Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wind running through his hair, the warm breeze brushing against his cheek, the sunlight warming up the back of his neck as it reached the middle of the sky, a familiar weight against his back, untampered and too tall grass brushing against his shoes, the sweet smell of flowers filling up his nose, the sounds of another horse trotting behind him, carrying people who hold a special place in his heart.

This. This is what freedom feels like.

The scorching heat of fire, explosions going off all around him, fireworks going off left and right, a room exposed in the side of a cliff, a diamond sword poking out of the stomach of the man he considered a brother, an anguished scream and a sore throat, the smell of smoke and ash filling his lungs, a familiar laugh turned unrecognizable, harsh words and accusations being hurled at him, wither burns spreading on his injured foot.

No. No! Please! NO!

“..ommy!”

The feeling of drowning, muscles tired after batteling the current, sand sticking to his wet feet, wind against his skin through his torn shirt, a boat appearing over the horizon, the sounds of dirt being disturbed and moved, hard earned items disappearing from his inventory, the familiar sounds of tnt going off, the hum of a nether portal, the scalding heat, looking down at glowing lava, a hand yanking him back, mocking words whispered in his ears, a haunting mask.

No. Stop. Help!

“..eathe big man! Tommy!”

The constant ringing in his ear from past explosions, lava scorching his skin, scrapes on shins and hands from falling against cold obsidian and blackstone, a hostile shadow blocking the blazing light of the lava, a familiar hand reaching out to grab his dirty and torn shirt, the ground disappearing from underneath him, a fist connecting with his jaw, warm liquid trickling down his face, darkness.

“Tommy, five things you can see..”

Hair, his hands, a glow of a lantern somewhere, his shirt (stained with tears and dirt and grime), a familiar brown jacket

“Four things you can feel..”

 Dirt against his knees, his fingernails scratching against his arms, something wet on his cheeks, a suit coat draped on his shoulders

“Three things you can hear…”

The wind outside his door, the vwoop of an enderman, a friend’s voice

“Two things you can smell..”

Wet grass and… alliums?

“You’re doing great big man, one thing you can taste?”

Salt.

Tubbo?

“Yeah, I’m here big T, Ranboo is just behind me. We’re here big Man”

His body relaxes, his forehead landing on the shoulder of his friend. He feels Tubbo stiffen in surprise as he initiates touch after so long. When he doesn’t budge, hesitant arms wrap around him, incircling him in a hug he hasn’t received in so long. He glances up ever so slightly at the enderman standing in the side of the room awkwardly, missing his signature suit coat, and extends an arm out to him. His eyes close contently when another joins their little hug on the floor of his home.

This. He thinks this is what starting to heal might feel like.

He’s in the middle of shoving his important belongings into an old bag he found laying in one of the multiple rooms of his (not that he had many to begin with, his other belongings either shifting ownership in the form of theft or being the victim of fires and explosions and war), when footsteps and a panicked interrupt the mid-night quiet.

“Tommy? What are you doing?!”

“Tubbo! What are you doing here at this time?”

 “Enderwalk Ranboo brought me here. He must have suspected something, and turns out he right to do so. Where are you going?”

“Of course, fuckin’ boob-boy had to snitch..”

“Don’t blame Ranboo! Were you leaving?”

“I-I can’t stay here Tubbo. Wilbur’s back, and you don’t know what he’s like after all that time in the void!”

“Then explain it to me. Please don’t leave me again.”

Gentle words exchanged between two friends. The peaceful night surrounding the two, soon to be three of them, as the third piece of their puzzle pads inside, his eyes purple instead of his usual green and red, but still filled with the same care and worry, another round of hugs exhanged between the three friends, a meaningful look exhanged between the married couple.

“Don’t leave tonight. Let me and Tubbo get everything ready, give us a couple of days, and then we’ll all leave,” says Ranboo, his eyes having returned to their usual color as the stars began to disappear from the sky, making way for the first rays of sunlight.

“You couldn’t possibly mean…?”

“We’re leaving with you big man.”

“But… what about Michael? And Snowchester?”

“We’ll take Michael with us. And Wilbur around, I’m not sure how safe Snowchester is anymore.”

The three of them walk out to the bench, the familiar weight of a vinyl in Tommy’s hand as he slots it into the jukebox before joining the other two on the bench to watch the sun peak out in the horizon.

“We’ll find a safe place to stay, somewhere far away from the greater SMP,” Tubbo says after a few moments of silence.

“Somewhere with a flower field, and lots of bees,” Ranboo pipes in, the orange sunlight highlighing his face as he glances fondly at Tubbo.

“It has to be a flower field with alliums. They’re growing on me,” Tommy adds, leaning ever so slightly against Ranboo, who gently wraps his tail around the two of them.

“Somewhere with lots of cows as well. Any maybe a few sheep,” Tubbo suggests, his head resting on Tommy’s shoulder. “We can name one Friend. To honor Ghostbur.” He adds as an afterthought, gently taking hold of Tommy’s ever so slightly blue-stained hands.

Peaceful and comfortable silence between three friends, the comforting presence of a tail wrapped around his waist and goat horns poking his shoulder, sun warming their skin, the dark sky of the night making way for the bright colors of the day, the sound of a beloved disk wafting through the air.

This. He thinks this is what a new beginning feels like.

A couple days later, Tommy stands on the outskirts of Snowchestshire, pulling a horse he had managed to tame (and naturally had named Clementine) along with him, his meger belongings in the bag hanging on his back or shoved into an enderchest.

After a couple moments of waiting, he spots Ranboo pulling his horse Skellyboo with him, a sleeping Michael and Tubbo seated on it with their belongings hanging off the saddle.

“Ranboo will be riding with you big man, I’ll carry Micheal with me,” Tubbo says after they have greeted each other, his voice quiet as to not wake up the sleeping child that sat with him. Tommy nods, getting on Clementinie, Ranboo hopping on behind him.

Tommy takes in a deep breath as Tubbo takes one last glance back at Snowchestshire, looking at everything he had built up and was now going to leave behind. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The last rays of sunlight dissapears over the horizon as they ride through the Arctic biome, Clementine in the front with Skellyboo following right behind, the horses following the terrain, heading South.

They pass Techno’s hut, Tommy hurrying the horses by as to not get caught near the land considering his and Tubbo’s strained relationship with the residents of the area. Ranboo watches the Syndicate slowly disappear out of his vision, watching the people who gave him a home slowly disappear out of his life. (Then again, they did destroy his original home, as Tubbo tells him. His memory book backs that fact up)

They head further south throughout the night, Ranboo switching places with Tommy to steer the horse once they exit the snowy biome. They ride on through an oak forest, and despite the lack of light, Tommy begins to recognize the area from his nightmares.

“Tommy, you good man?” Ranboo asks him as he feels Tommy stiffen.

“I’m fine big man, lets just hurry out of here.”

They soon arrive at the clearing, and Tommy clenches Ranboo’s shirt tightly in his first as his eyes land on one of the several explosion holes in the area. Tubbo pointedly avoids looking at the dirt tower that casts a long shadow on the ground, blocking the moonlight. The horses pick up their pace, rushing past the small crates and further south.

The first few rays of sunlight cast their light on Tubbo’s communicater as he pulls it out, checking their coordinates to check how far they were from the Greater SMP.

“I think if we continue out a bit further, we can build a portal somewhere and travel through the nether to get further away,” Tubbo suggests as Tommy blinks awake, having fallen asleep against Ranboo sometime during their journey.

“I have enough blocks for two nether portals, so we can only make one trip through the nether,” Ranboo speaks up, Clementine stopping to pause near Skellyboo. “I say we ride a bit more, take a break somewhere and then build the portal there, because we won’t be able to take a break in the nether.”

All three of them agree on this, forgetting to lower their voices as Michael stirrs awake. “Bee? Boo?” the sleepy child inquires, his common speak coming out rough due to the fact he was still learning.

“We’re here Michael, good morning,” Tubbo speaks up, gently headbutting the child as the other two watch softly. “Uncle Mimi is here too.”

At that, Michael brightens, turning his head around to look for his favorite uncle. Tommy chuckles, the scene resembling one from a long time ago, when L’manburg was still whole, and Wilbur was considerably saner and up on a tree. “I’m right here kid,” he speaks up, smiling when Michael makes grabby hands towards him. He and Ranboo switch places, Ranboo now riding with his husband and Michael holding onto Tommy’s hair, grunting the word for gold in Piglin happily.

The four of them continue travelling, Michael talking to Tommy in Piglin, Tommy responding using his knowledge of the language from his time with Technoblade. They keep on travelling till the sun reaches it’s peak in the sky and they reach landscape untouched by mankind and the air starts tasting like freedom.

They take a break near a swamp, reveling in the considerably cool temperature of the area. Both Tubbo and Ranboo take a well deserved nap while Tommy uses the cornflowers nearby to teach Michael how to make a flower crown, Clementine keeping a watchful eye on them while Skellyboo rests.

Once Tubbo and Ranboo wake up, they find a cave to hide their portal in, just in case someone was to stumble across this area, and start building the portal in one corner of it. Tommy does the honors of lighting it, Michael laughing at the sight of the sudden purple swirl. As far as he was concerned, the purple swirl of the portal meant good things. After all, that’s how he met his dads.

Tommy takes hold of Clementine’s reins as Ranboo takes hold of Skellyboo’s, and all six of them walk through the portal, and into the sweltering atmosphere of the nether. Just before they start their journey through the nether, Tommy pulls out his netherite pickaxe and strikes the side of the portal, shattering it. Ranboo simply smiles and nods at him, and Tubbo gathers Michael up in his arms, letting out a relieved sigh when he sees the portal deactivated.

They all steer clear from crimson forests, and Ranboo passes out golden helmets when they remember the existance of the more hostile piglins.

The scathing heat of the nether feels less scathing and more warming when Tommy is with them, the popping sound of the lava less like threats and more like the music of freedom. Every step through the nether lifts a burden off of his shoulders, and the nether begins to seem less daunting and terrifying with every word exchanged between the four.

When the three oldest of the group decide that they have travelled far enough, they get to work on another portal on the side of a netherrack cliff. The hum of the portal fills their ears once again, and Ranboo steps in first, pulling Skellyboo in with him. Tommy follows right after, pulling Clementine along. Once on the other side, Michael joins them first, Tubbo joining a couple moments after, his sleeve slightly singed and a flint and steel in his hand.

“No risk of anyone finding us from that side,” is all that he offers.

They all turn around to see where they ended up, and delighted gasps is what follows.

“Somewhere with a flower field, and lots of bees”

The portal stands in the middle of a gorgeous flower field, all the different colors contrasting the dark colors of the obsidian. Trees dot the horizon, with beehives hanging off their branches.

“It has to be a flower field with alliums. They’re growing on me.”

Alliums dot the landscape, popping out from in between tulips and daisies and cornflowers, which has suddenly become Michael’s favorite flower judging from the way he rushes over to one.

“Somewhere with lots of cows as well. Any maybe a few sheep.”

Cows roam around the landscape, completely in peace with their life here alongside multiple sheep, their appitite being the only thing that disturbed the grass out here.

“We can name one Friend. To honor Ghostbur.”

And in between a hoard of sheep, a little baby blue one stands out. It slowly approaches them, nudging Michael’s feet ever so slightly, which makes him giggle.

If anything were to feel like peace, this would be it.

They build a small temporary shelter for the night, a little dirt shack in the side of a little hill built expertly by Tommy as Ranboo gathers firewood for the campfire, Clementine and Skellyboo helping him carry it.

Originally he was going to gather food for the night, but at Michael’s insistance to not kill either the sheep or the cows, the only option that was presently left was the fish in the stream, which was something Ranboo couldn’t access, so that job fell to Tubbo instead.

The silent night being interrupted by the sound of Tubbo telling stories of the 5^th battalion, Tommy interrupting to add his own little details and eventually taking over as both Ranboo and Michael listened, the smell of fish being cooked over a fire, the squealing laugh of Michael whenever Tommy does voices and Tubbo does big gestures, Clementine occasionally whacking Skellyboo in the face with her tail, which he retaliates by nudging her with his nose, Friend Jr. resting her face in Tommy’s lap.

This. This is what family feels like.

Over the course of the next few days the three teenagers build up their house, using wooden planks and clay now that they don’t have to worry about people burning it to ashes. The only time they ever smelled smoke now was when they built the chimney, water buckets ready in their off hand in case they fell.

Each morning Tommy tills the surrounding ground, planting carrots and wheat seeds and potatoes and pumpkins, which, once they grow out, Tommy, Tubbo and Michael use to carve out and scare Ranboo with, cackling at his startled face when they supposedly “appear out of thin air”.

Each day Tubbo works on a bee farm and greenhouse, employing Michael’s help to find the right flowers for the bees and Tommy’s help to grow the melons in the warm climate of the greenhouse, keeping an eye out to not accidentally bump into the beehives, like Tommy once did and ended up with stings all over the place.

Each noon after lunch Michael runs around in the flower field with Friend Jr., the three of them running around under the watchful eye of Clementine and Skellyboo, making flower crowns for his dads and uncle that end up getting a little nibbling on the ends by Friend Jr. and later on by a chicken that Michael finds on his adventures and immediately dubs Benson.

Each afternoon Ranboo experiments with new flavors, writing down his findings in his memory book so he doesn’t forget the great ones and doesn’t accidentally recreate the horrible ones, something both Tommy and Tubbo remind him of when he experiments and accidentally recreates a horrible fish dish, ending with all four of them taking turns in the bathroom multiple times over the course of that afternoon.

Each sunset all four of them sit on the bench they built, watching the sunset while listening the one of the discs, occasionally dancing to the melodies and laughing as the sun moves to make way for stars and constellations, which are way more prominent here due to the lack of light pollution that was back in the greater SMP.

Each night they all tuck into bed, cuddling together under their blankets, Friend Jr. sleeping at the foot of their bed, Benson tucked away in his chicken coop, later to be joined by other avian friends, Clementine and Skellyboo asleep in their stalls.

More frequently than not one of them will have a nightmare, but now they don’t have to go through them alone, as the others are there to calm them down and reassure them. Slowly the nightmares grow less and less frequent, and the nights grow more and more peaceful, following by just as peaceful days, interrupted by little harmless prank wars and jokes and laughter.

And one day, while sitting in the flower field and helping Michael make flower crowns for Ranboo and Tubbo out of cornflowers, alliums and tulips, Tommy stop and smile and thinks to himself, this is what home feels like.