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Tommy sighed as he looked up at the ceiling of his room. He could hear the Beloved’s bustling downstairs, the smell of pancakes and fried eggs wafting through the whole house. Usually, he would be down there joining them, but not today. A few birds were singing outside, and Tommy quietly contributed a few notes, his heart not really in it today. They answered back softly, seemingly picking up on his mood.
It was one of those days; one of those days where the weight of abandonment pulled him into the grey, where he felt alone like never before, where even the bluest sky and brightest sun seemed to rest in the shadows.
It had been a few months since he had last been in his childhood house, but it still felt like he had only left a week ago. Slowly, with the gentle guidance of Daisy and Richard Beloved, he was getting better, breaking the habits his parents had instilled slowly, day by day.
Still, it hurt that he had ever needed to leave in the first place.
He may have found people to love him, but their love didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t loved by those that were supposed to be bound to him by blood and beating hearts. It didn’t change that the people who had held his hand when he first learned to walk and who had waved goodbye to him on his first day of school had turned away without a second thought.
So instead of joining the small family of three, he wrapped himself tighter in the blankets and closed his eyes, trying to will the sun to set early and for the day to be done.
“Toms?” Ranboo said through the door along with a gentle knock. “Are you alright?”
Tommy just grunted, hoping Ranboo would get the idea and leave him alone.
“Can I come in?” they asked instead.
Tommy drew in a long breath. He didn’t want Ranboo to see him like this. Although he didn’t think he would be kicked out at this point, not after spending so many months with their family, he didn’t want Ranboo to think differently of him. He should be fine by now, after all. He was away from his parents, safe to be an avian, safe to have his wings out, safe to nest. He was free to indulge in his instincts and make all the little sounds he wanted. Tommy had no right to feel sad like this.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
As soon as Ranboo opened the door, they trilled sympathetically. Carefully, they made their way over to Tommy before perching himself on the edge of his bed.
“Good morning, ‘Boo,” Tommy greeted quietly.
“What’s up, Toms?” he asked softly, reaching a hand out to play with Tommy’s hair.
Tommy melted, scooting over so he was closer to Ranboo.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
Ranboo let out a displeased hum, changing the angle his hand was, allowing him to gently scratch at Tommy’s scalp. Tommy melted further into their side, some of the weight from the day ebbing away.
“Are you sure, garnet?” Ranboo asked again, his voice taking on the gentle quality he had long since learned would get Tommy to answer anything. Sure enough, the red-feathered avian sighed and snuggled closer to Ranboo.
“It’s hard some days,” he whispered, shame colouring his words. “I should be happy now. I’m free now. But- but I’m not. I want my parents to love me and it’s so selfish because I have you and your parents now. Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like enough though, even when it is! It’s more than enough. I can’t thank you guys enough for everything you’ve done for me.”
Ranboo pulled Tommy closer to themselves, carefully gathering his thoughts. There was a lot to unpack there, so much wrong with his little brother’s thoughts. They wouldn’t be able to get rid of them with one conversation, but it would be a start at least.
“Tommy, it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. You’re allowed to want things, especially love. I mean, your parents, I- I can’t imagine what it was like. I mean, I can , I saw the damage. There’s not much to imagine when I saw it for myself. But the hiding, the fear, the loneliness? I can’t imagine how you feel,” Ranboo whispered, sounding a little choked up and pulling Tommy into a sitting position so they could wrap his wings around Tommy.
“Kids, are you okay in there?” Daisy asked, popping her head through the door. Tommy buried his face into Ranboo’s shoulder. “Oh. It’s one of those days, I see. I’ll get the nest ready and you two can head there at any point, alright?” she told them, love painting her words in glowing affection.
Ranboo made a sound of acknowledgement and Tommy heard the door softly close behind her.
“What did she mean by ‘prepare the nest’?” he asked, looking up at Ranboo. In all his time being there, the nest had always just existed, no need to ‘prepare’ anything.
Ranboo smiled down at him gently, moving to brush a lock of hair out of his face. “When we have bad days, we do up the nest so it's extra cozy. It makes them a little more… bearable”
“Oh,” Tommy breathed, “you’re allowed to do that?”
The light in Ranboo’s eyes dimmed a bit at that.
“You’re allowed to indulge in your instincts, gem. Always, no matter what. Even if you think it’s annoying or intrusive,” he said softly.
Tommy didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just nuzzled further into Ranboo’s shoulder. Ranboo kept playing with his hair, letting out small soothing chirps, lulling Tommy into a soft, sleepy state.
A few minutes later, Tommy heard the door open and Daisy’s voice floating through the room. Ranboo said something to her and she responded, though Tommy was too tired to make them out. Ranboo shifted him and suddenly he was being picked up and cradled by the magpie.
“Ranboo,” Tommy mumbled in question.
“Shh, garnet, I’m just taking you to the nest. Is that alright, ruby?” Ranboo asked, as they pulled Tommy just a little bit closer to his chest.
Tommy wanted to argue that he could walk himself, that it was embarrassing to be carried like a child. But Ranboo’s arms were so warm and his wings coming around to wrap Tommy like a thick heavy blanket, so he kept his mouth shut, instead choosing to nuzzle into Ranboo’s shoulder.
He heard their fond chuckle, lazily flipping them off before letting sleep take over. The last thing he heard was Ranboo sighing in the fond way he often did with Tommy. Done with his bull, but also never wanting it to stop. A delicate balance Tommy often toed the line of.
Tommy was dozing off, lost in Morpheus’s realm when something landed on top of him, ripping him from the sweet slumber.
He opened his eyes blearily, reaching for the warmth on top of him, hearing Ranboo’s scolding voice from across the nest.
“He was sleeping! He’s gonna wake up now,” Ranboo scolded.
“Sorry,” a second voice said, sounding thoroughly abashed.
“Tubs?” Tommy mumbled looking up, spotting a familiar head of brown hair.
Tubbo paused, turning to Tommy, smiling softly, “Morning, Toms.”
“What are you doing here?” Tommy slurred.
“Ranboo called me, he told me what you were saying this morning,” he explained softly.
Tommy blinked. “Oh.”
“You know none of that is true, right? You’re not being selfish for wanting your parents. Any kid in your place would want that. It’s only natural,” Tubbo told him.
“I know,” Tommy said, breaking Tubbo’s gaze.
Tubbo sighed. “No, you don’t. But that’s alright. We’ll just have to show you. You’ll understand soon, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But soon, I promise.”
Tommy pulled one hand out from where it was curled against his chest under the covers, blindly reaching for Tubbo’s who grabbed it with ease. “Really?” he asked quietly.
“Really,” Tubbo told him, squeezing his hand softly.
Tommy woke up again a few hours later to find Tubbo and Ranboo playing a card game. He blearily watched them pass cards back and forth, the late morning light creating gentle comforting haze in the room.
“Who’s winning?” he asked.
“Technically me,” Tubbo proclaimed with a grin.
Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Technically?”
“Well, I’m actually winning, Tubbo just likes cheating,” Ranboo explained, shaking his head.
“It’s not cheating. It’s using my resources,” Tubbo said, puffing out his chest.
Ranboo just sighed before looking back at their cards.
Tommy slowly pulled himself out of his sleepy haze, watching his friends bicker back and forth. Once upon a time, he was nervous about how they would get along. Tubbo was especially protective over Tommy ever since finding out about his home life, and Tommy has worried he would try and push Ranboo away.
And as protective as Ranboo was, they had the backbone of a chocolate eclair and would have probably given Tubbo a wide berth. But it turned out that Tommy didn’t have to worry. After the initial suspicion had worn off and Tommy had given Tubbo a play-by-play of the time he had been gone, Tubbo had taken to Ranboo like a duck to water.
Pretty quickly, Ranboo had learned where Tommy had sharpened his mischievous side. Tubbo took great pleasure in messing with Ranboo. All in good fun of course, though at first Tommy was worried that Ranboo would take it wrong. They didn’t, instead choosing to push back at Tubbo’s practical jokes.
It never really ended well for him, but Tommy wasn’t about to try and stop them, it was far too funny to watch.
In the end, much to no one’s surprise, Tubbo won. And if Tommy watched him slip a few cards up his sleeve, then that was between him and the playful wink Tubbo sent him when he caught Tommy’s eye.
When they were done, Ranboo stood up, offering a hand out to both the other boys.
“Hungry?” he asked.
Tommy nodded, his stomach suddenly reminding him of the fact that he hadn’t had anything to eat yet.
“Lunch, I assume?” Tubbo asked in agreement.
“Yeah, we can either go out or stay in.”
Tubbo turned to Tommy, nodding upwards in a silent question.
“Uh, can we stay in? I don’t feel like doing much else,” Tommy said, ducking his head.
Ranboo wrapped a wing around him. “Of course. I think we have stuff for sandwiches,” they said softly.
Tommy nodded, leaning into him, ignoring Tubbo’s overexaggerated mouthing of ‘softboo’ and ‘softinnit’.
They weren’t soft, neither of them were. Tommy had no idea where Tubbo got the impression that they were.
Ranboo shifted so that Tommy was leaning more heavily into them.
Yup, no idea whatsoever.
Lunch was a casual affair, the others still keeping their tones much softer than they usually would. Tommy appreciated it, he didn’t think he could handle their usual over the top arguments, as playful as they were.
Although he had been assured how it was normal to yearn for his parents, he couldn’t stop the guilt from building in his gut. Here he was, with his best friends, in the home he shared with his now-sibling, with people that loved him like parents, wanting nothing more than to be home.
Tommy missed his house, he missed his room and his sorry excuse for a nest, he missed the sound of his mothers voice even though it rang cold when it was aimed towards him, he missed his fathers brief touches even though they were never enough to satisfy. But most of all, he missed knowing his place.
He was told time and time again he was allowed to listen to his instincts, even as he was shown everyday by Ranboo and Daisy and Richard how it was okay and how it was natural. Still, every small chirp, every ruffle of his feather, every accidental copied sound he expected to find the invincible line drawn in the sand. The one with the rules made only for him.
Just as it had always been; an expectation for him that no one else had to follow. His parents being allowed to roam freely around the house without having to hide parts of themselves, allowed to let out small hums and surprised shrieks, allowed to curl up with as many blankets and pillows as they pleased, allowed to hold on to each other with no time limit until they were pushed away.
At school the other kids were allowed to shift around as much as they pleased, allowed to zone out and let the sound of the rain wash away their thoughts, allowed to express their frustration however they wanted, allowed to be easily distracted by shiny things and pretty sounds.
Not Tommy, never Tommy. Not his wings, his wings which were a curse to him, an eyesore to those that saw them, a red flag to teachers and a source of shame to his parents.
They hurt and they hurt and they hurt.
Trapped in a prison of his makers choosing. He could hide them, sure, but it never took long for them to be discovered. And once they were, hellfire rained down from the skies, turning his smile bleak and his eyes a dark stormy grey.
The Beloved’s were trying to shatter this belief, trying to break down the stony walls he kept in place. But their words, their actions, their olive branches were as fragile as spun glass. Glowing hot as they handed it to him, cooling in a deformed lump. One day, he hoped he would be able to take it, to take their words at face value and not hear the doubt that echoed in his mind.
Not yet, not now, maybe not even soon. One day though, he knew. One day it would happen. It would happen where he would let out a chirp and not feel his heart leap to his throat, he would make a nest and not look over his shoulder, he would hug someone and be confident their arms and wings would wrap around his in equal measure.
Day by day, that’s how it had to be for now.
It would have to be enough.
After lunch, Ranboo pulled them back into the nest. Tommy tried to protest and say he was fine now. But Ranboo wouldn’t hear it. They got Tubbo on board and as soon as Tubbo agreed to anything, it was nearly impossible to stop him. So Tommy just sighed and allowed himself to be dragged back down to the basement.
Immediately, he was shoved down and Tubbo lay on top of him, pulling Tommy’s wings to wrap around him like he so often did. Tommy compiled easily, warmth bubbling in his chest as Tubbo nuzzled against him.
“Did you want to play a boardgame or sleep more,” Ranboo offered.
Tommy thought about it, pausing for a second, considering his options. In the end, he decided to play a board game. Ranboo smiled and walked over to the shelf in the corner.
“Any preferences?” they called out.
Tommy looked over at Tubbo who shrugged before telling Ranboo they could grab anything.
Ranboo scanned up and down the shelves, clearly trying to pick a good one before finally settling on Operation.
Tommy cheered while Tubbo groaned playfully at the yellow box. Tommy and Ranboo were unreasonably skilled at the game. Tommy had a running theory that it had something to dw with their bird brains and preening. Tubbo just called it unfair.
Tommy eagerly pulled the box from Ranboo’s hands and started setting it up. He flipped over the operation table and flicked the small black switch with his thumb, did a quick check that the batteries worked before pulling out the little baggie of things to operate from the patient who they had collectively decided to call Kyle.
When he was done he held out a hand to the others who quickly grasped it in a three way handshake.
“May the best doctor win,” he said, a playful seriousness in his eyes.
“So not Tubbo.”
“Oi, you prick!” Tubbo cried, elbowing Ranboo. Thanks to his height, Tubbo had access to a particularly soft part of Ranboo’s side.
“I guess I deserved that, huh?” Ranboo asked, clutching his middle.
“Yup.”
They just sighed, knowing very well by now that there was nothing he could do.
—
Tommy furrowed his brow as he carefully maneuvered the tweezers trying to grab the apple. It was one of the hardest items to pull from Kyle’s body from how the only grabable part was the thin stem on the top of the apple.
He closed them, trying to use them to drag the apple a little closer to the middle. It worked, albeit it was slow going. When it was far down enough he carefully lightly pinched the stem, wary of how close he was to the metal edges of the whole. He took a deep breath, and on the exhale he quickly but carefully pulled the apple up.
He deposited it into his hand flashing a smug look at Tubbo.
“See? Easy ,” Tommy teased.
“Oh, shut up. You know I’m bad at this game,” Tubbo grumbled, playfully punching his arm.
“Make me!”
Without warning, Tubbo lunged at Tommy, bringing them both crashing down against the soft surface of the nest beneath them. Within seconds they were rolling across the nest, each trying to get the upper hand.
“I concede,” Tommy cried when he felt the unfortunately familiar sting of one of his feathers being plucked.
“Yessss,” Tubbo yelled, pumping one of his fists up, before realizing there was a red feather caught between his fingers. His eyes widened at the sight, guilt quickly filling his brown eyes.
“Wait, shi- is that why you gave in?” he asked, quickly kneeling down next to Tommy.
Tommy just sent him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, but don’t worry about it, big man. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”
“No, Tommy. You can’t just-”
“Tubbo, you didn’t mean to pluck out a feather. No hard feelings, alright?” Tommy insisted.
“I- no- Ranboo,” Tubbo pleaded, turning to the magpie.
“You know, he’s right,” Ranboo started carefully. Tommy sighed in relief, glad that Ranboo would get Tubbo to understand. “You need to tell people, especially us, especially Tubbo when they pluck a feather. It just isn’t right, and yeah, I know Tubbo didn’t mean too, but he needs to know so he can be more careful in the future.
“What?” Tommy blinked.
“Toms,” Ranboo said gently, coming to kneel next to him, his wings relaxed behind him. “Tubbo plucked a feather. We all know, everyone in this house, from my parents to Tubbo, how disrespectful that is in avian culture. It happens occasionally, we know this. But people need to know when it happens accidentally so they can know what not to do in the future.”
“We were just playing though,” Tommy mumbled.
“Is that what people at your old school told you?” Ranboo asked softly, sorrow laced in their words.
Tommy nodded, feeling his eyes well up with tears.
“Oh, garnet,” Ranboo exclaimed, pulling Tommy in for a tight hug, wrapping his wings tightly around him.
Tommy sobbed loud ugly things as memories of similar incidents flooded his mind. Kids had never been afraid to just outright pluck a feather from Tommy. Yanking the bright red from his wings and teasing him with it, but it had never occurred to him that maybe all the times they had done it ‘accidentally’ had never been accidental after all.
Playing tag on the playground and in trying to get him, pinching one between their fingers, similar instances where they would wrestle, even tripping in the halls and grabbing onto his wings. All those, and dozens more.
He cried, cried for the love he had never had, for the respect he had never been given, for the pain he had suffered through for so long. He cried because it was too late to change the past, too late to have a real chance of a childhood, cried because his younger self didn’t know the soft touches of love and affection that he was now given so freely.
Ranboo murmured comforting words into his ears, rocking Tommy back and forth, trying to soothe Tommy as best as he could. Tommy kept dobbing into his shoulder, feelings bubbling up inside of him. It was a confusing storm of years of pain and suffering. Of years lost, of grief for his younger self, of anger towards his parents and the kids around him. Of the teachers that turned a blind eye to his problems.
But there was more than that too. There were feelings of safety, of a new start, of realization and excitement for a future he had never thought possible. He felt hopeful. Something he hadn’t felt in who knows how long.
Hope was a word, it was four letters. A word that could be used falsely, to gain people to one side. It was a word that was as much a blessing as it was a curse, it was a word whose meaning had people waxing out poetics by the thousands. It was a beating heart, a poisoned dart. It was a word that could mobilize armies, that could keep the weakest tied down to a darker path.
It was something that could drive people down to insanity as much as it could show them the way they needed to go.
And for the first time, Tommy felt it.
When Tommy calmed down, Ranboo and Tubbo gently pushed him to lie back down into the nest, he was still clutching tightly onto Ranboo.
“I know, garnet,” they murmured. “I know how awful it is. We’re here for you, I promise.”
When Tommy woke up next, the light filtering through the mostly closed blinds was golden. Tommy blearily looked around and saw that Ranboo was gone, but curled up in Tommy’s chest was Tubbo. Warmth flooded through him as he carefully shifted his wings so they covered up Tubbo a little more.
He heard the door creak open and he tensed before relaxing when Ranboo walked through the door.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi, Toms, feeling better?” Ranboo asked, smiling gently.
Tommy let out an exhale, suddenly feeling the afternoon catch up to him. It was heavy, a weight he didn’t want to carry, but with his friends right here, by his side, it felt manageable.
“Yeah,” he breathed, “I do.”
“Did you want to talk about it at all?”
Tommy pursed his lips. On one hand he did, he wanted to put all his feelings into words, wanted to put his pain out into the world by his own volition, in a way that wasn’t loud ugly sobs and tears running down his face.
But he didn’t know where to start. He didn’t know how to explain the flurry of emotions that had claimed his soul.
“I-” he started, but then Tubbo rolled over so he was facing Tommy’s chest. He sleepily lifted up a hand, grasping the bottom of Tommy’s face.
“Shh,” Tubbo told him. “I’m tired and you’re being loud.”
Tommy met Ranboo’s eyes before the two of them burst into a fit of silent giggles. Tubbo let out a displeased grunt and buried himself deeper into Tommy’s chest.
“Sorry, Tubs,” Tommy whispered, tucking him closer.
“It’s fine,” he mumbled into Tommy’s shirt.
Tommy turned to look at Ranboo who mouthed ‘later’ at him. Tommy smiled, and turned his attention to running his fingers through Tubbo’s hair. Tubbo melted further at the action, making Tommy feel warmer than he already did.
Huffing fondly, Tommy thought about how the way they were positioned made it seem like Tubbo had been the one to have had an emotionally draining day. But no, Tubbo was just tired.
A few days later, Tommy once again woke up feeling all sorts of off. Once again, he tried to hide away, feeling guilty for needing to be taken care of. But once again, Ranboo refused to let him be alone.
They led Tommy to the nest where they put on a seemingly never ending stream of movies and shows. Comfort snacks were available by the bowl-full, the linen closet was raided, only the softest of blankets making their way downstairs.
And in theory, it was great. Tommy felt much happier at the end of the day than he had in the beginning.
The problem wasn’t that, the problem was the day after. Tommy felt so much guilt over all that Ranboo felt like they had to do for Tommy. Tommy was raised to be independent, he had been raised to suppress the needy bird-brain that called to curl up against someone when he felt even remotely sad. He was raised to not be a problem.
Here though, he was carefully watched. There was no chance for him to escape and handle himself. A traitorous part of him loved it, loved the attention, loved the constant care and affection he was given. Still though.
Tommy had a problem. A very big problem. Was he going to ask for help at all? Absolutely not.
What was the problem you might ask?
Well. He was molting.
Molting usually only happened once every few years for avians, but not on any set schedule. Essentially, how molting worked is that for about a month an avian would regrow their feathers and shed all the old ones. The process was uncomfortable and itchy and left them vulnerable. Because of this vulnerability, the hindbrain would demand more time around the flock.
And Tommy… he couldn’t go to Ranboo and his family. It was too much at that point. He couldn’t demand to be coddled the way he so craved. His parents had always told him that the more he asked from people, the less they would stick around.
Ranboo’s parents heavily disagreed with the notion, citing that Tommy was allowed to ask for his needs to be met. Stuck between two worlds, Tommy had found a happy medium. He only ever asked for the things he needed. No extra things, and asking for them during a molt fell firmly in the ‘extras’ category.
Hugs and physical affection were already pushing his limits to what he thought was appropriate to ask for. The amount of attention he would want while molting was absurd. He couldn’t ask for it. Because his parents were right. What if Ranboo’s family left him when he became too much? Thus far, he had done a pretty good job at curbing his wants. There were a few times he had definitely crossed the line, but if he indulged in all he wanted while molting, then that would be the final blow.
If he allowed himself to ask for what he wanted, he would be abandoned, but this time, there would be no one left to catch him.
The next few days were agonizing. Tommy realized early on he wouldn't accept any form of affection, the minute he did his hindbrain would demand more. Old habits die hard. With his parents, when they knew he was molting, they refused to let him touch him. They would act as if he burned them anytime he so much as brushed up against them. So, out of habit, he avoided their touches too, which in the long game was good.
A few days later, he was with Ranboo in the nest. Ranboo had tried to pull him into a hug but Tommy had promptly gently pushed him away.
“It should be easy,” Tommy whispered shamefully.
Ranboo sat up from where they were lying down.
“What should be easy?” they asked carefully.
“Breaking the habits my parents taught me.”
Tommy felt guilty, he craved their soft touches, craved the firm hugs and gentle hand squeezes he had gotten too used to. It was for the better sure, better for them so he didn’t bother them, better for him so he didn’t lose yet another family. But that didn’t mean it hurt less.
Ranboo took a slow, deep breath before moving closer to Tommy.
“You can’t expect it to be easy. You went through a lot,” Ranboo reminded him gently.
“Yeah, went, past tense. It happened, it’s over. I should be able to move on.”
“Tommy, surely you know it’s not that easy.”
“I mean, it should be.”
“I read a book once,” Ranboo started, “it was called ‘The Sun is Also a Star’. And the author starts by quoting Carl Sagan who once said, ‘to make an apple pie from scratch, you first have to invent the whole universe.’ The book then goes on to talk about how to make an apple pie you need to invent fire, and seeds and you need to milk the first cow and have people turn it into butter. How you then have to make the printing press and the Industrial Revolution to make it last. The idea there is that even the simplest things are complex once you break them down to their bare atoms. Once you look at the history behind them all, the simplicity disappears.
“That doesn’t just go for apple pie, it goes for everything, for everyone. It applies to you. Your story didn’t just start when you were born, it was eons in the making. Your story started at the first person to walk the earth, to the first set of footprints and before the first words were written. Your story started well before there was even a story to tell, to a time when the universe was nothing, to when the first stars were about to be born. It starts at the first humanoid creatures to have existed, the first to figure out how to not only survive, but thrive. The creatures who eventually fell in love with humans’ new race. It goes to the core of humanity's superiority complex. It goes to someone in your bloodline falling in love with a hybrid. To your first ancestors, to your parents meeting and having you. It’s your entire childhood of being told you're lesser and unlovable. It goes to parents who cared more about what you are instead of who you are.
“Your story didn’t start with your parents, and it doesn’t have to end with them either. You’re in control now, you’re the main character. You can write your life how you want it to go, and I can be there to gently show you the way too. You’re not alone anymore. You have me and Tubbo, my parents, Phil, Techno and Wilbur. You have people who care about you, so let us. There’s nothing we want more,” Ranboo said, gently cupping Tommy’s face in his hand.
Tommy nuzzled into it, the lonely ache in his chest winning out for just a second.
“It’s hard,” he whispered, shame colouring his face, “to figure out where the lines are.”
“I know, gem, I know. But don’t be afraid to cross them. If you don’t explore, how else are you going to see what you can do?”
Tommy didn’t say anything after that, just leaning further into Ranboo, who wrapped him up tightly in a hug, wings and all.
The thing about hiding a molt, was that he had to hide the excess amount of feathers he was shedding. With his parents, they didn’t care so much. They only cared that he was making a bigger mess than usual. But Ranboo’s family cared. Not just about the mess, but about his well being and his thoughts and feelings. And as avians, as soon as they saw the feathers, they would clock what was going on.
Tommy had to be sneaky, very sneaky. So, each night before he let them preen him, he would run his hands through his feathers and take out as many as he could before either shoving them beneath his mattress or in his pillow. It wasn’t a perfect solution; his pillow was becoming bloated and the shafts would occasionally slide through the fabric and stab him as he slept and distributing the feathers so the mattress would lie flat was harder than it sounded, but it was working for now.
Unfortunately for Tommy, it wasn’t quite enough.
“Garnet, are you molting?” Ranboo asked one night as they preened him.
“Hm?” Tommy replied nonchalantly, though internally he was freaking out. Had he not pulled enough feathers before preening? How did Ranboo know?
Ranboo gently ran his fingers through Tommy’s wings and came up with several feathers. “With how much pressure I was putting on your wings, there should have been one, maybe two feathers. That means you’re either already in a molt or are about to. Do your wings hurt? Feel itchy? Is your nest feeling okay?” Ranboo pressed softly.
Tommy waved him off, dismissing him.
“Keep an eye on how you feel, when you think it’s started, tell either me or my parents. Molts are no laughing matter. I’m sure you know that already, but this time you don’t have to do it alone, okay, Toms?” Ranboo told him softly.
“Thanks, Ranboo, I will,” Tommy lied, guilt burning in his gut.
That night, Tommy paced in his room, unable to sleep. Ranboo would know that he was molting, or at least that he should be. That would make it much harder to hide it. The best Tommy could do was minimize how much his molt looked like it was affecting him.
There wasn’t a right way to go about this, he would be found out. The best he could do was delay the inevitable. Molts lasted for about two weeks and so far Tommy was on day three.
Twelve days, he could do this. He had long since learned to suppress the majority of his instincts, that was the harder part. It all came down to the feathers.
It was a lot harder than Tommy had initially thought. Like, a lot harder.
A few days in, and the feathers were the least of Tommy’s worries. His instincts had gotten so loud, louder than they had ever been. The last molt Tommy had gone through, he had mostly just bunkered in his room.
In retrospect, it made sense. The last time he had gone through a molt was before he had met Tubbo, when his instincts were dulled down and he was a master of ignoring them. But ever since he had met Tubbo, his instincts had taken up more space inside of him. Tubbo had taken his hand and showed him how much better he felt when he nested properly, or let someone preen his wings or when he didn’t bite back every chirp and caw.
Now, over a year and a half later of indulging in his instincts it made sense that they were louder than last time. Especially having been living in a household of avians for the past few months where he was encouraged to listen to his instincts.
It was constant, anytime he so much as walked by another member of the household the hindbrain would cry out for their hold, for their gentle touch and the warmth of their feathers surrounding Tommy.
Tommy had held back so many desperate chirps, bit back all the needy caws. On the less successful attempts where the sounds would come out strangled and broken, Ranboo or their parents would take his hand in theirs and gently remind him that he didn’t need to hide anymore.
But that was the thing- he did. He needed to keep himself away so they would love him the same. Fear clouded his mind every time he so much as considered telling anyone he was molting. He imagined a similar time as his parents.
Being locked away in his room until his molt was over. Extra distance between them as they passed him in the hallways, a chair slightly further away at the dining table. It wasn’t even that Tommy didn’t think he would deserve it, it would, he did. But it was the aftermath that scared Tommy more than anything.
After his molt, his parents had put more distance between him and them. That was when the worst of it started. When his nesting materials were knocked down to the bare minimum, when his chirps were reprimanded instead of simply grimaced at, when his wings needed to be put away at dinner. It was his molt that had been the final nail in the coffin.
And it wasn’t until Tubbo that Tommy had felt love again.
He had it now, he had people that cared for him despite his wings, despite his annoying habits and flaws. But the residual fear was always there, had always been there. After having been given so much, Tommy couldn’t bear to lose even a sliver of the love he had gotten.
It was selfish, he knew it was. He knew it was wrong to hide the worst parts of himself to try and convince other people he was worth loving, but Tommy wasn’t sure what else he could do. He didn’t want to go back, back to small temporary nests in stolen moments of freedom at Tubbo’s, back to watching a movie for the express purpose of being able to chirp without feeling the eyes of society on him, back to the barest hint of affection from the people who called themselves his parents.
Back to a time when Tommy was more of a prop than a person. When his heart beat only for the smallest hints of joy in his life rather than finding his whole life worth its steady rhythm.
Tommy had been given a second lease on life and he wasn't about to throw it away.
Tommy wasn’t sure how to make sure he never crossed any lines, so he did the only thing he knew to do.
He hid, he pulled away, and he turned into the shell of a person he was before he met Tubbo. His smiles became small things that didn’t reach his eyes, his laughs more contained, his words more polite and inoffensive. He needed to be the best version of himself as he was secretly at his lowest.
Like a fool, Tommy hoped it would go unnoticed, that Ranboo and his family would breathe a sigh of relief as Tommy became the ideal child, the kind that never asked for more than they deserved, the kind who were easy to handle and who would grow up and be perfect members of society.
But if anything, they grew more concerned. Ranboo tried coaxing him back to how he used to be. He would pull Tommy into hugs that used to make Tommy melt against them, and oh how he wanted to. How Tommy wanted to wrap his arms around Ranboo and not let go. How he wanted to be carried into the nest and coddled, wanted his wings preened and fingers running through his hair.
Thankfully, he resisted. He ignored the screaming hindbrain and pulled away from Ranboo, swallowing the pain when he lost their warmth, turned away and ignored all that he wanted.
Tommy thought he was fine when he dodged Ranboo, the tricky part was when his parents tried to start sneaking up on Tommy.
There were only so many soft gentle smiles and worried eyes Tommy could stomach before he crumpled. The guilt was eating him alive, the pain of his instincts was tearing him apart. He wanted so much, so badly. Wanted the things he knew would only ever hurt him more.
Each day got harder. His wings burned with the growth of new feathers and the old ones not being pulled out since he stopped accepting their offers to be preened. His hindbrain was screaming to be held and to be loved and for the warmth he had been surrounded by until recently. His throat was raw and sore from how he kept biting back the sounds that desperately tried to escape him.
One week.
That’s how long Tommy lasted.
All in all, he should have seen it coming. Alas, he was naive.
Thursday morning, a week after his molt had started, Tommy heard a knock on the door.
“Yeah?” he called sleepily, having been still mostly asleep.
“I’m coming in,” a voice declared from outside. A voice that Tommy knew too well, one that would get the truth out of him faster than any lie detector.
Sure enough, the door opened, the golden light from the hallway illuminating Tubbo as if he was a messenger blessed by Hermes himself.
His fluffy brown hair framed his face, showing off his determined expression. Determination burning so brightly in his eyes Tommy felt sympathy for those that were caught in its crossfire.
And right now, he was that poor soul.
Tubbo marched in as Tommy sat up, perching himself on the edge of Tommy’s bed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, leaving no room for argument.
“What do you mean,” Tommy said, feigning ignorance.
“You know what. Ranboo’s been telling me you’ve been weird all week. So spill. What’s wrong?” Tubbo repeated firmly.
Tommy fidgeted in his seat, ducking his head, muscles tensing up.
“It’s stupid,” he said softly.
Tubbo’s demeanor shifted. He gently grabbed Tommy’s hands between his own, running his thumb in soothing circles on Tommy’s knuckles.
“If it’s hurting you this much, I promise it’s not. I know you, Tommy, and this, what you’re doing, is depriving yourself of the things you deserve because your parents twisted your head. Love doesn’t come with strings attached. No matter what you think you are or what you deserve, I promise you you’re wrong.”
“How can you be so sure?” Tommy asked, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “How do you know where the lines are?”
Tubbo took a deep breath and slowly laid himself on top of Tommy, tangling their legs together as Tommy’s wings automatically wrapped around him.
“Did I make you uncomfortable just then?” Tubbo asked.
“What? No, of course not,” Tommy exclaimed, shocked Tubbo would ever think he was bothering Tommy. Especially not with how right Tubbo felt curled up against Tommy.
“But you haven’t let Ranboo or their parents hug you much recently,” Tubbo reminded him.
“Yeah, but- you’re different. I can’t imagine not letting you in.”
“And if I had made you uncomfortable, what would you have done then?” Tubbo asked.
Tommy bit his lip considering.
“I would have stopped you,” he started slowly. At Tubbo’s encouraging hum he continued. “And I would have asked you to go back to where you were earlier or a little further away, and I would have apologized.”
“How do you think I would respond?” Tubbo pressed.
“You would have apologized and moved away,” Tommy responded instantly. While it didn’t happen often, there were occasions where Tommy preferred being left alone and Tubbo had never kicked a fuss out of it before.
“So why are the Beloved’s any different?”
“Huh?” Tommy asked, his grip on Tubbo tightening incrementally.
“Why do you think they’ll treat you differently than I do? I can understand Daisy and Richard maybe, but why do you think Ranboo would hate you for needing something?”
“This is different though. This is just me holding you, it’s not like I’m taking care of you right now,” Tommy protested.
“Who says you’re not?” Tubbo asked. “Because to me it feels like I’ve had a bit of a rough week and I’ve come here and am being comforted by you. Like I do everytime I have a bad day. I know you’ll always be there for me as much as you’re able, and if you’re not that day, it doesn’t mean you love me less, it just means you need help too.”
“But I don’t feel like I’m doing mu-”
It clicked. Tommy didn’t feel like he was doing much, but to Tubbo, it was everything. Tommy simply holding him and wrapping him in his wings was soothing him. Like the Beloved’s. Preening was a task that helped both parties relax. Like right now, having Tubbo in his nest, wrapped in his wings made Tommy feel loved, important, like he was a protector, like was trusted, needed.
“Oh,” Tommy whispered.
Tubbo tilted his head from where it was resting against Tommy’s chest to look him in the eye.
“You got that, big man?”
“Yeah,” Tommy breathed, feeling a weight lifted from his chest, “I do.”
For once he wasn’t lying.
The two of them stayed there for a while and carefully, Tommy confessed to Tubbo about his molt. About the confusion about where the lines were, about the fear of the Beloved’s realizing the same thing that his parents had all those years ago.
Tubbo had stopped him at that last point and told him there wasn’t anything to realize. That back then, the shift was just the point where his parents had stopped pretending to care about him.
It didn’t take long for them to go downstairs and tell the Beloved’s- Tommy’s family.
Just like Tubbo predicted, they didn’t treat him any differently. If anything, they fussed over him more. Ranboo picked up Tommy and brought him to the nest while their parents collected more spare blankets from upstairs and let Tommy arrange them however he pleased.
Whenever Tommy chirped, they always chirped back, soothing the worries he had that he was being too much. They held him and loved him and told him over and over again how amazing he was.
Tommy had found a home in a stranger’s house, between four walls that didn’t watch him become and heartbeats that didn’t know his song. They loved him though, more than those who watched him take his first steps and say his first words.
Family wasn’t blood, family was love, and love could come from anyone. And in this case, it came from Tubbo, it came from Ranboo and the parents he now shared with Tommy. They were a family of four, a flock. People chosen for Tommy by the stars.
Recovery would be long, Tommy knew that now. What he also knew though, was that he would get there. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but they say it was burnt down in one. That was a lie, the truth is that the sacking of Rome took months of careful planning, thousands of men and just a little bit of luck.
Yet despite its supposed fall, the Empire still remains. The legends of its people and the stories of its powerful war, hungry gods, and tales of its rich history were still well known and told to each new generation. They were scars so deeply carved into history that they would never be forgotten.
Just like Tommy. He would recover slowly, and one day the influence of his parents would stop reaching him directly. But that doesn’t mean he would ever be fully free. That was okay though, they were part of his past, it was expected they would still influence his future.
It doesn’t mean he didn’t overcome them though. Right now, they were fresh wounds, cut so deeply they would never fade. And one day soon, they would be stories, relics of a different era. A sign that he had gone through battle and come out on top.
Tommy looked up at Ranboo from where he was curled up in their chest.
“What is it, garnet?” they asked quietly.
“Love you,” Tommy whispered.
Ranboo pulled Tommy closer into his chest, a soft smile on their face.
“Love you too”
Yeah, Tommy was home.