than most people Ranboo met. He had changed his mind; he definitely preferred Tubbo to the hunters. And maybe... Maybe if he stayed, he wouldn't have to go to a new village for a little while. Tubbo had promised he wouldn't hurt him...

"Trust me! I can be really nice! No more mean and scary Tubbo!" The giant looked at him imploringly. Ranboo hesitated, then nodded.

"Ok," he said, hoping he was making the right choice. "I trust you."

Tubbo beamed.

Previous (sort of)

#mcyt g/t #mcyt giant/tiny #g/t #giant/tiny #tiny!ranboo #dsmp g/t #dsmp giant/tiny #trust au #giant!tubbo #ok headcanon time #the villages in the area Ranboo lives in at first are really bad towards hybrids #he and Tubbo end up moving to a different part of the world and find much more tolerant villages #they become friends with Niki who's a baker they visit regularly #she's the only one who's ever tried to make bread for Tubbo's size and they love her #Tommy is also a giant #they dont meet him for a few years but when they do the three become super close #even though Ranboo was a little freaked out by Tubbo's pockets in this #he actually really likes sitting in Tubbos pockets when they become friends #it's warm dark safe and he can hear Tubbos heartbeat #Tubbo used to stick Ranboo on his head but got tired of untangling the knots Ranboo made while playing with his hair #they've been together for so long that neither of them can sleep without the other around #aslitheryanswers #forgot to put that one

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thesunicarusfellfor · 4 years ago

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Hey!! I love your writing. Can you do a Yandere! Ranboo, Tommy , and tubbo. where they are all in love with the reader and they kidnapped her to ‘keep her safe’ and the reader doesn’t know at first, then she slow realized they are obsessed with her. she like them back but she also want to live her life, so she tries to make agreement? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.

The Ranboo gif is just beautiful and I love it. Lemme see what I can do for ya! I wrote a bullet point Platonic fic if that's fine? I'm still worried about writing the minors in romantic relationships, even if it's the characters.

Sorry, it took so long... My burnout got really bad and I refused to even write basic stuff. But I'm back now! Well. Mostly.

Safe Behind Glass (Yandere!Plat!C!Bench Trio x GN!Reader)

You were a little groggier than normal when you awoke, but it was nothing to alarm you immediately.

Just simply brushing it off as you weren't feeling the best that day, you rolled over to fall back to sleep, but quickly noticed something wrong.

It didn't feel... Right?

The blankets... The mattress... The pillow... They weren't yours...

You peeled your eyes open and your expression went blank with fear.

The room was beautiful mind you.

But it wasn't yours either.

You were laying on a fluffy (f/c) canopy bed, surrounded by quartz walls that were dimly lit soul lanterns that prevented you from being completely swallowed by darkness.

Slowly dragging yourself off the bed, you heard a metal 'clunk' that hit the cold quartz flooring below you.

Turning your head to face downwards, you saw that a decently thick metal chain was cuffed to your ankle.

Somehow, your panic became worse as you immediately grabbed onto it and started to yank on the solid metal, but it refused to budge.

You had no idea how many minutes or hours you spent in that room. Reaching at the iron door desperately, yanking at the chain around your ankle that kept you from reaching the exit, searching the blue lanterns for anything...

But then, the white metallic door slowly swung open, revealing Ranboo, Tubbo and Tommy.

You weren't that close to them, save for a couple interactions here and there, but hey, they came to save you! That didn't matter in the slightest!

You almost cried upon seeing them and moved to walk over, but the chain stopped you from reaching them, and you noticed that they weren't moving to help you.

"You're awake!" Tubbo chirped softly, his tan goat ears wiggling with joy, "I'm glad the potion didn't stick for too long... You could've wound up starving if you stayed asleep."

Horror slowly began to set into your heart as Ranboo nodded and walked over to the dark oak table in the corner of the room and set down a basket of food.

"Ran...Boo...?" You whispered, watching as the monochrome male turned and curiously tilted his head in your direction, "Why... Am I here?"

Instead, Tommy stepped in front of you with a bright cheesy smile, the same one that resembled when he would find a new disc or start a new adventure, "For your safety, (N/n)!"

"Safety?" You choked out softly, Ranboo quickly guiding you to sit in the oak chair, "But... I'm one of the richest people on the server... I have god armour... Nothing could kill m-"

"Techno and Dream can." Tubbo interrupted sharply, halting you mid-sentence.

Right... That masked man... Or whatever he was... He was extremely dangerous, as well as Techno. They could likely pierce your netherite chest plate without even flinching at the number of thorns you had enchanted.

"We don't want anyone to bring you any harm... There's no problem with that, right, (Y/n)?" Ranboo smiled, flashing his sharpened teeth unthreateningly.

No... You wanted to say, but you wanted freedom! You wanted to expand your house to the size of a mansion! You wanted to bicker with Quackity about the stupidest of things! You wanted to get building advice from Phil!

Not be locked away because your safety was a tiny bit compromised!

"Tommy... Tubbo... Ranboo... Please, I'm not going to just stay locked away because I-"

"You'll see things our way soon... Eat up, get your rest." Tubbo smiled and gave you a hug, ignoring how you froze suddenly, before turning and skipping out of the room with the taller two following behind him.

Despite... How screwed up the three were with their methods of making you be their friend, it was working...

They were actually incredibly friendly and funny. It made life in capture bearable! Even though you were incredibly snappy and cruel to them in the beginning, they never held it against you.

Although... Despite their kindness and your quickly blooming friendship, you still had a craving to go outside. Even if what the three told you about everyone forgetting you existed was true.

"You look sad, (N/n)..." Tubbo murmured softly, watching you stare off into the blank quartz wall, "Are you okay?"

Tommy straightened up from his handmade scribble of a map, turning his head towards you in confusion. Ranboo stopped writing mid-word likely and looked in your direction as well.

They never liked it when you were upset.

You pursed your lips silently for a moment, clearly unsettling the males around you, "I just... Haven't been feeling too great... Both mentally and physically I mean... I need sunlight..."

"Yeah... I was reading about that earlier..." Ranboo hummed softly, adjusting his crown as he looked up at the ceiling, "But the issue is..."

"My safety... Yes, I know. What if, I wear my full netherite armour and keep a totem AND a Rapple on me? And also not leave your sides?" You bargained nervously.

That hadn't worked before. But then again, You weren't as close to them before...

The silence that fell upon the room was unsettling and caused your heart to race quickly. If they didn't like what you said, you would be alone for a few straight days... You didn't like it...

"Okay."

What.

That worked?

You just had to ask?!

You watched as Tubbo stood up and pulled the small ender chest from his pocket and set it on the ground, causing it to grow to normal size.

Standing aside, he made a gesture for you to open it and get your stuff.

Hesitantly, You walked over and kneeled down in front of the ender chest. Looking to Tubbo and the others for confirmation, you slowly opened it once they nodded.

Carefully, you began pulling out your armour but paused seeing the lack of golden apples and totems.

Right... Before you had gotten kidnapped by the group, you had used a totem when you fell into the L'Manhole where L'Manberg once was.

That what caused them to kidnap you...

"I-I used... My totem... And Fundy stole my Rapple..." You murmured hesitantly, feeling ready to cry.

Your only chance to escape and you couldn't grab it...

"Hey! Hey! Don't cry! Here!" Ranboo eagerly held the two golden items out towards you at the first sight of tears gathering under your eyes.

"What...?"

"(Y/n)! We want you to be happy! If being outside, even with god armour, rapples and totems, makes you happy, then damn well we're bringing you outside!" Tommy grinned.

After a few tears and lots of hugs, Tubbo helped you hop into your armour while Ranboo unlocked the chain cuff from around your ankle. Tommy had left, leaving the door open for once, going to scout the area for any dangerous mobs.

"Ready?" Ranboo smiled, linking one of his arms with yours, the one that you held the totem in to be more specific. Tubbo happily linked his arm with the other one.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as they began to walk you out the door, Ranboo had to duck down a lot, before leading you to the quartz stairway.

Once up the stairs, Tubbo pressed in a code to the iron door and it slid open quickly, causing you to flinch and pinch your eyes shut at the bright painful light of the sun.

It took about twenty minutes of trying to adjust to the sunlight with the two males encouraging you before you were able to look around.

It was everything you had missed...

The sunlight...

The trees...

God, it was perfect...

Tommy eventually came out of the tree line and sat down beside you as you took it all in...

Months, you were down there. And sure, they gave you plenty of decorations to prevent you from experiencing sensory deprivation, nothing could ever compare to the beauty of the outside world.

A voice cut through the air -calling for someone or something named Fran?- and you almost didn't recognize it. But then the owner came out of the trees, almost a similar direction that Tommy came from earlier.

Sam? He looked so... Different now...

The creeper hybrid slowly lowered his gas mask to show his mouth dropped in shock, "(Y/n)...? You're alive...?"

Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo were freaking out, trying to bring you back into the bunker, as they called it, but you weren't budging. You hadn't seen another being in ages... And while you did platonically love the three boys, you enjoyed hearing a new voice.

"You... Remember me? But... Tubbo you said-" You frowned at the goat hybrid as they stopped suddenly, realizing that you weren't moving.

"You three... Kept them locked away... For almost an entire year?" Sam's voice was getting a little bit scary now, but it wasn't directed at you, instead, at your best friends...

"Sam! It was to protect them! Please!" Ranboo tried, but he wasn't making it better.

"You made Quackity believe they ran away... Made Philza wake up every morning and walk through the SMP for any signs of them... Gave Puffy false information on where you have last seen them... lied to everyone... Only to be the reason that they were gone." Sam growled out, gripping his trident, "Then you proceeded to make them think we all forgot about them..."

"S-Sam... You've got this all wrong big man..." Tubbo tried next...

The warden wasn't listening as he pointed his trident at them, his communicator in his other hand next to his mouth, then he started speaking, causing his voice to come out of Ranboo's, Tubbo's and Tommy's pockets. He was speaking on the public channel.

"Tommy Innit, Tubbo Underscore, Ranboo Beloved... You are being placed in the prison, Pandora's Vault, for keeping (Y/n) (L/n) imprisoned in a bunker and lying about their whereabouts."

It felt like someone splashed you with cold water...

#tommyinnit x reader #dream smp x reader #yandere tommyinnit #yandere tommyinnit x reader #yandere tubbo x reader #yandere tubbo #dsmp #tommyinnit dreamsmp #tubbo dreamsmp #ranboo dream smp #tommyinnit dream smp #tubbo dream smp #c!tommyinnit #c!tommy #c!tubbo #yandere ranboo x reader #yandere ranboo #c!ranboo

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jkknight98 · 3 years ago

Text

The House always Wins.

SO I finally got the Quackity and Revivebur story finished, and its twice the length of my normal stories because I couldn't help myself but keep writing. I tried to keep the rival banter between Quackity and Wilbur natural as best I could, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Remember to drink water and eat something today.

(also to those who wonder who the witch is that I reference here and there in my stories, I'm pretty much talking about myself since I'm working “magic” to get these stories out for you all to enjoy)

Wilbur knew that this was a really bad idea, Quackity was well known for his skills in playing cards, the few games from their time in Lamanburg showed that, but damn he wasn’t interested in the prize that was offered. He had left Ranboo to work on their newest plan while he took some time to blow off steam, it took everything in his power to not explode at the sight of Tubbo working in the restaurant, of course, the scared face bastard would do this when he couldn’t get his brother, he would just go for his best friend.

Wilbur chewed the end of his thumb harshly as he paced about in the woods where he could have some peace,” Why would he go to Quackity, he is the reason he died that day….. I needed him to fully convince Tommy.” He shook his head as he lifted his head to brush his hair out of his face,” no... I can’t keep dragging him into my things…. Fuck it…. I have Ranboo though, so I have that in my favor.” His mind went back to the fish tank though, did Quackity think he was funny for filling it with salmon, he really wanted to go back and destroy that tank, but that would just play into the subtle jeers-

“Delivery for Wilbur Soot from Lamanburg!”

Wilbur turned sharply to try and find the disembodied voice that broke him from his musing. He didn’t recognize the voice and it was really startling to hear someone in the one place he expected to be alone but was shocked to find the woods around him completely empty… no not empty, Near his feat was a letter that had a few green stains on its surface. He gently reached down and picked up the letter, running his thumb over the spots and realized that they were from slime residue...which was weird, The poker chip wax seal was very telling, however. “ We just saw each other, why would he send me a letter?” He gently slipped the small pocket knife out of his pocket and swiftly cut the top open and removed the letter, wrinkling his nose slightly at the smell of Quackity’s Cologne wafted out.

To Wilbur~

I know that we only just saw each other to discuss the wonders of our new competition. I'm sure you loved the fish tank just as much as I loved your idea of a personalized Ip for your burgers, but something interesting has come up. I think we should play a game of cards together to be a show of goodwill between us before our competition fully starts, just for old times sake. I managed to get in contact with a certain witch that roams the area and they gave me something that will make the reward for winning all the more sweeter. If this is of interest to you, meet me at the needle where we talked before with Tommy at sunset.

May your business do well,

Quackity.

Wilbur furrowed his brows slightly as he read over a particular line, what could that witch provide for Quackity, and what was that reward? The subtle jabs at his burger van just fired up his anger once more, but the thought of beating Quackity was too tempting. “ Guess I need to get out my old pack of cards to practice then.”

Quackity sat quietly at his desk while waiting for the news, gently twirling the small bottle with his fingers, watching as the bright teal liquid swirled around the sides with each move. If what that witch said was true, beating Wilbur in this quick game of cards would be worth it for the short time he would be under his control. That would only happen if Wilbur agreed to the game,” what am I talking about, his ego’s too big to refuse an opportunity like this.” He then leaned over to look at the bottle more thoughtfully, even if he lost to the Franken freak and was forced to drink this, he would be fine and could do some recon work. You can’t hide things from someone inside yourself when you're someone like Wilbur Soot, he wouldn’t be able to help himself but brag if he won, and that's when he would slip.

“Dab me up! My mission was successful, Quackity from Las Nevadas!”

Quackity couldn’t help but jump when heard the cheerful exclamation from the slime-human- thing that slithered its way under the door instead of opening it like he asked multiple times,” Didn’t I tell you that you have to open- nevermind, did Wilbur seem like he was going to accept my offer?” Quackity’s face hurt slightly as he couldn’t help the wide grin as he watched Charlie nod, things were going how he wanted and he now needed to be ready, the game area needed to be set up. He quickly stood up and slid the potion bottle into his pocket for safety, heading for the door with a new sense of excitement, the newest battlefield for the two needed to be set.

Wilbur couldn’t hide the sneer on his face as he traveled across the sand towards Las Nevadas, of course, the one-eyed bastard would want him to come at this time, the flashy colors and lights were nearly blinding. The multitudes of colors were no doubt going to cause a migraine later on if he continued to look at them, it made him wonder how Quackity could stand them, but he could guess that others would think the same about his interest in TnT. He kept his head low as he walked past the few buildings to reach the space needle, giving a mild glare to the new burger restaurant with the ‘Tubburger’ sign as he passed it, but continued with his silent march forward. The needle stood brightly before him as he craned his head upwards to look towards the top, getting the faint idea that he could see a darkened shape at the top looking down at him, but that could have been his imagination. He gently readjusted his jacket before stepping into the elevator, letting his weight be fully supported by the rush of bubbles as he let his eyes close, not wanting to look at the lights any longer. His body stuttered slightly as it reached the top, and he opened his eyes to see a simple table sat in the middle of the grand room, and at its center sat Quackity; shuffling cards quietly. Wilbur didn't say a word as he stepped from the elevator, using a hand to gently brush the damped hair away from his eyes, and strode forward to the empty chair that was across from his rival. He slowly sat down and placed his elbows on the table before placing his chin on his hands, watching on as the other continued to gently shuffle the cards in hand, moving them elaborate before starting to lay them out on the table. Wilbur was quick to realize that the game they were playing was poker, a classic choice for Quackity, and a game Wilbur was well familiar with. He waited until all the cards were laid out before he decided to speak,” You said there was a reward involved with this little game, you going to tell me what it is before I decide to go back down the elevator because as much as I enjoy playing with you; I’m busy.”

The scared man only smiled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle filled with a cyan liquid, and looked like no normal potion that he’s ever seen, before setting it in the middle of the table. “This my rival,” the way Quackity said rival made a quick shiver roll up his spine,” is the reward I was referring to, our neighborhood witch didn’t make it easy for me to get this much.”

Wilbur gently lifted the bottle and swirled it,” what does it do though, because I don’t think that you would have asked me here for a simple potion,” he paused as he thought over the second thing,” you talking about you know who right?” He grimaced as Quackity nodded,” they give me the creeps.”

Quackity only nodded,” yep, but they are good at making potions like this one, it has some very unique properties that I figured would make a fun reward for the winner of our game.” Quackity was quick in taking the bottle and setting back on the smooth table,” when taken, it allows for the drinker to shrink down to…snack size for a few hours, while also being safe from any form of physical damage.” Quackity crossed his arms and watched Wilbur closely, he could see the realization forming in those reddish-brown eyes, and the newly hungry look that matched his own,” once it wears off, the one who drank it will automatically be teleported to their last respawn point, you still interested in playing?”

Wilbur sat silently as he mulled over what he had just been told, he knew that playing cards with Quackity was never a smart decision, but the thought of having him curled in his stomach and left to Wilbur’s mercy was a hard treat to ignore. He could go back to his van and poke at his shrunken rival, or even lay down on the bed to feel the crushed form thrash between the mattress and the rest of his body. Wilbur couldn’t help the slightly sheepish grin as his stomach let out a low rumble that caused the other male to laugh loudly,” seems like your stomach spoke for you my friend, let's get started then.” Wilbur could only shake his head as he moved to pick up his cards, looking over his hand quickly and deciding he didn’t like his first pull, moving to exchange his lower card for a better option.

“So are we playing first to three, or first to three consecutive wins, any longer game and I'll starve~”

Quackity smiled softly as he looked over his current hand, he and Wilbur had decided on the three consecutive wins ruling, and he was currently on his second win in a row. He had to give Wilbur a lot of credit, the man could pull a bluff with the best of them and even Quackity was thrown off a few times, but he could see the slight creasing at the edge of his eyes that showed his frustration at how the game was going. He had an ace up his sleeve however, he decided to play fair for the majority of the game to see if his rival would, but things were dragging on way too long. He was swift in pulling out the ace he knew would be next in the stack, changing his straight flush into a Royal, and made a subtle move to make himself appear disappointed; but barely noticeable. He saw the slight twitch in Wilburs fingers, which showed Wilbur was excited,” Well Quackity, I think I'm about to break your streak again,” The man quickly laid out a perfect straight flush,” boom, there's no way you can beat that since I know we've already gone through the higher cards.”

Quackity let out a low sigh and he lifted a hand to lightly pinch the bridge of his nose,” Yeah yeah,” he held this pose for a moment longer to let Wilbur relax, but could help the smirk as he moved to lean forward,” but don’t you know in a game like this, the house always wins,” and laid down his Royal flush. He smiled wider as Wilbur looked down in shock, before his hands flew to the discard deck as well as the pull deck, clearly looking to catch him in his cheat. Quackity let him look, sparing a glance to the tiny amount of slime that was slithering away towards the elevator, watching the last bit of the ace card dissolve away.

“ There’s no way, I am absolutely positive that you cheated, you shouldn’t have the cards for a royal flush,” It was hard to not slam his hands on the table in frustration, but despite his best efforts, Wilbur could not find the card that should have been in the discard pile. He didn’t want to accept the fact he lost, there was no way when he had managed to slide in his own cheat card to ensure his hand, but he couldn’t ignore it at this point. He looked back up when he heard a soft scraping sound, and watched as his smirking opponent slowly slid the small bottle towards him, leaving it to sit before him as the hand pulled back and the fingers started to drum.

Quackiyt let his fingers softly drum against the table's surface as he watched Wilbur fight with his ego, he knew the man was absolutely steaming inside, but it would also kill him to show such weakness before him. He was going to be kind in this instant to let Wilbur drink the potion at his own pace, but the low rumble of his empty stomach reminded him of the fact he didn’t eat anything since he managed to buy the potion in the first place, and he wanted his reward. “Wilbur… I do think it's time for me to receive my reward, don't you think?” He fully allowed his tongue to swipe across what was left of his lips and his few exposed teeth, chuckling at the scowl he received in return for his statement, but continued to watch on with increasing impatience.

Each tap of the fingers sounded like the ticking of a clock, one he could no longer avoid, ” fine, you'll get your reward soon enough.” Wilbur quickly snatched up the tiny potion bottle off the table and popped the cork out with his thumb in a well practiced motion, feeling a little concerned when a faint vapor escaped once the cork was gone, but still brought it up to his nose to smell. The first smell that came through was an odd fruity scent that he didn’t recognize in the slightest, but also the musky smell of nether wart and a fish smell. It made him wrinkle his nose slightly, but as he took one last look at the barely hidden look of anticipation on Quackity’s face, he just decided to tip his head back and down the entire bottle. He nearly gagged as the syrupy like substance traveled down his throat, the odd fruity flavor was horribly sour and he thought he could taste something similar to fermented spider eyes, it was absolutely horrid. “Oh that tastes like absolute horse shit, you sure that witch didn’t sell you an awkward potion with a silly story.” The thought of this made Wilbur laugh, and laugh harder when he saw the look of doubt cross through his rival's face..but as he continued to laugh, the more light headed he felt. He moved one hand to rest on the table while the other moved to rest against his temple, the feeling was getting worse by the minute, he opened his to look up at Quackity… wait.

Wilbur was now looking up at Quackity instead of normally looking down at him, even when sitting he was taller, but now he was a few inches shorter than his equally shocked partner. He tried to speak, but his vision quickly darkened and he felt his body fall limply back against the chair, falling quickly into unwanted consciousness.

Quackity was quick to rush around the table to catch the rapidly shrinking body as it nearly fell off the chair when he went fully limp, the man was now the size of a small child and was still shrinking. It was a memorizing process to watch as the normally six foot five man be reduced to the size of Quackity’s hand before stopping, this made him worry slightly, but the witch assured him that he would still be physically capable of getting him down safely. He used his fingers to gently move the miniscule man around in his palms, everything from his hair down to the glasses on his face were perfectly normal despite the change in size, it was quite amazing. He lifted the small body close to his face and frowned at the smell. It made him wonder if Wilbur showered at all, but he was determined as he slowly slid out his tongue to taste the exposed skin. He couldn't help his surprise at the taste that flooded across his tongue, it was a musty flavor that tasted way better than any meat he's ever had the opportunity to try, and he couldn’t help but lick the unconscious man again to get more of the flavor.

Wilbur groaned as the pounding in his head brought him back from his short sleep, and he could still feel the hot winds of the desert blowing on him as he tried to fully wake back up, what really shocked him away was the feeling of something hot and wet hitting the side of his face. His eyes opened to be met with a large tongue sliding away and back into the grinning maw that was right next to him, he tried his best to scramble away after giving a shocked yell. He was quickly gripped by the fingers and held still as he was pulled away from the mouth,” You absolute sack of shit, that's not a great thing to wake up to.”

Quackity couldn’t help the loud laugh at the smaller man,” Sorry Wilbur, I'm on a little bit of a time limit with my reward, I figured I’d have a spoiler before you woke up.” He lifted his other hand to gently poke the tiny face, pulling it back when it was nearly bitten. “I have to say i’m rather surprised with you Wilbur, you smell absolutely terrible, but taste rather good; like Blue cheese.” He watched the words sink in, and had to tighten his grip as the man started to thrash indignantly, clearly enraged by the comparison and his emphasis on the color blue. He made a mental note to be sure to bring that up more often during their next spat, but he didn’t want to waste more time as he lifted the squirming man until the kicking legs were level with his mouth, he wanted Wilbur to watch. “ Well Wilbur, I think it's time to show you to your room for your stay here in Las Nevadas, I hope you enjoy your stay, I know I will.”

Wilbur froze as he watched the giant mouth open wide and his legs were quickly slipped inside, the massive tongue making quick work of soaking his pants and licking at his skin, making him shiver in anger at how powerless he felt. He wanted to fight hard against the disgusting feeling, but he knew that would only make it more enjoyable for the man-eating him, so he was going to do absolutely nothing. He had to grit his teeth as his legs were slid further into the hot mouth, quickly being pressed into the rough pallet and licked roughly, his now devourer humming more at his taste. He moved to cross his arms and stare defiantly at the giant face looming before him, getting a better look at the giant scar that ran up Quackity’s face and how the gap in his lip was starting to drip saliva through the exposed teeth. He did get a moment to admire his looks however, and he had to admit the scar really added a rugged handsomeness, and he wouldn’t say how much the gold teeth did it for him. He gave an annoyed groan as he was shoved further into the mouth and the throat began its first power tugs at his legs while his pelvis fully entered the mouth. He sent an annoyed glare up at the half lidded eye that was watching his every reaction,” I thought you were on a time limit, just hurry up and let me get this over with!” The movement completely stopped for a moment other than the natural movement of the giant's breathing, but Wilbur watched as the giant lips moved to form a smirk and felt the tongue start to move with a new purpose.

He felt his face flushed as the tongue brushed against his side once he was pushed further into the mouth, clearly trying to incite laughter out of him; he didn't think Quackity would stoop that low. He soon couldn’t help the pearls of laughter that escaped him as he tried to shove at the hand still holding him and kicking at the now tightening grip of the throat, especially when he managed to make the man choke slightly from his thrashing. It gave him a bit of joy, but that changed when the head tilted back and Wilbur felt himself sliding further down the throat due to his own weight.

Quackity let his head fully lean back to let Wilburs own weight pull him further down his throat, the failing gave him a bit of a scare, but he was also having some issue breathing with just the legs. He took one more deep breath that caused the man in his mouth to freeze (i’m so dirty minded oh my goodness) and moved his hand so his fingers rested on Wilburs shoulder, and pushed down as he took a heavy swallow. This made the smaller man freak out slightly, the tiny hands moving to grip and his fingers and face, but he ignored this as he quickly slicked up the chest with saliva. He was glad the man tasted as good as he did because his mouth was slick enough to ussr the man down, and he felt a shiver of joy when the now yowling head was shoved past his lips and his tongue was quick to muffle the sound and could feel the weird sensation of Wilbur trying to speak against the flesh. He ignored it to start swallowing harder due to feeling a little light headed due the fact the wriggling form was creating a larger than he was expecting as brought his other hand to feel at the wriggling lump, and grinned when he felt the grasping hands slide off the back of his tongue. He left his hand over the lump as he continued to give hard swallows, grinning widder as it slowly slid under his collarbone and he could finally get a breath of air,” You didn't make that easy on me, that's just like you Wilbur.” He could still feel the form traveling through his chest and laid his hand over his stomach to wait till his prize entered, the organ giving a low growl to show its own excitement.

Wilbur couldn’t help the instinctual feeling of fear as he was fully shoved into the mouth, yelling wordlessly and trying to stop himself from being eaten, but was unable to resist the strength of the larger man. It was hard to breathe as his chest was held tightly by the throat as his face was assaulted by the humid heat of the mouth. He tried to yell for Quackity to stop, but his words were cut off by the tongue smacking him in the face. He was sputtering in rage before the muscles pulled him deeper and only his hands remained in the mouth, trying to grab at the teeth to slow his descent, but they were too slick as another swallow left him fully trapped in the crushing grip. He could barely move as the fleshy walls both pushed and shoved him downwards, that isn’t to say he tried, especially when he realized the secondary force rubbing at him was Quackity’s hand. He wanted to yell so badly, but with how tightly he was being compressed, he didn't want to waste what little bit of air he was able to get, especially when he slid into the tighter region of the chest. He tried to struggle harder when he slid past the heart and lungs, trying to cause any discomfort as the giant organs made his own head pound in pain due to the volume, and the loud rumble of the voice gave an extra layer of pain to his ego. His legs were suddenly forced to a stop and the walls of the throat began to force him into a painful half crouch as they tried to keep pushing him down,” Quackity you bastard-” his yell was cut short as his legs were suddenly pulled through a tight opening. It was another painful squeeze before he was roughly shoved into a space that was thankfully less tight as the throat, but the walls were sung and formed to his aching body like a wet sleeping bag. Wilbur could only brace himself partly as the walls let out a low rumble and began rubbing against him, moving up and down his body in practiced ways, trying to rub the accumulated liquid into his already soaked clothing and skin. It was at this point the resolve he was so desperately trying to hold onto shattered, he didn't want to be touched and didn’t want to acknowledge the rumbling voice that came from everywhere, so he began to mindlessly thrash in an attempt to get away from it all.

Quackity feld a mild wave of panic when he had felt Wilbur get stuck just above the entrance of his stomach, he didn't know what he would do before the large lump finally moved, and he felt slightly sick as his stomach stretched slightly to accommodate Wilbur’s size. He laid a hand over the surprisingly still form, his stomach making a low rumble as he tried to get a reaction from Wilbur, not admitting to himself that he was worried for them,” Your pretty still there Wilbur, you didn’t break did you?” The small form then exploded into a flurry of movement, he could feel what bump was either a leg or an elbow, but that didn’t matter as they equally made him feel sicker. He leaned over to try and still the movements while crossing his arms over the writhing lump, giving a low belch that brought back the deceptively good flavor, oh did he realize this was a mistake now. “ Fuck.. Wilbur stop moving around so much, all you're doing is making me feel sick, you're not going to come out the way you got in.” He gave another sickly belch before getting up from the table to get some water, feeling incredibly off balanced due to the new weight in his middle, and made his way to the elevator quickly.

Wilbur continued to thrash until he was completely exhausted, panting hard as the muscles around his spasmed slightly and were making a sickly churning noise. He fell back against the walls as he tried to gain his strength back, tensing slightly as his own stomach dropped and the whole area began to move. His mind tried to form an understanding of what was happening, and finally realized that Quackity was moving, maybe for the reason he was trying to say earlier. Wilbur couldn’t find the energy within himself to care though, he was tired and wanted to be asleep and get away from it all. He yelled loudly when he suddenly got drenched with icy water and that shocked his stressed mind back into reality,” What the fuck was that for, are you trying to drown me now?” He kicked out against the heavy weight that was pressing down on him and felt utterly confused when he both felt and heard the relieved sigh from his captor.

“Glad to see your back to normal, did you have a panic attack? You nearly made me sick, you asshole.”

Wilbur frowned but decided to not say anything about it,”I don’t know what you're talking about, this shit is only supposed to last for a couple hours right, I'm going to just ignore you and sleep it off. Once I'm back to normal we never speak about this again or so help me I will blow up Las Nevadas worse than I did La’manburg” He turned his body away from the hand and hunkered down in the surprisingly soft flesh, focusing on the giant heartbeat, and doing his best to ignore everything else of the man. He just wanted this to be over and never think about this again, even if the initial thought of swallowing Quackity seemed like a good idea.

Quackity sighed as he felt the man turn away from his touch, can’t say he didn’t blame him,” agreed, I'll be happy when you're gone and not giving me a stomachache.” He slowly stood up and made his way towards his bedroom to also sleep, this whole experience was not worth it at all. He had originally thought about trying to get more of the potion for future use, but seeing how one unwilling ‘snack’ reacted, any other would be just as bad or worse. He gave a small wave to Charlie as he passed him, giving him a quick rundown on what to do before making his way to the bedroom, and immediately laying down on it. The tiny man gave another nauseating wriggle at the rough landing, but thankfully settled back down into a warm lump.

He gently traced his fingers over the lump for a few minutes as he tried to sleep, if only the movement didn’t make him sick, this experience wouldn’t have been that bad.

Maybe a willing person would make it better.

#soft vore #safe vore #jk writtings #tw vore #mcyt g/t vore #jk writings #giant Quack!ty #tiny w!lbur

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corysmiles · 4 years ago

Note

Has Ranboo ever lost one of his human friends in the woods or something? Cause they seem very easy to lose considering the environment.

(Don’t worry I got your ask I just put both)

and yes absolutely!!

Tommy:

Tommy is the only one who does it on purpose, when Ranboo’s not looking he’ll slip away and hide behind a tree to make the giant panic. Even though he starts to suspect he’s being pranked Ranboo still freaks out and won’t relax until he’s found Tommy.

One time in particular Tommy climbed into a tree to hide and Ranboo really panicked. It was almost an hour before anyone found him. Even Tubbo and Wilbur started to get worried about where he went. However when the giant found Tommy asleep again the trunk of a tree he finally let himself relax....Although Tommy was stuck in Ranboo’s pocket for the rest of the night

Tubbo:

Tubbo moves a lot in his sleep which has lead to many scary situations for Ranboo where he wakes up and can’t find his little friend. Every time it happens Ranboo freezes, afraid that if he moves he would squish his Tubbo. Usually he finds Tubbo on his chest under his cloak or cuddled up underneath his chin

Wilbur:

Wilbur scares Ranboo the most because he often needs time to himself. This leads to Wilbur hiding behind rocks or furniture in the den without Ranboo knowing. The giant wants to make the human comfortable but whenever he disappears he’s terrified of accidentally squishing him.

#friendly giant au #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #anon ask #corywrites #g!ranboo #t!tubbo #t!tommy #t!wilbur #headcannons

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onecanonlife · 3 years ago

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 8,975

Chapter Warnings: swearing, mentioned death, mild sui.cidal ideation

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur has several conversations of emotional import, and then comes face to face with his son.

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Sixteen: head down

“Are you sure you’re good?” Tommy asks him.

Around them, the lava of the nether pops and crackles, the heat sticking to him like resin. Techno and Phil walk ahead of them, swords out in readiness for the odd ghast or hoglin, and Ranboo trails along behind them like a lost duckling. He could walk with them, he knows, probably should, but weariness clings to his bones today, and he doesn’t feel much up to the conversations he knows Phil might try to start. So he’s been walking a few paces to the rear, hands shoved in his pockets, but now here is Tommy, dropping back to keep pace with him.

“I’ve said it already, haven’t I?” he asks, and just an ounce of irritation leaks into his tone. “I’m fine, Tommy, I promise. And I’ve already had an earful from Phil this morning, so I don’t need you to repeat it.”

He anticipated it, of course. After his worry subsided, Phil was not particularly happy to learn that he provoked a dangerous god on purpose. He doesn’t blame him for that, but being chided like a child rankled. Still rankles.

(he doesn’t blame him, though, truly, because it is easy for some part of him at least to look at it through Phil’s eyes, and it must have terrified him, finding him slumped against the portal like that, eyes hazy and words slurring, some sliver of the infinite still hanging about him like a shroud)

“I’m not Phil,” Tommy says, seeming offended by the very prospect. “I’m not—you just scared me, Wil. And you’re still acting all out of it.” His eyes drift upward, landing around the vicinity of his forehead, and Wilbur knows he’s staring at his hair again. It makes him want to pull his beanie forward to hide it, but that would draw a different kind of attention, a different kind of concern.

(he looked in the mirror this morning. almost a third of his hair, it seems, has been bleached white, in streaks that stand out starkly against the brown. he wouldn’t mind it so much if people would stop looking at it, would stop looking at him like he’s some sort of zoo animal)

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I had kind of an eventful night last night,” he says. “I’m just tired, is all.”

Tommy’s face darkens, and he glances away. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he mutters.

“Do what?”

“That,” Tommy says, gesturing. “It’s—it’s deflection, is what it is. Puffy told me so. It’s called an avoidance tactic.” He sounds out the syllables one by one, obviously repeating something he heard. “I thought you said you weren’t going to hide shit anymore. You said.”

“I—” He breaks off, sighing. “I know. Tommy, I’m sorry. I just feel like focusing on the current problem is what we need to be doing right now. And then later we deal with all of my shit. Can’t do that if we’ve all been sacrificed to an egg cult. But I really am just tired, Tommy. Nothing more than that.”

“I feel like last time we tried to focus on the current problem and ignore all of yours, it didn’t go so well,” Tommy says, and there’s no real heat to his words, but Wilbur stops in his tracks. He’s not sure why it hits him so hard, in this moment of all moments, but it does. Perhaps his ability to emotionally distance was damaged last night, somewhere between having a god in his head and staring into the void once again. He feels raw, in a way. An exposed wire.

“Oh,” he says.

(dark walls dark walls and dark paths and no railings and he didn’t place the buttons but he may as well have for all that they were projections of him)

Tommy takes several more steps before realizing that he’s not beside him anymore, and he stops, too, turning. “Oh,” he echoes, eyes widening. “Wait, no, that wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to—shit, Wilbur, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just bring it up like that.”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing,” he manages. “You have every right to bring it up. You’re the one who got hurt.”

(you hurt him even though you didn’t mean to, lashed out because some part of you was crying out for help and this was the only way you knew how to ask for it, so convinced were you that you deserved nothing, nothing at all, deserved to be consigned to the dark, and you didn’t mean to but you hurt him all the same)

“Nothing can hurt me,” Tommy says, probably an automatic response, but Wilbur shoots him a look, and he trails off. This doesn’t seem like the time or place to be having a conversation like this, not with the snap-pop of lava beneath and all around them and the wail of mobs in the distance, but if they’re going to have it, then let them have it. “Alright, yeah. I guess.” His eyes skitter off him for a moment, drifting to one of the closer lava pools, and then back again. “But you were hurt too, Wil.”

��That’s not an excuse,” he says.

“No, but it’s—it’s a reason, y’know? It’s an explanation. And it’s not—it’s not an excuse, I’m not trying to say it’s an excuse, but it’s still important. And I—I’ve forgiven you, really, for all of it. So this isn’t—I just don’t want things to end the same. And I’m a, a little bit freaked out lately, Wilbur, if you couldn’t tell, because this all just seems like history repeating itself. We were supposed to be done with shit like this, and then you came back and I thought to myself, here it is, here’s our second chance. But now we’re fighting Dream again, and the whole server might be taken over by now, and it’s us against the bastards in charge but that didn’t end well last time, Wilbur!”

“It’ll be different,” he offers, and his voice falls flat.

“You can’t know that,” Tommy says. “There’s no way for you to—Prime, Wilbur, I just wanted everything to stay the same.” He buries his face in his hands. “You, me, and Tubbo. Back the way we used to be. None of this shit. But Dream’s out again and Phil and Techno are here, and you know, I never wanted to see them again. Did you know that? I wanted them to stay just, just so fucking far away. But then Techno did that, in the Egg room, and Phil’s wings are all fucked, and—and I didn’t want to think they cared, Wil, I didn’t, but now they do, and it’s all messy and complicated, and I hate it, I hate it so much, and I don’t understand why I can’t ever have anything good—”

It’s nice to hear that Tommy is, perhaps, inching toward forgiving Phil and Techno. Wilbur would rather like to have a family at the end of this, even if they can never be what they once were. But the rest of that speech is what takes up his attention, and he strides forward, reaching out and gripping Tommy’s elbows.

“Hey,” he says, insistently, “no, no, that’s all wrong. You get to have good things. You haven’t had nearly as many good things as you deserve, and that’s at least partially my fault, but once this is all over, you’re going to have so many good things, you won’t know what to do with them all. But you deserve good things and you can have them, I swear, because you’re so good, Tommy, do you hear me? You’re so good. And I will make fucking sure that you get those good things if it’s the last thing I do.”

Tommy lowers his hands. His face is not tear-stained, as Wilbur half-expected, but his eyes have grown irritated, and they glimmer in the red-orange light.

“But you’re one of the good things,” he chokes out, “and you don’t even fucking want to be here. You want to leave again.”

His heart twists in on itself.

“Oh,” he says, much weaker, this time. “Tommy, I—”

What can he say to that? He’s promised himself not to lie anymore. Not to him. But he can’t give him any comfort, not regarding this, because while he feels steadier than he did at the start, more resigned to this new life he’s been

(pulled into by a god at the request of the universe)

granted, more determined to stay if only for Tommy’s sake, but that’s the thing. It is for Tommy’s sake. For the sake of all the other people who somehow seem to want him around. It is not for his own.

(he forgot how to live for his own sake a long, long time ago, and though he can at least recognize as much now, recognition does not lead him to a solution, a solution he’s not even sure he wants)

“I’m sorry,” he finishes, because it’s all he has to give, inadequate though it is, and he takes Tommy’s hands. “I’m not leaving. Not on purpose. I swear that to you. I’m not leaving.”

“You—what are you doing?” Tommy asks, and he blinks. Tommy blinks back, his face scrunching up, and he lifts their joined hands. Both of them are now stained with blue. Which—what?

Oh. Did he—he did, didn’t he? Opened up his inventory, pulled out the blue dye from days ago? Pressed it into Tommy’s hands on instinct, some drive insisting that it would help, that it would be better than nothing at all, that even if it was nothing but dye it would at least show that he cared, that he was trying?

He must have. He did. He remembers doing it now. He didn’t even think about it, moved on some natural impulse.

“I don’t know,” he says.

(calm yourself, have some blue)

“This is Ghostbur’s thing,” Tommy says.

“I’m not Ghostbur.”

(for his heart beats in his chest beats out alive alive alive in a way that Ghostbur’s never could, though his blood stained his sweater, and yet he has Ghostbur’s memories and if he is not Ghostbur, shares nothing with the shade, then what was the ghost, in the end, and where did he come from, if he was not)

“But Ghostbur was part of you, wasn’t he?” Tommy says, and he sounds just a bit calmer, now, so maybe the blue has helped. Even though it’s just dye. “Even if he wasn’t you you. So he’s still part of you, isn’t he?”

“I—” His heart is thundering. He doesn’t know why. “I haven’t been thinking about it. Not like that.”

(he has to keep Ghostbur separate from him has to consider him separate because the ghost was not him the ghost in all his smiles and useless platitudes and all-encompassing desire to help was not him his endless love was not him because the ghost was useless to the last but he was good and kind and he has never believed that he is any of those things so the ghost must be separate must have come from him but been separate been something else in the end and there must be nothing but faded memories to connect them)

(but you know better than that, deep down, know better than to truly believe that your kindness exists as a different entity from the rest of you because you are capable of so much if you only allow yourself if you are only given the space to grow and to be if someone stops you from taking the world on your shoulders and the ghost was the you that broke was a you that rejected the responsibility was a you that crumbled and he was what remained but he was you he was you he was you but less and you are him but more)

(and perhaps one day you will learn to accept yourself better)

“Maybe you should,” Tommy says, and glances away. “Ghostbur tried. And he was my brother too. You’re my brother. No matter what, that hasn’t changed. Even if you’re a prick.”

Tears spring to his eyes, surprising him, and he blinks them back.

“Right,” he says. “Right, I—yeah. Okay. But Tommy, Tommy, listen to me, alright? I swear to you” —He squeezes Tommy’s hands, and watches as the blue dye runs between them. Their fingers will be stained for hours, and he finds that he doesn’t mind at all— “I will do everything in my power to make sure that good things come again. You say it’s all messy and complicated, and that’s true. I know that’s true. But we’re going to have time to figure it all out. We’re going to have time. And I’m including myself in that. I know I’m not—I’m not always the most trustworthy, I know that. But I promise, I mean this. Staying is—it’s worth it if it’s for you, alright?”

Something passes across Tommy’s face, too quick and too complicated to read. But he presses on, bringing Tommy’s hands up to his chest and keeping them there.

“We are not powerless,” he states. “History doesn’t make us, we make history. And if history is repeating itself, we don’t let it. We won’t let it. You deserve good things, Tommyinnit, and you’re going to get them.”

“If you say so, Wil,” Tommy says, and he still seems a bit discomfited, but also a bit steadier, now. A bit more secure.

“I do say so,” he says. “I’ll say it again if you need me to.”

“Please don’t,” Tommy says. “You’ve—see, look at what you’ve done, now my hands are all blue and sticky. You’ve given me sticky fingers, Wil.”

Tommy has chosen to end the moment, it seems. He’s not sure whether they’ve managed to say what needed to be said or not.

“Don’t say that to me,” he says. He squeezes Tommy’s hands one last time, and then lets go. “That makes me sound terrible.”

“Well, maybe you are,” Tommy shoots back, with a smirk that takes away any potential sting. “Live with it, bastard.” A pause, and then: “Did those arseholes even bother to wait for us? Dickheads, the lot of them. C’mon, they’ll start bitching about it if we fall too far behind.”

And then, Tommy grabs his hand himself, of his own volition, and starts to pull Wilbur along the path, cobblestone and meandering and precarious, and Wilbur’s chest feels hot, full of pressure. But it’s not quite a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all, in fact.

(he was always so cold in that ravine, no matter how he gathered his coat around him, shoved his hands in his pockets, and he watched everyone else and felt colder still, froze in the face of their flickering warmth with each other, and he turned away because he knew the warmth was not for him, that soon there would be no warmth at all)

(and the fire gave him heat but no warmth, his desired ending but no absolution)

(something you will keep to yourself: you were warm at the end, as your blood stained your father’s hands, as your vision dimmed and he held you close, so very warm at last, but it would hurt him to know that to hear from your mouth the relief you felt so you must not must not say)

The others have indeed had the decency to wait for them not too far ahead, and he nods in response to Phil’s raised eyebrow. Everything’s fine, he means to say, and Phil nods back and says nothing else about it, which he appreciates, for Tommy’s sake just as much as his. The portal isn’t far from there, and it’s not long before he’s stepping into the purple glow, closing his eyes at the dizzying upheaval of his surroundings.

The rain hits his face immediately. Thunder rolls, and wind buffets his jacket. It is a welcome change from the stifling heat of the nether, but he has to squint against the downpour, everyone else’s figures suddenly becoming shadowy, indistinct. The sky itself is dark and angry, black clouds churning, and it’s almost as if it were still night rather than early morning.

He takes another step out of the portal and almost trips. Looking down, he can’t stop his sudden inhalation. The color is dull, washed out in the lack of sunlight,

(though his mind is eager to fill in the gaps eager to show him)

but he doesn’t need the color to recognize the vine by his foot, nor any of the vines that crawl across the stone.

“Oh, fuck,” Phil says.

“We’ve been gone for a day,” Tommy says, disbelieving. “It wasn’t like this yesterday, was it?”

He cannot believe that leaving was a mistake, not with what it led to, even if the original plan was foolhardy. He does not regret the opportunity to petition a god, to make himself heard, even if it results in nothing in the end. But staring out over the landscape, the Prime Path ahead of them is choked with the things, and though the community house is little more than a vague structure in the rainy haze, it almost appears as if it’s grown hair, or tentacles, or something of that kind, so covered over with the foliage as it is.

“They’re all okay, right?” Ranboo says, his voice nearly a whisper. “They all have to be okay.”

Eret’s castle is visible from here, but just barely. He can’t tell if the vines have taken it over as well, but there’s only one way to find out.

“I think we craft some boats, cross the lake rather than going by the Prime Path,” he says. “Unless you’d like to chop your way through, but—” He glances at the ground. The vines are motionless, but he doesn’t trust that not to change.

“I have to say,” Techno says, “bein’ strangled by Egg tentacles? Not my idea of a good time.” There’s nothing on his face except his typical disgruntlement, or at least, nothing that Wilbur can see. The wind whips his hair in and out of his face, the long pink strands obscuring his expression. But there is an edge to his voice, barely discernible. It wouldn’t be, to anyone who didn’t know him well. “If boats’ll let us avoid the things, my vote’s for boats.”

Ranboo snorts, and then wilts when eyes turn to him. “It rhymed,” he offers weakly, and Tommy groans.

“Can we give Ranboo to the Egg?” he asks, and Wilbur

(doesn’t like that, not at all, even though he knows that Tommy is joking, though he knows that Tommy does not hear the Egg for some unknown, blessed reason and he’s not looking that gift horse in the mouth, but that means that Tommy doesn’t really get that it’s not a thing to make jokes about, giving someone to the Egg, to the creep and crawl of something alien and void scraping out your mind and making it something that is you but not, you but slightly tilted, diagonal, something that fits the Egg’s wants more than your own even if you don’t realize it, and he doesn’t have the energy to berate him for the quip but he really wishes he wouldn’t suggest it, even in jest, even though he knows that Tommy copes through jokes and they’re all just struggling to make it through this, really)

shakes his head. Phil’s moved closer to the stairs, so he goes to join him, picking his way through the vines as best he can, and in his peripheral vision, he sees Techno and Ranboo follow.

“Someone’s had the same idea,” Phil says, inclining his head to the nearest bit of shoreline. There is a figure clearly visible there, though they are too distant and hidden by the gloom to make out features. They’re pulling a boat ashore, and then they turn in their direction and raise a hand, making a come-hither gesture.

Lightning flashes, and thunder follows shortly thereafter. The brief instant of light is enough to illuminate Eret’s features, the curl of his hair and his ever present crown.

“Are they on our side?” Techno asks, and—did anyone remember to fill Techno in? He certainly didn’t, and he doesn’t particularly want to right now. Even just watching the monarch puts a sour taste in his mouth.

(and some of the vitriol he directs at himself, because he is cognizant of his own hypocrisy)

“Presumably,” he mutters, but Tommy’s already making his way down, waving his hands around and shouting like a bloody moron, because of course he is, because of course Tommy’s not concerned with who might hear him.

(and that, at least, has not changed, and it is a good thing that Tommy still has it in him to challenge the world, to make his presence known, because that is part of what makes Tommy himself and he does not deserve to lose that, even when it is unwise, even when it can make everything else so much more difficult)

Which is not great, because not seeing anyone else around doesn’t mean that no one is there, so the only choice from there is to go after him and make sure he doesn’t get ambushed.

“I’m glad to see you all in one piece,” Eret says, as soon as they all come within hearing range. “You as well, Technoblade.”

Techno doesn’t dignify that with a response, but Eret continues, apparently unbothered.

“We saw the activity from the portal,” he says. “I thought I’d come to escort you all. You might have noticed, but the Prime Path is not currently particularly traversable.” He smiles wryly. “You’ll be please to know that the castle grounds, however, are currently free of unwanted flora, and aside from spreading these eyesores all over the place, the Egg and its cohorts have been quiet. If we’re quick about it, I don’t see us having much issue, and to that end” —He flicks his fingers, and two more spruce boats land in the water, summoned from his inventory— “I brought these. If you’d like, we can be on our way. Might be a bit bumpy because of the storm, but it’s perfectly passable.”

“Oh, we would like,” Tommy says, clambering in without hesitation. “We would like very much. C’mon, Ranboob, in.” He tugs on Ranboo’s hand, and Ranboo all but topples into the boat beside him. Phil and Techno claim the next one, and he—

He’s going to have to ride with Eret. Brilliant.

He sighs, stepping in and settling on one of the two seats. Eret barely casts him a glance before he gets to rowing, and then they’re off, gliding across choppy water. Wilbur stares into it, watches the ripples of the raindrops as they impact the surface, studies the patterns they make rather than looking at Eret himself. But even the noise of the wind and the thunder overhead cannot disguise the note of anticipation in the atmosphere.

“I really am glad you’re back, Wilbur,” Eret says. His voice is low, carries just enough to reach him, but the noise of the rain will prevent it from drifting to the other boats. “I’d been hoping for a chance to speak to you again for—quite some time now, actually.”

He shifts, and idly wonders how many conversations like this he’s going to have to have today. He’s already worn out from speaking to Tommy in the way that he did, though at least with Eret, he doesn’t feel the need to guard his tone nearly as much.

“You were involved in trying to resurrect me a while ago,” he says. Neutral, probing. “I remember that much.”

“You—so you do have Ghostbur’s memories,” Eret says.

“Some,” he replies. “Most, I’d say. What he bothered to remember, at least. He was never very good at figuring out people’s motivations, though. Very trusting, he was. Naive. Was it guilt that drove you to help? I can’t picture what you think you would have gotten out of it otherwise.”

It’s difficult to see Eret’s expression; the weather and his glasses unite to mask the minutiae of his face.

“I suppose it was, in the end,” he says, soft and slow. “I carry a lot of regrets with me. I’m sure that’s something you know a lot about. Regrets.” He stiffens, but Eret shakes his head. “I don’t mean that as an attack. Just a statement. I doubt you could find anyone on this server who hasn’t done something they wish they could take back. But for me, betraying L’Manberg, betraying you—that’s my regret. I’ve been aimless since then.” Lightning flashes again; he’s smiling, but Wilbur knows a joyless smile when he sees one. “A throne with no power, a crown that means nothing—none of that was worth betraying my friends. I know that now. So I’ve sought redemption, tried to make amends, and I’ve tried to change. I would like to think that I have. But the one person I needed to make it up to the most wasn’t here anymore. So I suppose you could say that it was guilt, that it was selfish of me. But I wanted to be able to atone to you. That’s all there was to it, really.”

He digests that for a moment. He isn’t sure how to feel about it.

(because on one hand his heart sings traitor, sings you killed us all killed me killed my brothers killed my son, but can he say that the betrayal was worse than his? can he deny Eret his redemption when he is struggling for atonement himself, forgiveness that he is certain he does not and never will deserve?)

(he’s thought through all of this before, gone round in circles again and again, and it might be time to make a decision)

“And what would you do if I didn’t accept your atonement?” he asks. He dips a hand in the water. When he lifts it out again, it is still stained blue.

“I would keep on,” Eret answers. “I think that’s all I could do. If you never forgive me, that’s more than understandable on your end. I hardly have the right to force the issue. But I’m completely sincere when I tell you that I want to be better. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t really know whether I’ve done a good job of that lately or not. I’ve been rather absent, truth be told. But I don’t plan on stopping my efforts.”

He frowns.

“That’s fair,” he says, “though I feel like you should know that I’m hardly the type of man who can go around giving other people absolution.”

“It’s not really absolution that I’m looking for,” Eret says. “More of a chance to try again.”

He has no answer to that. And no time to give one even if he had it, because the boat runs aground, the castle looming over them all, and true to Eret’s word, the walls themselves show no signs of encroachment, though the land surrounding it almost looks like a great red rug for all that the grass itself is barely visible.

“Tubbo managed to ward the castle,” Eret says, addressing all of them. “I’m still not entirely sure how. This isn’t a kind of magic that’s familiar to me. But whatever he did, it worked, and then when Fundy got here he backed him up. He did a really good job, actually.”

“Of course he did,” Tommy says. “He’s Tubbo.”

But Wilbur’s stuck on the other thing. Said so offhandedly.

The thought has crossed his mind, of course, that he has not yet seen his son. Has not yet so much as spoken to him. But it is one thing to know it in the abstract and quite another to be confronted with it suddenly. Fundy is in the castle, is mere feet away, and he is exhausted and entirely unprepared for this.

(and what a selfish thought that is, that he is unprepared to meet with his own child, unprepared to do the bare minimum, to tell him of his return, to apologize for hanging him out to dry, how selfish it is that his child has fallen so low on his list of priorities, how selfish, how selfish, and he does not know whether he has the strength to admit it out loud)

(he is certain that he owes Fundy an apology, just as he owes so many people apologies, and yet he remembers his son burning down the flag, burning down all he held dear, carrying out Schlatt’s every order to its full extent in a way that even Tubbo did not, and Fundy claimed that he was a spy all along, that he never truly turned against him, but by that time the damage had already been done and how was he supposed to believe when he already felt so alone, already felt like the world had turned against him and his legacy was ruined so all there was left to do was send it and himself to hell)

“Can we go in?” he asks. “We’re soaked. Unless there’s a point to hanging around here. And also—have you not set anyone to stand watch?”

There’s no one visible on the walls above them, and gates only do so much to keep out an invading force.

“The enchantments keep them out,” Eret answers, and places a hand against the gates. The wood shimmers slightly, the effect just barely perceptible, and looks almost as if the gate itself is rippling, distorted, like viewing it through a fun house mirror. “Or rather, as near as we can tell, the enchantments prevent the Egg from gaining a foothold in here. Which means if it wants to continue to communicate with its people, its people have to stay out.” With that, he pushes the gates, and they swing open with a horrendous creak.

“That would hardly stop Dream,” he remarks, and Eret inclines his head, conceding the point.

“True,” he says, “but to be fair, I’m not sure that gates would do much good to that end, either, whether we’re watching them or not. Better to be as well rested as we possibly can be.”

He remembers Dream’s appearance last night, his appearance and swift disappearance, and says nothing. Eret is right, of course; the highest walls and toughest gates and sharpest watchers all mean nothing in the face of someone who can go anywhere he pleases with a thought.

“You hear that, Wil?” Phil says, just a little too loudly. “Rest. Rest is important.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” he mutters, and at the same time, Ranboo starts asking about whether these enchantments can be applied to people as well, and he lends half an ear to that conversation, because that would be very useful. Eret tells him that Tubbo’s been experimenting, but even getting the wards up around the castle was a trial, so he’s not sure when they’ll be able to do much else, or whether any other breakthroughs will be in time to be useful, even with Fundy now helping, and—

There it is again.

(he should have done this sooner, should have done this before hesitance turned to outright avoidance, and for all Phil’s faults as a parent at least he has reason for what he’s done, reason and a willingness to face them now, and that is something that he evidently lacks, and his heart is caged by his own cowardice, and he doesn’t know what to expect from this and he hates not knowing what to expect, how to plan for it)

(there is no plan in the world that will help him right now)

Eret leads them into the castle, and it is warm and well lit, but it does nothing to assuage the chill settling in his bones.

“Most everyone’s down the hall there,” Eret says, pointing, “and I think I’ve got towels somewhere if you want to dry off—”

“Forget about towels,” Tommy interrupts, “where’s Tubbo?”

“He’s set himself up on the second floor,” Eret says. “If you want, I can—”

Predictably, Tommy’s already off, his feet slapping against the floor with wet squelches.

“I think the rest of us will take you up on the towels,” Phil says. “Particularly Ranboo, you still good there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Ranboo says. “Um, my armor protects me pretty well, so I’m good. But um, yeah, towels might still be a good idea.”

“Great. If you’ll follow me, then—”

He can put this off no longer. He grabs Eret’s arm, cutting him off.

“Is Fundy with Tubbo?” he asks.

For a moment, Eret is silent. He doesn’t particularly like the expression he’s making, somewhere between realization and pity. He does not need pity, doesn’t know what to do with it, and he especially doesn’t want it from Eret, of all people. Everyone else is silent, still, and he can feel their gazes on him like spotlights.

“Last I knew, yes,” Eret says.

“Does he know?”

He wonders if he should elaborate, but Eret doesn’t seem to need him to.

“He does. It, ah, wasn’t exactly broken to him in the softest way. Nobody was actually aware that the news needed to be broken at all, so I believe Puffy brought it up somewhere along the way here. I’m—not sure of the details.”

He doesn’t know whether that means Eret actually doesn’t know the details,

(doesn’t know how his son reacted to the return of his father, whether there was any happiness at all or just shock, perhaps betrayal, perhaps anger, perhaps perhaps perhaps he could have avoided this if he’d taken a little more responsibility from the start but now here he is and here they are)

or whether he’s sparing him them. He doesn’t know which he would prefer. If it matters.

“Alright,” he says, even if it’s the furthest thing from it. “I’ll be up there, then. Don’t wait for me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he’s turning on his heel and following after Tommy, even though it would have been wiser to ask for the specific room. He’s not feeling very wise at the moment. If he ever was wise. He doesn’t think he can say that he’s ever had a claim to wisdom. He thought that he was wise when he was running his own country, and look where that got him. Him, and everyone else.

He climbs up the stairs. Keeps his back straight. His head held high.

(it is habit to draw on the general’s role for strength since that was when he was strongest but is that not what caused so many of the problems in the first place? the general leads, wins, considers people in terms of numbers rather than names, and personal relationships fall to the wayside)

It’s the same room that he found Tommy and Tubbo talking in yesterday. The same room where he lingered outside the door rather than moving on, absorbing words that were not meant for his ears, old hurts that have their roots in him and his actions, that he is not sure he will ever be able to heal, to make up for. For a moment, he allows himself to do the same thing, stands just outside and listens to their voices. They’re easier to hear; the door hangs open rather than closed, likely from Tommy’s entry. Their voices overlap, Tommy talking over Tubbo and then vice versa as they both try to explain what’s happened in their day of separation, and Fundy—

Fundy is there, too, chiming in every now and again. He sounds—Wilbur isn’t sure how he sounds. Pleased to be talking to the other two, perhaps. Beyond that, he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know.

(it��s a question you must ask yourself, whether you know your son at all, because you remember all too clearly cradling him in your arms and holding him close and vowing to protect him to see him safe no matter the cost but he grew older as children do and the cost was too steep too steep to pay for you looked at him and saw a child still for though he grew up too quickly he did grow up and your heart was too weak to accept it so is there any wonder that he came to resent you came to chafe under the watch of a man who could not see him for who he was and who he tried so hard to be)

(is there any wonder that he would go to such lengths to escape your shadow)

He steps forward. That’s all it takes, to be standing in the doorway. And there he stays, arrested by the sight in front of him.

The room is intended to be a guest bedroom, clearly. There is a large, plush bed, several items of furniture: a dresser, a nightstand, a desk and several chairs, bookshelves along one wall. But the desk goes unused; books and papers are scattered across the floor, apparently without order or reason to the arrangement. Tommy has situated himself on the bed, still dripping with rainwater, bouncing up and down and wildly gesticulating as he talks—he’s saying something about the god, now, and how it’s such a shame that he didn’t get to talk to it, because he would’ve gotten them to help in no time at all—and Tubbo is talking at the same time, whenever he can get words in, shoving old papers in Tommy’s face and explaining what they mean, as if Tommy will understand any of it. Fundy brought these materials with him, evidently, brought all the dreamon-hunting things that remained in his possession according to the rapid-fire words out of Tubbo’s mouth, and Fundy is there. He’s there. Sitting on the floor, three books open in front of him, watching Tommy and Tubbo with rapt attention, jumping in whenever Tubbo needs help explaining something, and asking Tommy questions in the same breath.

He stands there. Watching. They all seem so comfortable with each other. It feels wrong to disturb that.

But—

“—and his hair’s gone all weird now,” Tommy is saying, and he winces. “I’ll bet he’s not telling us everything that happened. Hair doesn’t just do that. It looks so fucking weird, but not like, bad weird, you know? I guess that’s what you get for shouting at god, am I right, fellas? Though if I were to shout at god, god simply would not be able to do anything to me, as I am too cool and powerful.”

“That—why does that sound like something he would do? Yelling at a god. Of course he did, that—” Fundy mutters, and Wilbur has no hope of interpreting his tone. “But he’s, like—he’s okay? And he’s here?”

“Yeah, he’s—” And Tommy happens to glance at the door. They lock eyes. “Um. Here. Hi, Wilbur.”

Tubbo turns to look. Fundy does as well, raising his head sharply and visibly flinching in the same motion, and Wilbur thinks that his heart flinches, too. If hearts can flinch. They can certainly stutter. Perhaps that’s close enough.

“Hello,” he says. Inadequate. Completely inadequate.

“Oh, you’re right,” Tubbo says after a second. “It does kind of look weird, but not bad weird. Just sort of interesting. Neat. Hi, Wilbur, did you have a good time yelling at god?”

Tubbo has a unique kind of frankness. It’s refreshing, and he appreciates the effort to alleviate the tension. If that’s even what he’s doing.

“I don’t know if good is the word I’d use,” he says. “It happened. It was a thing. Have you had a good time doing magic? If that’s the term?”

As he speaks, Fundy rises to his feet. Slow, cautious.

“Yeah, that’s the word,” Tubbo says. “It’s been going really well, actually. I wasn’t sure if I’d remember how to do any of this stuff, but Fundy brought all of the books with him when Puffy brought him over, so that’s been really helpful. There’s still nothing in here about killing the thing, but we’ve kept looking. There’s probably plenty of other useful stuff. Actually, that reminds me.” He turns back to Tommy. “I wanted to show you how we protected the whole castle. You probably saw some of the enchantments on your way in, but it’s really cool, come on.” He tugs on Tommy’s hand, and Tommy allows himself to be led, and before Wilbur can react, they’re brushing past him on their way out of the room. “See you in a bit, Wilbur!”

He glances after them, and then back into the room. The room where Fundy now stands, alone.

Tubbo definitely knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Hi, Fundy,” he says.

“Hey, Wil,” Fundy answers.

He looks older than Wilbur remembers, even through Ghostbur’s relatively new perception. But then, Ghostbur would not have noticed the new lines carved into his face, the bags beneath his eyes, his fidgeting, closed-off demeanor. He’s shifted into a more human form for the moment, though fox ears stick out from underneath his hat; that, at least, has not changed. He is capable of appearing fully human, but he scarcely ever does. Wilbur always thought that it was a way of staying connected to a mother that he barely got to know.

But perhaps that’s not it at all. Perhaps he shouldn’t presume anything.

“So,” Fundy says, after a long stretch of silence. “You’re, um. You’re back.”

“I’m back,” he agrees.

(the awkwardness is like a rock settled in his throat and it shouldn’t be this way shouldn’t be this way at all but they’re in too deep and it’s all gone too far and some of the last words he spoke to his son were to disown him and he still doesn’t know whether he truly meant it or not in that moment but that hardly matters when the words were said regardless of the intent)

“Right,” Fundy says. “Right. And you’ve been back for a while. Tubbo said it’d been a couple of weeks.”

Is that right? He thinks back, calculating, and decides it must be.

“I suppose it has been,” he says, and that is his cue to follow up with an apology, but the words get caught in a vice, squeezed and choked to nothingness, and silence falls between them again. Fundy shifts his weight back and forth between his feet, his eyes darting to and fro, never landing on his face for very long.

“Okay,” he says at length. “I guess—I don’t really know what else I expected.”

It’s bitter and sarcastic and resigned all at once. He winces.

“Fundy—”

“I mean, I guess I knew,” Fundy continues. “I knew that I wouldn’t—that you wouldn’t come for me if you ever came back. So it’s—I mean, it’s fine, Wil. I don’t even need you, anyway. I’ve been doing really well on my own. So it doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not—”

“But it is, though, isn’t it? You could’ve—you could’ve come and found me, right? I wasn’t that far.” His voice has lowered in volume, as if he’s talking to himself more than he is to him. “I wasn’t that far, so you could’ve—but you didn’t, and that’s kind of par the course, isn’t it? For you to come back to—back to life, and not even send me a message. But I guess nobody else did, either. It’s fine.”

The vice releases, torn apart by his mounting desperation.

(too little, too late)

“I’m sorry, Fundy,” he says. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

“Okay then, why didn’t you?” Fundy replies, and his tone rises in pitch again, becoming high, almost frantic.

There are so many ways he could reply. He could say that it slipped his mind. That would be damaging, hurtful, would ruin any hope of fixing their relationship, but it would be at least partially the truth; he thought about it, but infrequently, and he always dismissed it as a task to be tackled later. He could say that he wanted to take it slow. That would be slightly more of a lie, though not a complete falsehood; interacting with the other people of the server, especially in the first few days, has come far less easily to him than it once did. It probably says something that he includes his own son in that assessment.

He could say that he’s a coward. That, perhaps, would be the most truthful of all.

(for in many things you are not the coward that you think you are but in this in this it is true is apt because you know you hurt him sorely did the one thing that a parent should never do to a child caused him so much pain and you knew it and you know it and you could not face him could not bring yourself to own up to it and that is cowardice to not face this fault of yours as you have faced the others that is cowardice and cowardice can be overcome and it is not the end is not a death blow but call it what it is for it is cowardice and if you are to make up for it you must face the flaw in yourself without the gilded lies)

“I wanted you to come back,” Fundy says, and he realizes he’s taken far too long to respond, and Fundy’s expression has fallen. “I wanted you back so damn badly, even if I was never really sure why. I guess maybe I hoped that if you came back you’d start to care about me again.”

“I do care about you,” he manages, his voice a weak, pathetic thing. “I do care, Fundy.”

(and he wants to say my little champion my little champion if you believe nothing else then believe this believe that I love you and I always have even in the midst of all my darkness even as I fell I could not despise you no matter what I said I have loved you always even though I failed you I love you please do not doubt)

(he doesn’t say it)

“I want to believe you,” Fundy says. “But see, the thing is, if I do, it’ll turn out that you’re lying to me. Either that, or you’ll change. You—that’s what you do. And I need you—I need you to make up your mind, whether you care about me or not, because I can’t keep doing this. And I’m so—I’m pissed, Wilbur, really, I am. You blew up my home.”

There is no excuse that will provide an escape from this.

“I did.”

(an ending a denouement a grand finale and it was your symphony forever unfinished but you forgot that others made up the orchestra and you forget it still though you are reminded sometimes in the shadows in Tommy’s eyes and the chips in Tubbo’s horns and now in the tremor in your son’s voice as he tells you what you took from him what you stole when you made an ending of it all and it was yours but it was not yours alone)

Fundy jerks back, as if he hadn’t expected him to say it so starkly.

“Just like that, huh?” he says.

“I—”

“You know what?” Fundy says, overriding him. “I don’t really want to hear it right now. I’m so done with this. I’ll see you later. I guess.”

He steps forward, and

(an image: Fundy tottering toward him on chubby, unsteady legs, toddler’s face in a wide open, gap-toothed smile, Fundy running toward him to show him his new redstone invention, child’s face beaming in pride, Fundy sprinting toward him and trailing a flag behind him, grinning and victorious, and they have done it, they have done it, the nation is theirs and all will be well, and his son will be safe, and he wraps Fundy up in his arms and hugs him, holds him safe and close, his child, his beloved child)

he is frozen as Fundy steps past him and out of the doors. And he is frozen as he listens to his footsteps retreat, at a walking pace at first and then quicker and quicker as they fade, as Fundy runs from him. He stares into an empty room, and he is

(cold)

frozen.

“So, I’m guessing that didn’t go so well.”

It’s what he needs. An out, a way to cover over the churning mess of emotions in his chest, a road past all of that and right into exasperation, irritation.

“Shut the fuck up, Schlatt,” he says, pulling together all the shreds of composure that remain to him. “Where have you been?”

“Around,” Schlatt says, and drifts into view. He has the ability to go straight through him, but Wilbur notes that he doesn’t, that he dodges around him in the space left open in the doorway to come in front of him, surveying the papers in the room apathetically. “I keep going to do stuff and forgetting that I fucking can’t. Came here after whatever the fuck that was last night. You wanna give me an explanation there? I’m not pining away so much that I’m hallucinating your face, gorgeous as it is.” He pauses. “Your hair looks fucking stupid, by the way. It’s also wet, in case you didn’t know that.”

He feels some of the tension drain from him. This, at least, is familiar ground. Barbed words and sarcastic compliments, their old song and dance. He can exist in this space for a few minutes. Wrestle his emotions back under control.

“Thanks,” he says dryly. “If you really want to know, I spoke to a god and got shown some of the secrets of the universe, so that’s probably what that was.”

Schlatt pauses. “Is that all,” he says, in a half-laughing, half-incredulous tone that indicates he has no idea what to do with that.

He tilts his head, and wonders what else he should tell him. Because he saw him, there, of that he is sure, saw him while he was caught between the starlight and the void, as the god wound him back up and returned him to his body. He saw Schlatt, and more than that, he saw

(or felt, perhaps, because he was without eyes, and felt is not the right word either but it is closer, closer)

the connection between them, binding them together like a cat’s cradle, the threads of their existence tangled up in each other, and he is certain, now, of why Schlatt is here as well, why Schlatt is here but not solid. Because the god reached and the god grabbed and the god pulled, and the god pulled more than they meant to but less than they ought to have done, and this is the result: one man resurrected and the second tugged along, unintentionally and thus set adrift, tied to the first but with no form of his own.

Schlatt is mixed up in this through no fault of his own,

(for once)

when Wilbur knows that he, like him, would rather have remained in the void. So he sighs, and reaches along the tether, reaches along the rope that connects them soul to soul, and it is easy to find now, easy to touch upon with intention now that he knows what it is, why it is there.

(now that the universe hums in the back of his mind, now that he can hear the stars’ song, just barely beyond his conscious perception)

Schlatt lets out a surprised grunt as his feet hit the floor, and he staggers, almost losing his balance. Right away, Wilbur can feel the drain on his own energy, his lifeforce, perhaps, and now he knows the reason for that, too—Schlatt has none of his own, so to be made present and real, he must share his, must send it down the line, and a few days ago, he would have struggled to figure out how to do that. But now, it feels like the simplest thing in the world. For a time, at least.

“I’m willing to chat about it for a bit,” he says, and Schlatt stares at him, flexing his fingers.

“Holy shit,” he says. “So can you just—do this now?”

He bares his teeth. Schlatt will take it for a challenge.

“Let me tell you about it,” he says, and Schlatt arches a brow. But he stays, standing amongst the papers and the mess.

This is something familiar. This is a half hour of conversation that is charged in an entirely different way. This is someone with whom he shares a bitter past, and likely a bitter future, but he doesn’t have to watch himself, doesn’t have to wonder what wounds he’s caused him, doesn’t have to confront anything within himself.

He’s self-aware enough to realize that he’s running away, a bit, with this. Seeking a distraction. Trying to banish the look on Fundy’s face from his mind. But the others will survive without him for a few more minutes, and even besides, Schlatt offers him something that he wants, that he needs. Schlatt will listen to him, and he will judge him, but he will not pity him.

So Wilbur tells Schlatt about meeting a god.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #eret #fundy #tubbo #jschlatt #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #sorry for the two-week wait here's 9k works of dialogue *jazz hands*

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pparkerpoetry · 4 years ago

Text

Face Reality (Part 16)

Title: Rest Easy (why do you run from help?)

Summary: Ranboo's thin day....s.

What?

(Tommy shows his soft side, Tubbo gets cuddles, and Ranboo... well, he's okay.)

Part One

Part Seventeen

Masterlist

_____________

The bed seemed more cramped than usual.

Ranboo didn’t like that the bed seemed smaller than it had been since the past forever. Because that meant-

Well, it meant he’d grown.

He got out of bed after being curled up in an awkward ball for quite a while, groaning softly as his head tapped the ceiling. This was a height that he was used to. It didn’t happen often, since his thin days never often hit (which just made them more extreme), but he wasn’t shocked at how his limbs had stretched overnight.

He was well over seven feet tall, not as tall as he could be, or had been in the past, but still a considerate change.

He was never really sure why his thin days were only for his enderman side, or maybe he just never noticed the other thin days.

Either way, his hands were itching. For what, he wasn’t sure. Well, he knew that usually he went outside and grabbed a patch of grass from the ground, but it was still dark out, and Ranboo didn’t quite want to just wander outside when he was prone to blacking out.

And yet, it seemed that his mind wasn’t really… his. He could think, yes, but his body only responded to his wishes sluggishly, as if there was another part of him that resisted his control.

Ranboo looked up and saw he was in the living room. How had he gotten there? Hadn’t he just been in his bed?

A distressed warble made its way out of his mouth. He hated thin days.

He closed his eyes to try and rope in the urges that grew, but when he opened them, he was crouched by a small mound of dirt. Was it teleporting, or enderwalking? Ranboo wasn’t sure, but either way, his hands reached out to comb through the dirt. It felt good, just letting the soil fall through his fingers, and a content little sigh fell out of him before he could hold it back.

Ranboo frowned, in the midst of how wonderful the dirt was. He didn’t want his family to know about his thin day- he’d never had one around them, and they’d just get worried. No, he’d leave a note, and he’d go off for the day and return later.

But, as all things did, his plan didn’t go right.

Nothing ever went right, Ranboo thought bitterly. It was the afternoon, now, and he’d been hidden in a treehouse all day. It was a nice treehouse, and it had been built by him and Tommy and Sam, so it calmed the pulling he felt in his chest for his family, at least a little. He didn’t know why he needed his family so bad. It probably had something to do with the close-knit communities in the end, but he didn’t need to bother anyone with this.

They had their things to worry about, and he had his. His struggles, his pain, his fears, his thoughts that he’d never share, even if it meant distancing himself from others.

Why didn’t anything go right? It was one of the only thoughts that he could focus on, really. All the rest were too long, too complex, they brought him back to the yearning that caused him to curl into a small ball and whimper.

His hands twitched, looking for something to hold, anything, but his scratching at the wood floor didn’t help. There was nothing, nobody, to comfort him.

Ranboo started picking at the skin by his fingernails. It wasn’t as if he decided to, per se, it was just an unconscious reaction to not having anything to fiddle with.

A few minutes later, he looked down at his hands and breathed in quickly. Drops of blood had appeared and small pings of pain shot up his body. He ripped his hands away from each other and instead pulled his legs close to him and hugged his legs.

His breaths were short and panicked, as he hunched over.

The pull in his chest continued, getting stronger.

Ranboo let out a little whine. He wanted his family. He wanted his family so bad, but there was nothing he could do. He didn’t think there was anything he could do, considering his body had stretched even more, making the treehouse so much smaller. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t. He was stuck there, and there was nothing he could do. He wanted Sam, Tommy, anybody. It was stupid to hide this part of him, but they wouldn’t be concerned for another few hours. He was trapped and they wouldn’t find him-

His warbles grew louder and louder despite how hard he was trying to suppress them, and then the tears started.

He hadn’t cried in a while, to be fair, but the feeling of isolation paired with the small confines and the yearning for somewhere he’d never be…

Ranboo was sick of it. In his mind he might as well have been back in the End, alone, with nothing but the stone to keep him company, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He wasn’t sure when the panic had gotten too much and he drifted away into a night-mare filled slumber. In the morning it would be better. His thin day would be over and he’d be able to go home.

It wasn’t any better in the morning.

The tears and stifled sobs started anew because of course it wasn’t any better. Of course the world had looked down on him and decided that it wasn’t done with its torture yet, because when had it ever looked at him with pity?

When had anybody looked into his eyes with intentions other than violence? Never, really. No one had looked him in his eyes in a way that made him feel safe. Eye contact always just led to a jittery feeling that flooded his body and made him anxious, it never made him relax and feel cared for.

Ranboo tried to teleport out of the treehouse. He’d tried it the day before, but he really had no control over it. He didn’t have control over anything.

The tears rolled down his face with nothing but faint stings, before falling onto his stiff arms and causing sharper pain. His fingers still twitched, but they clutched small folds of his pants instead of messing with the spots of dried blood that was caked around his fingernails.

He couldn’t do anything other than cry and try to quiet the small warbles that still made it past his mouth. He uncurled a hand and instead held it against his mouth to muffle the sounds further. He could smell the blood.

Time passed by. Ranboo wasn’t quite sure how quickly. It could’ve been hours. Could’ve been seconds. There was a faint buzzing of the device in his pocket that he tried to focus on, even if he couldn’t reach it.

“Ranboo?”

He nearly sobbed in relief. Or maybe he was still crying from the panic he had felt earlier. He wasn’t sure-

And suddenly he was outside. His limbs weren’t quite strong enough to hold him up, they were still sore and shaky from the rapid growing, but he was leaning against something soft and his arms were wrapped around something, someone, finally, someone was there-

“Hey, big man. We were worried about you.” Tommy. Ranboo just sobbed against Tommy’s sweatshirt. “Ranboo?” Tommy tried again. “You alright there?”

“Tommy,” he cried, his voice mixed with desperate warbles. “Tommy.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

It was an awkward hug, but Ranboo didn’t want to leave it. The painful pull in his chest had lessened a bit, and that in itself made him cry, the pressure finally gone, but just finally having someone there, having something to hold-

“We’ve got to go home, bud.” Tommy chuckled. “We can talk at home, but…”

A shot of panic flooded through his body, and his breath quickened.

They hated him. They thought he was a freak. They were going to kick him out.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Tommy whispered. They were sitting down, now, Ranboo’s long legs uncomfortably settled underneath him. It didn’t matter much, though. Tommy’s wings were around his shoulders, and they were soft. His fingers loosened their grip on Tommy’s sweatshirt and entangled themselves in the feathers, instead. Tommy winced a bit, but didn’t say anything. “Yeah. You with me? We aren’t going to do anything. We’re just worried. You can come to us if you need help, you know. You aren’t weak or anything for needing a little help. We all need it.”

Ranboo needed to say something, but the words weren’t forming right. All he could do was spout endless warbles.

Tommy hummed, and Ranboo felt the soft vibrations. “How long have you been suppressing those, big man? It’s not healthy to keep any instincts from happening.”

He could only whine and lean further into Tommy’s touch. It was warm and it made him feel safe, safer than he’d felt in a long time. It was awkward and shouldn’t have been so comforting, but it’d never occurred to him to just… ask for a hug. So he went without them.

It was quiet before Tommy spoke again, and it was so much worse. He sounded so disappointed- “Oh, Ranboo, is this your second thin day in a row?”

Ranboo shook a little, hiding his head and threading his fingers further into the feathers. “I know. ‘M sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Tommy said, “It’s just, I know that thin days really take it out of you, and to have two in a row-”

“Mine don’t happen that often.” Ranboo choked out, but it didn’t seem to make Tommy feel any better.

“That just means that they’re more severe-” Tommy started to argue, before stopping. He noticed that Ranboo had curled into himself slightly at the raised voice. “Do you want to go home, Ranboo?”

Ranboo nodded slightly, but as soon as Tommy started to move, a flood of chirps fell from his mouth.

“We gotta stand up to get home.” Tommy chuckled. “C’mon, big man. Let’s go home.”

“I don’t wanna get up.” Ranboo grumbled, fiddling with a feather that seemed a little bent.

“So how are we gonna get home then, genius?” There was a small voop and Tommy laughed a little. “Now you learn to teleport?”

“I don’t know.” Ranboo mumbled. “It just happens sometimes.”

Distantly, he heard footsteps and an excited gasp. “You found him?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, he was in the treehouse. He’s all clingy, too. D’you want me to go round everyone up or should we just message them?”

The other speaker, who Ranboo’s brain had finally identified as Tubbo, giggled. “Go round them up. He never lets me cuddle with him, and I get to, finally!”

Ranboo let out a distressed, although sleepy, warble as Tommy pulled away. His fingers tried to keep their grip, and the pressure in his chest started building up again. “Come back,” He started, before Tubbo crouched down.

“Come on, Ranboo. Let’s go to the couch and I’ll let you cuddle me as much as you want, okay?”

Part of his mind objected, knowing that it would lead to future embarrassment, but the enderman part tossed out those thoughts and just wanted something to hold.

He grabbed at Tubbo and teleported them to the living room.

“You smell like flowers.” Ranboo muttered, trying to find a comfortable way to arrange his long limbs on the couch and instead just opting to lay across it.

Tubbo clambered on top of him, ignoring Ranboo’s squeaks. “Yup.”

He settled on putting his hands in Tubbo’s hair, rubbing a thumb across his horns.

Tubbo sighed in content. “See, isn’t this nice? I never get to hang out with you. You never like contact.”

Ranboo frowned. “I’m fine with it, for the most part. Why…?”

Tubbo huffed a bit. “You never ask for hugs, you rarely join our cuddle pile during movie nights…”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like hugs,” Ranboo protested, chittering slightly.

“What does it mean, then?”

Ranboo quieted. “I mean, I don’t really,” a warble slipped out. “I don’t know how to ask, I guess? I just see you guys being comfortable around each other and I feel like I should be, too, but something holds me back. Like… I don’t, I’m not sure if you really want me there.”

Tubbo snorted. “That’s bullshit. Of course we want you there.”

It was quiet for a while, until Ranboo sleepily commented, “Hey Tubbo? You’re really tiny.”

“Okay, Ranboo.” Tubbo laughed. “Man, you really are tired.”

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but this sleep was much better than the last one. It was peaceful, but he eventually was pulled from his slumber by the growing pressure in his chest, yet again.

His eyes opened, and a cry was pulled from inside of him.

Tubbo looked up. “You alright?”

Soft footsteps entered the room, and Sam smiled at the two. “Thin day, huh? How’re you coping?”

Ranboo’s eyelids were still heavy, and his fingers shook. Tubbo noticed, because of course he did.

“You need something to fiddle with?” Tubbo realized, “What works the best?”

His mouth wasn’t working right- it wouldn’t form words- he could only warble, his pathetic, stupid little noises that no one wanted to hear, was all he could make-

Tubbo had rolled off of him, and Sam had made him sit up. When had that happened?

Sam had a hand on his shoulder, so he tried to focus on that.

“You with me?” Sam asked quietly.

Ranboo nodded, his exhale sounding more like a whimper. His hands still shook, flexing and picking at the sides of his fingernails again. He needed to hold something, but there was something specific he was looking for, what was it, what was it?

“What do you need, Ranboo?”

He could only warble, high and distressed.

Tubbo spoke up. “Oh, he was holding on to Tommy’s feathers when they came in. Maybe that’s it?”

Sam hummed. “You go get Tommy.”

Ranboo squirmed where he sat. He needed to move. He needed to hold something-

“Hold on a second,” Sam said. “Tommy’ll be here in a minute, okay? You’ve gotta wait a little.”

“Tommy,” He warbled.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “He’ll be here soon. I promise, okay?”

His breathing quickened, his hands were probably bleeding by now, he just needed-

The pressure in his chest fell away in one wave, and his eyes flew open. Tommy stood a little bit away, and Ranboo couldn’t tell if he teleported or just ran, but he threw himself at Tommy and tangled his hands in Tommy’s wings again with a deep sigh.

“Whoa- okay.” Tommy laughed. “You miss me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why me?” Tommy asked curiously. “I mean, I know I’m special and all, but what specifically made you latch onto me like-”

“Like a koala!” Tubbo smiled.

Sam hummed. “Probably because you were the one to get him from the End, right? So after all that time alone, I mean endermen are social creatures, so you probably unintentionally bonded with him.”

Ranboo thought that there was too much talking, but he was too tired to say anything.

“Aww,” Tommy cooed. “Did all the teleporting earlier tire you out?”

He tried to grumble a little bit, but he was too focused on the wonderful consistency of petting Tommy’s feathers. Also, hug.

The contact was more than he’d had in ages, and he leaned into it with most of his weight, which was a lot. He was tall and gangly, and Tommy stumbled back slightly. His wings flared out to balance them, and Ranboo chattered happily.

Tommy dragged him over to a pile of blankets that Sam had been preparing before Ranboo woke up, and got them to sit down. Ranboo was tired, so tired, after all it’d been two thin days and a bunch of teleportation, and it was so warm, and the feathers were nice against his fingers, and-

“What the fuck?” Tommy muttered. “What’s that noise?”

Ranboo hummed, almost sounding like a cat that you’d just woken up.

“Yeah, wait, is that coming from you?” Tommy paused for a moment. “Yeah, it is! Wait- are you purring?”

Sam laughed. “As if you aren’t close to purring too, Tommy. You love having your wings touched.”

A new voice came in, deep and threatening. At least, to the hazy mind that Ranboo was thinking through. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh, he’s having his thin day-” Sam started, but he was interrupted.

Ranboo- was he growling?

It wasn’t exactly a growl, but it was definitely a warning sound, replaced every so often with a purr.

Technoblade chuckled. “He can’t decide whether or not he’s happy.”

“Wasn’t growling n’ shit before you came in.” Tommy said bluntly. “Probably has something to do with you making him think he was shit. What’re you doing here, anyway?”

“I wanted to see how you guys were doing, I know something had you guys worried yesterday, but I see now what it probably was..”

The atmosphere was a little more awkward after that.

“Wait a minute,” Techno said, “He never had a thin day with us. How long has it been?”

A feeling of horror settled on the room.

“Well?” Tommy nudged the enderman slightly. “How long’s it been, big man?”

Ranboo trailed off from a purr. “I don’t know. I just never felt safe enough, sub- suncon- in my head, to have one, I suppose.” His words slurred together, and he burrowed closer to Tommy.

Sam exhaled slowly. “That would explain the two days in a row. I didn’t even know someone could go that long without having one.”

Techno nodded, “Yeah, I mean it’s gotta mess you up pretty bad, right? The whole point of thin days is to live in closer harmony with your hybrid side. His mind has gotta be a bunch of conflicted instincts, would be my guess.”

“How much longer is it gonna go on for?” Tommy asked.

He shrugged. “Beats me. Have fun, though. It’s kinda like having a cat, right?” No one laughed. “Oh. I guess I’ll just… do some research on this.”

“Thanks.” Tommy said quietly.

Ranboo started purring again, and it wasn’t long before Tommy joined him. Gradually, the entire family joined them on the floor and brought blankets with them. Ranboo drifted off to sleep again without any pain, for once, just a feeling of safety.

Safety and… love, he supposed. He’d never felt loved before.

But, as he leaned against Tommy, as he could smell the scent of daisies and dandelions, as he knew his family was around him, he thought he could get used to it. He could get used to not worrying about the loss of the ones he cared about, he could get used to the security of being able to trust others…

He could get used to feeling like he mattered.

“I love you guys.” He warbled softly, sure that they all were-

“Go the fuck to sleep.” Purpled whispered grumpily. “You’re keeping me up.” A few seconds passed. “But yeah, I guess I love you too.”

Ranboo felt the grasp of weariness start pulling on him and he snuggled deeper into Tommy’s sweatshirt. “I know.” He warbled sleepily.

#ranboo #tubbo #tommyinnit #technoblade #awesamdude #purpled #dreamsmp #dsmp #dream #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #found family #fic #ao3 #archiveofourown

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