Chapter Text
Ranboo may have aided in committing a major crime.
He was still trying to piece back the details from the day. It had been a long couple of days. Some very eventful days. What those events were he still wasn’t sure.
Yeah, putting back his memories together wasn’t going great.
What did he remember? Start from the beginning. Yesterday morning. He got up early. To do… the tour! That’s right. That morning Tubbo gave him a tour around the server. He was nervous out of his mind, that he could remember. Images began slowly flowing back into his head from that morning. The docks, the community house, the tower in the Holy Land, Pogtopia, the Guardian farm, Tommy’s house—
Tommy’s house. Tommy.
Oh.
More puzzle pieces began to shift back into place of what happened after the tour. He met up with Tommy. Kind of… somewhat accidentally hit him. Gave him an allium to make up for it. Tommy told Ranboo his master plan. They— unsuccessfully— snuck past Niki and Puffy on their date. And then…
The actual event is still fuzzy to him. He remembers the fire. Tommy writing obscene words on the walls with spray paint. Ruffling through chests. Something accidentally caught on fire. They put it out. But that’s about it. He can’t remember how he felt during it, what he was thinking, anything he said.
After then it clears up a bit. He remembers meeting up with Fundy, annoying Niki and Puffy, creating an ice cream shop. That all seemed pretty normal.
The next morning, however,
it became exponentially less normal.
He remembered waking up that morning to see massive, looming, black walls surrounding all of L’manberg. There was commotion around these walls; he could just see Tubbo, Quackity, Fundy, Tommy, and Dream’s figures in heated discussion by the walls.
By the time he had gotten dressed and made his way over to investigate, he barely heard something about a trial before the group that had formed was walking to the courthouse. On the way, Fundy explained that George’s house had been griefed and Tommy is the prime suspect.
The trial was a lot of shouting. Mostly from Tommy, but at a certain point it was so many voices yelling over each other that he couldn’t hear himself think.
But then suddenly all eyes were on him.
Ranboo’s name was at the crime scene. Had he written it? He didn’t think he had. But then again it’s not like he could remember much anyways. Tommy had shouted out in protest. No. He’d go into questioning. His mind was a complete blur. He was in a cell. Everyone was trying to look in his eyes with glares that shot to kill. He looked at the ground and told the truth.
“I don’t remember.”
And just like that they all kind of moved on. Maybe they were all too concerned with Tommy, or Ranboo was off the hook for only joining the server a few days ago.
Next he could remember the trial was over. Something about probation, Tommy writing in a journal. Speaking to Dream later.
Ranboo sighed as he rubbed his eyes. He sat on his bed, and reached to grab his memory book. He thumbed through the pages until he found the most recent blank one. He jotted down bullet points of what he just pieced back together. Today had been one of the worse days. Well, technically the past three days. They’d all kind of blended together in his mind. Time didn’t make a lot of sense at the moment. Not much made sense at all actually— The point is his brain was foggy and man, is he tired.
When he finished writing, he shut the journal, then pushed his hair out of his eyes as he stood up to look out his window. The obsidian walls had taken away much of the sunlight that he had enjoyed on his first day. Instead, L’manberg was cast in shadow.
The face that suddenly popped in front of his window caused him to jump back and trip backwards over a chest.
After recovering from his fall, Ranboo got up and answered the door.
“Hey, Ranbo,” Tubbo greeted, only a small smile gracing his lips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you there.”
“You’re fine! Nothing broken. Except for that chest. And maybe my pride.” Tubbo nodded, adjusting the red tie around his neck. “What, uh, what can I help you with?”
“I’ve got a bit of a job opportunity for you, actually. We’re about to go into some meetings with Dream surrounding the whole Tommy incident and we need someone to copy down the minutes. I figured, since you’re always writing in your book you might be the man for the job.”
“Oh— yeah! Yeah sure I can do that— when—“
“One hour. In the Holy Land. Bring your own book and quill, Fundy took all of mine to give Tommy. I gotta run. See you then, Minutes Man!” Tubbo raised his head as a goodbye, then quickly turned and pulled out his communicator as he began to walk away.
“O— ok. Bye, Tubbo!” Tubbo raised an arm to wave as he continued walking. Minutes Man.
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The following hour had been spent incredibly productively, if being productive meant staring in the mirror and obsessively fixing his hair, practicing his handwriting on scraps of paper so that it wasn’t too sloppy to be illegible, but not too neat to look like he’s trying too hard.
Good thing he wasn’t trying too hard at all.
Tubbo was trusting him with this important position, so he had to do his best, right? He’s the Minutes Man now. He would have to take his job seriously. At least that’s what he tried to convince himself.
He arrived at the meeting room 15 minutes early. After his tour, he thankfully had gotten a much better bearing of his surroundings and didn’t get lost this time! Big win! While he waited for the cabinet to arrive, he sat on the ground with his back against the wall of the church, quietly braiding blades of the soft grass.
Tommy’s voice alerted him even from way up the path. Ranboo sat up, watching the party as they traveled along the wooden path. Tommy’s arms were crossed, and he was making some concoction of noise, composed primarily of grunts and swears. Quackity walked beside him, his hands gesturing as he talked— clearly engaging in some kind of argument with Tommy. Fundy trailed slightly behind them, a stack of books cradled in his arms, occasionally chiming into the conversation. In front of the others, Tubbo led the way, a frown across his face. He walked with solemn composure, holding his hands clenched together behind his back. Ranboo could detect nothing from his eyes.
As the cabinet entered the Holy Land, Ranboo stood up, brushing the grass from his dress pants. He gripped the empty book and quill tightly in one hand, and gave a small wave with the other. He gained a mixture of reactions, with only a slight raise of a head acknowledging his presence from Tommy, a wave back from Fundy, a half-smile from Quackity, and a quick “Hello there, Minutes Man,” from Tubbo.
Ranboo straightened his posture as they formed a circle in front of the meeting room. The bickering between Quackity, Fundy, and Tommy continued. Tubbo cleared his throat.
“Ok. Listen up, this is likely going to be our one and only chance at negotiating this peacefully with Dream. We can’t fuck this up,” Tubbo said, his hands moving to rest on his hips. “Tommy, you’re going to need to be silent, okay?”
“What the fuck? You expect me to not say shit in front of that son of a bi—“
“Tommy!” Tubbo yelled with a level of harshness and severity that Ranboo didn’t think could come from Tubbo. A deafening silence fell over the group. Tubbo took a deep breath. “This is fucking serious, okay? This isn’t the time for pissing about. You know what Dream said his ideal option for you is, Tommy? Fucking exile, okay? If things don’t go well today, you may never be able to come back to L’manberg.”
“No, but you wouldn’t let that happen, Tubbo!”
“I might not have a choice, Tommy! This is politics, okay? I have a whole country to consider. It’s not as easy to get out of these things as you think it is,” Tubbo explained, raising a hand to hold his forehead. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for everyone, but I can’t do that if you can’t help me.” Tommy just frowned, but his eyes had a newfound element of sadness in them. Ranboo couldn’t tell from what. “Alright, so, the meeting.” Tubbo composed himself. Any anger or frustration that may have remained after his words could not be found anymore. “I will handle the discussions with Dream. Fundy, we will probably have you go over Tommy’s logs from the past few days at some point, so have those out. Ranbo’s our Minutes Man, so he’s going to keep track of what goes down in the meeting. Is that all clear with everyone?” They all nodded in silence. “Alright. We ready to head in there, then?” Quackity responded by standing up straight, then walking over to the meeting room door, and holding it open for everyone to walk through.
Dream was already in there, of course. He sat, ominously, at the far end of the room, his hands resting on the tabletop, fingers entwined. Nothing about his body language was readable. The white mask concealed his facial features, and his body language revealed nothing. Ranboo felt a chill upon entering the room. He quickly made his way to the chair in the corner of the room and sat down.
“Hello,” Dream greeted cooly.
“Hello,” Tubbo responded, trying to imitate Dream’s tone. The others made their way into their seats and settled down. Tubbo turned his head to Ranboo and nodded, indicating for him to start writing. “So, shall we get started then?”
“Sure.”
“Alright. So, to start out, as you requested Tommy has been completing logs of his daily activities and referring them to Fundy, which he can now read out,” Tubbo began, gesturing towards the fox. This side of Tubbo was one that Ranboo had not expected. Every one of their interactions before, he’d been charismatic, funny, confident— he was still confident now, but in an entirely different way. It was clear to Ranboo now how this no-nonsense, straightforward, assertive Tubbo was an obvious choice for the president of L’manberg.
As Fundy read out Tommy’s notes and Tommy struggled to keep quiet, Ranboo jotted down notes where he could.
Dream wants Tommy exiled. Tubbo wants peace. Exile is an option, but only the last resort. Dream has too much obsidian.
Maybe it’s bad, but Ranboo could not keep focused on this meeting for the life of him. It’s so much arguing. So many words. So many mentions of the word exile, or probation, or walls. It all seemed to blend together in his ears. Nevertheless, he continued the notes where he could.
Tubbo thinks Tommy should remain on probation for two more weeks. Tommy is upset about something. The walls will stay. If Tommy does wrong the walls will grow and he’ll be on probation for longer. Tommy is calm. Tommy is not calm and calls Dream a bitch.
During the shouting and repetitive word salad of this meeting, Ranboo found himself just watching Tubbo. Not necessarily hearing what he was saying— his mind was too far gone for that— but just watching. Something about the determination in the young president’s eyes. The way he managed, somehow, to remain collected despite the very angry distraction sitting to his left. The way his scarred hands folded over each other atop the table. Ranboo was fascinated. He felt like he was looking at a piece of art. One of those portraits of a president— a depiction of power, of leadership.
As the meeting drew on longer and longer, Ranboo found himself sketching in the margins of the book. A potted plant in the corner of the room. A spider on the wall. He continued writing down his notes, which were gradually decreasing in substance and quality.
Dream proposes a 3 week probation with the walls thing again. Tommy is still mad. Tommy calls Dream a bitch again. Dream wants to be reasonable.
Without much forethought, he began to draw Tubbo— his side profile, eyebrows furrowed, fluffy brown hair just barely hiding the small horns peeking out from atop his head.
“Alright then. Shall we make it official?” Alerted by this change in pace, Ranboo scratched out his drawing of Tubbo as quickly as he could. “Ranbo, can I see the minutes, please?” With a slightly nervous smile, Ranboo shut the book and handed it, and the pen to Tubbo. He felt his cheeks flush. Did I do those right? Did I even write enough? Did I cross out that drawing enough?
Tubbo skimmed over the minutes, then flipped forward a few pages to begin writing out the agreement. After he read it out, the book was passed around, and for a moment, everything looks like it will be fine? Tommy even signed it.
But of course, any semblance of peace or normalcy were not going to be able to last, because almost immediately after the document is signed, Tommy basically exploded.
He shouted at Dream about how he didn’t hold anything over him anymore, and how he can’t boss them around anymore, all encompassed in a variety of swears. Tubbo tried his best to shut Tommy up, but it was futile. The meeting room became clouded in noise. Ranboo couldn’t handle the screaming. He just shut his eyes as tightly as he could until before he knew it, they were on the way out of the room and following Tommy back to L’manberg.
The dynamic had been completely changed. While Tommy had been resigned— by Tommy’s standards, that is— during the meeting, he was confident, and bold, and snarky. Tubbo, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. While he had seemed so strong and assertive only moments prior in the meeting, it was like his power and his position had been stripped from him. His expression was neutral, but Ranboo caught a glimmer of sadness, or perhaps worry in his eyes. Dream, who followed behind all of them, was unreadable.
Sometimes, when Ranboo gets overwhelmed, it feels like he’s floating.
He doesn’t really feel present where he is. All the noises, all of his surroundings, they all feel a little bit muted. He’s not as aware of what’s happening in front of him. It feels like a dream. A dream in third person.
That’s how he felt as he watched Dream begin tearing down the obsidian walls surrounding L’manberg. As he watched him jump down and shout at Tommy. As he walked away. Before he can fully comprehend what’s really happening it’s over. Dream’s gone. Whatever they decided on at the meeting was meaningless. Whatever this was that Ranboo had found himself drawn into was not going to resolve itself quietly. So much for normalcy.