Archive of Our Own

The further into the woods and away from the commune Tubbo gets, the more something in his gut tells him that maybe, just maybe, this might not have been the best idea he’s had. 

Sue him, he’s been cramped up in a small room for the past week, at least in the village he got to move around, but with how shaky his legs were and how sick Tommy had been before they arrived, she’d wanted to make sure he was perfectly 110% before he even left the room. Tommy still had his cough(though it was worlds better than it had been) and his wound was still bothering him, so once Tubbo had asked for a day to explore and actually have fun in the woods, Niki had firmly put her foot down against Tommy going. 

“The last thing we want is for him to get sick again just when he’s finally almost healed,” she’d said. “He can’t go, and there’s no way you’re going alone. You’ll get lost.” 

Ranboo had volunteered to go with him, Phil had approved their little trip(especially since Ranboo was going with him), Tommy had jokingly asked him for a souvenir, and off they went, pointedly avoiding any path that would bring them towards the clearing him and Tommy had been stranded in for that harrowing day and a half. 

Tubbo couldn’t help but laugh a little as he ran out into the woods, Ranboo walking behind him and scrawling something in the book they always keep on their hip. The dying grass had perked up a little as he left, looking just a little more green than yellow once he’d run on by. 

It’s been an hour, they’ve ventured deep into the woods, and Tubbo’s currently ten feet up in an orange-leaved maple tree, the branches curving around him so he has no chance of falling down even though he’s not holding on. 

It feels good, feeling Magic and allowing himself to acknowledge it, not having to pretend the flowers and trees don’t exist, letting them bend for him and hug him close like an old friend he hasn’t seen in years. The Magic of the forest flows over him like a cool stream in the summertime or the warmth of a fire in winter; comfort and relief and hopeful peace. 

“D-did you want to see something specific, or just, um…run around?” 

After a week of Ranboo’s style of questioning, Tubbo knows how blunt they can be sometimes and that they don’t mean anything rude by it, so he hangs his head down and smiles, smirking at how funny Ranboo’s confused expression looks upside down. “Honestly? I’ve never really been able to do shit like this before. I might just run around all day if you’re cool with it.” 

“I’m cool with it,” Ranboo immediately agrees. “I like being out here. Even if it is almost November-” they stop and gasp. “It’s almost the end of October. You’ve never had a harvest celebration, have you?” 

Tubbo frowns, rolling over in his cradle of branches so he can look at Ranboo right-side-up. “Uh…nope. What’s it like?” 

Ranboo’s hands start to flap a little at their sides as they smile, bouncing with excitement. “It’s so much fun! Everyone bakes things, and after we finish harvesting all the crops, there’s a bonfire and we just hang out and play games, eat food…it’s kinda the last big celebration we have before the solstice and New Year’s cuz then we have to get everything ready for winter, but you and Tommy are gonna love it, it’s next week, I’m pretty sure.” 

“Really?” Tubbo slips from the hold of the branches, thanking them softly as he clambers back down the tree towards solid ground. His hands sting slightly from the rough texture of the bark and the October air that’s only getting colder. “That does sound like fun.”

“Yeah, Tommy should be all better by then, and once Niki releases her grip on him-” Tubbo snickers at Ranboo’s choice of words. They’re nowhere near wrong. Niki does run the healer’s with a kindly wielded iron fist; he’s been in there a week and knows it firsthand. “-you guys’ll be free to join in.” 

“Yup!” He drops to the ground, stumbles for a moment, and then smiles up at Ranboo. “Race you to that birch tree?” 

“I’ll just win, actually.” 

“Lies!” Tubbo yells, taking off, only for a soft vwoop to interrupt him. Ranboo’s form appears out of thin air right next to the birch about a hundred or so yards away. 

Ranboo laughs, holding up a hand and waiting for a moment just for emphasis before slapping it down on the tree’s side with a shit-eating grin, an expression much more common on Tommy’s face, but one Tubbo hasn’t seen on theirs so far. “I win.” 

“You bitch.” 

The two of them laugh as Tubbo tries to give Ranboo a lighthearted shove and they teleport away; it quickly devolves from tag into hide-and-seek–

And that’s when something in Tubbo’s gut starts to turn. 

He’s looking for Ranboo, who somehow, despite the fact that they’re an incredible amount of tall, is very good at hiding. 

But something feels wrong. Deeply and truly wrong. 

Not with Ranboo, he knows they can take care of themself, but suddenly the Magic in the forest has become darker, almost. More…subdued. Someone’s doused the fire or dammed the creek; only the embers and trickles of water remain. 

His eyes widen.

Like it’s trying to hide too. 

Tubbo turns away from where he saw Ranboo teleport last, chest building with anxiety, and runs deeper into the forest, closer to the entrance. 

Closer to his and Tommy’s old village. 

It’s in a few minutes when the screams start. 

They hit him across the face, making him reel backwards and almost fall over with the force of the agonized shrieking in the back of his mind. 

His breath starts to shake, head pounding as the all-too-familiar sound of the trees screaming only grows. 

It’s not just the memory of the screaming that makes his hands tremble as he staggers upwards: it’s the memory of the shouts and Tommy’s hands tightening around his as his lights popped out of existence, it’s the memory of the knife wound across Tommy’s side and the ensuing infection he’s still recovering from…it’s the memory of before, when he could do nothing for fear of being discovered and so had to sit and bear it until the screaming became too much. 

He doesn’t need to fear being discovered anymore, he realizes as he pushes forward, brushing a hand across every tree he can to comfort it as their brethren are cut down. 

Now…now Tubbo can do something about it.

He can hear Ranboo calling his name faintly, and he feels bad, but he ignores it. This is more important than a Magic-filled game of hide and seek. 

He starts to run, wincing and outwardly sobbing dryly at some points because the screaming is so loud, the mental pictures of axes and saws so terrifying, the wailing mournful cries of the ones left behind as their brethren’s bodies are carted off too much. 

Eventually, he sees motion in a clearing ahead and stumbles to a stop, ducking behind a wailing tree and pressing his palms to it in an attempt to soothe it somehow. 

“Yeah, just get these down and then I think we’ll be good to go,” someone says, and the air in Tubbo’s lungs turns to water. His mind goes fearfully blank. He wants to hyperventilate, but his lungs are frozen solid; nothing can get in or out. 

It’s the man who saw Tommy. 

The one who started the mob and got them chased out of town. 

They’re so much deeper into the forest then they ever would have dared go before…why? 

Before, the tree cutters would only venture in sight of the village…but now, they’re deep in the forest, in a thinner part that’s much further from the village. 

Someone slams an axe into a tree, and Tubbo’s knees buckle but he grabs hold of the tree he’s behind to keep himself upright. He cannot afford to break, even if his ears are ringing with wooded screams. 

“What are you doin’ back there? We got fuckin’ work to do,” the man snarles, and panic grows as Tubbo realizes he’s talking to him. “Ain’t got all day.”

The ringing wails in Tubbo’s ears get nothing but louder as he straightens and swallows hard, bringing the hood of his new jacket up to hopefully cover his face as he turns around to face the man, keeping one hand on the tree for support(of it is what he’ll say out loud, but he’s not sure who’s trying to support who at this point). 

He’s shaking. He clenches his fist to try and hide it. 

“The hell you doin’?” the man asks again. 

Clenching his fist isn’t going to hide the fact that his whole body is trembling. Someone slams an axe into a tree again and he flinches as it wails. 

“Nothin’.” he settles on. 

“Nothin’?” The man mocks. “Well, get your ass up and do somethin’.” 

Tubbo nods and runs over to a tree, pretending to inspect it as he runs his hands over the bark to try and calm its terrified noises only he can hear. His knees almost buckle again in relief, because the man doesn’t recognize him, and it is a miracle. 

“An’ quit your shiverin’,” the man scoffs. “Ain’t that cold.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to the tree. “I might be able to save you.” 

It’s not hard to remember that terrible feeling a week ago, when all the stress of everything got to be too much and he’d started growing daisies from his head. He’d just barely been able to refrain from gagging at the thought yesterday, but this is important. He can handle a little overstimulation. 

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment, trying to see if he can sense any moss or mushroom spores on the tree, and to his surprise, he does. 

It’s not much work to harness his anxieties and make the mushrooms sprout. 

His skin is crawling, and he suddenly feels a little drowsy, but it doesn’t matter. The tree accepts its additions with glee, and Tubbo turns around to shout, “This one’s no good, there’s shit growin’ on it.”

“Then mark it and move on,” the man who found him grumbles back, and Tubbo flinches, mumbling a small ‘yessir’ and running to get a piece of chalk, drawing an X on the tree’s rough bark. 

Thank you thank you thank you, the tree projects, and Tubbo just brushes a hand on it, smiles, and moves on. 

He’s managed to save three from being cut down when someone takes a saw to a sapling and it’s too much, they all scream out in despair and disbelief as the sapling cries, too young to know what’s going on other than it’s dying, and Tubbo can’t take it, he yells out in pain, clutching his head as he collapses to his knees. 

One person makes a concerned noise and starts to move over, but they’re shoved out of the way as a familiar tread stalks its way over to Tubbo as he shivers, the wailing cries of the sapling and every tree around it screaming in his mind-

“The hell is your problem?” the man yells. “Been workin’ for fifteen damn minutes, I swear to-” 

He stops for a moment, and then crouches in front of Tubbo. 

“Lift up. Your head.” 

“Hey, what are you doin’ to the kid-” 

“I said,” the man growls, making Tubbo flinch. “Lift up your head.” 

Tubbo’s heart is pounding in his throat, he doesn’t think he’s drawn in a full breath in a good three minutes, and he is trembling bodily like a leaf in a hurricane as he lifts his head to stare the man dead in the eyes. 

He knows he sees recognition in those cold eyes. 

He cannot back down now. He will not. 

The man flicks Tubbo’s hood off his head, stares at him for a moment, and then begins to cackle. 

Tubbo says nothing, only glaring defiantly at the man as his companions turn to stop and stare. 

“Would you look at this!” he cackles. “S’one of the freaks we ran outta town last week!” People freeze around them, then slowly walk to form a circle around Tubbo and the man, nudging each other, pointing and whispering. “Where’s your friend?” 

Tommy. 

Tubbo still says nothing, he only glares harder. His silence is his weapon, and he wields it expertly. 

The man stares back into his eyes, a cruel gleam in the cold. Then, he gasps and smiles mockingly. “Aw, is he dead?” 

Tubbo flinches a little from the proximity of the man and the force of his words, but the man must take it as him being right because he starts to laugh even more. 

Nobody’s cutting down the trees anymore, he thinks as the man gives him a hard shove and he almost hits his head on the hard dirt, knocking the wind out of him. 

“You were just wanderin’ around after he died, huh? Came back to us?” The man shakes his head. “Tell me, how long did it take?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Tubbo whispers, wiping dirt off his cheek. 

“Did he beg for-” 

“You shut the fuck up!” Tubbo snarls, lunging upwards, ears ringing with all the silence now in his brain. Tommy isn’t dead, thanks to some miracle of Ranboo stumbling into the right place at the right time and all of Niki’s Magic skills, but he might’ve been, and this son of a bitch is happy about it. 

People around them gasp as Tubbo seizes the man’s collar and tries to drag him down, but the man grabs Tubbo’s wrist and holds him tight. Tubbo struggles and tries to grapple with the man’s grip, but a week of not lifting anything heavier than his anemone or a glass of water and a lifetime of not having enough to eat are not enough to dislodge the man’s grip of steel. 

“Get back to work, all of you.” 

Tubbo’s eyes widen and his struggle increases, becoming more desperate. “Wait- no-” 

“And get me somethin’...” the man pins Tubbo to the ground with one hand, pushing his face into the dirt and making him bite down a pained noise. “To finish the job.” 

Someone slams an axe into the side of a tree again and the wailing starts fresh, making Tubbo sob in despair and pain and fear the forest takes care of those who take care of it, it helped him and he can do nothing the man has a dagger in his hand, he’s lifting it high Tommy Ranboo his friends the home he just found and has barely gotten to explore he thinks he hears someone gasping calling his name he’s so sorry- 

“TUBBO!” 

A vwoop echoes through the clearing, then there’s a yell of surprise and a yelp of pain and Tubbo’s eyes fly open; he hadn’t even realized he’d squeezed them shut.

Ranboo is kneeling in front of him, arms trembling as they hold back the man’s arm, red dripping from the silvery edge of the dagger in his hand. 

Tubbo rolls over, grass between his fingers when there wasn’t before, scrambling back as Ranboo is slowly overpowered by the man with the knife. The man pushes them back, knife still in hand, and Ranboo shrieks as it slices into their face. 

Before Tubbo can even blink, Ranboo’s on the ground, clutching at their left eye, blood pouring out between their fingers. 

Ranboo jumped in front of him. 

They take their hand off their face, the area around their eye looks like it’s gushing blood, it’s dripping down their face in a gory river he got their eye he got their eye he got their eye, staring at it, seemingly mesmerized by the blood, their blood. As soon as they seem to clock that the amount of red covering it is their blood, their breathing speeds up, faster and faster until in what seems like an hour but is probably less than a second later, they scream. 

It’s horrible, they’re crying and panicking, they came after him and they got hurt, this is his fault, they were protecting him from the man-

Tubbo whips his head to the man, head throbbing and scalp tingling as he stands up, hands clenched in fists of rage. 

Ranboo got hurt protecting him. 

The man’s face melts from evil glee to shock, and, if Tubbo’s seeing it right, a hint of fear. 

People around them are shouting, the thuds of axes on the ground echoing around the clearing as Ranboo’s cries turn to shaky sobs and whimpers behind him. 

“Get out,” he hisses. 

“The hell you-”

“Get OUT!” he yells, feeling things sprout from his hands. He raises one to point at the man, and sees tiny red poppies, black-eyed susans, and foxgloves growing from his skin, blooming in the fall sunlight. “You are not fucking allowed in this forest again.” People yell in fear as the branches of half-cut-down trees snap and crack, bending down and looming over them menacingly. Thorns and brambles slice themselves into Tubbo’s legs through his pants as he walks forward, seeing nothing but red, red like blood, red like Ranboo’s blood and red like Tommy’s, rage billowing in his lungs ready to be released like a dragon breathing fire at its foes. “Leave and do not come back!” 

“But-” 

“And if you want to get to this forest or the person behind me,” he growls, seizing the man by the collar again. He’s too scared to do anything about it, and a part of Tubbo is wickedly, wickedly glad. “You’ll have to go through me.” 

“What about-” 

“This coming Migration Day, you are leaving and not coming back. If you come back, and if you hurt anyone in here…” he trails off, blinking. Some of the fire has snuffed itself out, his fury dying down, but not his raw anger and frustration. He can still hear Ranboo sniffling and choking out sobs behind him. He takes a breath, and lets go of the man’s collar, letting him drop back to his knees on the ground. “I will not seek you out where you live. Not like you’ve done here. But I will know. Come back, and I will make you fuckin’ regret touching them. Do you understand?” 

The man nods. 

“Go.”

Soon, the clearing is empty, the wagon with the trees Tubbo failed to save being dragged along behind. Hopefully, they should have enough, and they will have no need to come back. No more lives will have to be lost. The trees half-cut-into will heal, and they will grow, and they will live. 

“-bo? Tubbo?” 

And when it is their time, they will die. 

“Tubbo, c-can you hear me?” 

When did the dirt become so close? When did his cheek start to ache? 

Look, there is the sky. And all the trees that did not fall. And a head of split black-and-white, one hand pressed over the left side, blood caked in the white and peach. 

Tubbo blinks. 

Ranboo’s form comes into focus, one hand clenched over their left eye, dark dried blood between their fingers gluing them together, barely any dribbling out anymore. Their eyes are teary, their face bloodshot as they sniffle. “Are you okay? Can you hear me now?”

“...boo?” 

Ranboo sobs in relief. “Yeah, yeah, i-it’s me, I- crap-” they curl up in a ball and start to cry freely again. “You scared me, I- you didn’t answer me and then you just… collapsed and-” 

“Y’r eye…” Tubbo struggles a little to get his elbows beneath him but manages to sit himself upwards without falling over. “He got y’r eye, is it okay?” 

Ranboo gulps, turning paler. “I- I-I don’t know, I- c-can you-” 

“Y-yeah, here, just take your hand down-” 

Ranboo squeezes their right eye shut, gulps again(looking five seconds and one bit of bad news away from being sick) and brings their blood-crusted hand down. 

There’s a deep, swooping cut just to the side of Ranboo’s eye, cutting at the edge of their cheekbone, curling through their eyebrow and ending about halfway up their forehead, brushing just over their eyelid. The part of the cut over their eyelid has tiny beads of dried blood, but nothing substantially deep.

“Ranboo-” 

Ranboo shudders, eyes still squeezed shut, bringing a hand to their mouth. 

“It missed.” 

Their eyes fly open. “What?”

“It missed your eye, Ranboo!” Tubbo freezes, slowly lowering himself to the ground as the forest floor starts to tip just a little beneath him. 

Ranboo looks elated, touching their eyelid like they can’t believe the news before glancing at Tubbo. “Are you okay?” 

“...nope.” Tubbo squeezes his eyes shut in the hopes that closing them will try and mitigate the world spinning around him. 

“Um…you have antlers.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“D-did I not mention that before, or-” 

“No, I think I would’ve remembered you saying I grew fucking antlers, Ranboo!” he snaps, nails digging in the dirt as the ground roils beneath him, then winces. “M’sorry, I…that was shitty of me.”

“It…it’s okay, I get it. I’ve gotten short with people too, and that…holy crud, Tubbo, you were terrifying.” 

“Y’mean jus’ now?”

“No,” Ranboo deadpans. “I mean you sprouting flowers and a pair of antlers made of wood from your skull and verbally beating the crap out of that guy after he threatened you and sliced into my face with a knife.” They groan, voice muffled as they presumably put their face in their hands. “Oh, Niki’s gonna have a field day with this.” 

“Mhm.”

“D-do you think you can, uh…sit up? We need to go back.” 

“Maybe ‘f th’world stops spinnin’,” Tubbo groans. 

“Can you sit up if you keep your eyes closed?” 

Tubbo brings his head up, shoving his hands beneath him as he tries to prop himself up. He feels a hand on his shoulder and flinches violently it’s the man he’s back back to hurt him and Ranboo hurt the forest back to finish the job but Ranboo apologizes, catching Tubbo as he almost topples over. 

“I got you, man. I can pick you up, if you want?” 

“...don’ teleport…”

“No teleporting,” Ranboo agrees. “Sorry for any, uh… stumbling, I think there’s blood in my eye. It-” They huff out a humorless laugh. “It really hurts.” 

“S’fine. Glad you’re mos’ly okay.”

Ranboo gathers him in their arms and gets ready to stand, jostling him a little and making him clutch at their sleeves-

“Wait…”

“What is it? A-are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

“He got you…here, too,” Tubbo whispers, reaching a hand across his body and running it over a spot on their left sleeve that’s been sliced into. He can feel dried beads of blood on their skin; some have dripped unfettered, dried, and are flaking off. This all is his fault, it’s his fault they’re so hurt. He tries to curl further into their arms but something above him hits something else, putting pressure on two points on his skull and Ranboo cries out loudly in pain, hissing through their teeth. “What- are you-” 

“Remember the, uh…the antlers?”

Tubbo gasps in sympathy, even more guilt filling his lungs like liquid sand. “Ooh, m’sorry.” 

“S’fine, just…not that eye. Here, I-I’m gonna lay you back down and pick you up from the other side, is that okay?” 

“Mhm…” Tubbo opens his eyelids just barely, enough to see Ranboo’s head moving around him and crouching on his other side. “Havin’ antlers is fuckin’ weird.” 

“Yeah, seems like it.”

“N’ all the fuckin’ flowers.” He raises a hand, looking at the miniature foxgloves, poppies, and black-eyed susans sprouting from it. Ranboo gathers him in their arms and picks him up, bringing back the feeling that had been going away of Tubbo drifting on stormy waves of water and making him squeeze his eyes shut again. He squeezes their arm for a second, focused on keeping what’s in his stomach where it belongs, before the dizziness and nausea fade almost completely and he loosens his grip, relaxing into Ranboo’s chest. 

“You good?” Ranboo’s voice is shaky with pain, and Tubbo can tell he hurt them with his weird-ass antlers a lot more than they’re trying to let on. He doesn’t know how long they’ll be able to carry him, but seeing as he can barely move without feeling like he’s getting physically tossed around by a couple thugs…he’ll wait to ask to be let down. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, feeling drained yet soothed as the Magic of the forest slowly drifts back over the two of them; someone’s blown on the coals and embers of the fire now that the threat is gone and the blaze is slowly starting up again. “Forest is, too.” 

Ranboo hesitates for a moment, then says softly, “That’s good.” 

They start to walk, away from the clearing, away from the trees softly saying thank you, thank you, thank you as the wind rustles their branches of dying leaves. 

One minute later, Tubbo, eyes still shut, hums absentmindedly. “S’rainin’.” Ranboo doesn’t speak when they respond, only humming in an oddly choked voice. 

Ten minutes later, Tubbo blinks his eyes open as he moves downwards, back resting against a tree as Ranboo sniffles. He can’t remember if he was asleep or not; closing his eyes with the slow but uneven walking of Ranboo carrying him may have lulled him asleep, but time is always fuzzy when he has his eyes closed. He’s barely dizzy anymore, but he’s confused as to why he’s been set down until he takes a look at Ranboo. 

It wasn’t raining, he realizes with a jolt of horror. 

They’re curled up in a ball next to him, blood-caked hand over their left eye, crying nearly silently. Him banging his antlers into their eye must’ve reopened the wounds, he realizes with a wince. They would’ve barely had time to clot. 

“Ranboo, hey-” 

“I’m- I’m s-sorry, I- I couldn’t-” 

“No, why are you-” Tubbo scooches closer, relieved when the world doesn’t spin like a top around him as he moves as much as it has been. 

“I-I can’t see and it feels like acid in my eye, I-” they sob, and the sound with the pain on their face stabs Tubbo in the throat. Their right hand is tangled in the black half of their hair, pulling slightly. “This freaking hurts.” 

“Ranboo-”

“Is that what it was like for you two?” they continue, almost hysterical as their breaths start to pick up. “He… h-he was glad when he thought T-Tommy was dead, he kn-knew Tommy was- was hurt and I’m willing to b-bet he was the one who threw the knife-”

“Ranboo-” 

“A-and we’re lost i-in the woods and I don’t kn-know how far we are from- from the commune so teleporting’s g-gonna be really hard-” 

“Ranboo!” Tubbo’s crawled in front of them, holding his hands out. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out, I can just ask for help.” 

Ranboo tries to respond but their breath hitches in their lungs as another tear streaks its way through dirt and smeared blood on their cheek.

“The forest will help us,” Tubbo continues. “It’s okay, we’ll be fine.”

They bring their hand out of their hair and hold it out, and Tubbo takes it, immediately surprised by the strength in their grip as they squeeze his hand, taking deep and shaking breaths, squishing the petals of a few tiny foxgloves and poppies sprouting from it. 

“I-” Ranboo sniffles a few minutes later, bringing their hand out of Tubbo’s grip to wipe at their eye and nose. Their other hand is still held firmly over their left eye. “I’m sorry.” 

“No.” 

They blink, confused. “N- no?” 

“Don’t be sorry, Ranboo, I’m the one who dragged us out here in the first place,” Tubbo says sadly but matter-of-factly as he shrugs, scooting over to sit next to them. “I- it’s my fault. Not yours.”  

“But I wanted to go-” 

“And I’m the one who led you into danger, I’m the reason you’re hurt-” 

“So are we just- just gonna say neither of us caused this a-and the guy who attacked us with the freaking knife is, um…is to blame?” 

Out loud, sure, Tubbo mentally grumbles, but he curls up into a tighter ball and nods. “We need to get you to Niki,” he says, standing up suddenly and leaning on the tree a bit as his blood rushes down from his head to the rest of his body. He stands up straight, clears his throat, and offers a hand out to Ranboo. “Do you feel up to teleporting?”

“Do you?” Ranboo shoots back, sniffling once more as they take his hand and heave themself upwards, hand still over their eye. “Also, I, uh…don’t know which way to go.” 

“Well, that’s easily fixed.” Tubbo crouches, the world starting to spin just a little as he once again moves too fast. “Hello,” he whispers. “Is anyone there?” 

Immediately, roots start pushing themselves up from under the soil and leaves, tiny clover flowers and bits of grass that haven’t quite stopped kicking for the winter, the last few dandelions of the season. The dandelions bob their yellow heads, pushing their way in front of the clovers. 

Weeds. Always the attention-seekers. 

“Do you guys know where the Magic commune is?” 

Every plant immediately perks up and points further into the woods, slightly to Tubbo’s left. 

“Thank you.” 

“Y’know, I think I-I’d be used to that after a week of seeing you talk to your flower, but…” They hold out their slightly trembling right hand. Tubbo legitimately can’t tell if their left one is glued to the left side of their face with all the blood or not. “Need some help? I’m gonna teleport in bursts, so…”

“Remember to close my eyes?” Tubbo huffs, accepting their hand and heaving himself upwards, squeezing their hand as the world starts to dip beneath his feet again before it straightens itself out. “I did not expect a couple fuckin’ threats to take this much energy.” 

“You literally grew brambles from the ground.” 

“Did not know that.” 

“Welp, now you do. Close your eyes and hold onto me?” 

Tubbo wraps his arms around Ranboo’s arm and holds tight as he’s compressed and then stretched back out again, collapsing on the ground with his arms around his stomach as soon as he feels solid forest floor beneath his feet. 

If he thought the world was spinning before, he was dead wrong. The only reason he’s sure he’s not rolling somersaults in the air is the fact that he can feel the ground beneath him as he tries to breathe but can barely get air in. 

In a daze, he feels Ranboo’s hand on his back. Something’s being spoken but he can’t hear it beneath all the buzzing in his ears. He presses his head into the ground and something snaps, he screams and thrashes in surprise as Ranboo tries to soothe him, gathering him in their arms as the world turns dark. 

For a moment, all is peaceful. 

Then he cracks his eyes open, trees and Ranboo towering worriedly over him.

“-recognize where we are,” they’re saying, voice shaking. “I-It’s not much longer, just one more jump.” 

Tubbo groans, half sobbing, realizing his head is resting on their legs as he closes his eyes again.

“Just one more,” they whisper. Something puts pressure on something close to his head and he flinches, realizing a moment later that Ranboo’s touching his weird-ass antler thing, as if trying to staunch a bleeding wound. “I…I don’t know how you’ll handle one more, though.” Their voice is barely audible, as though they don’t know or don’t want him to hear. 

Tubbo shakily reaches up to his antlers only to find rough edges and Ranboo’s hand on one side and smooth wood peppered with small blossoms on the other. 

“Does that hurt?” they whisper, sniffling again. 

Tubbo shakes his head minutely, peeling his eyes open again to stare at Ranboo. “...s’prised me.”   

“When it…snapped off?” 

“Mhm.” Tubbo takes in a shuddering breath and then rolls off Ranboo’s lap, bracing himself for a moment before he brings his knees underneath him and staggers upwards. “Le’s go.” 

“Are you sure? I-I mean, you just… passed out.” 

Tubbo’s practically hanging off Ranboo as soon as they stand up; they’re half-carrying him as much as they can with only one hand though his feet are still on the ground. “Get it over with.” 

“You’re sure?” 

He closes his eyes and swallows hard, leaning into their shoulder. He can feel every flower on his arms and hands, they’re pressing up against his jacket, burrowed in his skin, poppies and black-eyed susans and foxgloves, roots crawling crawling crawling under his skin. “...’fore I change m’ mind.” 

Everything compresses and stretches again, and Tubbo doesn’t even get the chance to open his eyes before his knees buckle beneath him and he’s out cold. 

The darkness is turbulent at first but soon calms, and Tubbo cracks his eyes open to someone with their hands over his ears. Magic pours itself over his skull and he closes his eyes again, drifting away. 

It’s dark. Someone is holding his hand. 

It’s dark. Someone says his name, and he hums, pressure on the top of his head, but he’s not awake. Not for long, anyway. 

Two heads hover beside him, one blond and one split black and white. A pink once comes and goes, but those two are always there. 

Soon it’s no longer quite so dark. 

Eventually, he shifts a little, and the first words he hears are “You mother fucker.” 

His senses come back slowly: he’s laying down in a bed…the bed in the room him and Tommy have been staying in, there’s a hand in his, fuck his head hurts, and his skin is crawling a little despite the soft sheets (though much less from last he remembers). 

“If you do not open your eyes right now I am going to actually fuckin’ kill you.” 

“Hi T’mmy,” he mumbles, not opening his eyes. 

“Is he awake?” another voice says, shaking a little. “Tubbo, c-can you hear me?” 

“An’ Ranboo.” 

He finally cracks his eyes open to two worried faces, one doing nothing to hide their anxiety and the other trying too hard. 

“You bitch,” Tommy sputters as Tubbo’s vision becomes clearer. “Ranboo told me everything, what the fuck were you thinking?” 

Tubbo takes a shaky breath and puts the heels of his hands over his eyes (he can no longer feel roots under his skin or the smashed remains of flower petals on his hands) to try and stop them from hurting more. “...they were screamin’ ‘gain,” he mutters. 

Tommy’s sharp intake of breath tells all. 

“H-how are you feeling?” Ranboo whispers. 

Tubbo shifts his hands upwards and freezes at the two slight, rough bumps on his head. “What the fuck.” 

Ranboo winces from where they’re sitting on the end of his bed beside Tommy. “I-I told Niki that it didn’t hurt when the one snapped, a-and she needed to get them short to check your skull cuz you, um…knocked it pretty hard when you collapsed.” They turn their head to face him completely, and Tubbo sees a large patch of white gauze padding taped over their left eye; he can guess the wound on their arm was treated similarly. “Niki said it was a, uh, combination of the teleportation a-and cuz you weren’t used to the amount of Magic you used.” 

“Which,” Tommy grumbles under his breath(though Tubbo can tell he’s not really too mad, just scared) “You used to scare the shit out of that sumbitch without me.” 

Tubbo brings one hand down to Tommy’s, squeezing it gently, if a little weakly. Tommy looks worlds better than last week, sitting in the chair at Tubbo’s bedside. His Magic glow went away on day 2, and his fever had broken on day 4. He was still struggling to walk a little from the pull on the wound when Tubbo left this morning. 

“Can I sit up?” 

Ranboo makes a face and mumbles something about can he and should he being two very different things, but moves to help Tommy prop him upright anyways. 

Tubbo grips Tommy’s arm as he and Ranboo carefully help Tubbo scooch backwards; Tubbo praises every miracle Niki’s been able to work that he doesn’t feel like he’s spinning on the spoke of a wagon wheel as he does. He realizes as he looks down that he’s been put in one of the sweaters someone gave Tommy; it’s a red knitted one, soft like a hug. 

“I’m gonna go get Niki, okay?” Ranboo asks, and when Tubbo nods, they blip away in the blink of an eye. He thinks he’d be used to that after a week of them teleporting away, but he’s somehow not. 

“Someone missed you,” Tommy says slyly, picking up a cup from Tubbo’s bedside table and placing it in his hands once Tubbo’s back is leaning firmly against the wall. 

The red anemone looks almost indignant, and he can feel the expression of worry worry worry written all over the way it holds its petals out for Tubbo. 

“Hi,” he whispers, poking a finger out. The anemone’s leaves reach out for it, brushing it and laying its head on his finger. “‘M all right now.” 

It whips its head upwards, purple-black middle seeming to glare at Tubbo like it is very aware of his bullshit before it faceplants back into his fingertip, petals wrapping softly all around it. He’s going to be covered in pollen. 

“Even I could tell how worried it was,” Tommy says, joking tone evident at first but draining away to anxiety fairly fast. “I…I asked Niki if I could walk around cuz the th-” Tubbo fixes Tommy with a small glare and he corrects himself. “The anemone kept buggin’ me and I just- I had a feeling something was up. I’m walkin’ around with Phil and suddenly Ranboo Teleports in out of nowhere, crying and covered in blood, and you just-” he shrugs and holds one of his hands up, slamming it into the other one with a smack. “I- I thought you’d fuckin’ died for a second.” 

Tubbo bites his lip and glances up at Tommy, suddenly feeling guilty. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t-” 

“Also, you were covered in flowers and had one and a half antlers.” 

“Yeah…that part was fuckin’ weird.” 

“And then Ranboo said all this shit about you finding people from our village and them cornering you with a knife and you going apeshit after they hurt them and-”

“I’m okay now, Tommy, I promise-”

“You’re really not.” The familiar words and the hard but concerned tone of Tommy’s voice leave no room for debate. Tubbo flounders for words for a moment, but by the time he opens his mouth, someone knocks on the door and it opens, letting in Ranboo and Niki. Ranboo nearly walks into the doorframe after they open the door, but Niki steers them away from it and walks purposefully up to Tubbo’s bedside. 

“Here we are again,” Niki says, and Tubbo winces, looking down in shame and apprehension as Tommy rests a hand on his arm. “Oh- Tubbo, look at me, please?” 

He brings his eyes up, keeping his shoulders hunched as the grips of both Tommy and the anemone tighten on him. 

Her eyes are kind, if a little tired and exasperated. She looks mostly relaxed. 

“Tubbo, I’m not angry,” she continues softly. “You’re hurt and you’re scared, you’ve been through a lot today, and the last thing I would ever want to do is be angry. Okay?” 

He nods minutely. 

Ranboo moves and whispers something to Tommy, and he gives Tubbo’s arm one last soft squeeze before sliding off the chair. Ranboo helps him up, and together they stumble out the door. 

“I’m sorry if I came off that way,” Niki apologizes as she takes the seat Tommy had been occupying. “We were all worried. And with Ranboo’s story-” 

“It’s true,” he whispers. “But…they didn’t corner me.” 

“What do you mean?” Niki’s expression is a mixture of anxious anticipation and a schooled mask of soothing calm. 

“I…” The anemone, still facedown on his finger, rubs a leaf over it soothingly. “...do you remember what I told you and Phil…about the trees?” 

Niki’s eyes move away from his for a moment, before she gasps a little and hovers her hand over his wrist. When he nods slightly, she places it down. Her hands are gentle and soft but incredibly strong. “They were cutting them down?” 

“They were so much further in the forest than they would’ve ever fuckin’ dared before, Niki, and-” He pauses at the expression on Niki’s face, it’s hardened and darkened, almost. Then, she shakes herself a little and squeezes his wrist a little, smiling without her eyes at how the anemone’s slunk a leaf over to rest on her hand too. 

“Can I check you over? I need to look at your head.” 

The sudden subject change is not left unnoticed. Soon, Niki is prodding at the top of his head around the stumps of antler, asking if anything hurts. 

“It doesn’t feel like your skull is fractured at all,” she mumbles once. “But I’m not quite sure how to get these off, they’re almost embedded in your skin.” 

“Ew.”  

She doesn’t say anything after that until she sits back. “Well, I can try and use my Magic to get them out like I did the flowers earlier, but it’ll take a bit since they’re much less superficial than the flowers were. Maybe a couple tries, but…” her face is sympathetic but sad, like she’s about to deliver bad news. “You’ll be stuck with them for a bit, maybe a few weeks. I hope you don’t mind too much.” 

Tubbo shrugs. “Not really.” 

“How’s the rest of your head? Are you still dizzy?” 

Eventually, Niki’s satisfied that Tubbo isn’t actively dying or something, and she helps him lay back down, letting the anemone nuzzle his face and get pollen all over his cheek before she puts it on his bedside table, turns down the lantern, and shuts the door behind her. 

It’s barely a minute later when it creaks open again to Tommy and Ranboo. Tubbo knows it’s Tommy and Ranboo before they even walk in. He’s pretty sure that Tommy is the only one in the commune who would enter their room without knocking. 

“Scoot over,” is the only warning Tubbo gets from Tommy before he’s climbing up into Tubbo’s bed and stealing half the blanket. In ten seconds, Tommy’s under the covers with him and has his arms wrapped around Tubbo’s chest, clinging to him like moss on a tree. 

“You good?” Ranboo asks softly. 

“Yep,” Tommy grunts. “Thanks, Ranboozle.” 

“That is…nowhere close to my name.” 

“Okay.” 

Ranboo slouches and sighs with fond exasperation, seemingly accepting their fate as ‘Ranboozle’ before they look up at Tubbo, reaching out and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re okay, Tubbo.” 

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” Tubbo whispers. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” they respond firmly. “I don’t blame you, I’m just…I’m glad I could help. You helped me, too. O-okay?”

“Okay.” He sighs and leans his head towards Tommy’s, closing his eyes. A moment later, Ranboo’s hand leaves his shoulder and the door quietly shuts. A chair screeches softly on the ground, and soon the sounds of pages flipping fill the room. 

Nobody speaks for a minute. 

Then, Tommy takes a sharp breath and his arms tighten around Tubbo’s ribs. “You fuckin’ scared me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo says softly, opening his eyes. “But I couldn’t not do something. Not like last time.” 

“You and your damn heroics,” Tommy chuckles wetly. 

“The one who found us was the one leading the whole crew.” 

Tommy freezes, curling a little tighter as if to protect the two-week-old bandaged and healing wound under his shirt.  

“I don’t know if he’ll…come back, y’know?” Ranboo adds softly. “You scared ‘em all off.” 

“Hope not,” Tubbo slurs sleepily, eyes closing once more as he shuffles closer into Tommy’s arms. “Don’ wanna deal with ‘em again.”

“They can fuck off,” Tommy grunts. “Migration Day’s soon anyway, then we won’t be bothered again.” 

“We’re safe here,” Ranboo says matter-of-factly. “They won’t let anything happen.” 

“Isn’t there somethin’ big happening here in a bit?” Tommy grumbles sleepily. His body is warm, but not fever-warm like it was; it’s comforting and close, familiar like those nights they’d huddle for warmth in an alleyway but different because there’s a guarantee of soft protection now. 

Tubbo falls asleep to the background noise of Ranboo quietly and happily rambling about the coming harvest festival and Tommy’s arms shifting to hug his arms to his chest, and he’s peaceful.