Ranboo is very careful to track what he knows. Neat little lists inside the covers of all his memory books. Who he is, where he's from, who he can trust, all of it is in the books.
His current list reads as follows.
1. Your name is Ranboo Beloved.
2. You live in the Dream SMP, in a country called New L'manburg Snowchester.
3. You work for President Tubbo Underscore.
He knows these things, knows them deep in his soul. So what happens when he wakes up in a snowy wasteland, armed only with this knowledge? And what happens when these truths are challenged?
Basics
This is a c!Ranboo centric roleplay blog run by @likethesword (Kat, she/they, with occassional help from Allium, he/they) It is connected to the 'Resetverse', in which Drista (@forksandchaos) resets the SMP and brings stray roleplay blogs together to make a narrative.
Basic thread tag: #turn the page
Who the particles seem to know
Tommyinnit - @waxwingedboy
Tag: all you have is your fire [tommy]
Tubbo - @tubbos
Tag: before those hands pulled me from the earth [tubbo]
Nihachu - @phoenixchick
Tag: marvel at the flowers you'll have made [niki]
Captain Puffy - @papa-puffy
Tag: sit in and watch the sunlight fade [puffy]
Technoblade - @rusted-blade
Tag: i was housed by your warmth [techno]
Wilbur - @sootsunrise
Tag: our graceful turner of heads [wilbur]
Quackity - @fowlblackjack
Tag: without leaving so much as a feather behind [quackity]
Philza - @eternalelytra
Tag: peace had always depended (on all the ashes in my wake) [philza]
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[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[Tubbo shakes his head- and gets on his own two feet, supporting himself, and carefully lets go of Ranboo's hand. He gestures for the other to follow him, and leads the way to his little cottage.]
[You would expect him to live in the mansion. He can't afford that, a ghost lived there last he checked, and some bunny girl, too.]
[Ranboo has to duck his head to pass the doorframe, and he stands in the entryway politely. It’s a quaint little place, wood and wool and stone. It feels homey, feels like Tubbo.]
This is a really nice place, I love the, uh, the floors, the wood’s really great. Did you build it yourself?
[He knows he’s just talking to fill the silence, but he can’t stop himself. He wrings his hands nervously, and his tail swishes behind him.]
[Tubbo sighs, and he nods. During the walk he was able to collect his thoughts. Ranboo is alive. Ranboo is awkwardly fidgeting. Ranboo is just as wonderful as he remembers. Ranboo remembered him, in all that time away.]
Kind of. You helped me build parts of Snowchester- but, just so you know, 'm not really the president anymore, boss man. L'Manburg- well, it's sort of gone, haha.
[He blinks, considering his options. He could lie, tell Ranboo there wasn't that much that he missed, but then he'd have to leave out their marriage, their home, their son.]
[Their son. Maybe that would help, somehow.]
Oh, you know, not too too much. Do you remember Michael?
[The name is so achingly familiar, it feels like a punch to the gut. There’s something there, something deep and instinctual connected to that name. But there’s no face tied to it, only a blank space where the memory should be.]
[He grabs a pole with a hook at the end, and hooks it onto a latch door above them. He pulls it open and a ladder comes quickly down, and he gestures for Ranboo to follow him up it.]
[There, a little baby piglin sits, staring out the open window at the coming storm, clutching a chicken plushie tightly to his chest.]
[The depth of just how much he’s missed hits him square in the chest, and it steals the air from his lungs.]
[Ranboo does not know this child.]
Oh, uh, hi Michael, nice to meet you.
[He raises a hand to wave awkwardly, then seems to pull into himself.]
Okay, the visit’s been great, thank you for having me, but I think I really should be going. If you could just point me in the direction of L’manburg, I’ll be out of your hair.
Ranboo, L'Manburg- it's not around anymore. Uh, Technoblade and Phil- and Dream, hah. They kind of blew it up, boss man.
[He puts a hand on Ranboo's arm, gently, slowly, making sure Ranboo can see his every move. Michael looks up, and his eye lights up. He runs over and begins babbling about something or other. Tubbo continues in a more hushed tone.]
That's our boy, Michael. We're raising him together. In- well, kind of in Snowchester. Maybe you should sit down and we can talk for longer.
[Ranboo stumbles back a couple short steps, mind reeling.]
Okay, I get it, haha funny. Memory Boy doesn’t remember things, great joke. You can let it go now, man.
[He keeps glancing between Tubbo and Michael, at war with himself. Part of him wants to just go home, feed his cats and write about this weird dream in his memory book. But the other, much louder part of him knows these people, knows this place.]
[His tail lashes, and a nervous vrrr makes its way out of him.]
[He follows Tubbo mainly on instinct, echoing countless days of following him around taking notes. They leave the house, Ranboo quiet by Tubbo’s side, and just for a moment things seem normal. Then Tubbo’s hand slips into his, casual as breathing, and Ranboo has to remember how to walk properly.]
[Tubbo worries this is too much, but he's more afraid of losing Ranboo again than keeping up some facade. It feels safe. It feels like a touch he missed more than anything.]
[They arrive at where the crater would be, and Tubbo almost passes out.]
This- but- where's-
[He sinks to his knees at the outskirts of his home- his hell- and he doesn't let go of Ranboo's hand.]
[He can hear echoes of laughter, and echoes of sobs, and he can almost see the TNT raining. But that much is all in his head.]
[his eyes scour the landscape, familiar but still incredibly wrong. the edges of the buildings seem almost fuzzy, like a mirage. the cobblestones that make up the paths flicker between many different colors like TV static.]
something's- tubbo?
[Ranboo drops to the ground at Tubbo's side. always, always ready to catch him.]
[Words are so hard, it feels like cotton is stuffing his throat shut, he can barely breathe. Michael deserves to see this, their home- Ranboo doesn't even seem to remember who he is- he can't do this.]
[He was strong enough to lose Ranboo. He isn't strong enough to have him there, taunting him, but have lost everything they had. He can't do it.]
[He's gone through the stages of grief, he's moved on, but now he's faced with two mirages- one of his home and hell, and one of his husband.]
[He's going to die of dehydration soon.]
[Sooner than he thinks, he realizes, as finally a tear slips down his cheek. It's not real. He knows it's not real. It'll be gone by the morning. He isn't sure if that makes it better.]
[He can't think, he doesn't know what's happening, but he leans in to the touch like second nature. Tubbo had never been a touch person, not till Ranboo. Even still, some days touch was the thing he despised more than anything, like fire ants digging into him.]
[Today, evidently, was not one of these days.]
[Tubbo leans slowly into Ranboo, tears slowing over the coming minutes. When they finally stop, he looks at Ranboo with glazed over eyes. His next words are shaken, and so boundlessly and incredibly exhausted.]
You're not real, are you? None of this is- this is one of my nightmares. Tell me to wake up. Please.
[He reaches, and he can feel Ranboo's face when he holds it. What a cruel reality, that his night terrors can manifest even in tactile ways?]
[He'll be haunted by this one for the rest of his life, he's sure of it. How he aches to kiss that smile square on, to tell Michael that his dad isn't going again.]
[Nothing lasts for Tubbo. He still begs the universe, pathetically.]
[his brow furrows in the predictable way it does.]
No- I-
[he fumbles with the words for a moment, sighing and pressing his forehead to tubbo's. it's familiar, like a movement he's done hundreds of times without even knowing it. their noses slot together easily, and ranboo tries to ignore the furious beating of his heart.]
tubbo, i- I may not exactly know what's going on, but I really don't think I'm going anywhere. I feel pretty real, I think.
[he rubs a thumb across his president's cheekbone, and it's as easy as breathing.]
I'm sorry I don't remember everything you want me to, but...
[Tubbo loses. He loses constantly, he loses like loss is a drug he can't quit.]
[Tubbo is good at losing, he's done it since Marburg. He's good at being lied to, he was once good at doing what he was told, he was once good at being a president, once good at being a butcher, once good at being a husband and a father, once good at being a killer.]
[Tubbo was once good. Now he's just a boy who's lost everything, a boy who thought he was left with a son and a ghost town, a place he could hardly call home, but he could call a place to stay. Mirages make their way into his life everyday, in the form of stolen wines. It comes in the form of overloading on caffeine and evading sleep. It comes in the form of plunging into ice cold ocean water to wake up from nothing.]
[Tubbo hasn't felt awake in almost a year. But here's Ranboo. Ranboo and his gentle hold, and his nose pressed against Tubbo's, and his lips and chin inches away, and safety. Ranboo's thumb wipes at the trail that the tears once ran through, an effective dam.]
[Tubbo loses. Tubbo knows mirages. Glancing past Ranboo, he sees the ruins as he remembers them. There is no fuzzy outline. There is a wreckage here, and Gods, it's beautiful. Ranboo is still here, sitting with him beside the wreckage.]
[They're both real.]
[They're both real.]
We're both real.
[He submits. He accepts his heart will be strung along again, fated to ache over and over. Love is always worth the pain it brings. Love is not a mirage.]
[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[Tubbo shakes his head- and gets on his own two feet, supporting himself, and carefully lets go of Ranboo's hand. He gestures for the other to follow him, and leads the way to his little cottage.]
[You would expect him to live in the mansion. He can't afford that, a ghost lived there last he checked, and some bunny girl, too.]
[Ranboo has to duck his head to pass the doorframe, and he stands in the entryway politely. It’s a quaint little place, wood and wool and stone. It feels homey, feels like Tubbo.]
This is a really nice place, I love the, uh, the floors, the wood’s really great. Did you build it yourself?
[He knows he’s just talking to fill the silence, but he can’t stop himself. He wrings his hands nervously, and his tail swishes behind him.]
[Tubbo sighs, and he nods. During the walk he was able to collect his thoughts. Ranboo is alive. Ranboo is awkwardly fidgeting. Ranboo is just as wonderful as he remembers. Ranboo remembered him, in all that time away.]
Kind of. You helped me build parts of Snowchester- but, just so you know, 'm not really the president anymore, boss man. L'Manburg- well, it's sort of gone, haha.
[He blinks, considering his options. He could lie, tell Ranboo there wasn't that much that he missed, but then he'd have to leave out their marriage, their home, their son.]
[Their son. Maybe that would help, somehow.]
Oh, you know, not too too much. Do you remember Michael?
[The name is so achingly familiar, it feels like a punch to the gut. There’s something there, something deep and instinctual connected to that name. But there’s no face tied to it, only a blank space where the memory should be.]
[He grabs a pole with a hook at the end, and hooks it onto a latch door above them. He pulls it open and a ladder comes quickly down, and he gestures for Ranboo to follow him up it.]
[There, a little baby piglin sits, staring out the open window at the coming storm, clutching a chicken plushie tightly to his chest.]
[The depth of just how much he’s missed hits him square in the chest, and it steals the air from his lungs.]
[Ranboo does not know this child.]
Oh, uh, hi Michael, nice to meet you.
[He raises a hand to wave awkwardly, then seems to pull into himself.]
Okay, the visit’s been great, thank you for having me, but I think I really should be going. If you could just point me in the direction of L’manburg, I’ll be out of your hair.
Ranboo, L'Manburg- it's not around anymore. Uh, Technoblade and Phil- and Dream, hah. They kind of blew it up, boss man.
[He puts a hand on Ranboo's arm, gently, slowly, making sure Ranboo can see his every move. Michael looks up, and his eye lights up. He runs over and begins babbling about something or other. Tubbo continues in a more hushed tone.]
That's our boy, Michael. We're raising him together. In- well, kind of in Snowchester. Maybe you should sit down and we can talk for longer.
[Ranboo stumbles back a couple short steps, mind reeling.]
Okay, I get it, haha funny. Memory Boy doesn’t remember things, great joke. You can let it go now, man.
[He keeps glancing between Tubbo and Michael, at war with himself. Part of him wants to just go home, feed his cats and write about this weird dream in his memory book. But the other, much louder part of him knows these people, knows this place.]
[His tail lashes, and a nervous vrrr makes its way out of him.]
[He follows Tubbo mainly on instinct, echoing countless days of following him around taking notes. They leave the house, Ranboo quiet by Tubbo’s side, and just for a moment things seem normal. Then Tubbo’s hand slips into his, casual as breathing, and Ranboo has to remember how to walk properly.]
[Tubbo worries this is too much, but he's more afraid of losing Ranboo again than keeping up some facade. It feels safe. It feels like a touch he missed more than anything.]
[They arrive at where the crater would be, and Tubbo almost passes out.]
This- but- where's-
[He sinks to his knees at the outskirts of his home- his hell- and he doesn't let go of Ranboo's hand.]
[He can hear echoes of laughter, and echoes of sobs, and he can almost see the TNT raining. But that much is all in his head.]
[his eyes scour the landscape, familiar but still incredibly wrong. the edges of the buildings seem almost fuzzy, like a mirage. the cobblestones that make up the paths flicker between many different colors like TV static.]
something's- tubbo?
[Ranboo drops to the ground at Tubbo's side. always, always ready to catch him.]
[Words are so hard, it feels like cotton is stuffing his throat shut, he can barely breathe. Michael deserves to see this, their home- Ranboo doesn't even seem to remember who he is- he can't do this.]
[He was strong enough to lose Ranboo. He isn't strong enough to have him there, taunting him, but have lost everything they had. He can't do it.]
[He's gone through the stages of grief, he's moved on, but now he's faced with two mirages- one of his home and hell, and one of his husband.]
[He's going to die of dehydration soon.]
[Sooner than he thinks, he realizes, as finally a tear slips down his cheek. It's not real. He knows it's not real. It'll be gone by the morning. He isn't sure if that makes it better.]
[He can't think, he doesn't know what's happening, but he leans in to the touch like second nature. Tubbo had never been a touch person, not till Ranboo. Even still, some days touch was the thing he despised more than anything, like fire ants digging into him.]
[Today, evidently, was not one of these days.]
[Tubbo leans slowly into Ranboo, tears slowing over the coming minutes. When they finally stop, he looks at Ranboo with glazed over eyes. His next words are shaken, and so boundlessly and incredibly exhausted.]
You're not real, are you? None of this is- this is one of my nightmares. Tell me to wake up. Please.
[He reaches, and he can feel Ranboo's face when he holds it. What a cruel reality, that his night terrors can manifest even in tactile ways?]
[He'll be haunted by this one for the rest of his life, he's sure of it. How he aches to kiss that smile square on, to tell Michael that his dad isn't going again.]
[Nothing lasts for Tubbo. He still begs the universe, pathetically.]
[his brow furrows in the predictable way it does.]
No- I-
[he fumbles with the words for a moment, sighing and pressing his forehead to tubbo's. it's familiar, like a movement he's done hundreds of times without even knowing it. their noses slot together easily, and ranboo tries to ignore the furious beating of his heart.]
tubbo, i- I may not exactly know what's going on, but I really don't think I'm going anywhere. I feel pretty real, I think.
[he rubs a thumb across his president's cheekbone, and it's as easy as breathing.]
I'm sorry I don't remember everything you want me to, but...
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[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[Tubbo shakes his head- and gets on his own two feet, supporting himself, and carefully lets go of Ranboo's hand. He gestures for the other to follow him, and leads the way to his little cottage.]
[You would expect him to live in the mansion. He can't afford that, a ghost lived there last he checked, and some bunny girl, too.]
[Ranboo has to duck his head to pass the doorframe, and he stands in the entryway politely. It’s a quaint little place, wood and wool and stone. It feels homey, feels like Tubbo.]
This is a really nice place, I love the, uh, the floors, the wood’s really great. Did you build it yourself?
[He knows he’s just talking to fill the silence, but he can’t stop himself. He wrings his hands nervously, and his tail swishes behind him.]
[Tubbo sighs, and he nods. During the walk he was able to collect his thoughts. Ranboo is alive. Ranboo is awkwardly fidgeting. Ranboo is just as wonderful as he remembers. Ranboo remembered him, in all that time away.]
Kind of. You helped me build parts of Snowchester- but, just so you know, 'm not really the president anymore, boss man. L'Manburg- well, it's sort of gone, haha.
[He blinks, considering his options. He could lie, tell Ranboo there wasn't that much that he missed, but then he'd have to leave out their marriage, their home, their son.]
[Their son. Maybe that would help, somehow.]
Oh, you know, not too too much. Do you remember Michael?
[The name is so achingly familiar, it feels like a punch to the gut. There’s something there, something deep and instinctual connected to that name. But there’s no face tied to it, only a blank space where the memory should be.]
[He grabs a pole with a hook at the end, and hooks it onto a latch door above them. He pulls it open and a ladder comes quickly down, and he gestures for Ranboo to follow him up it.]
[There, a little baby piglin sits, staring out the open window at the coming storm, clutching a chicken plushie tightly to his chest.]
[The depth of just how much he’s missed hits him square in the chest, and it steals the air from his lungs.]
[Ranboo does not know this child.]
Oh, uh, hi Michael, nice to meet you.
[He raises a hand to wave awkwardly, then seems to pull into himself.]
Okay, the visit’s been great, thank you for having me, but I think I really should be going. If you could just point me in the direction of L’manburg, I’ll be out of your hair.
Ranboo, L'Manburg- it's not around anymore. Uh, Technoblade and Phil- and Dream, hah. They kind of blew it up, boss man.
[He puts a hand on Ranboo's arm, gently, slowly, making sure Ranboo can see his every move. Michael looks up, and his eye lights up. He runs over and begins babbling about something or other. Tubbo continues in a more hushed tone.]
That's our boy, Michael. We're raising him together. In- well, kind of in Snowchester. Maybe you should sit down and we can talk for longer.
[Ranboo stumbles back a couple short steps, mind reeling.]
Okay, I get it, haha funny. Memory Boy doesn’t remember things, great joke. You can let it go now, man.
[He keeps glancing between Tubbo and Michael, at war with himself. Part of him wants to just go home, feed his cats and write about this weird dream in his memory book. But the other, much louder part of him knows these people, knows this place.]
[His tail lashes, and a nervous vrrr makes its way out of him.]
[He follows Tubbo mainly on instinct, echoing countless days of following him around taking notes. They leave the house, Ranboo quiet by Tubbo’s side, and just for a moment things seem normal. Then Tubbo’s hand slips into his, casual as breathing, and Ranboo has to remember how to walk properly.]
[Tubbo worries this is too much, but he's more afraid of losing Ranboo again than keeping up some facade. It feels safe. It feels like a touch he missed more than anything.]
[They arrive at where the crater would be, and Tubbo almost passes out.]
This- but- where's-
[He sinks to his knees at the outskirts of his home- his hell- and he doesn't let go of Ranboo's hand.]
[He can hear echoes of laughter, and echoes of sobs, and he can almost see the TNT raining. But that much is all in his head.]
[his eyes scour the landscape, familiar but still incredibly wrong. the edges of the buildings seem almost fuzzy, like a mirage. the cobblestones that make up the paths flicker between many different colors like TV static.]
something's- tubbo?
[Ranboo drops to the ground at Tubbo's side. always, always ready to catch him.]
[Words are so hard, it feels like cotton is stuffing his throat shut, he can barely breathe. Michael deserves to see this, their home- Ranboo doesn't even seem to remember who he is- he can't do this.]
[He was strong enough to lose Ranboo. He isn't strong enough to have him there, taunting him, but have lost everything they had. He can't do it.]
[He's gone through the stages of grief, he's moved on, but now he's faced with two mirages- one of his home and hell, and one of his husband.]
[He's going to die of dehydration soon.]
[Sooner than he thinks, he realizes, as finally a tear slips down his cheek. It's not real. He knows it's not real. It'll be gone by the morning. He isn't sure if that makes it better.]
[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[Tubbo shakes his head- and gets on his own two feet, supporting himself, and carefully lets go of Ranboo's hand. He gestures for the other to follow him, and leads the way to his little cottage.]
[You would expect him to live in the mansion. He can't afford that, a ghost lived there last he checked, and some bunny girl, too.]
[Ranboo has to duck his head to pass the doorframe, and he stands in the entryway politely. It’s a quaint little place, wood and wool and stone. It feels homey, feels like Tubbo.]
This is a really nice place, I love the, uh, the floors, the wood’s really great. Did you build it yourself?
[He knows he’s just talking to fill the silence, but he can’t stop himself. He wrings his hands nervously, and his tail swishes behind him.]
[Tubbo sighs, and he nods. During the walk he was able to collect his thoughts. Ranboo is alive. Ranboo is awkwardly fidgeting. Ranboo is just as wonderful as he remembers. Ranboo remembered him, in all that time away.]
Kind of. You helped me build parts of Snowchester- but, just so you know, 'm not really the president anymore, boss man. L'Manburg- well, it's sort of gone, haha.
[He blinks, considering his options. He could lie, tell Ranboo there wasn't that much that he missed, but then he'd have to leave out their marriage, their home, their son.]
[Their son. Maybe that would help, somehow.]
Oh, you know, not too too much. Do you remember Michael?
[The name is so achingly familiar, it feels like a punch to the gut. There’s something there, something deep and instinctual connected to that name. But there’s no face tied to it, only a blank space where the memory should be.]
[He grabs a pole with a hook at the end, and hooks it onto a latch door above them. He pulls it open and a ladder comes quickly down, and he gestures for Ranboo to follow him up it.]
[There, a little baby piglin sits, staring out the open window at the coming storm, clutching a chicken plushie tightly to his chest.]
[The depth of just how much he’s missed hits him square in the chest, and it steals the air from his lungs.]
[Ranboo does not know this child.]
Oh, uh, hi Michael, nice to meet you.
[He raises a hand to wave awkwardly, then seems to pull into himself.]
Okay, the visit’s been great, thank you for having me, but I think I really should be going. If you could just point me in the direction of L’manburg, I’ll be out of your hair.
Ranboo, L'Manburg- it's not around anymore. Uh, Technoblade and Phil- and Dream, hah. They kind of blew it up, boss man.
[He puts a hand on Ranboo's arm, gently, slowly, making sure Ranboo can see his every move. Michael looks up, and his eye lights up. He runs over and begins babbling about something or other. Tubbo continues in a more hushed tone.]
That's our boy, Michael. We're raising him together. In- well, kind of in Snowchester. Maybe you should sit down and we can talk for longer.
[Ranboo stumbles back a couple short steps, mind reeling.]
Okay, I get it, haha funny. Memory Boy doesn’t remember things, great joke. You can let it go now, man.
[He keeps glancing between Tubbo and Michael, at war with himself. Part of him wants to just go home, feed his cats and write about this weird dream in his memory book. But the other, much louder part of him knows these people, knows this place.]
[His tail lashes, and a nervous vrrr makes its way out of him.]
[He follows Tubbo mainly on instinct, echoing countless days of following him around taking notes. They leave the house, Ranboo quiet by Tubbo’s side, and just for a moment things seem normal. Then Tubbo’s hand slips into his, casual as breathing, and Ranboo has to remember how to walk properly.]
[Tubbo worries this is too much, but he's more afraid of losing Ranboo again than keeping up some facade. It feels safe. It feels like a touch he missed more than anything.]
[They arrive at where the crater would be, and Tubbo almost passes out.]
This- but- where's-
[He sinks to his knees at the outskirts of his home- his hell- and he doesn't let go of Ranboo's hand.]
[He can hear echoes of laughter, and echoes of sobs, and he can almost see the TNT raining. But that much is all in his head.]
[his eyes scour the landscape, familiar but still incredibly wrong. the edges of the buildings seem almost fuzzy, like a mirage. the cobblestones that make up the paths flicker between many different colors like TV static.]
something's- tubbo?
[Ranboo drops to the ground at Tubbo's side. always, always ready to catch him.]
[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[Tubbo shakes his head- and gets on his own two feet, supporting himself, and carefully lets go of Ranboo's hand. He gestures for the other to follow him, and leads the way to his little cottage.]
[You would expect him to live in the mansion. He can't afford that, a ghost lived there last he checked, and some bunny girl, too.]
[Ranboo has to duck his head to pass the doorframe, and he stands in the entryway politely. It’s a quaint little place, wood and wool and stone. It feels homey, feels like Tubbo.]
This is a really nice place, I love the, uh, the floors, the wood’s really great. Did you build it yourself?
[He knows he’s just talking to fill the silence, but he can’t stop himself. He wrings his hands nervously, and his tail swishes behind him.]
[Tubbo sighs, and he nods. During the walk he was able to collect his thoughts. Ranboo is alive. Ranboo is awkwardly fidgeting. Ranboo is just as wonderful as he remembers. Ranboo remembered him, in all that time away.]
Kind of. You helped me build parts of Snowchester- but, just so you know, 'm not really the president anymore, boss man. L'Manburg- well, it's sort of gone, haha.
[He blinks, considering his options. He could lie, tell Ranboo there wasn't that much that he missed, but then he'd have to leave out their marriage, their home, their son.]
[Their son. Maybe that would help, somehow.]
Oh, you know, not too too much. Do you remember Michael?
[The name is so achingly familiar, it feels like a punch to the gut. There’s something there, something deep and instinctual connected to that name. But there’s no face tied to it, only a blank space where the memory should be.]
[He grabs a pole with a hook at the end, and hooks it onto a latch door above them. He pulls it open and a ladder comes quickly down, and he gestures for Ranboo to follow him up it.]
[There, a little baby piglin sits, staring out the open window at the coming storm, clutching a chicken plushie tightly to his chest.]
[The depth of just how much he’s missed hits him square in the chest, and it steals the air from his lungs.]
[Ranboo does not know this child.]
Oh, uh, hi Michael, nice to meet you.
[He raises a hand to wave awkwardly, then seems to pull into himself.]
Okay, the visit’s been great, thank you for having me, but I think I really should be going. If you could just point me in the direction of L’manburg, I’ll be out of your hair.
Ranboo, L'Manburg- it's not around anymore. Uh, Technoblade and Phil- and Dream, hah. They kind of blew it up, boss man.
[He puts a hand on Ranboo's arm, gently, slowly, making sure Ranboo can see his every move. Michael looks up, and his eye lights up. He runs over and begins babbling about something or other. Tubbo continues in a more hushed tone.]
That's our boy, Michael. We're raising him together. In- well, kind of in Snowchester. Maybe you should sit down and we can talk for longer.
[Ranboo stumbles back a couple short steps, mind reeling.]
Okay, I get it, haha funny. Memory Boy doesn’t remember things, great joke. You can let it go now, man.
[He keeps glancing between Tubbo and Michael, at war with himself. Part of him wants to just go home, feed his cats and write about this weird dream in his memory book. But the other, much louder part of him knows these people, knows this place.]
[His tail lashes, and a nervous vrrr makes its way out of him.]
[He follows Tubbo mainly on instinct, echoing countless days of following him around taking notes. They leave the house, Ranboo quiet by Tubbo’s side, and just for a moment things seem normal. Then Tubbo’s hand slips into his, casual as breathing, and Ranboo has to remember how to walk properly.]
[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[Tubbo shakes his head- and gets on his own two feet, supporting himself, and carefully lets go of Ranboo's hand. He gestures for the other to follow him, and leads the way to his little cottage.]
[You would expect him to live in the mansion. He can't afford that, a ghost lived there last he checked, and some bunny girl, too.]
[Ranboo has to duck his head to pass the doorframe, and he stands in the entryway politely. It’s a quaint little place, wood and wool and stone. It feels homey, feels like Tubbo.]
This is a really nice place, I love the, uh, the floors, the wood’s really great. Did you build it yourself?
[He knows he’s just talking to fill the silence, but he can’t stop himself. He wrings his hands nervously, and his tail swishes behind him.]
[Tubbo sighs, and he nods. During the walk he was able to collect his thoughts. Ranboo is alive. Ranboo is awkwardly fidgeting. Ranboo is just as wonderful as he remembers. Ranboo remembered him, in all that time away.]
Kind of. You helped me build parts of Snowchester- but, just so you know, 'm not really the president anymore, boss man. L'Manburg- well, it's sort of gone, haha.
[He blinks, considering his options. He could lie, tell Ranboo there wasn't that much that he missed, but then he'd have to leave out their marriage, their home, their son.]
[Their son. Maybe that would help, somehow.]
Oh, you know, not too too much. Do you remember Michael?
[The name is so achingly familiar, it feels like a punch to the gut. There’s something there, something deep and instinctual connected to that name. But there’s no face tied to it, only a blank space where the memory should be.]
[He grabs a pole with a hook at the end, and hooks it onto a latch door above them. He pulls it open and a ladder comes quickly down, and he gestures for Ranboo to follow him up it.]
[There, a little baby piglin sits, staring out the open window at the coming storm, clutching a chicken plushie tightly to his chest.]
[The depth of just how much he’s missed hits him square in the chest, and it steals the air from his lungs.]
[Ranboo does not know this child.]
Oh, uh, hi Michael, nice to meet you.
[He raises a hand to wave awkwardly, then seems to pull into himself.]
Okay, the visit’s been great, thank you for having me, but I think I really should be going. If you could just point me in the direction of L’manburg, I’ll be out of your hair.
Ranboo, L'Manburg- it's not around anymore. Uh, Technoblade and Phil- and Dream, hah. They kind of blew it up, boss man.
[He puts a hand on Ranboo's arm, gently, slowly, making sure Ranboo can see his every move. Michael looks up, and his eye lights up. He runs over and begins babbling about something or other. Tubbo continues in a more hushed tone.]
That's our boy, Michael. We're raising him together. In- well, kind of in Snowchester. Maybe you should sit down and we can talk for longer.
[Ranboo stumbles back a couple short steps, mind reeling.]
Okay, I get it, haha funny. Memory Boy doesn’t remember things, great joke. You can let it go now, man.
[He keeps glancing between Tubbo and Michael, at war with himself. Part of him wants to just go home, feed his cats and write about this weird dream in his memory book. But the other, much louder part of him knows these people, knows this place.]
[His tail lashes, and a nervous vrrr makes its way out of him.]
[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[Tubbo shakes his head- and gets on his own two feet, supporting himself, and carefully lets go of Ranboo's hand. He gestures for the other to follow him, and leads the way to his little cottage.]
[You would expect him to live in the mansion. He can't afford that, a ghost lived there last he checked, and some bunny girl, too.]
[Ranboo has to duck his head to pass the doorframe, and he stands in the entryway politely. It’s a quaint little place, wood and wool and stone. It feels homey, feels like Tubbo.]
This is a really nice place, I love the, uh, the floors, the wood’s really great. Did you build it yourself?
[He knows he’s just talking to fill the silence, but he can’t stop himself. He wrings his hands nervously, and his tail swishes behind him.]
[Tubbo sighs, and he nods. During the walk he was able to collect his thoughts. Ranboo is alive. Ranboo is awkwardly fidgeting. Ranboo is just as wonderful as he remembers. Ranboo remembered him, in all that time away.]
Kind of. You helped me build parts of Snowchester- but, just so you know, 'm not really the president anymore, boss man. L'Manburg- well, it's sort of gone, haha.
[He blinks, considering his options. He could lie, tell Ranboo there wasn't that much that he missed, but then he'd have to leave out their marriage, their home, their son.]
[Their son. Maybe that would help, somehow.]
Oh, you know, not too too much. Do you remember Michael?
[The name is so achingly familiar, it feels like a punch to the gut. There’s something there, something deep and instinctual connected to that name. But there’s no face tied to it, only a blank space where the memory should be.]
[He grabs a pole with a hook at the end, and hooks it onto a latch door above them. He pulls it open and a ladder comes quickly down, and he gestures for Ranboo to follow him up it.]
[There, a little baby piglin sits, staring out the open window at the coming storm, clutching a chicken plushie tightly to his chest.]
[The depth of just how much he’s missed hits him square in the chest, and it steals the air from his lungs.]
[Ranboo does not know this child.]
Oh, uh, hi Michael, nice to meet you.
[He raises a hand to wave awkwardly, then seems to pull into himself.]
Okay, the visit’s been great, thank you for having me, but I think I really should be going. If you could just point me in the direction of L’manburg, I’ll be out of your hair.
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[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[Tubbo shakes his head- and gets on his own two feet, supporting himself, and carefully lets go of Ranboo's hand. He gestures for the other to follow him, and leads the way to his little cottage.]
[You would expect him to live in the mansion. He can't afford that, a ghost lived there last he checked, and some bunny girl, too.]
[Ranboo has to duck his head to pass the doorframe, and he stands in the entryway politely. It’s a quaint little place, wood and wool and stone. It feels homey, feels like Tubbo.]
This is a really nice place, I love the, uh, the floors, the wood’s really great. Did you build it yourself?
[He knows he’s just talking to fill the silence, but he can’t stop himself. He wrings his hands nervously, and his tail swishes behind him.]
[Tubbo sighs, and he nods. During the walk he was able to collect his thoughts. Ranboo is alive. Ranboo is awkwardly fidgeting. Ranboo is just as wonderful as he remembers. Ranboo remembered him, in all that time away.]
Kind of. You helped me build parts of Snowchester- but, just so you know, 'm not really the president anymore, boss man. L'Manburg- well, it's sort of gone, haha.
[He blinks, considering his options. He could lie, tell Ranboo there wasn't that much that he missed, but then he'd have to leave out their marriage, their home, their son.]
[Their son. Maybe that would help, somehow.]
Oh, you know, not too too much. Do you remember Michael?
[The name is so achingly familiar, it feels like a punch to the gut. There’s something there, something deep and instinctual connected to that name. But there’s no face tied to it, only a blank space where the memory should be.]
[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[Tubbo shakes his head- and gets on his own two feet, supporting himself, and carefully lets go of Ranboo's hand. He gestures for the other to follow him, and leads the way to his little cottage.]
[You would expect him to live in the mansion. He can't afford that, a ghost lived there last he checked, and some bunny girl, too.]
[Ranboo has to duck his head to pass the doorframe, and he stands in the entryway politely. It’s a quaint little place, wood and wool and stone. It feels homey, feels like Tubbo.]
This is a really nice place, I love the, uh, the floors, the wood’s really great. Did you build it yourself?
[He knows he’s just talking to fill the silence, but he can’t stop himself. He wrings his hands nervously, and his tail swishes behind him.]
[Tubbo sighs, and he nods. During the walk he was able to collect his thoughts. Ranboo is alive. Ranboo is awkwardly fidgeting. Ranboo is just as wonderful as he remembers. Ranboo remembered him, in all that time away.]
Kind of. You helped me build parts of Snowchester- but, just so you know, 'm not really the president anymore, boss man. L'Manburg- well, it's sort of gone, haha.
[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[Tubbo shakes his head- and gets on his own two feet, supporting himself, and carefully lets go of Ranboo's hand. He gestures for the other to follow him, and leads the way to his little cottage.]
[You would expect him to live in the mansion. He can't afford that, a ghost lived there last he checked, and some bunny girl, too.]
[Ranboo has to duck his head to pass the doorframe, and he stands in the entryway politely. It’s a quaint little place, wood and wool and stone. It feels homey, feels like Tubbo.]
This is a really nice place, I love the, uh, the floors, the wood’s really great. Did you build it yourself?
[He knows he’s just talking to fill the silence, but he can’t stop himself. He wrings his hands nervously, and his tail swishes behind him.]
[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
[Ranboo catches him. He doesn't fall- he doesn't fall like in all of those nightmares where Ranboo comes back and then disappears just as easily, he's here. Ranboo is here. The notion almost makes him sicker.]
[His ears are ringing, his vision is blurred, but Ranboo is right here. He doesn't know what compells him, but because of that, he manages to find the air around him.]
[Gasp, exhale, repeat. Gasp, exhale, repeat. Breathe. Do it for Ranboo. Do it for Michael- Michael will be so excited to see his dad.]
[Ranboo's hands are cool and calloused. The sky is blue, but there's a storm rolling in. The snow beneath him is powdery. Ranboo's hands are real. Ranboo's looking at him concerned. Ranboo's hands. Sky, snow, hands.]
[They're not under attack.]
You died.
[His voice is weak, but it does the job, even if it cracks. Like a faulty mug.]
[Those words alone almost make him drop the former president on his ass in the snow.]
I- what?
[Now his mind is running, chasing circles around itself and begging himself to remember, remember, remember.]
Okay, we can- we can talk about that later, right now let’s just, uh, we can go somewhere warm okay? I can carry you, if you want? Let’s just get somewhere- somewhere safe, then we can talk.
[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[Tubbo absently wonders if the scarring from the burger van conflicts have faded with revival. He wonders how Ranboo's callouses have changed in the year- it had to have been a year- that he's been gone.]
[It's only after he thinks this that he processes Ranboo's words. His words hit like a bombshell to his chest, and his heart begins to race. Ranboo just forgets- that's okay- that's not a problem. At least Ranboo remembers him. That's what matters. He supposes it's been a long time- really it makes some sense, he's just-]
[Oh. He can't breathe.]
[Panic fills his chest and mind and his grip on Ranboo's hand tightens. He has to hold it with both hands, and the coldness is a little grounding, but it doesn't save him this terror.]
[He's been so alone for so long. He can't be safe, this can't be real, they have to go. He takes Ranboo's hand with all the strength he can muster and attempts to pull him to his home. They aren't safe out in the open.]
[He's only able to take two steps before he nearly trips over his own feet, gasping and gagging through the lack of air.]
[Tubbo’s change in balance nearly causes Ranboo to go toppling after him. He manages to catch the both of them, though, and presses his other hand on top of Tubbo’s.]
Hey, hey, come on man, breathe for me, breathe Tubbo.
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[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
[He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it. He can't cry, and he knows if he speaks there will be a floodgate kicked in.]
[He thinks maybe if words fail, he can just write something. He fishes his comm out of his pocket.]
Tubbo_ whispers to you: you are in Snowchester.
[His fingers tremble as he clicks the buttons, and between each letter he looks back at Ranboo to make sure he's real. When he finishes typing, he clips his comm to his belt, and reaches lazily for Ranboo's hand, needing to feel him to believe it.]
[Ranboo grabs his comm from the pocket of his jacket, looking at the screen with a puzzled expression.]
Snowchester? What’s tha- Wait, why are we not in L’manburg?
[He does his best to ignore Tubbo’s hand in his, despite the purple flush rising in his face. This is fine, this is totally normal, he can be professional.]
[There's an echo in his ears. He gets them often. Little voices from the past, ringing and promising him a future which he never found, beckoning him to regress to the past.]
[His husband is dead. That can't be him, it's just a voice, keep walking, Tubbo. He thinks.]
[He figures it's an echo, at least, until he hears footsteps, crunching in the snow. He turns drawing his axe in case he has to wave off that stupid ghost again, but instead he just sees an all-too familiar face.]
[Ranboo is about to run up to him, tail wagging, and stand close like he’s so used to doing (it’s only because the President can’t hear very well, that’s the only reason), but he stops short.]
Hey, uh, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! All respect of course- I’m sure you- And that’s not to say that-
[He drops the axe, and for a good minute, only stares. His lips part ever-so-slightly to truly convey his shock, and every emotion he could possibly feel festers in his belly.]
[He is thrilled. Oh gods, he could kiss Ranboo right now.]
[He is pissed. Who brought him back? Why did they wait so long?]
[He is in absolute denial. This can't be right.]
[He wants to sob against Ranboo's chest. He wants to scream. He wants to feel at peace for once.]
[He just stares instead. For just a moment, he moves to reach out and touch, but it's fairly quick that he takes it back. He can't handle this. He shouldn't have to. He's barely 19, for fucks sake.]
[Uncomfortable with the eye contact, Ranboo shifts his weight and swishes his tail. Was he missing something? Was there a memo that he was supposed to know about? Maybe there was a prank happening and he’d just ruined it?]
Look, Mr President, I hate to be rude but, uh, do you know where we are?
[he scratches the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel some of the tension.]
You know me and my memory issues, I must’ve wandered off and gotten lost...
