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The forest around their house is a special place. Not just for the fact that it was teeming with their magic and numerous protective spells but also because it drew in the funniest combinations of animals. And also because Ranboo grew it for him. Tubbo loved it.
Currently, he's a cat, loafed on the ledge of their living room window. His eyes squint in contentment, sunlight warm on his body as he purrs quietly. Mmm, bees.
He lazily tracks a pair of bunnies hopping along the path, accompanied by a few of the many birds that like to hang around the forest. Maybe he'll join them. Steal a few snacks from the garden, roll around in the flowers... surely Ranboo wouldn't mind. They would, just a bit, but it'd be fine.
A little further away, Floop the alligator (don't ask about the name) sunbathes on the shores of their pond, nostrils flaring occasionally. Neither of them actually know where she came from. She appeared one day, settled in the pond and just never left. And so, from that day onwards, they had an alligator.
A flock of ducklings hop, swim and climb all around Floop, their wiggling bodies little balls of fluff. Tubbo finds the sight hilarious, especially when one duckling stands imperiously at the end of her snout. Like the helmsman on a ship.
They definitely had to relocate Floop to a larger body of water soon. She was already well on her way to outgrowing their pond. Luckily, they had a place in mind already.
A lovely group of selkies lived in the huge lake not too far from their house and Tubbo thinks they'd be delighted at another creature to keep them company. Or to lightheartedly tease and fuss over.
He knows how they can get, he once spent several days with the colony because they couldn't bear to "leave the little merling all alone with no one to take care of him!" (It was one of the few rare half shifts he could manage. And he was not small, they were just really big!)
Ranboo had to come talk to them and convince them that "No, Tubbo is not alone, he has me and Eret and the others, and look, he has a over-land form too." They let him go under the promise that he'd return to visit.
And he did. Sometimes he’d simply float over the water as a pelican, or a goose, or even a swan. Other times the selkies would show him trinkets they found or made and watch him as he explored various corners of the lake. They'd have diving competitions followed by picnics on the shore. Every so often Ranboo would go with him, equipped with water protection potions and show them spells to keep the lake clean or help the kelp growing strong.
It was great fun and a welcome break from all the studying and runework and magic training they both did. In fact, Tubbo was a due another visit soon and he makes a note to himself to bring Floop with him the next time he goes. Later though, not today.
He lightly shakes himself out of the memories, stretching and yawning leisurely before shifting as he hops off the windowsill. A horn catches on the curtain and it stops him short until he brushes off the fabric and smoothes it down.
He did actually have a plan for the day beyond talking a cat nap in the sun. Need to get some more lilies and cornflowers, think we’re low on alliums too...
"Boo, I'm heading out!" Tubbo calls as he leaves from their back door. "Be back in a few hours maybe, you know where to find me!"
He gets a vague hum in response, Ranboo focused on wrangling the Spider Bush in their garden. Vicious fucker it was for such a small shrub. Tubbo doesn't quite understand why they bother manually harvesting the thing when it could be done with tools or magic.
Something about the stalks and seeds being more effective when they’re untouched by magical residue? It was used in a cream for his horns and a potion or two. He leaves the complicated gardening things to Ranboo.
Halfway to the treeline, Tubbo changes into a deer and bounds away with one last bleat, following the scent of wild onions. Weaving through the foliage, hooves sinking into the mossy ground with each step, he once again marvels at the sheer beauty of the land.
They’re in early spring and many trees are growing leaves, boughs of ivy sprouting on their trunks. Their branches whisper hello, swaying as they greet him. Flowers bud and bloom in bright colorful splashes among the vegetation, some wild, some deliberately planted by them. Sunbeams dapple the forest floor, the ground already lush with grass and leaf litter.
He can hear the calls of baby animals, little beings learning how to live carefree and safe within the bounds of their territory. The wind carries the faint scent of growing herbs; earthy, semi-sweet, with a little added mint on top.
Tubbo will always be amazed by this forest, this sanctuary that Ranboo created out of sheer desperation years ago when they were two kids, lost and alone. He will always remember the way the witch pleaded with Mother Earth and Goddess Prime to grant them a shred of peace, tears burning tracks into their cheeks. He still hears the way their voice cracked in his dreams.
When those tears dropped to strike the grass beneath them, a streak of light flew across the sky. The stars seemed to swirl before his eyes. Wood creaked and groaned, shaking in a horrible cacophony that startled the entire area. One brave fox and her kit huddled between them as the ground tremored.
Terrified, as any child would be, Tubbo had grabbed onto Ranboo, whose heterochromic eyes were glowing unnaturally as they whispered under their breath. He’d squeezed his own eyes shut and prayed to anyone who’d listen. Let us be safe, please. Let us live.
It seemed like an eternity had passed before the earth settled. The fox nosed at his cheek before herding her kit away. Ranboo opened their eyes, now their usual red and green, and collapsed.
They spent three days drifting in and out of consciousness due to exhaustion and magical depletion. Those days were some of the most stressful and anxious days of his life.
It was also during those days that he started to realize their bond was a little different. Careful nudges in the back of his mind, the urge to be close to Ranboo and how the witch seemed to rest easier when Tubbo was curled up next to them. Had either of them received any sort of formal magical education, they would have recognized the signs of a familiar bond.
Three days after the storm, the woods began to grow anew. Leaves bloomed a vibrant green, fresh sprouts peeking their heads from the dirt. Animals of all forms gradually flocked to them, the earth healing with the aid of their combined magics.
Together, they built a little hideout underground, then a shack, and eventually a house when it became evident that Ranboo’s magic was protecting this patch of forest. They set down boundaries, borders that continued to expand as they both grew into their abilities. They connected with a number of other witches and familiars- Phil, Eret, Techno, to name a few- even growing comfortable enough to trade with them on a semi-regular basis.
Most importantly, they lived. They built a life for themselves and they thrived.
⟡
Now, Tubbo does a running leap over a stream, dashing past the ever-warm Sunning Rocks. A couple crows startle as he whips by and he grunts in amusement.
Those pesky birds would definitely get back at him for that but he doesn’t care. They wouldn’t hurt him, not if they wanted to stay in these woods. Ranboo has chased out far more benevolent creatures for far less.
He swaps forms for that of a squirrel and darts up the nearest trunk. He chatters with the nesting birds as he leaps between branches, relishing the air brushing across his face and through his tail fur.
This, here, is freedom. When he can shed his human skin and immerse himself in the wild world of the woods. He can be anything here, anything he wants, anything he can shift into. There’s no hunters in these woods, no councilors, no humans.
Tubbo takes to the sky as a starling, riding an upwards breeze. It carries him through the canopy and into the open air above the treetops. Here, the forest stretches on for miles and miles in all directions. Their own little unplottable bubble of the world.
Up ahead, his destination appears. The flower field, dotted with a rainbow of colors. He swoops down and shifts as he skims the tops of the blooming plants, laughing as he rolls over in a patch of grass. There is nothing better than this. Other than Ranboo, of course.
He lays there for a bit, the breeze ruffling his curly hair, tail flicking idly. He greets the butterflies that flutter about, asking which flowers he needs today.
“Purple alliums, blue cornflowers and white snowdrop lilies.” He thinks for a moment. “Two bundles, for each of them.” His little helpers, they are, the butterflies will guide him to the patches ready for picking.
A thought suddenly occurs to him and he drags a hand down his face. “...I didn’t bring a basket. Fuck, why do I always do this?” He groans. “Tall grass... I’ll make the best basket you’ve ever seen, just you wait.”
It doesn’t take long for Tubbo to have a functional basket made and the butterflies lead him to the flowers he needs. He infuses the ground with a bit of his magic as he picks, to replace what he’s taking in the flowers.
When Tubbo finishes, there’s still time before he has to go back or Ranboo comes searching for him, which happens more often than not. He switches into a bee, with six fuzzy legs and a pair of wings, and mingles with the many other worker bees in the field. He hovers along with them, sampling nectar and spreading pollen to help new flowers grow.
The vibrations of something large moving through the trees catches his attention and he shifts his wings, floating higher. Nothing malicious can cross their borders but he still likes to keep an eye out.
"Hey, Tubbo," Ranboo! He buzzes happily, zipping around their head as they laugh. Their smile shows off their sharp canines, the pointed teeth a signature of their Ender heritage. Tubbo thinks to himself, some fanged jewelry would be interesting.
"Happy Bee today?"
Tubbo spins, bobbing in the air as the landscape smears across his vision. Ranboo grins at his antics. He bumps against their face a few times, careful of their earrings.
Ranboo reaches out to him. He lands in their outstretched palm and they immediately begin to gently scratch his tiny form. He wiggles his antennae as needle-sharp claws repeatedly graze over the fuzz on his head.
If he were a cat he’d be purring up a storm. As it is, he buzzes contentedly. Going by the smile on their face, he’s sure they can tell how happy he is.
"Eret's coming by tomorrow with Phil and Techno." They sit in a patch of sunkissed daffodils, leaning back against an old tree stump. “She wants to work on the magic channels, says the recent full moon should help with mapping.”
Tubbo buzzes out a series of nonsensical notes in agreement. Sounds fun. The scratches are making him drowsy and it’s hard to think of anything past warm, scritch and bee...
⟡. .⟡. .⟡
"We should head back," the witch murmurs some time later.
Tubbo shifts, careful of his horns as he nudges his head under Ranboo’s chin. "Noo..." he mutters sleepily, playing with the tuft of fur at the end of Ranboo’s tail and they fall back into silence.
He’s almost drifted off again when Ranboo says, "Phil told me they'll be here mid morning, didn't you want to show them the new potion recipe? We gotta do the purifying today for that before the moon rises."
Prime damnit, why did they always have to be the reasonable one? Tubbo grumbles some more and shifts into a lion, tucking his paws over his eyes.
"Oof! C'mon, you can't just poof away anytime you don't want to do something!"
The Watch me goes unsaid and they lay in silence. A few minutes later Ranboo huffs. "I'll let you have some milk and honey tonight," they offer.
Hmph.
"And a moonstone."
...Ugh, fine. He shifts into a snake and slithers up to curl around their neck, tongue flicking lightly against their chin. Why would I refuse that?
They laugh, rubbing over his scales as they stand and scoop up the flower basket. “Good haul today. And your weaving is looking very nice. We could trade these, you know.”
He coils and uncoils and sprawls over their shoulders, reaching up with his head to rest it over one of their horns. Hm, maybe.
“Maybe,” Ranboo agrees, “one thing at a time.” And they walk back into the trees, heading for home.
Tubbo relaxes into the gentle swaying of their steps and shuts his eyes. One thing at a time.
A purifying ritual that he’ll begrudgingly admit is not horrible to perform, just dreadfully boring with all the energy he has.
A delicious cup of milk and honey, with cinnamon grown from their trees.
A moonstone, which he’ll leave by the window to infuse with moonlight.
And Ranboo. His witch. His home.