✏ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬.

𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

when sam nook had requested for a red bouquet of poppies, tommy had reluctantly acquiesced, leaving with a fleeting smile.

he's worried. his hands weren't made with the delicacy to pick flowers, nor was his brain hardwired to concentrate on picking flowers. war and abuse had jaded it into claws and bruised knuckles, beat only to the point where true terror and violence could only be achieved through his fingertips. it was all made to be stained red and bruised, and his brain to strategize fifty ways on how to drive a knife into someone's throat.

he scurried down to the meadows, where he and tubbo would frolick when life seemed too big and they felt too small, letting the birds chirping lull their frightened minds to rest.

the meadows were always forgiving on his brain. the quiet morning light streams in with spring air, painting the scenery with languid strokes and warm colours. it was crafted the same way an artistic masterpiece would with every fine and gentle flick of their brush, clouds swirling in with just the right amount of lily white, and it eased his mind into complete quietude. it wasn't the streets, a dingy hole in the middle of nowhere, or a tent that could barely keep rain out, and so tommy grew to love the open field.

complaints spring forth however. he never liked the way the grass blades itched his tender skin, or how the bees were getting too close for comfort, and it was too strenuous of a task for him. he would sooner snap the stems in half, further destroying what beauty could still revel in his life-long calloused palms. it's so, so, so frail and he's so, so, so afraid of snapping it.

he needs a break, tommy concludes, and he leaves in tow for somewhere with a basket of poppies in hand, frolicking just like his mind. he pondered, wondered and wandered, bringing him to an unfamiliar bay where the lovely pirate ewe sits. the velvety waves splashed against her hooves whilst she stared off into the horizon which stretched to the sky like silk. the ocean air stung a little, making the teen sniffle and catch the attention of his maternal figure.

“Oh hey, Tommy!” the ewe smiles, brushing aside her wooly hair to look at the blond a little better. “what’s up?”

“nothing too big. picking flowers and shit for sam nook, my employee.” tommy exaggeratedly states, gesticulating wildly.

puffy laughs. puffy's too nice to him. she gets up from the sand, leaving a depression that was soon smoothened by the frothy waves, adjusting the red cloth that hugs her waist tightly. she leaves her cutlass behind however, approaching tommy. there was no pity however, but a casual stride with her charm.

“erm– what's with the basket? has sam got you to collect some flowers for him?” puffy remarks, pointing down at the basket.

tommy corrects her politely. “it's sam nook.”

“oh, right. sam nook.” puffy curls her hooves into a fist, lightly pouding it onto her other open palm. “And I assume you got bored?”

tommy smiles. it's always nice to have people understand you then you trying to understand them. “Yeah.”

”do you want to come with me to go sailing?”

and thank god puffy and sam understand him best. “please.” tommy pouts light-heartedly. “sam nook would understand if I went for a break right?”

“sam nook would be more than glad if you took a break, tommy.”

“d'you think so?”

the captain picks up her cutlass, bold sunshine bouncing off of the sharp blade. “i'm sure of it,” and tommy feels that he can do nothing but believe her.

her words feel of comfort, every syllable strung by her voice padded with affection placating his antsy mind, reminding him of a healthy, bright sunflower. puffy is a big man and tommy knows that. tommy likes puffy. she's warm, bubbly and chaotic in a fun way, and her hugs feel like what a home should be — comforting, huge and safe.

though at times they kinda feel like wilbur's hug.

tommy shakes that thought away. he's still conflicted on him, and thinking about him only served to fuel the mental anguish in his head. on one hand, he wants to tear off wilbur's head with just his teeth for taking away everything; his childhood, his future, his lives, his home, and everything he holds dear. hell, even in his last moments he had tried to hurt him like the sick bastard he was. on the othe hand,, he misses that sick bastard more than he misses fresh warm food. no one else would ever replace him in tommy's eyes, for worse or for better.

tommy lights up when puffy drags out what she called a small vessel, but it's already big enough for him. puffy lifts him up and unto the docks and tommy marvels at the loveliness of the boat. there was a small room which bore little trinkets and supplies on every surface, and the deck was big enough for him to lie down without his feet touching any walls. it didn't creak under his weight, so he childishly danced around the decks, feeling the boat slightly sink underneath every step he took. it was the most powerful and free he’d ever felt in a long time; there’s no strings tethered tightly around his neck, hands or wants anymore. nothing to even dare dent his happy ending. there’s nothing but him, the sun and the boat. life seemed too beautiful.

absentmindedly, he runs his finger over the wood, feeling the weathered wood and beaten nails. the vessel wasn't new. it's seen its fair share and tommy admired it for its nature. in other words, it wouldn’t break. it was stubbornly resolute, much like a shapeshifting friend of his, and held much promise. it wouldn't break easily.

puffy, noticing how enamoured he'd become with the boat, says nothing as the ship departs, drifting afloat on upon the relatively calm waters of the sea. the boat treads the waters, bobbing up and down. tommy watches in awe as he stares upon the tides as they tear the ocean like scissors ripping through fabric, feeling a lot less big than before but in a positive way for once.

“this is fucking- god, just fuckin’ amazing.” tommy gasps. “fuck the hotel. i’m gonna become a pirate and do pirate stuff and shit. wait, no. actually, on second thought, i won’t be able to see any of my friends if i do that.”

puffy laughs, the boat still bobbing up and down. “speaking about friends, anyways, how are you and tubbo doing?”

tommy, for a split second, stops smiling. their friendship was going as swimmingly as two whales in a congested road. it’s somewhat better, but not the same. there’s still that awkward air that lingers around the two when they talk, but at least they weren’t screaming at one another. at least he still has him in his life.

“good. ‘s not the same though. tubbo’s been busy with snowchester and shit and i’ve got big innit hotel to help build so no time for hanging out.”

“aw. that’s a bummer.” puffy moves the steering wheel. “how about big innit hotel? how's it going? it looks pretty good so far.”

“you’re beginning to sound like a mum, puffy.” tommy pouts. “you sound like when a mum is asking their son hows their first day of school or something. ‘hey tommy! how’s your first day of school? did you make any new friends?’. or maybe even, ‘hey honey, did anyone bully you at school? i’ll drop you off at your football practice later!’. fuckin' hell.”

“why am i a soccer mum?”

“cause you’re acting like one.” not that he’s opposed to it of course, tommy thinks to himself, letting those words die out on his tongue. it's not like he so desperately craves for a mother figure that could hug him and get nagged at for not cleaning his room. it's not like he already saw her as a mother figure. not at all.

tommy's fingers brush by his chin, casting his eyes down to the deck's floor. “captain mum.” he chuckles.

“well, i always thought of myself as the cool aunt.” puffy strokes her chin. “wanna learn how to steer a boat?”

tommy light up with every constellation present in his cerulean eyes. “thought you'd never asked, puffy.”

“well then, big man, let's start.”