Archive of Our Own

“Ranboo, what are you doing?” Ranboo blinks, coming to in Tubbo’s cabin in Snowchester. Tubbo is waving a hand in front of his nose, lips pursed - his impatience plastered across his face. 

There’s a box in Ranboo’s hands and for a moment Ranboo is trying to figure out why he has it and what he was just doing before Tubbo interrupted him. He struggles for a moment, searching his mind for answers but comes up blank. Which isn’t unusual. 

“Ranboo.” Tubbo repeats. This time Ranboo is aware enough to jump. 

“Wha - sorry. Sorry. I spaced out.” Ranboo stutters, still feeling rather disoriented. 

Tubbo softens at his confusion. “It’s alright bossman, just wondering when you’re gonna start helping me take all the boxes over.”

“Boxes?” Ranboo stares at the one he holds in his large, clawed hands. It’s labeled ‘Michael.’

“Yeah,” Tubbo continues with that same lighthearted reassurance in his voice. “We’re finally moving into the mansion.” He gestures outward to reveal the stacks of moving boxes piled high in the living room. 

Ranboo balks for a moment, his tail whipping back and forth in agitation. “Really?” The idea doesn’t upset him, moreso the fact that he hadn’t remembered such an important step in his and his family’s lives. They’d talked plenty about moving into the Snowchester Manor, but had kept putting it off. Ranboo especially since he’d yet to inform Techno of his relationship with Tubbo. And boy oh boy is he dreading that conversation.

“Ranboo, do you not want to move in with me and Michael yet?” Uncertain concern in his voice, Tubbo’s rambunctious energy is so painfully restrained. He looks up at him with hesitant eyes that seem to anticipate an answer Tubbo dreads to hear.

“What? No, no no no. Tubbo, of course I want to move in. It’s just… what about Techno?” Ranboo clings to the box in his hands wishing it might transform into a grass block.

“Ohhh, I see what you’re on about. Are you worried you’ll miss living with them? Him and Phil?” Tubbo tilts his head, fluffy brown hair falling across his face.

“I mean, yes - but also what would I even tell Techno? I don’t know how he’d react. Well I don’t think he’d react…well to say the least.” As soon as he says it, he can’t help but feel as if something’s missing here. Like there’s a vital piece of information he lacks. Still, not an uncommon feeling for him.

“Oh, but bossman! You’ve already told him! He was completely fine with it. Came to visit Michael and everything. If I’m being honest, we might just have to keep Michael away from the guy. The other night, Techno read War and Peace to him for a bedtime story!” Tubbo laughs, a warm light in his eyes that has since returned after finally realizing Ranboo has apparently forgotten the whole situation.

It takes a moment for Ranboo to recalibrate, to try and get over the gaping black hole in his memory. He tries not to let it unnerve him. He’s used to this. This is just a part of life. This is normal. It’s unfortunate, but nothing is wrong.

“Ha, yeah. Sounds like we can’t count on Techno to babysit.” Ranboo manages to respond. 

“Oh, definitely not.” Tubbo nods with a grin. “Now help me out here, would ya? Can’t just let me do all the work.” He playfully scolds.

Ranboo squints at him, pressing his lips together. “Oh cause you’d never do that to me, right Tubbo?” 

“Of course not!” Tubbo raises his brows, turning his doe eyes towards him. Ranboo looks on, unimpressed. As Tubbo moves away, Ranboo spots the flicker of a smirk dart across his face.

“Uh huh,” He merely replies and joins Tubbo in gathering up all the boxes that made up Tubbo’s old home. 

Within the mansion there’s plenty of space to fill. There are so many rooms and floors, it’s easy to get lost in the maze that Foolish unintentionally created. Ranboo wonders how many times he’s walked into the same room over and over only to forget what he was actually there for. 

Fortunately they had started putting up various paintings and objects that acted as indicators for where one was in the mansion. Mostly, the rooms that Ranboo occupies are the ones that Tubbo and Michael frequent. He feels rather lost without them in this colossal place. Occasionally his heart ached for the shack back in the arctic, but the feeling always receded every time he laid eyes on his husband and child. 

Without them, however, he can’t help but try and remember. He wants to recall the memory of him and Tubbo finally making the decision to move into the mansion. He wants to know exactly how the conversation between him and Techno went. He wishes he could find it amidst the empty chasm that existed within his mind, but it isn’t there. It’s entirely gone, as if it were never there at all. All he has is what he jotted down in the memory book.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo’s tail sways, his form hunches and he doesn’t quite look at his partner directly.

“What’s up, Boo?” He asks from where he stands at the stove, tending to the soup he’s cooking up for their dinner. Ranboo chops up potatoes at the counter with intent focus as if trying to direct all his nervous energy into food preparation.

“I’m worried.” He says finally and Tubbo tosses a brief concerned glance in his direction.

“Yeah? What about?” 

“I just feel like my memory is getting even worse. Usually I remember the important things, but there’s such a huge gap. I mean the last thing I remember before moving day was-” Ranboo cuts himself off. Everything before the day they began to move into the manor is so foggy. The only concrete piece of information he can latch onto is the message from Eret. “Was that Michael was missing, but it was all okay because Eret had him and I - I was going to get him, but I don’t…there’s nothing after that.”

Tubbo stares at him for a moment, pausing in his stirring with a contemplative expression brewing on his face. “Well Michael's alright now. He’s back home with us, Boo. You don’t need to worry. I mean that’s part of the whole reason we finally decided to move into the mansion together. We wanted to keep Michael as safe and as happy as possible. With both of us living here that makes it easier to protect him.”

“I mean that does make sense.” He replies with a frown on his face. Tubbo steps towards him, a gentle hand rests on his arm. 

“Really, it’s okay. I’ll always be here to remind you of what’s important.” Often running full force into any situation, it’s rare that Tubbo is so gentle. Perhaps that’s why Ranboo is so willing to believe him. To trust him.

Ranboo leans into the touch, relaxes slightly and then turns to his husband for a hug. He complies and they stand there in the kitchen, in each other’s arms. 

What’s peculiar is that Ranboo stops forgetting.

Maybe it’s because Tubbo and Michael are around him at almost every moment of the day, but Ranboo hasn’t lost time in over a month. Sure, there’s small moments of absentmindedness. There are moments where Ranboo can’t remember where he left his house keys or what time he was supposed to get back from a mining trip, but he’s practically as forgetful as Tubbo these days. Still, he writes everything down anyway.

“Boo,” Michael squeals when he spots Ranboo in his doorway. Ranboo can’t help the smile that dawns on his face as the little piglin hops out of bed and races towards his father.

“Michael,” He crows, scooping his son into his arms. “How are you this morning?”

With a toothy grin, Michael shouts his enthusiasm. “Exci- excited! Techno’s coming today!” He struggled to get the words out. Common has been difficult for him, but Ranboo is so proud to see him improving.

“Well that is very exciting! How about we get you dressed, huh?” Ranboo carried Michael over to the dresser. Together the two of them worked through the ordeal of getting the toddler dressed and ended up with the usual pair of overalls and striped shirt. Then Michael was speeding out of the room as fast as he could and all the way into the kitchen where the pair happened upon Tubbo.

“Michael!” Tubbo shouts out cheerily, face lighting up as soon as he spots both his husband and son. Michael barrels into Tubbo’s arms, their voices fluttering with laughter. Watching the two of them, Ranboo can’t help but wish he could hold onto this memory forever. If only he could. Even if he had been doing better these past couple weeks, he couldn’t count on things to stay that way. For now, he would cherish his life in the moment. It was all he could do.

Ranboo, walking into the kitchen space, passes Tubbo with a gentle touch on his shoulder. “I’ll work on breakfast.” Tubbo nods, looking up at him with a grateful smile.

It’s only after they’ve eaten that Technoblade arrives. 

As soon as there’s a knock on the door, Michael hits the ground running, breaking free from Ranboo’s arms that had fit snug around him. Unfortunately for Michael, the zombie piglin isn’t tall enough to reach the handle. Tubbo takes the initiative and swings the door open to reveal a large, caped pigman standing awkwardly in the snow. He offers up an uneasy smile, scratching the back of his neck as if unsure of his presence here.

Ranboo had been plenty nervous for this meeting too. Especially with everything that had gone on between Tubbo and Technoblade. One doesn’t exactly get over being murdered and Ranboo hoped that Tubbo wasn’t putting on a lax front just for his sake. Ranboo would hate to be the cause of more pain, but… with the way that he spoke about Techno meeting Michael before there must’ve been a change in his attitude towards the anarchist.

He also wondered if Techno was mad at him at all. The pigman may have accepted that Ranboo had a family with Tubbo, but surely he’d still be hurt that Ranboo had lied to him. That wasn’t something that just got shoved aside. Ranboo had broken his trust.

Still, here Techno is, standing at their doorstep. 

Michael almost immediately breaks the tension when he leaps out into the snow and right at the pigman. “Techno!” He cries out, a look of sheer glee stretched across the toddler’s face.

“Hey, Michael.” Techno says, chuckling slightly. For a moment Ranboo thought Techno might withdraw from the child, the founder of the Syndicate didn’t seem to be the type to be fond of kids. Especially with the whole “orphan killer” bit. Instead, Ranboo finds himself marveling at the sight. Techno seems to warm towards the baby piglin in a way that Ranboo hadn’t expected. Seeing Michael so incredibly excited to see him, Ranboo was happy that he and Tubbo’s son had another piglin to interact with and look up to. Although, Ranboo certainly hopes that doesn’t influence Michael into becoming some sort of war god.

Before either Tubbo or Ranboo can invite their guest inside, Michael grabs Techno’s hand, pulling him into a very deep slouch, and drags him into the manor. “C’mon! C’mon!” He shrieks, and Ranboo winces in sympathy. Toddlers sure could be demanding. Tubbo and Ranboo glance at each other with a knowing look, quietly laughing as they follow along.

Michael had decided that he would be the one to tour Technoblade around the mansion and thus a whole expedition around the house begins. Tubbo and Ranboo trail after them, watching as Michael pulls Techno through room after room and despite Techno’s usual apathetic attitude he seems genuinely pleased to be there. His sarcastic remarks have Michael squealing with joy even if he can’t fully comprehend what Techno is saying, it still means a lot that Techno would even entertain this visit.

When Michael has finally tired himself out and is ready for a nap, the three of them find themselves in the living room. Tubbo offered to go and whip up some coffee, but Ranboo doesn’t get the sense his partner did it just to escape Techno’s presence.

Techno makes no move to be the first to engage in conversation which leaves Ranboo to get up the nerve to speak after a long and awkward silence.

“So, uh, how are you Technoblade?” Ranboo asks, wishing he had Michael in his arms or a grass block clutched in his hands if only just as a distraction.

“It’s goin’ good. Yeah, good. I think Philza might miss you just a bit though. Keeps starin’ off at your ugly lookin’ house all mournfully.” He quips.

Ranboo raises a brow. “But not you though?”

Techno smiles slightly. Shaking his head he says, “No, no of course not. Of course not. Me missing you ? Yeah, no, that’s pretty ridiculous. I mean I’m the Blood God - It wouldn’t make sense - getting all sappy and depressed.”

“Yeah,” Ranboo agrees knowingly. “Pretty ridiculous.”

There’s another pause. This time less uncomfortable, moreso reminiscent of a dynamic that had been lost for the past month.

“I couldn’t say the same for myself though. I love it here with Tubbo and Michael, but I won’t deny that sometimes I’d like to go back to the way things were. Though without the secrets this time around.” Ranboo wonders distantly if Tubbo will ever come back from the kitchen or if he’s taking his sweet time just to give the two Syndicate members a chance to catch up.

“Well Ranboo, if you ever wanna come back or even just visit you’re plenty welcome.” The invitation is said casually, but Ranboo doesn’t miss the yearning behind it. Oddly it stirs up a warm feeling within him. Often Ranboo had felt like a burden to Techno and Philza, feeling as if he were only offered to come stay in the north from a sort of twisted idea of obligation and guilt. Maybe that was the case, but Techno simply saying this implied that he actually does care for him. His concern came from a place that sought out companionship - and that acceptance means the world to Ranboo.

Instead of explaining all of that, Ranboo simply responds with: “Thanks, that’s really good to know.” 

So far, witnessing Tubbo and Technoblade’s interactions within the mansion, Ranboo hadn’t sensed any sort of tension between the two. Awkwardness, sure, but there didn’t seem to be any feelings of guilt or animosity or suppressed hurt towards the other. Ranboo was curious as to how they managed that, but to understand how that happened he needed to understand how he had broken the news to Techno.

“Techno, I actually don’t remember anything about the conversation we had when I told you about me and Tubbo and Michael. There’s been so much change, I’ve been feeling very out of the loop.” Ranboo manages to admit. He didn’t talk with Techno about his memory issues very often, but he hopes the guy isn’t terribly offended that Ranboo’s forgotten an important development in their relationship. “I was hoping you could refresh my memory on what happened?”

For a moment, Techno just kind of looks at him quizzically. “I mean there’s not much to say. You were all nervous and worked up about it when you told me, but there was nothing to worry about. I didn’t care. I mean  - I’m an anarchist, I’m all about just letting people do what they want.”

“That’s really all there was to it? It was that simple?” Ranboo can’t quite get himself to believe it. Techno had trusted him and he had lied . Surely there was more to it than that. It was just too easy.

“What? Did ya think I was gonna be a big drama queen about it?” Techno huffs, almost offended at the notion.

“I mean - well - I don’t know. I thought you might be like mad about it at least. I broke your trust. I think that’s a good reason to be upset.” Ranboo really hopes he isn’t ruining things by pushing the subject. Yet, he can’t help but feel that something is wrong.

“Maybe a little, but really it’s not a big deal Ranboo. I don’t want to hold you back. Even if I was angry, I’m glad you finally felt like you could tell me the truth.” He says, dismissing his concerns and while Ranboo believes him he can’t shake this gut feeling that nags at him, telling him that something isn’t right.

It could just be that none of what Techno says gives Ranboo any sort of glimpse into his memories. It’s probably just that. Ranboo really needs to accept the fact that he’s not going to ever recall what happened after Michael went missing. Everything turned out fine, so why remain so bothered?

“How’d you and Tubbo actually like sort things out though? I mean you don’t have to tell me, it’s alright if you don’t. I just don’t know exactly where the two of you stand with each other.” He’s been wondering for a while, but hadn’t been sure if Tubbo would give him a straight answer. Ranboo knew Techno would at least be blunt about the situation, or at least easy to read if not. 

“Oh, ya know we talked it out. We realized that both of us assassinated or tried to assassinate each other at some point in our history and that we should just call it even. There’s no point in holding a grudge with each other and…” He hesitates before continuing on. “And we both care about you, Ranboo. I care.”

“Dream doesn’t care.” He stands on the shore, waves lapping against the sandy bank. His skin stings, but no burns crawl across his flesh. Only the salty wind nips at his clothes and tugs on his hair.

“You have the wrong hostage!” Technoblade is yelling, he is armed and he is as ferocious as he was the day that he ruined L’manburg alongside his canine army. Yet, instead of vindictive and wrathful, this time he is panicked. Technoblade is afraid.

“I care.” Is what Ranboo hears when a sharp, unexpected force plunges into his middle. He stares down at the shimmering netherite blade sticking out of him, at the blood of red and green spilling forth. 

And he falls. 

Ranboo resurfaces in the present, returning to another reality. The feeling is not unlike the episodes in which he would recall lessons he didn’t remember learning. It’s as if he had been plunged underwater into the depths of his own brain. It takes him a moment to try and catch his breath, he’s not sure if he ever does.

Technoblade is still talking, rambling on. He can hardly focus on the words, not when the pounding of his heart is so incredibly loud in his ears.

“Things are better when we’re on good terms. No sides, no conflict. Everyone’s happy, right Ranboo?” Techno smiles. It looks wrong on him.

“Yeah,” He nods, but can’t bring himself to look at Techno. “Yeah. Seems like something I’d say,” Ranboo manages to remark. He doesn’t understand what that just was, what it means. Maybe it was nothing. Ranboo wishes he could let himself believe that, but he can’t deny that it had happened. There’s something rooted within him that begs him not to think about it. Just ignore it, to shove the image out of his mind.

“I’ve got your coffee boys,” Tubbo walks in, balancing three mugs in his hands trying to be extra careful not to spill. After handing drinks off to them both, Tubbo sits down next to Ranboo on the sofa nudging him over to make room.

“You see Tommy around lately?” Tubbo inquires, and Ranboo raises a brow in his partner’s direction. Holding his breath as he anticipates for Techno to brush Tubbo off or shut him down, Ranboo glances between the two.

Rolling his eyes, Techno replies. “I mean that racoon still won’t stop stealing my stuff, but the other day me - and Phil - took him hunting. He didn’t hit a single thing, but we did get him to cook up lunch so there’s that.”

“Really?” Ranboo couldn’t help but utter. “You and Tommy?”

Tubbo’s attention darts over to Ranboo. “Yeah, you didn’t know? After me and Technoblade got our shit together, Tommy and him managed to patch things up.”

Techno purses his lips alongside his furrowed brow. “I mean I wouldn’t say that, but well yeah. We’ve started talking again and that’s honestly the most I could’ve hoped for.” 

“Huh, and I thought you and Tubbo making amends was impossible.” Ranboo shakes his head, disbelieving. Despite how unrealistic and unexpected this all feels, something in him has settled. So much of his time had been spent worrying and agonizing over these broken relationships between people he cares so much about. He wanted so badly for Tubbo and Tommy to be able to reconnect with Techno and Philza and now they have. It’s unreal.

Tubbo elbows him, jolting Ranboo from his thoughts. “Hey now, give us some credit. We’re mature people - well not Tommy, but we’re fucking, ya know, stubborn so I’m quite proud of  us.”

“Yeah,” Ranboo smiles at the two of them. “I’m proud of you too.”

Technoblade decides to take his leave not long after that. It must’ve gotten too sentimental for him, but Ranboo is just surprised he’d been willing to even have that conversation. The obvious growth that both Tubbo and Techno had gone through makes Ranboo’s heart feel full. Everything was really alright. Even if he didn’t remember how it happened, everything is much better than he’d thought. It’s everything Ranboo has ever wanted, really. 

Ranboo accompanies Techno towards the door, leaving Tubbo to go wash up their mugs. When they reach the entryway, Techno pauses, holding up a finger as he rifles through his inventory. Ranboo watches with curiosity as Techno pulls out a tattered polaroid photo.

“Here,” He hands Ranboo a picture he recognizes. “You forgot this.”

Michael’s smiling face stares up at him. In the background, one of the family portraits from back in Tubbo’s cabin hangs behind the tiny piglin. In an instant his vision careens, his senses go fuzzy and Ranboo can see a red and green smear across the photo. He can’t quite comprehend it and there’s a weight in his chest that has him dizzy.

“Philza was raiding your ugly old house for supplies and found it. Figured you’d want it back, yeah?” Technoblade doesn’t seem to notice the telling stain that sticks to the picture’s glossy surface. He doesn’t seem to see the blood that pours down the front of Ranboo’s chest. He doesn’t even realize Ranboo is frozen, drifting between the present and a moment in time that feels more real than anything around him right now.

“See ya around, Ranboo.” Techno walks through the doorway, but Ranboo doesn’t close the door behind him. He just stands there, staring at the photo. The red and green soaks through his white button up shirt. His blood pools on the hardwood floor.

Tubbo finds him later, still unmoving before the doorway. He closes the door, berating Ranboo for leaving it open and letting it get so cold inside. The photo of Michael is ripped from his hand and then pinned to the fridge with a magnet. Tubbo smiles at Ranboo and says it’s one of his favorite pictures they have of their son.

He doesn’t ever notice the blood, but Ranboo still feels it. Warm and sticky and wet against his skin, gushing from an invisible wound.

“Tommy,” Ranboo says, surprised to see the boy. “What are you doing here?” 

Michael is at Ranboo’s side, for the past fifteen minutes the two of them have been out in the snow together trying to build a snowman. Tommy, wearing a tattered old sweater that seems to be unspooling in several places, shivers in the Snowchester weather. 

“What? Can’t a man go where he pleases? I think I’ll go wherever I want, thank you very much!” Tommy replies indignantly. 

Michael leans into Ranboo’s side, grubby hands pulling on his father’s cloak. “You’re silly.” The toddler giggles with a mischievous smile. 

“HEY! I am not silly . I am a very serious person. I only ever do big serious manly things, bitch.” Tommy huffs, crunching through the snow as he stomps closer to them.

“Tommy, please do not call my son that.” Ranboo sighs and tries to tuck Michael closer to him. The toddler merely appears amused and starts to pull away towards Tommy.

“Silly, silly Tommy.” Michael taunts, taking great joy in Tommy’s rising fury. 

“I’ll stop calling him that once he stops being one!” He declares, earning a glare from Ranboo that is easily ignored. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Tommy. What are you doing in Snowchester?” He tries again in an attempt to steer Tommy away from pointlessly arguing with his son. 

“I’m collecting resources for Sam. He keeps making me do chores and shit.” He grumbles, kicking the snow with his foot and sending it flying in the direction of the mansion.

“Sam?” Ranboo asks and walks forwards to swoop Michael up into his arms, suddenly feeling oddly protective. “Why are you working with him again?”

“Fuck - no - I mean Sam Nook. He’s building a burger place inside my hotel. Well me and Jack’s hotel now I guess.” He rolls his eyes and mutters something like “ Stupid fucking Jack Manifold.”

“Wait - another burger place?” Ranboo laughs and Michael proceeds to reach up to grab at his face, latching onto either side and stretching out his skin. Ranboo, as any good father does, lets it happen, not letting the action deter his conversation. “Don’t we have enough of those already?”

Tommy nods, mouth set in a firm line. “Gotta compete with Will and Quackity, you know how it is.” 

“They sure are all about their healthy competition.” 

Tommy scoffs, eyes rolling. “Oh fuck healthy competition, I’m just trying to piss Wilbur off. Cause he’s a bitch.”

“Right. Well, I guess I’m glad me and Tubbo don’t work at the burger shops anymore cause that sounds like a whole disaster.” At some point Ranboo had brought up to Tubbo why he hadn’t been going to work in Las Nevadas after they’d moved. He’d been nervous to bring it up, especially since their last several conversations about their opposing jobs hadn’t gone so well. Alongside the tiny little detail that Ranboo had gotten blown up… well Ranboo wasn’t too eager to touch the subject.

Turns out they had both quit before moving into the mansion. Wilbur and Quackity, surprisingly enough, ended up taking it quite well. Then in a twist no one saw coming, they went and merged both burger businesses together. So, things were great. Everything was perfect.

Too perfect.

It felt wrong. Ranboo can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly off. But everyone is so happy . He’d never seen such harmony among everyone. There were no wars, no sides, no conflict. Everyone had gotten over their issues with each other despite how badly they might have wronged one another. The server is at peace, so why can’t Ranboo just let it go? This is his ideal world. Maybe that’s why he is so incredulous, he knows how unrealistic his hopes for the server were. Things just didn’t work like that, it wasn’t that easy - or even possible.

“Hey, Ranboooo my man, whaddya say about lending me a hand and helping me collect these resources. You’re such a lovely and kind and helpful guy I know I can count on you.” Tommy wiggles his eyebrows at him and ignores Michael who promptly bursts into laughter. It seemed everything Tommy did was peak comedy to the toddler.

“Um.” He glances between his son and Tommy. “I’m good.”

“Wha? C’mon mate, c’mon.” Tommy postures, his attempts at persuasion lacking.

“Yeah, I’m gonna keep building a snowman with my kid instead of doing your job for you, Tommy.” Ranboo moves Michael’s hands away from his face in an effort to look slightly more assertive.

“Oh fuck you Ranboob, you bitch.” Tommy groans in exasperation and is about to trudge away before his head snaps back up to Ranboo. “Oi, you know where Tubbo is? Maybe I could recruit him instead.”

Ranboo sighs, setting Michael back on the ground. “He’s in the bee dome. Try not to get stung.”

Tommy nods, saluting him before going on his merry way towards the mansion to go pester his best friend. Michael pulls Ranboo back to the snowman and Ranboo tries not to let himself overthink and focuses on his son instead. Why can’t he just let himself be happy? Everything is fine. He should be happy. Worrying is pointless, but the ache in his chest remains.

The three of them are at the dinner table and Michael is happily scribbling away with his crayons. Ranboo can make out the familiar pink and red figure that has made many an appearance in Michael’s drawings ever since Technoblade first visited. They’ve also started to skew a bit more violent much to Ranboo’s chagrin, Tubbo at least isn’t too bothered. In fact he seems to endorse it, egging Michael on by coming up with wild stories that usually end with plenty of destruction.

“Die! Die, die, die!” Michael attacks the paper with his crayon, dragging red across the page so roughly he tears the paper. He doesn’t seem bothered by this, but he has effectively created several squiggly looking corpses.

Ranboo takes this as his chance to intervene. “Michael, how about we tone down the killing, alright? That doesn’t seem like a very nice thing to do to anyone now does it?” He catches Michael’s arm, effectively stopping it from moving and pries the crayon from his hands.

Michael makes a face, obviously irritated that his rampage has been put to a stop. “Bo! Boo won’t let me play!”

Tubbo looks up from the plans he had brought from his study to the dinner table, only just now tuning into the conversation. “Huh?” He spots the very red drawing and seems to comprehend the situation immediately. “Oh, well you can have the crayon back when you make your content PG friendly like Ranboo over here.”

“Um.” Ranboo shoots him a look. “But Bo is right, Michael. You have to understand that yelling ‘die’ - especially at people - isn’t appropriate behavior. Right, Tubbo?” He raises his eyebrows pointedly in his husband’s direction.

“Right,” Tubbo manages, his mouth pressed into a line as if suppressing a conflicting statement.

“Tommy does it! Why can’t I say it!” Michael whines, banging on the table with his tiny fists.

“See! I told you! It’s not my fault he’s gotten like this! Blame Tommy,” Tubbo declares, jumping from his seat with an accusing finger in the air.

“You still like - enable him! That doesn’t change anything!” Ranboo argues back, frustration growing. “He doesn’t understand what death actually means yet.”

In an instant something about Tubbo’s demeanor shifts. His eyes are dull, his tone turns placid and matter of fact. “But it happens. It happens all the time. It’s happened to me. Happened to you too so that I wouldn’t get to. It’s just dying, Ranboo. That’s all it is. Death isn’t really any different from living, if I’m honest. In some ways it’s better. It is better, right Ranboo?” His husband stands there, blinking at him as if he hadn’t just said something so horrifying to him in front of their toddler.

“Tubbo, I - what’s going on with you?” Ranboo fumbled for words. “What do you mean ‘is it better?’ - how can dying be better than living? I don’t - You’re worrying me, Tubbo.”

“Are you happy, Ranboo?” Tubbo tilts his head with eyes that bore into Ranboo’s very soul. Glancing over worriedly to see how Michael is handling this, he recognizes the same sort of controlled stillness and vacant expression that Tubbo has assumed but on their little one’s face.

“What - Tubbo? Yes, yes of course I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be happy? Things have never been better. Everything’s going great.” Ranboo regards Tubbo from across the dining table with wary eyes, squirming in his skin. This isn’t Tubbo he’s talking to. This Tubbo is devoid of the vibrant, brilliant light that infects everyone around him. This Tubbo is cold. 

This Tubbo terrifies him.

“I’m glad that you’re happy, Ranboo. Everything’s the way you wanted. Perfect just for you. Is there a reason you shouldn’t be happy?” He tilts his head, gaze unblinking.

“No, no reason at all.” Ranboo assures him quickly.

“Then I’m happy too.” Tubbo says simply. He grins and the act sends shivers down Ranboo’s spine, but Ranboo returns the gesture with his own strained smile. 

And then that’s that. The conversation has ended. Tubbo lowers himself back down to his seat with a slow sort of elegance. He sits primly on his chair and like nothing happened, returns to his plans.

“Boo…” Michael whimpers, tugging on Ranboo’s sleeve and startling him out of his careful observance of the stranger that was his husband. “I’m tired…”

“Oh - okay, Michael. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll tuck you in.” Hands shaking, Ranboo lifts Michael out of his highchair and settles the toddler against his hip.

Tubbo looks up from his blueprints just as Ranboo is about to walk away. “Good night Michael,” He says warmly. There’s light in his eyes again and they crinkle as he smiles. “Sleep well my lil man.”

“Night, Bo.” Michael replies with a yawn.

In Michael’s bedroom, Ranboo sets the piglin down on his racecar bed and arranges the blankets around his already curled up form. Michael moves as if his limbs were sandbags as he slowly burrows under the covers to get comfortable. Once Michael is settled, Ranboo perches on the edge of the bed and leans down to plant a kiss on the little one’s forehead.

“Sweet dreams,” He murmurs. Ranboo makes to leave before Michael’s eye snaps open. He reaches for Ranboo’s long spindly hand with his own small and stubby one, halting his father in his tracks.

“Sing,” Michael sleepily demands. “Sing, Boo sing.”

Ranboo chuckles and settles back down on the bed. “Alright,” He says, smiling with his eyes, he then begins to hum. His hand drifts towards Michael’s head and he runs his fingers through the soft pink fur. His humming transforms into words as his nails gently brush through Michael’s tangles and Ranboo sings his son a lullaby.

Stay awake, don’t rest your head

Don’t lie down upon your bed

While the moon drifts in the skies

Stay awake don’t close your eyes

He feels his husband’s presence appear in the hall behind him before he sees the shadow he casts from the doorway. Ranboo turns slightly to watch Tubbo cautiously slip inside, tiptoeing across the hardwood until he reaches Michael’s bed. The expression he wears is soft and Ranboo cannot detect the earlier vacancy from the dinner table. It’s a relief, but also maddening.

Michael doesn’t seem troubled, instead he smiles up at his parents with a docile sort of joy. He reaches up to rub his singular eye and leans into Ranboo’s tender touch.

Ranboo looks up when Tubbo’s voice joins in alongside his own. Tubbo rests his hand on Ranboo’s shoulder and it feels real and kind and true. Together they sing Michael a lullaby. Their voices are a bit rough and they don’t quite match up, but they do alright. As they sing the last verse it’s far from perfect, and they mix up the lyrics, but it’s beautiful all the same.

Though the world is fast asleep

Though your pillow soft and deep

You’re not sleepy as you seem

Stay awake, don’t nod and dream

Michael’s eye slips shut. Tubbo presses a gentle kiss onto the back of Michael’s tiny hand. Ranboo wishes that the three of them might stay in this blissful moment forever. 

He sings the last line alone.

Stay awake, don’t nod and dream.

And he’s happy. 

“No idea what you’re on about bossman.” Tubbo is curled up by the fireplace, sinking into a big comfy chair with a book propped up on his chest. “I mean we decided that you were right about Michael and the whole ‘die’ thing and that’s all there was to it.”

Ranboo stands in the middle of the room wringing his hands, his figure tense. His tail flicks back and forth, distress obvious. “You’re not getting it, Tubbo. It’s not about that! You - you weren’t you. You said things. I - You scared me.”

Tubbo sits up with a frown, unfurling himself from his coiled position. He proceeds to walk over to his anxious husband, leaving the book lying open face down on the chair. “Ranboo,” He brought his hand up to grip Ranboo’s arm. “Hey, it’s alright. Look at me.”

Ranboo looks, but doesn’t meet Tubbo’s eyes.

“Do I seem like anybody else but Tubbo?” He raises his eyebrows with a pointed look.

“No,” Ranboo admits, but he still feels fidgety beneath Tubbo’s grasp. “You’re… you.”

“Yeah! That’s not ever gonna change. I’ll be right here, ya know?” Tubbo is bright and comforting and Ranboo wants to believe him, but he also can’t forget what happened over dinner earlier that night no matter how much he wants to.

“I know,” He softly replies. “I just - like you - you said some strange things about death and my happiness and now you don’t even know that it even happened? Doesn’t that - doesn’t that like bother you?”

Tubbo purses his lips for a brief moment as if thinking it through. “No, not really.” He responds with complete nonchalance. And Ranboo doesn’t detect any lies in that statement or any cracks in Tubbo’s demeanor. He’s absolutely genuine.

“How can it not bother you?” Ranboo sputters and stumbles backwards, incredulous.

Tubbo pulls back, surprised that he’s failed to soothe his husband’s worries. “I mean,” He pauses, suddenly hesitant. “I can’t exactly trust your memory of things, if I’m honest. And really I would believe you, Ranboo - but like I was there. For me, that didn’t happen. Maybe it was just a dream that you thought was a memory. Something like that! I don’t know, but what matters is that everything is fine. I’m here, and I’m me. So don’t worry too much about it, ya know?”

Ranboo’s heart sinks. “You don’t believe me?”

There’s a moment where Tubbo glances back and forth, demeanor hunching, but he says what Ranboo is afraid to hear anyway. “I want to, bossman. I really do, but - I’m sorry.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything in over a month. My memory has gotten better. This doesn’t make sense.” Ranboo groans in frustration as he raises his hands to massage his temples. There’s a pounding behind his eyes. Like someone’s banging on a door, begging to break out.

“Hey,” Tubbo surges forward, hands hovering. “Hey, it’s alright.” He pulls Ranboo’s arms away from his face. “You’re fine. Things are good. You’re good. I promise you, your memory is getting better. I swear. This is just a little setback - no biggie. Happens all the time with plenty of my projects, but in the end everything turns out fine.”

Ranboo surrenders to Tubbo’s fluttering and worried hands. He lets himself be led over to the sofa and Tubbo sits down beside him. His head ends up between his knees, but Tubbo holds his hand in an attempt at support. Ranboo doesn’t know if it's effective. He craves the touch, but at the same time can’t help but want to rip his hand away and go off to cry alone.

There’s so much he wants to say. There are so many moments that have lost all sense and plagued Ranboo’s peaceful attempt at life in Snowchester. He wants to talk to Tubbo about it. He wants to be believed.

But Tubbo seems to think it’s all in Ranboo’s head. Which it is. The pool of blood he wakes up in every morning is nowhere to be seen when Ranboo reels out of bed in horror. The sheets are clean and unmarred. They always are.

He wants to tell Tubbo, but he can’t. He’ll realize he’s married worse than just an amnesiac. And Ranboo wants to stay. He’s never been so happy, has he? Life at the Snowchester manor, surrounded by his family, was all he’d ever dared to dream of. 

He is happy here, in this safe and comforting home. He never wants to lose it, but it already feels like everything is slipping away, unraveling at the seams.

So he doesn’t say anything more about it. 

“You’re probably right.” Ranboo croaks out as Tubbo runs his fingers along his back. “It’s probably just my bad memory.”

For the first time, Ranboo hopes that it is. Memory loss was something he could understand. It was what made sense. Really, that was the only real possibility. Just his brain, failing him once again.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Tubbo repeated, squeezing Ranboo’s hand tightly. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Yeah,” Ranboo says numbly. “I’ll be fine.”

He falls asleep, arms clutched around Tubbo’s middle, and never wants to wake.

“You alright, mate?” Philza turns to him, concerned eyes inquiring him with a look. 

The two of them stand in the fields of the arctic commune, dirt under their nails and carrots tucked into baskets. Ranboo had only managed to make his way down half a row in the time that it took Phil to cover four. 

“Ranboo?” Phil asks again, his hand coming up to settle on Ranboo’s shoulder. Finally Ranboo looks up with tired eyes that can’t quite focus on the lines of Phil’s face.

“Phil, you ever feel like you’re losing it?” He says suddenly, his voice at an oddly high pitch. His tail twitches behind him and his nails embed themselves into the carrot he has just plucked from the ground.

“Ranboo, what’s going on?” Phil tries to pry an actual answer out of Ranboo, but the half enderman is distant and doesn’t quite hear him. Instead Ranboo drops the carrots he’s collected back down to the frozen earth and drifts away from the field, away from Phil’s comforting touch. He walks with an off kilter grace towards the spring just ahead. Phil follows, curious yet hesitant.

Ranboo stops right at the water’s edge. Phil hovers nearby as if preparing to stop him from going any farther.

“I’m bleeding.” Ranboo’s hand raises listlessly to the center of his chest.

“You don’t look like you’re hurt anywhere. Did you run into some trouble on the way here? Why didn’t you tell me? I mean - I could’ve helped you.” Phil eyes him, searching for injuries he will not find.

Ranboo stares into the pool. Red and green ichor drips into the water, expanding outwards like smoke. He meets the gaze of his own reflection and sees a corpse. His skin, sprawling with faint burn scars hangs loosely from his skeletal frame. With dull eyes that lack any of their usual luminescence, he stares at the decayed figure below him and for a moment feels as deathly as the image in the water.

“I think something’s wrong.” Ranboo’s voice is a broken whisper.

“Ranboo, mate… I think we should get you home to Tubbo.” Phil tries to bring a hand to Ranboo’s shoulder, but he jerks away before the man can touch him.

“No, no I don’t want to go home. It’s so much harder to see it all there.” His voice climbs in pitch once more as tears bud in his eyes. “It’s like I can’t think - like there’s this fog in my mind.”

“Is something going on between you and Tubbo? Are you two having a falling out? What’s going on?” There’s a moment where Ranboo meets Phil’s eyes, sees them flooded with concern - trying to fix a problem he cannot solve.

“No! No, nothing’s going on between me and Tubbo. We’re fine. We’re absolutely perfect .” He practically shouts through gritted teeth. Phil takes a step back, brows twisted in surprise.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like it’s going just fine. Are you okay, Ranboo?” The question sends a bitter laugh tumbling from Ranboo’s lips. 

“No! I’m not! I’m not okay.” He takes a shaky breath and despite his better judgment, despite Tubbo’s instances and reassurances, Ranboo’s words surge forwards. “Everything is going great. Everyone on the damn server is so happy and content with their lives. And somehow even though I have everything that I’ve ever wanted, I’m still not. I’m still not happy. For some reason I just can’t let myself be anything but miserable. I’m literally incapable of it. Somehow my mind keeps coming up with reasons to be upset even though nothing is wrong. NOTHING IS WRONG.” 

The words ring out across the arctic and the world is eerily still. Quiet, as if they were trapped in a vacuum, except for the echo of NOTHING IS WRONG over and over in Ranboo’s ears. The air in his chest deflates and he slumps his shoulders, eyes wandering back over to the pool of water to find his reflection once more.

“The only thing that’s wrong is me.” He mutters, staring at eyes that did not stare back.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Phil says, drawing Ranboo’s gaze back to him. Time after time Ranboo is met with Phil’s kindness. He doesn’t always understand why. He never really got why the man invited him to come stay with him and Techno aside from some skewed sense of pity. Only later did Ranboo realize that pity wasn’t really in either syndicate member’s nature. In some ways it reaffirmed Ranboo’s concerns about his place in the arctic commune, but his fear of being a burden never really went away.

Tentatively, Phil continues. “You’ve had it rough, Ranboo. You’re so used to the happiness in your life being temporary. Either that joy and comfort is forgotten or it’s stripped away from you. But now, nothing has gone wrong in so long that you’re expecting the rug to get pulled out from under you. Sometimes it’s hard to let yourself be happy because you’re so afraid it’ll all fade away. But it’s okay, Ranboo. You’re safe. Your family is safe. There’s no evil plot on the horizon. It’s okay. You can finally be happy.”

And then Phil pulls him into a hug and Ranboo sinks into him like a rag doll. “I can?” He asks, voice small.

“Yes. You can. You’re finally at peace now, Ranboo. At long last.” The words are a eulogy. The words are a spell. The words are the truth. “You can be happy now.”

“I can.” Ranboo repeats. The words are a lie.

Ranboo wakes to the feeling of a warm sticky substance clinging to his skin. He knows what he’ll see the moment he opens his eyes. The large circular stain that seeps into his mattress is no surprise, but the flicker of a netherite blade sticking out of his chest is. He blinks and it’s gone. He takes a shuddering breath to remind himself that he still can, closing his eyes again to ground himself. When he opens them again, he spots Michael standing in the doorway.

“Boo!” He screeches with delight, paying no mind to the puddle of blood that his father is presently leaking.

“Michael,” Ranboo greets warmly, sitting up. “Good morning. You know where Bo is?”

Michael’s face twists in thought, bringing a hand to his chin as he takes a moment to ponder. “Umm… I think he said he went to fix up the cookie outpost?”

“Alright, want some breakfast lil guy?” He asks as he climbs out of bed.

“Bo already made some! I wanna play hide and seek.” The little piglin reaches up to grab Ranboo’s hand and the half enderman bends over to oblige him. “C’mon! C’mon! Boo, you seek and I’ll hide!” He instructs, pulling Ranboo towards the door.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stand here and count. Now you go hide.” Ranboo murmurs conspiratorially in his son’s ear and then the toddler is bounding away out of sight.

Ranboo assumes his full height and covers his eyes, counting loudly so Michael will be sure to hear how much time he has left. When he reaches zero, Ranboo finds he is giddy with jittery excitement. Hide and Seek has become Michael’s new favorite game ever since they moved into the mansion. There’s plenty of places to hide and the main drawback is that sometimes it ends up taking way too long to find anyone.

Wandering down the hall, feet padding across the rug, Ranboo pricks his ears in search of any barely suppressed giggles that typically give the little piglin away. When he doesn’t hear any, Ranboo purses his lips and continues ducking his head into every room he passes. 

After twenty minutes and no sign of Michael, panic has begun to set in.

“Michael!” Ranboo calls. “Michael!” The fear that grips him is familiar and bone deep. Michael shouldn’t have been too hard to find. He had given him only twenty seconds to hide, Michael couldn’t have gone far.

Yet Michael was nowhere to be found.

Frantic now, Ranboo tore through the mansion cursing Foolish for making the place so damned big. “Michael, I give up!” He shouts out with a pathetic attempt at sounding lighthearted. “You win! Just come on out now, you beat me. I’ll make you some of the golden carrot candies you love so much! It’s your prize for winning, but you gotta come out right now or else I’m not gonna make any. Okay, Michael?”

The mansion is quiet.

“Michael?” He chokes out. 

When Ranboo has searched every possible inch of the mansion and the entirety of Snowchester he stands shivering in the snowfall completely numb, but not from the cold. I need to tell Tubbo . He thinks to himself, but he doesn’t move right away. Ranboo was in charge of Michael. He was supposed to protect him. He doesn’t want to see the look in his husband’s eyes when he has to tell him their son is missing because of him.

He should tell Tubbo. He really should, but he can’t. Not yet. Maybe this all just a false alarm again. Maybe Eret has him.

Maybe Sam does.

The thought is like a bullet shot right through his head. Immediately Ranboo is digging through his inventory, checking to make sure he has his axe and all of his netherite armor on him. The second he has made sure all his weapons are secure, he heads straight for Pandora’s Box.

The whole way there Ranboo is trembling, his vision going double, and his heart jumps around in his chest like a pinball machine. There is only one thing on his mind.

He has Micheal.

His brain hits rewind and he hears it again. Again. Again.

He has Micheal.

He’s said these words before. Said them out loud. Said them with a sword at his throat and his armor on the ground. Ranboo knows intrinsically that the “He” he was talking about in that moment from another life, was Sam all the same.

He has Micheal.

It’s a chant, a theory that has taken root in his head and now he cannot shake it. He knows. He knows . Sam has Micheal. Sam told him he did.

“Eret gave him to me.” Ranboo remembers. He has Michael.

Panting as if he could never get enough breath in his lungs, Ranboo reaches the top of the hill. Below him, the prison entrance waits. Ranboo is blinded for a moment, flashes of memories that don’t fit in his skull crash across his vision. He stumbles, skidding down the hill and tumbles into a heap at its base. He still can’t breathe. There’s water in his lungs or maybe there's tears on his skin, burning a path down old scars. He lies there for too long, a shuddering and pathetic mess too overwhelmed to rescue anyone.

Ranboo. He hears Tubbo’s voice scold. Your son is in danger. Get up.

With quivering limbs, Ranboo gets back onto his feet. He strides towards the prison entrance, attempting to muster a confidence he doesn’t have. Fractured memories - him tripping over his feet, claws reaching out for a grass block, three sharp points at his back pushing him onward - bombard his senses. He tries to shake the choppy flash of images from his eyes. He’s almost expecting a lesson to glitch across his vision. No writing appears and Ranboo presses on, a metallic taste on his tongue.

“Ranboo?” The voice startles him back into the present and he whips around to find Sam staring up at him. “What are you doing here?”

Ranboo can’t help but be reminded of when he and Sam had met alone like this before. Ranboo, begging to be locked in and Sam doing everything he could to talk him out of it. He wishes it was that Sam he was confronting today. But by the cold look in the Warden’s eyes he knew that this would not be a meeting he could simply just walk away from.

“Where’s Michael.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand.

“I don’t know what you mean, Ranboo.” Sam pauses, eyeing the half enderman’s demeanor. “Is he not back in Snowchester?”

“I know you have him.” Ranboo doesn’t think has ever sounded so vicious in his life.

“Are you sure? Does Tubbo know about this? Maybe he’s taken him somewhere for the day and you just… forgot .” It sounds like a taunt and the flicker of satisfaction in Sam’s eyes once he sees Ranboo’s expression drop does nothing to dissuade him of such a notion.

“Shut the hell up. I know you took him.”

“Oh,” Sam’s brows raise in mock admiration. “Using your big boy words now, aren’t you Ranboo?” There’s a split second where a toxic green smile flickers across his vision like a glitch.

“Where. Is. Micheal.” Ranboo points the tip of his axe to the creeper hybrid’s chin, enunciating each word behind bared teeth.

“He’s with Tubbo, Ranboo.” It’s said so casually, like Ranboo’s threats mean nothing. Sam, Ranboo realizes, isn’t afraid of him at all. How could he be?  When faced with Ranboo whose own tears hurt him, whose own memory is so unreliable? Ranboo who can trust no one, not even himself.

All of a sudden, he is utterly aware of how powerless he is. Why did he think that he alone would be enough to save Michael? Why didn’t he ask for help? Why didn’t he tell Tubbo? Maybe if he had he would’ve learned that Michael had actually been with him all along, that it was just Ranboo’s cursed memory acting up once again.

“N-no he isn’t.” He stutters out weakly, not quite believing his own words. “You took him. Give him back.” He presses the axe against the Warden’s throat. Sam doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even try to get away.

“You don’t want to do this Ranboo.” He says. There is a warning in his tone.

“You have him!” The sob that breaks free from his throat sounds as desperate as Ranboo feels. “You told me you have him. You gave me that photo. You - you threatened his life to stop me from escaping so you could stop Dre-” He stutters to a stop, eyes wide with horror. How did he know this? What was he talking about? None of that had ever even happened.

“I told you.” Sam doesn’t sound smug, he sounds resigned. “You need to go home, Ranboo.”

Ranboo’s eyes dart back to Sam’s face. “What’s going on, Sam? What’s happening to me?” The Warden has answers. He knows he does. Every night Ranboo sees his face, hears his voice. He’s the key to everything.

“Ranboo, just go back to Snowchester. Michael will be there, you’ll find him safe and sound and asleep in bed. Just go home .” Sam is all but pleading with Ranboo, demanding that he turn around and walk away.

“Ranboo.” He turns and sees Tubbo somehow standing before him only ten feet away. When had he gotten here? Ranboo can’t recall. “Ranboo, c’mon we should get going. It’s getting late.”

And it is. Looking up from his shaky grip on the handle of his axe he can see the sun has just set and darkness has settled across the sky. How long has it been since he’s last seen Michael? How long? It felt like he had only just woken up a few hours ago. The pit in his stomach only sinks deeper. Has he been losing time again? And after so long without having forgotten hardly a thing…

“Go on, Ranboo. Leave.” The Warden persists in an almost gentle timbre.

With Tubbo looking at him with those beckoning eyes, a hand extended outwards to take in his own, Ranboo so badly wants to follow. Whenever Tubbo was around it was always so much harder to feel the ache of memory he could only glimpse. It was always so much harder to feel so wrong in the world with Tubbo at his side. But with Sam here he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“Why won’t anybody tell me what’s going on? Something is wrong Sam and you know it. I know! You of all people would know!” The axe has drifted away from the Warden’s neck, carelessly waving about in Ranboo’s desperation.

“Ranboo please .” He hears Tubbo say, but his husband makes no move to come closer, perhaps intimidated by the axe in Ranboo’s unpredictable hand. “Let’s go. Michael is waiting for us. You know he’ll want you to sing him to sleep.”

Ranboo’s gaze flickers between Tubbo and Sam. “Tubbo, I’m sorry.” His voice is ragged, cracking with remorse. “But I need to know. I can’t go on like this.”

Something shifts and then Tubbo is gone. 

Tubbo and the prison and the beach they stood upon are nowhere to be seen and have been replaced with a landscape of darkness. The weight of Ranboo’s netherite armor is missing, the axe in his hand has vanished. Instead he wears a faded orange jumpsuit, the number 004 embroidered on the left side of his chest.

Across from him is Sam, Pandora’s Warden. He grips his sword, Warden’s Will in front of him with both hands, the blade embedded in the void. Glowing purple cracks extend outward, the netherite blade its epicenter. The luminescence basks them in a purple tint, this great chasm’s only source of light. 

“Sam?” Ranboo cries out, as if begging for the Warden’s reassurance. He doesn’t like how fear sounds in his voice. It makes him feel even more pitiful than he already is, but he calls out again anyway. “I don’t understand. Sam, what’s going on? What’s happening?”

“You’re dead, Ranboo.” He says it so simply. Sam’s demeanor is the epitome of calm.

“What?” His breath catches and his entire body jolts like he’s been struck. But somehow, as the words echo in the darkness around him, Ranboo knows it is the truth.

“This,” Sam stretches out an arm as if pulling off a great reveal. “Is Limbo.”

Suddenly this colossal void feels incredibly small. It feels like his panic room. Claustrophobic. Deceptively safe. A trap in disguise.

As soon as the thought surfaces in his mind, crying obsidian walls morph into being and surround both him and Sam in the shape of a box. Unlike his panic room, this space is much larger and there is no music box in the floor. Above them there is no ceiling, only a void that feels almost familiar.

The heart that does not pump life through his limbs beats out a rhythm urging him to run - to escape, but there is nowhere to go. There is no door. There is only this vivid re - creation from a life he has lost.

“You killed me.” Ranboo comprehends the words only once they’re out of his mouth. Then softer, he remembers. “You took my last life.”

“Well, I’m not the one that killed you. I’m merely a manifestation. I only exist within your limbo. I’m not the real Sam, just a replica your limbo created.” Fake Sam explains with uncanny frankness.

“Oh.” Says Ranboo faintly. He sags against the wall, not realizing until that moment he had backed into it. Or maybe it was the room getting smaller. Maybe the walls were closing in.

“Why - why didn’t I realize?” Ranboo dares to look back over at Sam or not Sam - whoever he is. “And why was my limbo just an idealized version of real life? Wilbur’s limbo was an empty subway station - he knew he was dead. Why wasn’t I aware? I don’t get it.”

“Everyone’s limbo is different, Ranboo.” Sam states with all the emotion of a concrete block.

“But why didn’t I know? Why didn’t I know that I was - that I -” He chokes back a sob, devolving into hysteria yet again. When his cries recede back into the silence, Sam responds with scathing candor.

“But you did know, didn’t you Ranboo?” The question hangs heavy in the space between them. “You knew what was wrong, you just couldn’t admit it to yourself. The thing about you Ranboo, is that even when all of your memories are within reach. You still don’t want to know.” 

The walls of the panic room tremble.

“You can’t face the truth. Even in death, you remain a coward.”

Sam has stated a fact, but to Ranboo it is a slap in the face. A sword in his chest. 

He hates it. He hates that Sam is right. He is a coward - willfully ignorant, a hopeless hypocrite beyond the grave. Sam is right and Ranboo cannot deny it.

“You would rather live a lie, then confront what you have done.” Sam pulls Warden’s Will from the rocky surface. The room shudders. The Warden steps forward with a foreboding elegance, gaze never leaving Ranboo’s quaking form. Around them the walls shatter. Deep cracks spread across obsidian like veins that glow purple. Water spills from the fractures and floods from over the walls as if the room were a pitcher to be filled. 

“You abandoned your family. You betrayed them - did things that got people killed. All you ever managed to do in your life was hurt the people who you loved the most.”

Ranboo blinks back tears and in the next moment finds the panic room transformed into the watery ruins of the bombed community house. Overhead, figures appear atop the crumbling walls, peering down at the wreckage. Just like it had been all those months ago when Dream had revealed Ranboo to be a traitor, the community house is drowning. Lakewater pours down the walls like a man made waterfall. With the roof destroyed, Ranboo can see a stormy sky that flashes purple and green bolts of lightning but the clouds withhold any rain.

The water level is rising and Ranboo’s feet sting with phantom pain. Even when his skin does not burn, Ranboo cannot stifle the fear that suffocates him when he wears no armor. But Ranboo doesn’t need to worry about water now. Not anymore.

“You didn’t want to pick sides, but don’t you realize how incredibly naive that is? This moral high ground of yours can only exist in a perfect world. It can only exist in your limbo.” The Warden strides forwards, examining the sword in his hand like he was searching for bruises on an apple in the produce section. “But in real life, things aren’t so easy. Fortunately for you, you don’t have one of those anymore.”

Halfway over to Ranboo, Sam pauses, his attention catching on the water. From the falls six figures emerge. Still in the midst of materializing from the water, Ranboo begins to recognize them. First is Wilbur. Then Techno, Phil. Followed by Tommy and then finally, Tubbo who holds Michael’s stubby hand in his.

“You lied to us. To me.” Technoblade says. The axe that Ranboo crafted for him is pulled from the piglin hybrid’s back. This time the blade is not pointed at Ranboo for a friendly spar. “You  joined the Syndicate not because you believed in it, but because you were afraid. You didn’t want a repeat of what we did to L’manburg. You didn’t want Tubbo to understand why his government could never work. Your conviction was so fragile that you always bent to my will, to my ideology. Not once did you stand up for your own beliefs.”

Ranboo doesn’t refute it. “You’re right Techno, you’re right but-”

“You broke my trust.” Technoblade bites out. “I pledged my loyalty to you and threw it all away.”

“I’m sorry, Techno! I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, please I just… I just.” Techno has turned away, Ranboo’s words begging to be heard by indifferent ears. “I’m sorry.” He says anyway. Phil is already turning towards Techno, reaching out a comforting hand he keeps an eye on Ranboo as he does.

“You made me keep your secrets for you. You made me lie to Techno about your allegiance to Snowchester, turned me into some kind of accomplice . I had hoped that after Wilbur, you could be my second chance, but look at you. You fucked it up, Ranboo. You don’t even know what you’re doing. It’s pathetic. I’m disgusted by you.” And then he turns away before Ranboo can beg for forgiveness, before he can make a miserable attempt at an apology. Phil and Techno merge into the water and reappear atop the wall to look down at him with the rest of the members of the server.

“You think he’s disgusted by you?” Wilbur laughs, dry and humorless like he’s heard the same punchline a million times. He knows the joke so well he can’t even be disappointed, just annoyed. 

“Ranboo, you agreed to work at my burger van with all sorts of good intentions, but the only thing you managed to do was get yourself killed. You thought you could help me? You only made things worse. With all your self righteousness you took it upon yourself to support me, somehow you thought you could be the one to get me to change my dastardly ways and yet you tossed Tubbo’s feelings to the side. You did everything I asked. Didn’t complain. Didn’t even put up a fight. I’m sure you feel great about that now, aye Ranbus? For all that you tried to do, it got you nowhere but here, doomed to my same fate. I really did like you, even if we had a rocky start. But turns out I was right about you the first time around.” 

Ranboo’s eyes sting, but this time he doesn’t even try to respond. Wilbur always knew how to outwit him, he was no master wordsmith like the Ex - President was. So he simply watches as Wilbur joins the crowd above.

He expects Tommy’s brash anger to follow. He doesn’t expect the boy to drop to his knees without a single shout. Somehow seeing Tommy so quiet is worse than any words thrown at him from anyone before. There are tears in Tommy’s eyes and then there’s a sob as he wipes his knuckle across his nose.

“I’ve been here before.” Tommy’s hoarse voice murmurs, his gaze pinned to the floor. He slouches there in the water, paying no mind to his drenched clothes. “In Limbo.” 

Something in Ranboo’s chest cracks.

“I was here.” Tommy drags a hand across his face before meeting Ranboo’s mismatched eyes. “I was here - because of you.”

Ranboo nodded, unable to fight the tears any longer. “I - I was the one who placed the TNT.” 

The Tommy slumped on the floor flickers and then a slightly different Tommy appears. His face is battered and bloody, one of his eyes is swollen shut. Worst of all are the cracks in his skull where brain matter oozes out. His skin is a grayish green, like his body has begun to decay.

“You did this to me.” Tommy stares on with glassy unseeing eyes. “This is your fault.”

Ranboo wants to run to him, to reach out and pull the ruined boy into his arms and heal all of his hurts. But he can’t because he’s the one that hurt him. And maybe Tommy can forgive Wilbur, but Ranboo can’t let the boy forgive himself. Not after what Ranboo did.

“Everyone betrays me at some point.” He says it so matter of factly, as if it’s meant to be a reassurance. As if he’s the one that should be comforting Ranboo. And it’s wrong - all wrong.

“Don’t -” Ranboo starts, but has to shove past his tears first. “Don’t say that like it’s okay. It’s not Tommy. It’s not!”

“I know.” Tommy says and the image of his corpse dissolves. There are tear tracks on his cheeks, the only sign that anything was ever wrong.

Tubbo moves to Tommy’s side, helping him to his feet with barely concealed fury that Ranboo knows is only held back for Tommy’s sake. Once Tommy has left, tucked amidst the growing assembly above, Tubbo whirls on him. Unlike the others, his husband isn’t opposed to getting up close. Tubbo sneers, expression so hateful Ranboo can hardly believe it’s his husband’s. Despite the height difference, Ranboo cowers backwards.

“Tommy might not be able to get mad at you, but I sure as hell can. I get it. We both keep shit from each other. But not - not this. You knew that the moment I learned the truth about you, about what you’ve done - that I wouldn’t want to keep this goddamn ring on my finger. You knew that I wouldn’t want you around Michael or Tommy or anyone that I care about. Which, without you, is a frighteningly few people. I know you want me to say that I still love you. You want me to say that it wasn’t your fault - that it’s all okay because you weren’t the one in control. And yeah, maybe I would’ve said that had you actually had the fucking guts to tell me something was wrong. But instead you lied and you lied, and you put our family in jeopardy all because you were too much of a coward to risk me giving up on you. Well now I know. And you were right about yourself. You’re not worth it. You’re not worth forgiving and you’re not worth loving.”

If Ranboo had the choice to die again, he would. He’d die over and over to avoid this.

“So, here. Have your stupid ring back.” Tubbo, face red with rage and eyes shining with tears, yanks the ring from his horn and shoves it right into Ranboo’s unwilling hands.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo croaks. He barely keeps the ring from falling into the water that has only continued to rise. 

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Tubbo spits, wrenching away from Ranboo’s grasp. “I don’t need anymore of your lies or your late apologies. You always thought that I was never sincere with my forgiveness - well here’s what happens when I quit keeping up pretenses.”

“Bo, please.” But Tubbo isn’t having it. He storms across the community house, kicking up water as he goes. And Ranboo - because he hates to see Tubbo so upset, because he can’t handle someone, let alone his own husband, hating him so much - can’t help but follow. He reaches out in a pathetic attempt to stop him, but he’s incapable of getting any closer no matter how hard he tries.

“Michael,” Tubbo turns to the little piglin who has never looked so upset and Ranboo can’t handle it anymore. He crumples to the ground, water spraying as he lands before his son.

“Hey,” He breaks out, trying so hard not to look so distraught, trying so hard not to scare him. “Michael, I love you. You know that right? You know I love you so much.”

Michael glances back at Tubbo, his singular eye unsure. He refuses to meet Ranboo’s desperate gaze as he utters, “Bo is angry at you. You did something bad.”

Ranboo shatters. His posture buckles and nothing can stop the sob that ruptures out of him. “Yeah, I did. I’ve done a lot of bad things. But I would do anything to keep you safe.”

Tubbo’s shadow falls across the two of them. A scowl is smeared across his face. “You died to protect him, but now he’ll grow up without you.” There’s a sharp breath and then, “You died and left me all alone.”

“I know.” Ranboo replies, despondent.

“How could you do that to me? To us ?”

“I’m sorry.” His head dips low, face a fraction away from touching the water. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough.” Tubbo takes Michael’s hand, pulling him away from Ranboo’s disheveled form. When Ranboo looks up, they aren’t in front of him anymore - they’re above. Through the crowd he can see Michael tucked in Tubbo’s arms, eyes squeezed shut.

“Well, the truth finally comes out.” Ranboo jolts, lurching back to awareness. “These are the consequences.”

Dream. His voice sends needles prickling down Ranboo’s spine. Ranboo’s ears are alert, pricked in preparation to respond to any command that Dream may utter. Slowly, Ranboo turns around. And there he is. The man who made his life hell. The mask, merely a simple smile, stares down upon Ranboo, paralyzing him with dread.

For a moment, Dream is eerily still. Painted eyes boring straight into his red and green as if they were in a staring contest Ranboo could never win. In an instant Dream blinks into existence right in front of his prone body. Overhead, green lightning arcs across the sky.

“Happy to see me?” Dream’s head tilts in robotic inquiry.

Ranboo scuttles backwards on all fours in the water, Dream towering over him. He swears he can feel his skin being eaten away, could almost see the steam rise off the surface.

“Aw, cute.” Beneath Dream’s smile Ranboo has never felt so small. “Look at you, wallowing .”

Dream doesn’t even have any weapons on him. He wears a simple orange jumpsuit, same as Ranboo. They’re almost equals, but Ranboo is no match for the man who can return the dead to life. He can only watch as Dream circles him. The dance between a predator and prey.

“C’mon Ranboo, you should be happy! You’re finally free of me. You’re not my little puppet anymore.” Dream leans in close. “You’re dead now. You’re free.”

“I’m not free from the guilt.” Ranboo manages to bite out, somewhat emboldened by Dream’s reminder. He is dead. There’s no need to be afraid. There’s nothing left for him to lose. “My death doesn’t change that I did those things, it doesn’t change the fact that I hurt people. That you made me hurt them.”

“Oh, but Ranboo! I didn’t make you do anything!” Dream says brightly, like he’s teasing an old friend.

“That’s not true. The Enderwalk - you - you did something to me.” The protest sounds like a puny excuse.

“It doesn’t change the fact that the Enderwalk is still you. That version of you listened to me, became my ally. You obeyed my command.” Dream plants a finger on Ranboo’s chest, nail digging at his heart. “And you wanted to do it, Ranboo.”

“No.” Ranboo’s head starts to shake frantically. “No. I might have done those things, but I didn’t want to do them. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I did it, but I didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t just do bad things, you’re a bad person.” Dream shoves him and sends Ranboo plunging into the ever rising water. Skin on fire, but still no marks, Ranboo breaks through the surface gasping for air. He scrambles to his feet, struggling to wade through the water desperate to get away from that rotten smile. “It’s better for everyone that you’re dead now. You can’t hurt them anymore.’’

“Oh, Ranboo.” Dream crows, standing with hands behind his back and watches as Ranboo drags himself through the water and away from him. “I’m not even real! And here you are in the afterlife still cowering away from me. You’re dead. I’m just a figment. But that never really mattered to you anyway. How many times have you hallucinated me? How many times have you tried to run away from an illusion?” Dream laughs and the sound worms into Ranboo’s ears, sharp and unending.

“You’re scared. Scared that people will hate you and scared to stick to your ideals. You’re merely a tool for me to use. You stand for nothing. You died, abandoning the family you wanted to protect so badly. And yet you were the one that hurt them the most.” 

He knows the Dream before him isn’t real. None of them are. Nothing that anyone has said to him here has actually been happening. These versions of the people most important in his life have been conjured up by his Limbo. Those words aren’t theirs.

But they’re right. Dream is right. They’re all right. Everything that has been said is true.

“There we go.” Dream cuts through his racing thoughts, hacking through them with a satisfied smile. “Good job, Ranboo. You’ve finally accepted reality. At last you can see how despicable you are.”

Above, the mob atop the walls shifts from vague and indistinct forms to reveal the faces of everyone on the server. Sam is among them, trident raised like a pitchfork.

The Warden’s prized prisoner chuckles. “Now they can all see how despicable you are.”

Dream sweeps his arms upwards, gesturing to the crowd above. “Here we are again, Ranboo! Back to this moment! Back to the day your disloyalty was first revealed.” He prowls forward, head still lifted to the sky.

“RANBOO is a TRAITOR!” Dream roars. He doesn’t say “One of your most trusted friends.” but Ranboo hears it anyway. He’ll never forget what Dream had told Tubbo all those months ago, the day before L’manburg fell.

“He’s a traitor. Traitor. TRAITOR .” And once Dream has begun the chant everyone else follows. The sound builds, the word hammering into Ranboo’s skull. He cradles his head in his hands, tries to cover his ears, but nothing can block out the truth.

The water is rising and the chant is thunderous and Ranboo is drowning. 

TRAITOR.

He slips under the surface.

TRAITOR.

Liquid fills his lungs. 

TRAITOR.

He isn’t floating, drifting up to the air. Ranboo is sinking. 

TRAITOR.

He sinks deeper and deeper.

TRAITOR.

The ruptured community house is far above him.

TRAITOR.

But the chant is trapped in his ear drums.

TRAITOR.

Ranboo sinks. Ranboo drowns.

Breath fills his body, stale and empty, but it is not the cool and all consuming water. It is air. It is wakefulness. It is silent. Ranboo peels his eyes open to stare at the swath of twinkling darkness above. His fingers twitch and the surface he rests upon shifts. Soft grains of sand press against his back. A stray wisp of wind sends white fragments swirling around him.

Sitting up, Ranboo’s heart goes static. Around him the ocean stretches on into infinity, merging with the dark horizon. The only land around is the sandbar Ranboo is stranded upon.

The world feels big. The world is still.

There is nothing and no one. Ranboo is alone. It’s the first time that Ranboo has truly felt dead. This emptiness aches. This emptiness soothes.

Ranboo lies back down, his nails dragging idly through the sand forming words and crude drawings. He lies there and he waits for something. But there is nothing.

He thinks about Wilbur. Thinks of how he spent thirteen years trapped in this empty afterlife.

He thinks about the Resurrection Book. Dream has escaped Pandora’s Box. He holds death’s keys. If he wanted Ranboo back he could pull him from Limbo, return him to life as his puppet once more.

He thinks about Tubbo and Tommy, Techno and Phil. If they had the Resurrection Book would they use it? Would they save him? Would he even want to be saved?

If any of them ever learned the truth about him they probably wouldn’t even try.

Ranboo won’t spend thirteen years here. He’ll spend forever.

“Isn’t knowing agonizing?” Ranboo looks up to see Sam, sword planted in the sand, staring down at him. “An eternity drowning in regret, doomed with the knowledge of your sins. You know you’re never going to leave, Ranboo. Even if it is possible, you’re not worth bringing back to life.”

Ranboo shifts to stand before the Warden. Even on this lonely island Ranboo still wears orange. He is still Sam’s prisoner.

“Don’t you wish you had never broken the illusion? Or do you want to remember all you’ve forgotten?” Sam inclines his head, gaze sweeping over Ranboo’s stiff figure.

“What do you mean remember all I’ve forgotten?” He asks, fists clenching at his sides, tail swishing across the sand.

“You have a choice.” Sam’s eyes drift across the horizon. “Relive every moment that you have lost or…” He holds Ranboo’s stare. Ranboo wants to pull his eyes away, wants to fight - wants to run, but he is frozen. “You can return to your fake happy family and live your fake happy life unburdened by the mistakes of your past and the cruelty of reality.”

“What kind of choice is that?” Ranboo cries out, voice getting lost in the big empty world.

“Ignorance or atonement, Ranboo. At least you have a choice.”

Ranboo swallows, head pounding behind his eyes. He doesn’t deserve a happy ending. He deserves to suffer.

“Will I remember any of this if I go back there, if I choose the lie?” 

“No, it’ll be like before.” Sam assures without kindness.

“And if I choose to remember my past, it’ll be like it was back at the community house?” Ranboo can’t shake the feeling of gasping for air and breathing water.

“Yes, but this time everything you experience will have actually happened.”

Nothing on Sam’s face tells him this is a trick. Just like the two halves of his body, Ranboo is split in two. Torn between the fate he deserves and the dream he wishes he could slip back into. Answers he’s chased after all his life are at his fingertips, but the life he longed to have can at last be achieved.

He wants to remember. He wants to forget.

Ranboo stares down at the sand. “I don’t deserve to be happy.” He tells himself. Sam only happens to hear.

“No, you don’t.” Sam agrees. “Have you decided then?”

Ranboo begins to nod his head when a soft scared voice slices through the all consuming quiet.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo calls from behind. 

He doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to see the hatred on his partner’s face, but he can’t help himself. He has to see him, he’s missed him so much. He’s been stuck here all alone for so long. He has to see Tubbo.

Turning, Ranboo meets his husband’s teary gaze and melts in relief. None of the cruelty from before can be found, only tender longing.

“Tubbo.” Ranboo breathes, stepping towards him.

“Hey bossman,” Tubbo smiles, reaching out to cup Ranboo’s face. Ranboo leans down to meet his palm. “Are you coming home?”

Ranboo’s gaze dips away from eyes that ooze concern, but he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t think that I should.” He says, leaning into Tubbo's hand. His eyes slip shut.

“Why not?” Tubbo asks like he hasn’t got a clue.

“I hurt you. Why should I get to be happy? Why? When I’ve done so much damage.” Tears slide down his face, but Tubbo’s thumb brushes them away.

“Hey, look at me. C’mon my beloved, look at me.” Tubbo coaxes, gentle and compassionate even as Ranboo deserves harsh words. Tubbo should be revolted by him. He shouldn’t be anywhere near him.

Ranboo opens his eyes and sobs because Tubbo is smiling at him, warm and real. “I want you to be happy. I want you home with me and Michael. Where we’re going nothing hurts and you’ll never hurt anyone ever again.”

“Bo,” Ranboo clings to Tubbo’s arm. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Boo. I know.” His partner soothes. He can hardly resist as Tubbo wraps his arms around him.

“I wish you were really here right now. Not in Limbo - not dead, but I wish it was really you.” Ranboo whispers into Tubbo’s hair.

“Me too.” His husband murmurs into his chest.

“There was so much I wanted to tell you. There was so much I wanted us to do together.” Ranboo squeezes Tubbo even tighter. “I wish we had had more time.”

Tubbo shifts, pulling out of Ranboo’s embrace to look him in the eyes again. “But we can have more time, Ranboo. We can do everything and more. We’ll have forever to do it. All the time you could ever want.”

“It won’t be real.” Ranboo clasps Tubbo’s hands in his. Claws gingerly wrapping around callused fingers.

“That doesn’t matter . It’ll still be happening to you, won’t it?” Tubbo leans forward on tiptoe, yearning for Ranboo to listen. “Come home, Ranboo.”

“Do you have your answer?” Ranboo turns his head to face Sam whose netherite blade shines like a beacon.

“Yes.” Ranboo’s eyes stray back to Tubbo’s. “I want to go back with him.”

He never could say no to Tubbo.

“I’ll be waiting.” In his arms his husband fades away, a smile on his face. And then Tubbo is gone, leaving only Sam and Ranboo behind.

Sam draws Warden’s Will out of the sand. Heavy footsteps carry him closer to Ranboo, sword extending towards him. The kindness Sam had once held for him was entirely absent, replaced with the face of a murderer.

“I’m disappointed in you, Ranboo.” His mouth is set in a grim line. “But you never change, do you?”

The Warden approaches. Ranboo shuffles backwards, stopping short when the ocean laps at his feet. The tip of the blade hovers right before Ranboo’s chest. Points right at Ranboo’s heart. Even dead, fear remains.

“But what can I expect from an amnesiac, when you forget everything you’ve learned.” The Warden’s arm reels backward. Ranboo watches as the sword plunges into his chest. Red and green color spills down his shirt.

Ranboo falls.

Somewhere in the distance he can hear Techno screaming.

Ranboo hits the water, the ocean surf rolling up and over his body. He clutches a picture in his hand, shoves it into someone else's. His body is steaming, skin crackling with heat as the salt water eats away at him. The waves pull him further into the deep, eroding away his muscles, his bones. His flaking corpse drifts in the dark, his blood merging with the water. He is hollow. 

He is gone.

“Ranboo, what are you doing?”

Ranboo blinks and life is returned to him. Emerging from a cold silence, his body shifts. Warmth surges through his veins, heartbeat loud in his ears.

There’s a box balanced between his claws. He looks up to see Tubbo’s hand waving in front of his face, so quick it’s merely a pale blurr. 

“Ranboo.” Tubbo repeats more firmly this time. He jolts into unsteady awareness.

“Sorry,” He glances around at the stacks of boxes, finding himself in Tubbo’s cabin. “What’s going on?”

Tubbo sighs like Ranboo’s played some kind of prank on him one too many times. The look of amused exasperation doesn’t last long and he perks up fast. “Moving day, my beloved! It’s about time we went off to live in the mansion.”

“Oh right!” Ranboo exclaims and something within him eases. “Finally.” He laughs and Tubbo rolls his eyes at him before something beyond Ranboo catches his attention. 

That very same something slams into the back of Ranboo’s legs. He stumbles forwards in surprise, almost dropping the box in his hands. But once he’s looking down he finds Michael wrapped around him, giggles bubbling up from him as he squeezes his father tight. 

“Hey Mike,” Tubbo grins, moving to grab one of the smaller parcels from the stack and kneels down before their son. “Wanna help me and Boo?”

Michael nods eagerly, head bobbing so fast Ranboo wouldn’t be surprised if it simply just popped off. “Yes!” The tiny piglin squeals, reaching out to take the tiny package in Tubbo’s hands.

“Thanks lil man.” Tubbo ruffles the hair atop the toddler’s head and then bounces back to his feet. He scoops up a couple more boxes, plopping them down atop Ranboo’s first box and into his hold. Ranboo grunts at the weight. Then Tubbo heaves two incredibly heavy looking crates into his own arms. He grins at his family, hardly wincing at the strain.

“C’mon people!” He declares. “Let’s go home!”

Ranboo smiles back, happy. “Home at last.”