Archive of Our Own

No one knew that Tubbo had been born a girl. Not even Tommy, who could probably recite all of the other little details about him from memory. Not even Wilbur, who had put his hands on his shoulders and insisted that if Tubbo had any secrets, he needed to know, for the sake of our great nation . 

If there was one person who had ever known, it was Eret. Eret, who had taken him gently under their wing and explained, for the first time in Tubbo’s life, that garments and pronouns didn’t define ones’ self. There had been an unspoken understanding between the two of them then, and Tubbo understood, finally, the way Tommy steadfastly looked up to Wilbur and wanted to be everything that he was. Tubbo wanted to hold himself the way she did, tall in long, swaying skirts. Powerful and gentle all at once. Tubbo spent hours harvesting resources with them for the war. Tubbo rambled and asked questions and Eret laughed and answered. 

And Eret was observant. Tubbo knew that they must have noticed, at some point in the months they all spent in close quarters, how he would slip away to change his chest bindings, or how once a month he would catch an indeterminate illness. Eret never mentioned it, though, aside from preparing him warm food when he was bedbound and reminding him not to run too fast. Eret had really cared about him, steadfastly, with the kind of camaraderie you really only find in wartime. 

Needless to say, that hadn’t lasted. 

Tubbo was hesitant to open up to anyone after Eret’s betrayal. He didn’t think that anyone else would ever understand it, the fundamental misalignment from your body and self. Tubbo didn’t fully understand it himself, if he was honest. He just knew that he’d been given a different name at birth, one that made his stomach coil. Back home, before he’d come to Dream SMP and met Tommy, they’d all called him a girl, and he’d always felt disconnected from it. Like it was someone else’s life, someone else’s name -- all these people knew a false version of him, and it was what drove him away from that place, in the end. 

He hadn’t had the words for it, but when Tommy first pulled him out of a squabble with some mobs, and asked what his name was, he couldn’t bring himself to say his birth name. He just looked up, sort of in awe of this boy, and went, “Ta- To- Tub.” 

“Tub?” Tommy had questioned, already brainstorming nicknames. “Can I call you Tub- o ?”

Tubbo had nodded, relieved, “Yeah! That’s my name! Tubbo.”  Tommy had essentially named him, but Tubbo never told him that, because he did not need more ego fuel.

Tubbo was jealous of Tommy for a lot of L’manburg. His voice was getting deeper, and losing the childish voice cracks, and he was looking more like Wilbur everyday. What made it worse was how he would excitedly burst into Tubbo’s room unannounced to exclaim about how manly he was. It wasn’t the manly part specifically that Tubbo envied, but he felt like he was missing out on something. He felt like there was something wrong with him, and it built with every month that passed.

Tubbo had come to the Dream SMP intending to live honestly, as he was & always would be, but a few years and a war had already taught him that being too vulnerable here could be your downfall. He didn’t think Tommy or Wilbur would ever betray him, but well, there was no such thing as being too careful at a time like this. So he kept some things close to his chest. 

When L’manburg became Manburg, Tubbo put on a suit for the first time. It was too tight on his chest, especially with his chest bindings on, and he had to wear it every day from 9 to 5. But it was alright. He was used to having a weight on his shoulders, to feeling like he was choking, and most importantly, was used to keeping secrets. That’s why being a spy came easily to him. Tubbo was nothing if not skilled at pretending. 

That was, until Schlatt came along with the plans for the Manburg Festival. He had loomed over Tubbo’s desk, casting a long shadow over the presidential duties that Tubbo was occupied with (that, Tubbo might add, he had slacked off on in the first place). Then, a stack of papers hit his desk with a force that shook him to his core. Tubbo’s neck snapped up and he had to crane to meet Schlatt’s gaze. 

“Tubbo, my right hand man,” he announced. “I need these lists turned into festival decorations and games by the end of the week.” 

Tubbo blinked at him, and then looked at the huge stack of papers again. 

“You can handle that, right?” Schlatt asked, quirking his brow, and it wasn’t a question, it was a threat. Sometimes Tubbo thought that he knew everything that he had riding on keeping this job, the vital final link between Pogtopia and L’manburg, the weight of his allies and his friends on his back. He couldn’t afford to lose the job, or else they had lost the war, and if that was the blame he’d hold he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. 

“Yes, Schlatt,” he said. 

When Wilbur had found out about the festival, something unfamiliar had flashed through his eyes, and he’d tucked his hands into the pockets of his trenchcoat. “Good work, Tubbo.” A few months ago, he would have grinned down at him, eyes wrinkling, and proclaimed something like “Nice job, Private!” and swept Tubbo into one of those big hugs that he associated with victory. Things were different now. Wilbur looked at him differently now, ever since he started wearing dark suits and growing horns. There weren’t a lot of victories anymore. 

“Thanks, Wilbur,” he responded, not sure what he was thanking him for. 

The next couple of weeks found him scrambling from building to building, chest tense and compressed under his binding and the suit jacket that Schlatt insisted that he wore closed. He was out of breath most days, and when he took the bindings off at night his ribs felt bruised and his chest ached. It was on one of these days, where he was struggling to catch his breath, that his communicator ding ed with a message from Tommy. 

TommyInnit: Come 2 pogtopia

Great. Just what he needed. Spy duties . Tubbo’s loyalties obviously lay with Tommy and Wilbur, forever and until the end, but well, it had been grating on him recently. It was a shameful thought to think, but sometimes Wilbur looked a little like Schlatt to him, in the way he loomed menacingly and only spoke in harsh tones. And talking to Tommy was draining, because what was he supposed to tell him? There wasn’t a lot of cheery news in Manburg, and Tubbo felt like he was lying every time he had to tell him he was doing alright.

Tubbo_: sry big man. Festival duties

TommyInnit: wilbur doesnt know 

TommyInnit: I just want 2 talk 2 you 

That made Tubbo pause. He did miss Tommy. He missed Tommy a lot. Before he could rationalize it in his mind, he was looking around nervously and typing a message back. 

Tubbo_: omw

So Tubbo made his way, panting, to Pogtopia, through the passageway under Manburg. Tommy met him halfway, running up to him and grabbing him by the shoulders. 

“You look like shit, man!” Tommy declared, voice echoing through the tunnels. 

Tubbo smiled, weakly. “It’s good to see you, too.” 

Tommy grinned wildly, a smile that did not at all match the churning in Tubbo’s stomach, and swung an arm around his shoulders. Then, he was pulling Tubbo forward and they were stumbling along the path to Pogtopia. It was familiar enough, if not for Tommy being a bit too tall and a little more sunken around his eyes. Neither of them were sleeping very well these days, it seemed. 

“So, what’s happening in Manburg la-?” Tommy started, only for Tubbo to shut him down quickly.

“ Don’t finish that sentence,” he pleaded, rubbing his eyes, “I’d rather not be doing spy duties with you, too.”

“Okay,” agreed Tommy. Then he started up talking again, rambling from topic to topic, mostly about pets and homes and things that were important to him (that was a vital distinction -- important to him , but not important in the grand scheme). It was a much-needed breath of fresh air. They both needed an escape, and the other person was that escape to them. Tubbo got to let his guard down. He could trust Tommy, surely, because if not then he couldn’t trust anyone. 

It was when Tommy shifted the conversation back onto him that he started to feel uncomfortable. 

“Nowadays, it’s like, everyone’s changed.” Tommy was saying, to end some long rant about the past. “Fundy, Niki, Jack, Eret …Wilbur.” 

They’d reached the entrance of Pogtopia at this point, and the last word of his sentence echoed through the cavern. They both stepped gingerly through the caves, and Tommy’s voice was quieter when he spoke again. 

“Even you’ve changed.” 

“I have?” Tubbo paused in his steps. 

Tommy tilted his head at him, and for a moment resembled his cow, Henry, with the expressive eyes and weird amount of compassion. “I mean, yeah,” he said, and that was somehow the thing Tubbo wanted to hear least. 

“Oh.” Tubbo said, and discreetly pat his hair down around his growing in horns. 

“You’re still small, as always.” Tommy noted, and he was squinting at Tubbo, looking for the changes. Tubbo’s heart twisted, and he felt vaguely nauseous. “You look skinnier, though. Feeble. You look weak. But everyone looks weak, compared to me , the biggest man on the DreamS-” 

“Can you just stop , okay?!” Tubbo exclaimed, pressing his hands over his ears to block the noise of Tommy’s voice trailing off. 

“Tubbo? Y’alright man?” Tommy asked, softer. 

Tubbo breathed out and forced his hands back to his sides. “Yeah, yeah, it’s just, it’s stressful with everything going on.” He avoided Tommy’s gaze as he responded. Tommy hadn’t lied, or even said something to irritate him, so there wasn’t really a reason to be angry. He was weak, he bended to the whims of Schlatt and Wilbur and bent over backwards to please them. That was a sacrifice that needed to be made, for the greater good. 

“That’s a fucking lie.” Tommy decided, after a pause. (Curse TommyInnit and his vaguely psychic ability to tell when Tubbo wasn’t okay.) “Something is bothering you, I can tell. I’m tired of not being told the truth.” 

“Well, maybe not everything is about you, Tommy,” he snapped back. 

“Clearly it’s somehow related to me, because you told me to shut up! ” 

Tubbo was crumbling. He didn’t want to be fighting with Tommy right now. He just wished everything would go back to the way it was . Before Schlatt, before L’manburg, brewing potions in a little van with no idea that this was where it would end them up. 

He sunk to the ground without realising it, legs giving way. Tommy quickly kneeled in front of him, argument forgotten. 

“I just, I don’t want to lose you, too, alright? We have to be honest with each other,” he said, voice uncharacteristically gentle. Then he added, even more softly, “It’s… all I have left.” 

“I’m not like you, Tommy,” was what Tubbo could force out, through labored breaths. 

“Of course you are. We’re made of the same star-stuff, or whatever, you know?” 

“No, I mean, I can’t be like how you are.”

“I’m… not following, big man.” 

 “I can’t have a deep voice or, or a flat chest or even fucking breathe most days.” Tubbo was hopelessly avoiding the point, even though he knew Tommy wouldn’t get what he was saying. 

“What do you mean?” Tommy’s voice was small now, like if he got too loud about this Tubbo would shatter into a million pieces.

“I mean , I was born a fucking girl! Okay?! Is that what you wanted to know? Now you can… I dont know.” Tubbo put his head on his knees and squeezed his arms around himself in the closest rendition of a ball he could get to. “I don’t know,” he continued, muffled, “You can finally leave me alone.”

“I’m not gonna leave you alone, what the fuck?” Tommy exclaimed, too surprised to be gentle anymore.

“Why not? ” Tubbo wracked his brain for other things to say, that would maybe get it through Tommy’s thick skull that this was not something fixable, or salvageable, this was just what he was . “I’m a lost cause, Tommy. I’m a shit spy, and now a shit friend.”

“What the fuck? You are not a shit friend, Tubbo.” 

“Aren’t I? I mean, I’ve been lying to you.”

“You haven’t lied to me. You’ve been by my side since forever, since before fucking Wilbur was. And you’ve stuck by me through everything, even when you didn’t need to, and even when it hurt you. That doesn’t sound like a shit friend, to me. That sounds like a great friend.”  

Tubbo gaped at him over the top of his knees. Tommy was reaching out, his arms hovering over him, like he wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure if he was allowed. 

“I’m glad that you told me. I don’t care what you were born as. You’re still.. my family,” he added, in a last desperate attempt to break through. 

It struck Tubbo finally, then, that the two of them were all they had. They stuck together for survival, like wild animals, except for the fact that they were just teenagers. Tommy knew that the ‘family’ card was what would strike him deepest, because it was what they were both hanging onto by a thread. L’manburg had been a family, Niki and Fundy and Jack and fucking Eret and it made Tubbo’s heart ache to know they couldn’t have it back. 

They couldn’t afford to lose this. 

Tubbo pushed himself forward, put his knees down, and opened his arms to hug Tommy back. He pushed his face into his chest and Tommy buried his face into his hair, accidentally poking himself on one of Tubbo’s stubby horns.

“Ow. I’m still getting used to that,” he said, muffled, and Tubbo laughed. Neither of them pulled away for a long moment.

When they did pull away, Tommy kept his hands on his shoulders, and said, with all the righteousness of a soldier, “How can I help?”

“Oh, please don’t do this, Tommy,” he responded, exasperatedly. “I don’t want your pity. I just want to be treated like I’m normal.” 

“It’s not pitying you to care about you. Idiot.” Tommy insisted. “What do you want? ‘Cause I can make it happen. How hard can it be to make your voice deeper?” 

“It’s very hard. You think I haven’t fucking tried?” 

“I bet you haven’t tried everything.” 

Tubbo looked at him warily, “Like what?”

“Potions,” said Tommy, confidently. 

Mostly, Tubbo knew more about science than Tommy did. On a basis of machines and redstone and engines, at least. The one place where Tommy had a leg up on him were potions, and wasn’t it fitting that TommyInnit was somehow good at making drugs? He had a second sense for magical ingredients and brewing, could make a potion do pretty much anything he wanted. So, Tubbo hesitated.

“ Could you do that with potions?” Tubbo voiced.

Tommy shrugged, “Plenty of people make permanent changes to their bodies with potions.  Toss in permanizing powder, a dandelion root, I’m sure I can make it happen.” 

Suddenly he was looking at Tommy with the same confused awe he had looked at him with, months back in the drug van, years ago in the disc war. Tommy barreled forward into change and revolutions with something in his face that Tubbo couldn’t quite pinpoint. Maybe it was hope. 

For the first time in a while, Tubbo was feeling hopeful himself. 

“Let’s do it!” Tubbo exclaimed. “We can use the brewer.”

“That’s my boy!” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder then, and there was a soldier-like camaraderie when Tommy’s hand drifted down to his and grabbed it, pulling him away from the wall and into a standing position. 

They spent the rest of the evening brewing potions in a dinky little room in Pogtopia. They gathered ingredients from old chests and made do with what they had, because they were likely running on a time constraint.

“I’m nothing if not someone who can make something out of nothing, Tubs.” Tommy said at some point, smoke from the potion wafting in front of his face. 

“Say that 5 times fast.” Tubbo challenged. Tommy, who did not back down from a challenge, immediately took him up on it ( I’mnothingifnotsomeonewhocanmakesomeo- Shit! ) and Tubbo dissolved into laughter. 

The final potion consisted of permanizing powder, which made the effects permanent, various ‘testosterone boosting foods’ (Tubbo was skeptical about this part), a cow’s tongue (Tommy went deathly pale as he was putting this in, and then fixed Tubbo with a stare that told him not to ask), and honey, to make it go down smoothly. They didn’t know if it would work for certain, but Tommy believed it would, and that was just about enough for Tubbo. 

He left for Manburg near the dawn hours, belt fastened with about four doses of the potion, clinking against each other as he walked. 

He had Tommy, despite everything. One constant, real and true, even as everyone else changed. Even if nothing would ever be the same. 

Then, less than a week later, Tubbo was found out for being a spy, and died. 

There wasn’t a lot more to say about it. It was loud - deafening - and fireworks ripped through his chest and head and it was feeling not quite comparable to any other. Tubbo had done this before, had looked an ally in the eye (someone he’d looked up to, at one point) and trusted them with his life, only for it to be forcibly ripped from his soul. Betrayal was familiar. 

The aftermath was quiet. Tommy cried into his shoulder as he lay on a cold bed buried deep in Pogtopia. Tubbo’s chest bindings were replaced with bandages, instead, which Tommy helped him change out every time he bled through. It wasn’t worse than casualties they’d suffered in war, so he wasn’t sure why Tommy cared so deeply about it. He didn’t want to be a burden, anymore than he already was being, so he gently pushed Tommy away and told him he forgave Technoblade. Tommy didn’t seem to understand it, but he was gracious enough to purse his lips and help him clean up the blood.

Secretly, Tubbo was just glad he didn’t have to deal with the bloody bandages on his own, or any of the other grossly human things that came with being wounded. Having your wounds taken care of was embarrassing and vulnerable in a way he’d never been with someone else. It was fitting, he supposed, that it was Tommy, the person he’d come out to only a week earlier. It was funny how things worked out like that. 

“Tubbo, you’re the person I trust most, right?” Tommy was asking. 

Tubbo eyed him suspiciously. He was healed enough to sit upright now, so he spent most of his days sitting in bed with Tommy and waffling on. “You better not be starting another fight.” 

“That simply doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” 

Tubbo rolled his eyes, pulling his knees up under the blanket. “You did it like, four days ago.”

“That’s besides the point.” 

“What is the point?” 

Tommy went quiet again, leg bouncing from where he sat on the edge of Tubbo’s bed. 

“You don’t have to tell me.” Tubbo started, at the same time that Tommy said, “Haveyoueverthoughtaboutkissingboys?” 

“What?” Tubbo asked. 

“Huh?” Tommy responded, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. 

“Say that again? I think I misheard.” 

Tommy sighed, “Have you, ever, thought about, kissingboys.”

“Holy shit,” said Tubbo. “ The TommyInnit, lover of women?” 

“What are you, homophobic, dude?” Tommy’s shoulders drew tightly together, and his tone was light but anyone who knew him well knew he was nervous as all hell. 

“No! No,” he was quick to reassure, “I, uh, I think I’m quite the opposite.”

Tommy relaxed slightly, and then tilted his head at him. “You’re gay?” 

“I don’t know.” Tubbo said, plainly. “But I know I’ve never thought about a girl like that.” 

“Well, that’s not helpful.” 

“There’s not a lot I can do to help you. I can’t, like, explain your own feelings to you.” Tubbo countered. 

“Yeah, but, I wish there were some way to just try it out , without repercussions.”

Tubbo swallowed dryly and fiddled with his hands in his lap. “Well, I guess, there’s one thing we could try. Since you don’t know and I, I don’t know.” 

“What is it?” Tommy asked, genuinely, and Tubbo wondered if he really was that dense. 

“We could kiss each other, Tommy.” 

“Oh,” said Tommy. “ Oh .” 

Tubbo wished he could say that they’d put more thought into it than that, but in all honesty, they had both been down for it almost immediately after it had been suggested. He wanted to say that they weren’t just queer teenagers who had spent years fighting wars and running countries, who desperately needed a chance to mess around, but they were. Something festered in that environment, with the dried blood and close quarters. 

Tubbo had just lost a life, anyway, so what did he have to lose? 

Tommy fumbled his way to sit in front of Tubbo, cross-legged and serious. Then he leaned forward to carefully cup Tubbo’s bandaged face in his hands. 

Tubbo didn’t have a doubt in his mind as he leaned into the touch. It was like Tommy said. You’re the person I trust most, right? 

Tommy leaned in then, as if he was afraid that his senses would come to him if they sat like that any longer, and, miraculously, they kissed. Or they tried for a poor impression of it. Tubbo had only ever seen kisses on TV, so he wasn’t entirely sure what the positionings of the nose and mouth and teeth were supposed to be, but it felt pretty nice. Tommy’s eyebrows got all furrowed as they kissed, and when they both pulled away and breathed deeply, he looked deep in thought. 

“Consensus?” Tubbo asked. 

“Well, I’m something, that’s for certain.” Tommy mumbled. “You?” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m gay.” Tubbo grinned. Tommy barked a startled laugh, and it hit Tubbo almost contagiously, and soon they’d both dissolved into hysterics. The ridiculousness of their situation was not lost on them. They were in the middle of what was looking up to be another war, in the wake of betrayal and mania, and they were kissing . It both made perfect sense and no sense at all -- simultaneously the eye of the storm and the village that was swept up in it. 

His chest hurt now, but for an entirely different reason than it usually did. 

They breathed deeply and clutched at each other. Tommy helped him sit back against the pillow, hand on the small of his back, when he saw the strain it took on him to laugh. Tubbo was going to miss laughing with his full body, kicking at Tommy hysterically and hitting his head on the wall. He didn’t hold resentment towards Technoblade for killing him, exactly, but what he was left with in the wake of his execution was an ever-present feeling of loss. Like, oh, I’m never going to get to have this.

He leaned his head back and peered at Tommy. “Are you going to tell me what lead to your sexuality crisis?”

“Well, really, you caused it.” Tommy said, defensively. 

“What the fuck did I do?” 

“You got me thinking about gender ‘n’ shit, and I was like, men and women don’t seem that different, they’re both attractive,” he spoke breathlessly, “And then I was like ‘Oh shit! Do I want to kiss boys?’ And then I came straight here because I didn’t know who else to talk to.” 

“I didn’t cause it, then, you always liked men and women. Dumbass.” 

“You did cause it!” 

“Did not!” 

Then, Tommy gaped at him, eyes narrowing. Tubbo was confused. 

“Holy shit. Your voice, Tubbo.” Tommy said, “My potions are working!” 

“ Tommy. ” Tubbo said, shellshocked. Then he gingerly raised his hand up to his throat, as if surprised by his own voice coming out of his own mouth. 

“Tubbo!” 

“ Tommy! ”

“ Tubbo! ” 

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for this,” breathed Tubbo, once it had finally sunken in. “I could kiss you again right now.” 

Tommy laughed, “Don’t do that. No offense, but I’d rather die.”

“What happened to ‘person I trust most’, huh?” 

“ Person I trust most does not equal kissing partner. That was a one-time deal, bucko.” 

Tubbo found himself agreeing with that. He wondered if he should feel more attracted to Tommy, considering that he was pretty sure he was gay, and that Tommy was a boy, and that Tommy was the person closest to him. But he didn’t, not really, not in the kissing sense. More in the I’d-put-my-life-in-your-hands sense, if that was a sense you could have. 

“One-time deal,” he nodded. 

The next time the proverbial penny dropped was many, many months later. 

Manburg’s reign was long over, Pogtopia was a ghost of a memory (a haunting), and Tubbo was the president of a reborn nation at the age of sixteen. 

Tubbo was, for lack of a better term, an optimist. Even months after their last war, he still held a soldier’s mentality. Optimism was necessary for war, or else he’d lose the will to fight. Similarly, optimism was necessary to be president. He needed to believe that this time was different, that L’manburg could pick itself up from the rubble and try again . 

Because he couldn’t lose L’manburg, it was all they had left. 

Tubbo being trans was an open secret within the cabinet of New L’manburg, as Fundy and Quackity were too close to him at this point to not know, and they would even remind him to take his potions on time. It just became one of many daily tasks, over time. The one thing he’d failed to accommodate for, however, was the new guy. His minutes man. Ranboo, Beloved. 

Ranboo’s place in all of this was hard to explain. He wrote the minutes, in the simplest words, but he also did much more than that. He carried Tubbo’s papers to his office and pried the bottles out of his hands and let him talk . He was his confidante, who he came to when decisions were the hardest. He could tell Ranboo anything, mostly because he knew he’d inevitably forget. He was a lawful and loyal citizen. And tall. (Did Tubbo mention he was tall?)

As such, Tubbo had dragged him along to build an apiary with him. 

The day of reckoning came one evening as they were idling in the apiary together. The sunset filtered through the glass ceiling as Tubbo and Ranboo harvested honey alongside each other. Tubbo had long since memorized the ingredients of Tommy’s potion, and had begun making batches of his own. The fresh honey was a blessing. He bottled flasks of pure honey in quick succession, with skilled hands, piling them up in his bag. Eventually, as the light of the sun and sky dimmed into a lighter yellow and deeper blue, he snapped the bag shut. 

“Alright, Ranboo,” (Ran-bow) he said. “I’m gonna go drink my potions now. See-ya!” 

He was lifting the bag onto his shoulder and walking backwards out of the building when Ranboo called, “Wait!” 

“Yeah?” He asked, pausing 

Ranboo tossed a last bottle of honey into his own rumpsack, and then wrung his hands together as he drew closer to Tubbo. He had these chronically worried eyes, and it didn’t help that he couldn’t even blink, so it was like when he looked at you his pure anxiousness burned through your soul. 

“I know we’re not close or anything, but I can’t just sit by and watch you do this,” he said, ever-gentle. “You shouldn’t do this to yourself.”

Tubbo stared at him, blankly. 

“I know things are stressful, but you’ll only hurt yourself in the long run clinging to unhealthy substances,” he continued. 

“Ranboo, respectfully, what the hell are you on about?”

“You’re drinking again, aren’t you?” Ranboo said, eyes wide and earnest. He was so well-meaning that Tubbo almost wanted to put his hands over his ears and not listen to him at all anymore, but he couldn’t justify shutting him out.  

“No, I’m not drinking again,” he sighed. 

“Oh!” Ranboo’s expression brightened considerably at this. “Then what- uh, potion, then?” 

Tubbo knew that he didn’t owe Ranboo his life story or anything. He hadn’t told him much about himself in the first place, about his history as a spy and soldier, or about his hobbies and interests. But there was something about Ranboo’s kind, inquiring nature that just made him want to. 

“Big man, I’m trans. Born a woman, take potions to get a masculine voice, yadda-yadda-yadda,” he said, as if it was obvious. 

Ranboo’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “.....What does that mean?” he asked. 

Well, this was certainly awkward. Tubbo shifted from his left heel to his right, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, basically, I was born as a girl with a different name, but I didn’t like it, so I changed it.”

Ranboo only seemed further confused by this explanation, brows furrowing. “Sorry, I just don’t, uh. What’s the difference?” 

Tubbo was quickly losing his patience for this conversation. “The difference between what?”

“Girls. And boys.” 

Tubbo stared at him again. “Do you not know?”

“...No?” 

Tubbo sighed, and then put his bag back down on the grass. “Sit down, Ranboo (Ran-bow), this is going to take some explaining.”

Ranboo was all too eager to follow, legs crossed and back bent so that he could be at eye height with Tubbo. 

Tubbo tried his best to explain genders to Ranboo, and the idea of being transgender, but it was hard when Ranboo appeared to have no preconceived notion of any of it. Tubbo would say it was like he was an alien, but well, he did come from the moon, didn’t he? 

“Where do your potions come into this?” Ranboo asked. 

“I guess.. the best way to say it is that the potions make me feel good about myself.”

“Oh, that’s good, then. That’s really, really good.” Then a pause. “You’re sure they’re not drugs, right?” 

Tubbo rolled his eyes, “Yes, I’m sure they’re not drugs. Tommy made them for me.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“TommyInnit would not drug me, if anything I would drug him.” Tubbo said, matter-of-factly. “Actually, I have a question for you, Ranboo.” 

“A question for me ?” 

“Yeah. How do you use he/him pronouns if you don’t understand them?” 

“Well, I don’t know, you and Tommy use them.,” he said. “And I like you guys. And I feel like I’m more similar to you guys than I am to, say, Niki or Puffy.” 

“You’re farming awws, memory boy.” 

Ranboo laughed to that, but Tubbo paused again. 

“Wait, is that alright to say? I mean, are you a boy?”

“I’ll be honest, Tubbo, I still don’t fully understand this stuff,” he answered. “I guess I’m neither. You can call me whatever, though. You’re the president, do what you want.” 

Tubbo giggled. “That is not how I would treat my very professional job. Do I look like someone who would abuse my power?” 

“Just a little.” 

They sat like that in the grass for a while longer, observing each other quietly. Maybe a president and his minutes man didn’t look at each other like that. Who was Tubbo to know? Wilbur and Tommy were practically family, and Schlatt and Quackity, as his right hand man, were rather close as well. Some people might say personal relationships shouldn’t get tied up with politics, but that was all L’manburg’s history was. Personal relationships were entangled deeply in the fabric of this nation. 

“Can I write this down in my memory book?” Ranboo asked, suddenly. 

“If you want to remember it, I guess,” he squinted up at him. “Although I don’t see why you would.”

“I try to remember most things about my friends.” 

Tubbo swallowed uncomfortably, like he was trying to force the words down his throat. Friends . It was hard to trust people these days, between one too many betrayals and belittlements. But he believed in second and third chances. 

“Alright. Just don’t get too comfortable, big man.” Tubbo conceded, “We’re still gonna be political rivals in February.” 

Ranboo grinned, dopily. “Of course, Mr. President,” he said, but Tubbo got the impression he was only just playing along. He didn’t understand, yet, the implications of being president or being political rivals or the huge, sighing burden of loss this country had. Tubbo didn’t have the heart to explain it to him.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Months, or maybe years in the future, found Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy lying in a field together. Tubbo could have done this all day, lied here and absorbed the sun energy. There was something in his sheep instincts that was distinctly pleased to be surrounded by grass. Ah, yes, my natural habitat. He thought, then laughed to himself. 

Tommy did not feel the same, bolting upright swiftly. “This grass is so itchy, man!” He complained. 

“Really? It doesn’t bother me.” Ranboo said, mellow as always. 

“Okay, it may not bother you, enderboy , you love grass. Tubbo’s on my side, though.” 

“I’m so content right now I could die.” Tubbo said, simply. 

“Oh, don’t do that!” Ranboo protested. 

“Fucking hybrids,” muttered Tommy, and flopped right back down next to Tubbo. 

Months, or maybe years ago, Tubbo would not have trusted anyone enough to put his guard down like this. His horns were out in the open and his shirt was loose and neither of them cared one bit of who he resembled and what he was born as. Maybe this was acceptance. The final stage of grief. Tubbo felt like he’d been grieving for longer than he could remember, since he stepped through that portal to the Dream SMP and ripped himself in two halves. 

He was whole now. For the first time, despite it being in the name (survival), he wasn’t expected to do anything more than survive. His family was right here. And Tubbo was not so foolish that he thought these good times would last forever. Things rarely did on the server, but that wasn’t a reason not to cling to them for dear life while they did last. 

“Hey.” Ranboo broke the silence, “Is it normal to think everyone ’s attractive?” 

“Yes,” said Tommy. 

“What do you mean?” Tubbo asked. 

“Like, you only ever talk about being attracted to men. And that’s great! But I’ve never really thought one gender was prettier than another.” 

“That makes sense. I mean, you didn’t really know what gender was until like, a few months or years ago,” responded Tubbo. 

“So it’s normal? That I like everyone?” 

“Welcome to the club, asshole.” Tommy called over the small distance between them. “Did you cause another sexuality crisis, Tubzo?” 

“I haven’t caused any sexuality crises! Stop saying that!” Tubbo asserted. 

“Beg to differ.” Tommy said. 

“Ranboo, I didn’t give you a sexuality crisis, right?” Tubbo asked, and then a silent beat passed. “ Right? ” 

“I mean, you’re very pretty.” Ranboo said in a small voice, like he was getting scolded. 

“For fucks’ sake, Ranboo.” Tubbo said, face in his hands. 

“Ultimately, TommyInnit wins in this situation. As always.” 

These were the people Tubbo had willingly chosen as family. These were the people he’d confided in his deepest secrets, the people he trusted more than anyone else. It was almost surreal to be able to say that about two whole people when for the longest time he’d had trouble trusting one. 

Tubbo would never tell either of them this, God no, it would go straight to their heads. But he understood, now, what true friendship meant. To stick with someone through their ugliest, tear-stricken, fragile, bloody moments. 

He would learn to leave the past behind, somehow. 

There was hope here.