Archive of Our Own

"Get down!" A voice screams from behind him, and Ranboo whirls around, throwing out his hands to form an energy barrier above him. The God of dreams and nightmares, ironically named Dream himself, slams into it, ricocheting back, his body flying through the air. Ranboo looks down at the other God, his ally, whose life he just saved, breathing out in relief when he's one of the Gods that Ranboo actually recognises. He smiles down at the God of nature and spring, Tubbo, and offers him a hand. "Thank fuck you were there," Tubbo laughs, breathy and exhausted, sounding both terrified and enraged at the same time. Ranboo understands far more than he would like to. Those are the only emotions he's been feeling ever since this stupid war started, and he thinks those are the only emotions he'll be feeling for a long time, even after this war is done. "You all good, memory God?" Ranboo laughs, ducking his head at the title. He's never really understood being called his title rather than his name, but it's sort of endearing when it comes from the mouths of his allies.

"I'm all good," he assures his friend and ally, letting the barrier fall. Memory magic is a fickle thing, always working on its own, always warping and changing and turning into something entirely new, something better or worse. Ranboo still doesn't have full control over his magic and his abilities, but he's still going to fight for what he believes in, for what's right, for what's good. The God of nightmares and dreams decided that he wanted to rule the world, that he wanted to become the most powerful God in existence, and he decided that if he couldn't do that, then he would die trying. Ranboo thinks that's wrong, he thinks that's so unbelievably wrong and disgusting and awful, and he refuses to let that happen. Even if it kills him. Ranboo would rather die fighting for what's right than sit back in silence and wonder what he could have done later on. "You good there, God of spring?" Ranboo asks, carefully looking over at Tubbo. Tubbo's bleeding pretty badly - his nose is broken, his wrist is broken, too. Blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth, and half of his face is burnt and blistered from an accidental power flare up from one of their allies. The God of war is one of their strongest allies and Ranboo knows that they're so lucky they have him, but he's unpredictable and uncontrollable. He's lethal, even when he doesn't try to be.

Tubbo nods, using the back of his hand to wipe away some of the blood, spitting out the blood that pools in his mouth. "Yeah," Tubbo confirms, narrowing his eyes sharply. He pushes himself up off of the ground, shaking off Ranboo's hand as soon as he's steady on his feet again. "I'm good. Be safe out there, okay, memory God?" Tubbo looks at him with a soft and gentle smile, his eyes burning emerald and gold. He looks pissed, he looks enraged. He looks deadly, and Ranboo knows that he is. 

"You too, God of spring," Ranboo returns the smile, turning back to face the chaos and war and death and destruction. He locks eyes with the God of nightmares and dreams, bunching his hands up into fists, feeling his face twist into a sneer. He hates Dream more than he could ever say. He would put a knife through the God's throat if he thought it would actually, truly kill him. Ranboo knows better, though. He knows that something as simple as knife would never actually kill Dream. If he's being entirely honest with himself, he's not really sure that anything will kill Dream, but he can certainly try. Ranboo takes a labouring step forwards, breathing out heavily, feeling his chest heave. He's exhausted. This is the third day of continued fighting, the third day he's been fighting without stopping or sleeping or doing anything like that. Ranboo raises up his hands, forming a scythe made out of energy and memories of a broken promise, standing tall, jutting his chest out. He grips the weapon tightly, jerking up his head, narrowing his eyes sharply at the masked God that looms in front of him. Ranboo locks eyes with the other God, watching as his lips curl up into a smirk. "Bring it on," Ranboo taunts, feeling the ground shake underneath of him. "Traitor."

The God of dreams and nightmares charges at him, far too fast and far too accurately. Ranboo sidesteps him, feeling the wind blow around him, ruffling his hair. His robes fly around him, and Ranboo smiles a little to himself as he turns back to face Dream, to face the other God. He can hear the God of war fighting somewhere nearby, he can smell blood and iron, he can taste death on the tip of his tongue. They're going to win this war, Ranboo thinks to himself. Him and his allies, they are going to win this war, he's certain of it. Ranboo twirls his scythe, tossing it up in the air and catching it again. It's all just for show - being flashy, being showy, it's somehow important in the midst of war. In a war against Gods, Ranboo thinks, showing off power is unbelievably important. Dream heaves his shoulders, blood dripping from his mouth, his hands drenched in it. His smile is twisted, his eyes are darkened over with something like ambition and greed. Dream stands up straight once again, twisting himself to the side. "Traitor?" Dream laughs, his cackle echoing in Ranboo's ears. Ranboo blocks it out as quickly as he can, refusing to let nightmares fill his mind. He knows how Dream works, he knows how he fights dirty, how he tries to manipulate the minds of his enemies to win. Ranboo is not going to let him do that to him. "I'm the traitor? You're not even a real God." 

Ranboo rolls his eyes, entirely unphased by the words that roll off of Dream's tongue. He's a traitor and a liar. A sad excuse of a God who let power go to his head. Ranboo is unimpressed by his words and his speech, and he thinks that Dream knows that. "I'm more of a God than you'll ever be," Ranboo tells him, feeling power prick at his hands, threatening to overwhelm him. He wrestles it back down, clenching his hand around the scythe he's made. He can't let himself get overwhelmed now, he can't let his powers go out of control. If he does, he'll die. Ranboo isn't ready to die, not yet. He's not going to die until he wins this war. "Let's see how well you can fight," Ranboo grins, standing tall, pointing his scythe at the God in front of him. "How's that sound, God of nightmares? Or are you too scared of a young God?" 

Dream's twisted grin is enough to make his stomach churn, his crooked laugh is enough to make him want to run away out of fear. Yet Ranboo refuses, he digs his heels into the ground and stays exactly where he is. He can feel his allies behind him, even if he can't see them. Ranboo is well aware that they're there. The God of war is close to him now, the God of life and death's magic wraps around him like a safety blanket. The God of the sky and music's voice is near, and Ranboo knows that he doesn't have to be afraid. Ranboo doesn't have to be afraid of Dream, nor does he have to be afraid of Dream's allies. Ranboo doesn't have to be afraid at all, he knows that. So Ranboo isn't, he's not afraid. He tightens his grip around his scythe, he breathes out, a small smile working its way onto his face. 

"Let's fight, traitor."

Ranboo falls to his knees, his energy having been long since sapped from him. He clutches at the ground, feeling blood trickle from his lips, trailing down the side of his face. He stares at the ground, at the blood and grass and destruction. Ranboo feels his heart hammer in his chest, he feels his entire world collapse from underneath of him. He can hear screams, he can smell death. Ranboo hears the crying of his allies, he hears the blood curdling screams that leave their mouths, ripped from their throats. One by one, he can feel their powers being drained from their bodies, he can hear them dying. He hears the thump of bodies, and he braces himself for when he'll be next. 

They lost.

They lost the war. They lost the most important battle of their lives, and now they're paying for it. His allies are dying, and Ranboo will be next. Ranboo is going to die. Ranboo screws up his face and forces his eyes shut, he squares his shoulders and silently says a goodbye to the other Gods who can still hear him. He opens his eyes, looking up, only to meet eyes with the God of nightmares himself. Dream grins at him, cocky and twisted. His lips are smeared with blood, his mask is half cracked and broken, though it still remains stuck to his face. Just like the rest of him, it remains smiling. Ranboo lost. They all lost. Tubbo was struck down by the God of fire. the God of war was bested by his own powers, they were used against him. The God of life and death was used as a ransom to get the God of war to stop fighting. The God of music and the sky, he was stopped by the threat of his little brother being slaughtered in front of him. In the end, they lost because of each other. 

They became more than allies - they became friends. They became friends, they fell in love with one another. They became close, and that caused their downfall. In the end, they were stopped by their love, their kindness. Ranboo refuses to look away from Dream, he refuses to be defeated one last time. The God simply beams at him even more, reaching out to rest his hand on the back of Ranboo's neck. Ranboo wants to flinch away, he wants to scream and cry, but he doesn't. He refuses to give into the other God. He refuses to lose one last time. "I need examples made out of the rest of you," Dream murmurs, his voice far too close to Ranboo's ear. "I need to make examples. Now, memory God, as you're called," Dream moves back, grabbing him by the back of his shirt, forcing him back up to his feet. Ranboo jerks back as soon as he can, standing on his own, refusing the support. "I'm going to make you a deal."

"I don't make deals with devils," Ranboo snarls, narrowing his eyes at the half-masked God in front of him. "I would rather die than make a deal with you." 

Dream giggles, leaning back on his heels. Power radiates from his body, and Ranboo hates it. He hates him. 

He wants to wrap his hands around Dream's throat until he stops breathing. Ranboo thinks that he would do anything to kill Dream. He would do anything to kill the God of nightmares and dreams.

"Too bad. God of memories, I think this deal is rather suited for you. Just for you," he beams. "I want you to choose between two options. You can either join me and keep your powers," Dream pauses. "At the expense of your allies' memories. They will be in a constant state of unawareness," Dream grins. "They will forget who they are and who they can trust. They will never be able to remember anything ever again. Or," Dream leans forwards. "You can go through that. You can forget everything, you can forget who you are and who you were. You'll forget your friends and your family, you home. The war. You'll never know what's real or not," he smirks. "I'll even let you keep your powers. Your friends will be untouched." 

Ranboo feels his breath hitch in his throat.

"So," Dream grins. "What will it be, memory God?" 

Ranboo squeezes his eyes shut.

"You?" 

He feels tears trail down his cheeks.

"Or them?" 

Ranboo has a routine. 

He waters the plants that were placed on his windowsill one day. (He isn't sure how they got there.)

He cleans up the mess from last night. (Or the day before. Maybe the week before?)

He makes his bed. (He thought he did that already.)

He makes himself breakfast. (Didn't he just eat?)

There are definitely other things on that routine list, but Ranboo has long since forgotten them. He used to have a book where he would write everything down, no matter what it was. He'd write down the date and the time, what he had done that day and what he had yet to do. Ranboo lost that book a long time ago, though he isn't sure if he actually lost it or if it was stolen from him. Ranboo isn't sure of most things, he doesn't know anything, really. His memory is so bad that he doesn't think he can even trust what he does know. Half of the things that were in his book, he thinks, were probably fake or made up. They could have been real, but he doesn't know if they were or not. Ranboo doesn't know how to tell if anything is real or not. That drives him insane. This entire thing, his whole life, it drives him absolutely insane. 

Ranboo looks over his shoulder, frowning when he sees the watering can by the windowsill. He was so sure that he had watered his plants. With a sigh, Ranboo moves away from his stairwell, wandering over to make sure his plants don't die. Ranboo isn't really sure how they've managed to survive this long, all things given. He's impressed that he's been able to continuously keep track of them and take care of them, but there's a small voice in Ranboo's head that's constantly nagging at him that he isn't the one doing it. He thinks that there might be someone else doing that for him, that there could be someone else who he doesn't remember showing up and doing the things that he thought he did for him. It would make sense. It would make far too much sense, and Ranboo hates that out of all the things stuck in his head, that's the one that never leaves. 

Ranboo waters his plants, breathing out as he sees the soil get darker. He looks over at his door, listening to the wind that blows in from his open window. Ranboo knows a few things for certain, and that's only because of the notes that he left himself. The notes are all over the house, plastered on the walls and on the windows, stuck to desks and pieces of furniture. They're old, he can tell by the yellow they're all stained with. 

He's a God, though he already knew that. He's apparently the memory God, which he thinks is incredibly ironic, judging how terrible his own memory is. Ranboo wonders if he's only the God of memories for everyone else, which would make a lot more sense. He isn't sure, though. 

To be fair, he isn't sure of anything. 

Ranboo sighs, taking his watering can back out into the shed, setting it where it normally is. Everything has a place where it's supposed to be, everything is supposed to be in a certain area, and if it's not there, then there's an excellent chance that Ranboo will never find it ever again. Just like his memory book. Though to be fair, he thinks to himself, that might have been stolen. Ranboo is very good at keeping things in order. He's very, very good at living with his lack of memory and his constant forgetfulness. He's learnt how to live with it, and he doesn't think it's like him at all to misplace something, especially not something so important to him. Ranboo moves back over to his stairwell, screwing up his face when he realises he doesn't know what he was going to do. It's all too common for him to not remember what he was about to do, but it's all too common for him to not remember anything, in general. With another sigh, Ranboo wanders up his stairs, running his hands along the railing that is placed on the wall next to said stairs. He doesn't remember making that, but he supposes that he must have. 

Probably.

He looks back over his shoulder, frowning at the door, frowning at his plants. His head is screaming at him that he didn't water them, that he didn't lock his doors, but he's so sure that he did. Didn't he just put his watering can back out into the shed? Ranboo blinks, feeling his chest heave with a sigh as he turns back around, moving back down the stairs. He moves to his door first, setting his hand on the handle, twisting it back and forth. Locked, just like he thought it would be. Ranboo rolls his eyes, moving back over to his plants. The soil is dark and damp. Watered, just like he thought they'd be. Ranboo sighs, tossing his head back as he moves go walk back up the stairs, even more confused as of to why he was going to do that in the first place. Ranboo trudges up the stairs once again, ignoring that nagging voice in his head that shouts at him to check on his plants once again. Some days, the voice in the back of his head is louder. Some days, the voice in the back of his head finally shuts up and leaves him alone, but those are only on really good days, and it's very rare that Ranboo has really good days. Very rare. 

Ranboo wanders along the hallways in his house, running his hands along the walls as he walks. He looks at some of the notes that he's left up on the walls in the past, frowning a little at one of them that he hasn't seen before. Or, at least, he doesn't remember seeing it before. In blocky handwriting and black ink are the words YOU MADE A DEAL. Ranboo blinks, frowning even more at the note. He plucks it off the wall, staring at it for far longer than he thinks that he should. "I made a deal," Ranboo repeats, wincing at the rasp of his voice, the way it cracks. It's been a while since he's spoken. Ranboo hasn't really had a reason to speak - no one comes to see him, thankfully. "With who?" Ranboo asks the air, unsure of why he does. Unsure of what he expects in return. An answer, maybe. An answer that he'll never get. 

Ranboo knows a few things. He can know things without actually remembering them all the time, and that's okay. 

He knows that he's a God. He's the God of memories. He fought in a war against other Gods, and he lost that war. He doesn't know who he fought against or why he fought in the war in the first place, but he knows that he fought. Ranboo doesn't know who was on his side in that war, and he doesn't know who his enemies were. He doesn't know if they're still enemies, and he isn't sure if his old allies are still his allies, or if they've become his enemies. Ranboo is thankful for the fact that no one comes to visit him, and that's only because of the fact that he doesn't know who he can trust and who he can't. In fact, Ranboo doesn't know even know anyone anymore. He doesn't know people, he doesn't remember names or faces or voices or relationships. Ranboo remembers absolutely nothing about his past, and he remembers even less with each passing day. Ranboo wishes so desperately that he could remember, but no matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does, he can't.

Ranboo thinks that giving up might be easier, but he can't make himself do that, either. 

He puts the note back up on the wall, just like he always does with all of his notes. Ranboo is very careful to not lose any of them, since he's convinced that those are the only things that are actually keeping him sane. Ranboo looks over to the other wall, standing a little straighter when he sees a piece of paper stuck to the wall. It's not stained yellow, it looks fresh. He turns around entirely to face it, moving slowly towards the wall. He reaches out, turning it over when the front of it doesn't have any words on it. 

:)

Ranboo gasps, dropping the paper as fast as he can. He scrambles away, his back hitting the opposite wall. He feels himself breathing far too fast far too quickly, and he tries his best to stabilize himself, to get himself back under control. Ranboo puts his hands on the side of his head, slowly falling down to the ground. He drags his legs up to his chest, burying his head in his knees. Ranboo doesn't understand why, but he starts to cry. He feels tears trail down his face far too fast, and he can't get himself or them back under control. He gasps for air, desperately trying to calm down, desperately trying to get himself under control again. 

He cries into his knees, dragging them even closer to his chest. He cries for what feels like years, and he thinks that years wouldn't be that much of a reach. Ranboo sobs into his knees, squeezing his eyes shut and screwing up his face, trying so hard to remember something, anything, something positive. But he can't, he can't remember anything, because he's the God of memory, and he's so entirely useless. 

He's the memory God, and he can't even remember why a simple smiley face makes him break down to the point of sobs.

Useless, Ranboo thinks to himself as he chokes on his sobs. Useless.

"Me," Ranboo says, reaching up to wipe away his tears. He stands straighter, taller. He squares his shoulders, he forces himself to stop crying. He has no good reason to cry. He lost, and this is his punishment. He is going to accept it, and he isn't going to cry about it. Not anymore. "It's my power," Ranboo smiles, feeling sick to his stomach when Dream returns that smile with an even more twisted grin, his eyes lighting up. "It should be used against me. Not them. Use it against me," Ranboo tells him, tilting his head up. "Me. I choose me."

Dream smiles, his eyes flickering in the dim light. It's raining all around them, pouring down in sheets. It's freezing cold, Ranboo thinks. He can't remember the last time it hasn't been this cold. Maybe before the war. "You've always been so noble, haven't you, memory God?" Dream smirks, taking a few strides toward him. Ranboo doesn't flinch back, he doesn't move away. He stands still, his eyes never leaving Dream's. He isn't going to be bested by a God who has to resort to taking other Gods' powers to fuel himself. "So, so noble. Look where that's gotten you," Dream laughs, putting his hand on Ranboo's chest. A second later, Ranboo feels a burning in his chest, right where his heart is. He grits his teeth, digging his heels into the ground. He isn't going to let Dream win this. "You should come with me," Dream murmurs. "You'd finally be a God." 

Ranboo scoffs, hissing when the pain becomes too much to stifel. "I'm more of a God than you'll ever be, traitor," Ranboo spits out, narrowing his eyes at the God of nightmares. "I want nothing to do with you or your people," Ranboo tells him, moving forwards. He leans into Dream's touch, the pain getting worse and worse, nearly unbearable. Ranboo refuses to back down, refuses to move away. He puts himself even closer to danger, and revels in it. This is a battle, and he intends on winning it. Ranboo intends on taking victory for himself. "Take my memory away from me. Don't use it against them. I've already answered the deal, Dream," he sneers. "Why haven't you done it yet?" 

"You act so tough," Dream laughs, turning his head away. He drops his hand, closing his eyes for a moment. "In reality, you're nothing compared to me, memory God. You're nothing," Dream sneers at him, raising his hand. Ranboo feels the burning sting of a knife to his cheek a second later, his hand flying up to grab at his face. Blood pours through his fingers, staining them black and white. "Your friends don't care about you. Do you know how many of them have decided to join me?" Dream twists the knife, and Ranboo forces himself to bite back a cry of pain. "Ten, memory God.  Ten of your people, ten of your friends, have decided that you mean nothing to them. And yet you still want to give up your mind for them? You still want to lose yourself for them? For people who care nothing about you?"

Ranboo winces when Dream pulls the knife out of the side of his face, squeezing his left eye shut. "I wonder how it feels," Ranboo murmurs, his voice soft. "To have to tell yourself that you're powerful. I wonder how it feels to have alliances bound in blood, rather than in love," Ranboo looks up at the God before him, and just by the way his eyes narrow, barely noticeable, Ranboo knows that his words have driven a point into Dream's heart. "I accept your deal, God of nightmares. I will forget my past and my life and everything you want me to," Ranboo stands tall, reaching up to gather more blood off of his face, drenching his hand in it until his palm turns grey. He sticks out his hand. "So long as you do not touch my friends' memories, then we have a deal. Is that clear?" 

Dream narrows his eyes at him, his lips curled up in a sneer. Ranboo watches as Dream cuts open his palm, his blood golden. Dream sticks out his hand.

For a brief second, Ranboo feels terror settle in his chest.

Then it's gone, and Ranboo reaches out. He clasps his hand with Dream's, gripping the other God's hand so hard that he hopes he draws more blood.

The world sways around him, screaming at him from all ends, desperately telling him to use his powers and fight back, to try and win one last time. Ranboo knows better. He knows better than to try and fight right now. He's been defeated. The war has been won, and it has not been won in his favour. Ranboo locks eyes with Dream, and he slowly feels himself start to slip away. 

"You've lost, memory God. You've lost."

Ranboo smiles, clutching at the remaining parts of himself with a desperation he's never felt before.

"No, Dream," Ranboo whispers, feeling a wave of calm settle over him. "I've won."

Ranboo has a routine, and that routine has been interrupted. Ranboo stares outside his window, the one with the plants on it, and watches as three Gods all walk towards his house. One of them has long pink hair, the other has a green cloak wrapped around him, and the last doesn't look much older than he does. Ranboo feels his throat seize up, he feels nothing but fear and terror and panic in his chest and in his stomach. Ranboo scrambles away from the window as fast as he can, racing up the stairs, feeling his head spin. He ignores the notes on the walls, trying to figure out how to summon a weapon. He breathes out, forcing himself to stand still. To breathe. 

He feels calm, like he's somewhere else. Ranboo opens his eyes, and all around him are bodies and blood. He thinks he should be terrified, like he should be shocked, but he isn't. Rain falls around him, chilling him to the bone. Ranboo breathes out, shifting on his feet a little. He looks over his shoulder, staring up at the sky. It's painted black and blue, streaked with white and gold. He feels his head spin, everything around him spins. The world unearths from under his feet, making him feel like he's falling, even though he knows that he isn't. Ranboo isn't entirely sure where he is, but he doesn't think that's really all that important. 

Ranboo looks ahead of him, seeing three Gods walking toward him. Ranboo smiles, feeling entirely calm. These Gods are his friends, they're his allies. They're people he can trust. The God of war raises his hand, waving. Ranboo waves back, waving to the God of life and death, too. The God of spring and nature races towards him, laughing and clapping his hand down on Ranboo's shoulder. The God of war and the God of life and death reach him shortly after the God of spring and nature does, their faces soft, gentle smiles on their lips. Ranboo feels safe. He's okay here, he's safe here. He doesn't know why he was so scared only a few seconds before. 

"We lost the war, didn't we?" Ranboo asks. He frowns at the sight of the God of life and death. He has wings. He lost his wings after they lost the war. "Why do you still have your wings?" Ranboo pauses, searching for a name that's on the tip of his tongue, but refuses to actually form. "You lost.." Ranboo pauses, looking back over his shoulder. The God of nightmares hovers in the sky, his arms thrown out as he causes chaos, destroying everything in his path. "You're not real." Ranboo decides. 

This is a memory. 

Ranboo breathes out, feeling his head spin. 

He hasn't been able to remember in so long. Why now? Why now, of all times? Why?

"It isn't," the God of spring confirms, his voice gentle and soft. "You're panicking, Ranboo. This is the only place Phil could have taken you so you'd feel calm. We're with you right now," the spring God tells him. "When you're gone from this memory, this place, you'll go back to not remembering. This is the only thing we could think of. So you wouldn't.." he trails off, shrugging. "I'm sure you know."

Ranboo does. "This is the only way you'd be able to talk to me without me freaking out," Ranboo finishes for him. "What are your names, again?" Ranboo asks, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. 

"Tubbo," the spring God motions to himself. "Philza, but he just goes by Phil," Tubbo points to the God of life and death. "And Technoblade. Just Techno," Tubbo motions to the God of war. "You're still Ranboo. I'm sorry that it took us this long to find you. It's been..it's been hard," Tubbo smiles, a little less gentle than before. He looks angry and bitter, and Ranboo entirely understands. He's angry and bitter, too. He is right now, at least. When this is over, when Ranboo is woken up, when he's brought back to the real world, he won't be angry and bitter. Why would he be? It isn't like he'd be able to remember what he was angry for. "So," Tubbo leans back on his heels. "He took your memory?" Ranboo smiles, the sound of chaos in the background calming him. 

He wonders when war became like background noise to him.

"Yeah." Ranboo confirms. His memories flood back to him, and Ranboo cries out, falling down to his knees a second later. There's too much information in his head, there are too many memories, there's too much, and he doesn't know if he can handle this or not he doesn't know how he's supposed to handle all of this or what he's supposed to do or-

"Ranboo," Phil's voice rings out in his head, bringing him back down from his brief moment of fear and panic. Ranboo looks up at him, breathing out. "You're alright. Why did he take your memories?" Phil asks, kneeling down to be at the same level with him. "He made us deals. Did he do the same for you?" Phil asks, tilting his head to the side. "Or did he figure out that you were more powerful than he could ever hope to be?" Phil pauses, his face contorting into a sneer. "Fucking piece of shit." Ranboo laughs, ducking his head down at the words. Everyone always told him that. That he was the most powerful God anyone had seen in a millenia. That Ranboo could rival even the oldest Gods. That he was the most powerful young God there had ever been.

"I could have either joined him," Ranboo starts, "and kept my powers at the expense of all of your memories. Or," Ranboo sighs, looking down at the grass under him. It's stained grey. Golden blood drips down from the blades. "I could lose my own memories and keep my powers, and you'd all get to keep your own memories. I think he knew that without my memory, it wouldn't matter if I had my powers or not. He sent me pretty far away, didn't he?" 

Techno frowns down at him, offering him a hand. Ranboo takes it, pulling himself up to his feet. "Dream didn't take you anywhere. You ran off before any of us could even try and follow where you went. You couldn't.." he closes his eyes. "You didn't remember who was your ally and who was your enemy, so you ran. None of us could get up and chase you." 

Ranboo blinks. "Oh. That.." he looks away, staring down at the grass once again. "That makes a little more sense." 

"Yeah," Tubbo agrees, sadly. "Phil had his wings.." Tubbo trails off, looking at Phil. Phil nods, and Ranboo assumes that it's a confirmation that Tubbo's allowed to talk about what happened. "Phil had his wings torn off. Broken and..and stuff like that," Tubbo murmurs, swallowing. "It wasn't..it was.." he shakes his head. Ranboo takes a step forwards, gently setting his hand down on Tubbo's shoulder. 

"It's okay, mate," Phil laughs, standing up. "It's not that bad anymore," he smiles, fluttering his wings that aren't actually there. "You lost more than I did." Ranboo looks over at Tubbo, quirking up an eyebrow. Ranboo lost his memories and his mind, Phil lost his wings. He wonders what Tubbo and Techno lost. He assumes that it had to be something of importance to them, but he isn't entirely sure what that would be. He never really got that close with any of them. They never thought they would survive to see the end of the war together, and yet..

Yet still they gave up the most important things in their lives to save each other. 

Poetic, really.

"I lost.." Tubbo sighs, tilting his head up to look at the sky. He huffs out, his chest heaving a second later, his shoulders slouching. "I lost my home," he rolls his eyes. "It's not really that important since you 'nd Phil lost so much more than I did. It was just where my power manifested, it was how I controlled everything. I'm not.." Tubbo sighs again, sounding tired. "I'm not as powerful as I used to be. I'm so much weaker than everyone else, and it's kind of fucking bullshit. But it's not as bad as what the rest of you lost. It's not as bad."

"It's still bad," Techno reminds him. "We all lost somethin' important to us. If it wasn't important, you wouldn't have lost it. He wouldn't have taken it," Techno smiles, tired and hurt and filled with bitter resentment. Ranboo understands that look far more than he thinks he would like to. "I got my powers taken entirely," he pauses for a few seconds. "Well, not entirely, I guess. I was considered too dangerous to be allowed powers. And my fightin'," Techno murmurs, looking away. "I can't fight anymore. I've tried to learn, but I can't do it anymore. I've got some magic left, but it isn't anywhere near what it used to be. I'm useless, is what I'm goin' for."

"So am I," Ranboo assures him. "But we're all useless in the sense of magic now, aren't we?" He smiles. "Doesn't mean we're useless in general. Just in the magical sense," Ranboo sighs, breathing out. He tastes rain, then blood. "I think I'm starting to realise something isn't right," Ranboo tells the other three Gods. "I think I'm about to wake up. I'll.." he looks away, staring down at the ground underneath of him. "I'll see you guys later, okay? I'll try my best to remember."

Phil smiles at him. "We'll see you soon, mate." 

Ranboo gasps, swiveling his head around, trying to figure out where he is and why he came up here. He can't remember, he can't remember anything, so that's not really all that surprising. He feels like he should remember, though. He feels like he was running from something or someone, and the fact that he can't remember makes him uncomfortable and nervous. Scared, even. Ranboo pushes himself off of the ground, frowning when he feels magic pressing at his hands, threatening to overwhelm him. Why would he be trying to summon his magic? 

Ranboo sighs, brushing himself off as he stands. He's getting sick of this. He's getting really, really sick of not being able to remember anything. Ranboo thinks that he should make a new memory book soon, but he still is holding out hopes that he'll find his old one. He doesn't want to make a new book only to find his old one a day later. Ranboo wanders back down the stairs, feeling unease settle in the pit of his stomach. He shifts on his feet, moving over to stand in front of his windowsill again. He stares out of the glass, watching as the grass and flowers blow in the breeze, waving back and forth. He feels uneasy, and he's not really sure why. Ranboo looks back over his shoulder, frowning when he sees nothing. Nothing is wrong, yet something still feels off. With a sigh, Ranboo stares down at his plants, reaching out to gently brush a finger over one of the leaves. 

He pauses, looking at the soil.

Right, routine. With another pause, Ranboo finds himself staring back out of the window, confusion and unease mixing in his chest. He knows that he was thinking of something earlier, he knows he was scared of something only a few minutes ago. Ranboo is certain that he had been nervous about something or someone. Something had made him upset. 

He sighs, moving to go out to his shed. It's not like he's going to remember, anyways. 

He never does.

Ranboo wakes up with memories flooding his head, and he immediately scrambles out of his bed. He hits the ground, pushing himself up off of the floor, grabbing the pen and notebook that he constantly keeps on his nightstand for this exact reason. His head spins, roaring at him, screaming at him, flooded with memories of things that he didn't even think he could have ever gone through, names who he never thought he'd remember. People who he forgot. 

TUBBO - GOD OF SPRING AND NATURE (FRIEND)

TECHNO - GOD OF WAR (FRIEND)

PHIL(ZA) - GOD OF LIFE AND DEATH (FRIEND)

WILBUR - GOD OF MUSIC AND THE SKY (FRIEND)

TOMMY - GOD OF MORALITY AND THE SUN (FRIEND)

DREAM - ENEMY

And, with a second of doubt, he adds on GOD OF NIGHTMARES AND DREAMS after ENEMY. Ranboo breathes out, feeling his chest heave, feeling his entire world spin and howl and scream around him, crashing together, shattering and breaking. Ranboo clutches his head, dropping his pen and notebook to his bed, gasping for air, trying to fill his lungs with the oxygen he so desperately needs. He doubles over, feeling the memories slowly start to disappear from his mind once again, flowing out like the waves of an ocean, having just touched the beaches only to go back to where they came from. Ranboo shakily reaches out for his pen again, screwing up his face, narrowing his eyes as he holds it above the notebook, his hands trembling. He's well aware that he doesn't have to write this one down, it's one of the things in his life he's most certain about, but he's going to do it anyways. Ranboo closes his eyes, feeling his heart still, feeling his head stop howling at him.

Everything stills, everything is fine again. His memories fade, disappearing once more, just like they always do, just like they always have, just like they always will. Ranboo puts the pen down to the paper, opening his eyes a second later. 

RANBOO - GOD OF MEMORY

Ranboo never thought he would make friends within the war, but now as he sits in the middle of his domain with the God of war, the God of life and death, and the God of nature and spring, he can't believe how wrong he was. The God of war, Technoblade, laughs as the God of life and death, Philza, tells a story about something that happened many, many years in the past. The God of spring and nature, Tubbo, laughs along with them, raising his glass to the sky, mimicking a toast to whatever it was that Philza was talking about. Ranboo smiles, leaning back on the log he sits on, his hands hanging in front of him. He leans forwards a second later, beaming at Tubbo when the other God grins at him. This is home, he thinks to himself, all very suddenly. Ranboo blinks, narrowing his eyes at himself as the word echoes throughout his mind. 

Home.

Is this place really home? Ranboo doesn't know, he isn't sure if it is or not. He knows that his domain is supposed to be a home, that it's supposed to be the only place he can safely retreat to without ever worrying about what could happen to him, but it doesn't feel like home. This place doesn't feel like home. The forest sways all around them, wind rustling their leaves, making the grass and flowers sway back and forth in the breeze. The spring bubbles from the left of them all, a constant reminder that it's there. Ranboo breathes in, tilting his head back and opening his mouth ever so slightly. The air tastes like rain and spring and honeydew, and if he focuses a little more, he can taste blood. Ever since the war started, he's been able to taste blood no matter how hard he tries to avoid it.

Ranboo looks back at the three Gods sat in front of him, smiling as they laugh and wave their arms around, throwing up their hands and making grand motions with them to get their stories across. They all look so happy, they're all laughing and grinning and making jabs at one another, constantly teasing and mocking each other. In this moment, everything finally feels perfect. It feels like they have a fighting chance to win the war. Technoblade shoves Philza to the side, and Philza just grins back at him before he spreads out his wings, hitting the back of Technoblade's head with one of them. Tubbo cackles at that, throwing his head back as he laughs. Ranboo is convinced that Tubbo is going to pass out from how hard he laughs, but somehow, he doesn't.

This is home, Ranboo thinks to himself. He realises that. This is home. Not his domain, but..right now, that's home. The three Gods in front of them, they're home. Ranboo is home right now, and he's home because of the people he's with. He's home, not because of his domain or because of where he is, but because of the people in front of him. He smiles, picking up his glass of water he had set down a few minutes ago. He raises it up to his lips, smiling a little when Philza says something to him, followed by barks of laughter from Tubbo and Technoblade. Ranboo closes his eyes, throwing his head back as he downs the rest of the contents in the glass. 

Ranboo never thought that he would become close with any of his allies in this war, mostly out of fear of what could happen to them. But now, as he sits with the three Gods who mean the most to him, he realises just how wrong he was.

Ranboo writes himself more notes in the span of two days than he has in the span of three months. He looks down at his notebook, clicking the pen in his hand over and over again, the sound driving him insane, but he can't seem to stop. Ranboo narrows his eyes, scanning over the writing in the book. He reads through the list of names that he's written down, some of them sounding eerily familiar while others only make him draw blanks. There are three names in particular that make his head spin. Tubbo, Techno, and Phil. He isn't sure why those three names make his heart hurt, but they do. There are other names on there, ones that he doesn't even remember writing. Wilbur, Niki, Tommy, Jack, Puffy, Fundy. There are more, though those names have the word enemy written by their names. Sapnap, George, Dream, Ponk, Punz, Eret. There are more, there are far more, but those are the only names that he knows. 

One of those names he knows better than he wants to.

Dream. God of nightmares and dreams.

Ranboo clicks his pen, biting down on his lower lip. There are notes in his book, scrambled and scattered. Some of them don't make sense, others are just one worded phrases that he doesn't understand. 

You traded your mind and memory for them.

You gave up everything for them.

You don't regret it. You don't regret it. You don't regret it. You would do it again, you wouldn't change it, you'd do it again. You would do it over and over again.

Your name is Ranboo and you are the memory God. You are the God of memories. Dream is the enemy. Dream is the enemy. 

Find Tubbo and Techno and Phil, you can trust them. They can help you.

Find them.

Them.

Ranboo shakes his head, turning the page in his notebook. He takes a shaky breath, wishing that he knew who they were. He assumes that they are his friends, his allies. Tubbo, Techno, Phil. Ranboo isn't sure, though, and that's the worst part. He's never really sure about anything, and he hates it more than he thinks he could ever say. Ranboo wishes he could know things for certain, he wishes that he could know things with absolute certainty, without having to wonder if he made it up or not, if it really happened. He pushes his notebook away from him, his head hurting far too much to even produce any coherent thoughts. 

He stands up, tossing his pen onto the notebook. Ranboo sighs, stretching out a second later, twisting to the left, twisting to the right. He opens his door, making his way down the stairs, running his hands down along the railing. He skips the last step, repeating his routine in his head, over and over again. Water your plants, eat food, make your bed when you come back upstairs, clean up from last night. Ranboo unlocks his front door, wandering out to the shed. He opens the shed door, grabs his watering can, moves back to go inside. He waters his plants. He puts the watering can back. 

Ranboo falls into the methodical rhythm of his everyday life, repeating his routine, continuing to do the only thing that actually manages to keep him sane. He eats breakfast, he cleans up the plates that lay out on his table, picks up the pieces of crumpled paper scattered throughout the house, though not without uncrumpling them to see what's been written. Everything is methodical, nothing is out of place. Everything goes as it normally does, life is normal, life is...unbelievably normal. Ranboo finds himself looking over his shoulder more often than he normally does, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He feels uneasy and nervous, something like terror constantly wrapped around his head. He doesn't know why he's so scared, there's nothing here. He's been alone for as long as he can remember, which admittedly isn't very long, but still. 

With a sigh, Ranboo wanders back up to his room, flopping back onto his bed, figuring he can make it later. 

His routine is normal, everything in his life is normal, but yet he still can't help but feel like something is off.

More so than usual.

There are three Gods outside of his house, and Ranboo doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He feels his chest hurt, but somewhere deep inside of his head, he feels something like calmness. He sees the Gods walking towards him and his home, and he can't help but feel like he knows them, like they're his friends. Like they're people he can trust. Ranboo feels his powers prick at his hands, threatening to overwhelm him. Ranboo forces them back, but he keeps them close. He knows that he hasn't fought anything or anyone in a long time, years, but he still knows how to use his magic. It isn't something he can forget, not when he was born with it. 

Ranboo breathes out, summoning a scythe made out of broken promises and energy, holding it tightly in his hand. He narrows his eyes sharply, staring out of the window, watching as the Gods move a little faster. Ranboo moves away from the window and his plants, unlocking his door with his free hand. Ranboo stands on his porch, holding up the scythe, standing as tall as he can. He hears something like thunder rumbling in his head, sending signals to the rest of his body to fight, to kill. He stares ahead of him, watching as the Gods stop in their tracks, all three of them standing a little taller, looking cautious. Ranboo takes a step forwards, keeping his body as strong as he can. He doesn't want to give off any sign of weakness. 

I'm more of a God than you'll ever be.

The three Gods before him smile, almost simultaneously. "Ranboo," the middle God greets, his voice soft. Ranboo feels like he's been punched in the throat with the way the other God says his name. They must have known each other. They must have, there's no way that they're strangers. There's no way they haven't met before. "I'm sorry that it took us this long to actually meet. Last time we tried to say hello.." the God trails off. "You don't remember it, so there's not really any point in saying it," the God smiles. "My name is Phil. P-"

"Philza," Ranboo repeats, taking a step back. "God of life and death."

Phil smiles at him, bright and beaming. "That's me. Heya, mate," he drops the formalness in his voice, sounding kind and friendly and warm. He sounds like home. "It's been a long time since we've seen each other, huh?" Phil laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides. "It's good to see you again, Ranboo. We're gonna try and get you your memory back, okay? After all," Phil grins at him, leaning back on his heels. "You are the memory God." 

Ranboo feels his chest hurt, he feels his heart ache. 

The other God, the one of the left, his name is Tubbo. He knows that, Ranboo remembers that. He remembers him from the war, he remembers fighting with Tubbo by his side. He remembers saving Tubbo's live, he remembers Tubbo saving his life. 

He remembers. 

He remembers.

"Holy shit," Ranboo breathes out, laughing immediately after. Ranboo doesn't swear, he's never had a reason to, but this feels like a very good reason to swear. Ranboo lets the scythe dematerialize, disappearing from his grip a moment later. He stumbles forwards, nearly falling to his knees. Ranboo feels himself crash into the other three Gods. Technoblade, Philza, Tubbo. He knows their names, he remembers their names. "I didn't..I thought.." he trails off, feeling tears trail down his face. "How?" Ranboo asks, laughing, breathy and so unbelievably happy. "How? What did you do? How did you do this?" 

Techno wraps his arms around him, holding Ranboo even closer to him. Ranboo lets him, he lets all of them hug him, he hugs them back. He hugs his friends back, and he never intends to let go. "We killed him," Techno murmurs. "We killed that son of a bitch," his voice is raspy and a little tired, he sounds drained. "It's not a cure," Techno moves back, holding him at arm's length. "Doesn't mean we're goin' to get our powers back," he explains. "Phil isn't gonna get his wings back. Tubbo's domain is still destroyed. But.." he smiles, looking away for a second. "Phil's wings might grow back. Tubbo might be able to make his domain again. I've got my powers back, sort of. And guess what you've got, memory God?" 

Ranboo grins, feeling the tears fall down his face even faster.

"My memory," he whispers. "I've got my memory back."

Ranboo has a routine. 

He waters his plants. (He badgers Tubbo to water his own plants, too.)

He cleans up his mess from last night. (Most of the mess is Techno - he always manages to absolutely destroy the house somehow.)

He makes his bed. (Phil yells at him to do that, Ranboo thinks it's dumb, but he'll do it anyways.)

He makes himself breakfast. (Though it's mostly Phil who cooks for them all.)

Ranboo's routine has been solidified in all of their lives, and there have been so many new things added to that list. He wakes up before everyone else, other than Phil, who very rarely sleeps in general. He wakes up Tubbo and Techno when the sun rises a little bit too high up in the sky, he wanders off into the kitchen to ask Phil what he's making. It's never the same answer, Phil always manages to make something entirely new, which Ranboo appreciates. Ranboo leaves the house to go to the shed and grab his watering can, and he also grabs three bags of different pet food. 

Ever since the other three Gods moved in with him, forcefully, might he add, they've managed to collect a multitude of pets. Techno found a polar bear with two heads and a mild hatred for Gods wandering around and took him in, even though Phil specifically told him not to. Tubbo's the one with the most pets - he's got a dome filled with bees and different types of bugs, varying in size and in hostility. Ranboo has a cat named Enderchest. Phil has an entire zoo, Ranboo is fairly certain. 

It's nice. It's chaotic and wild and sometimes it nearly drives him to the brink of insanity, but it's nice. 

It's home. 

Ranboo smiles as he moves to go and sit down at the table in his kitchen, their kitchen, leaning back on his chair. Ever since his friends moved in, he's taken down his notes that plastered the walls. He still has them, he has all of the notes that he's ever written. He keeps them in his notebooks, which he refuses to get rid of, just in case anything happens. Ranboo knows that nothing will happen, but he's not going to risk anything, he really doesn't want to lose his memory again. "Morning, Ranboo," Phil calls out, not bothering to look over at him. Ranboo smiles, kicking up one of his legs onto the table. "Legs off the fucking table, you little shit." 

"It's my house," Ranboo complains, but he obliges. "What are you making today, Phil? Is it poisoned? Yes or no?" Phil sighs, dramatically as ever. Ranboo grins, feeling his heart soar. It's stupid how happy it makes him, but it does, and he isn't going to complain that much about it. "Phil? You're not answering me. That's concerning. I'm very concerned about that."

"Ranboo!" Tubbo shouts, wrapping his arms around Ranboo's neck. Ranboo heaves a sigh, tilting his head back to smile up at his best friend. "Are you bothering Phil?" Tubbo grins down at him, his eyes sparkling. "I'm going to bother Phil with you. Phil, do you think if I set this house on fire, you could pu-"

"What? This is my house!" Ranboo protests, laughing as he slaps away Tubbo's hands. "What's up with you and controlling my house? I built this!"

"And I live here," Techno snorts, moving to sit down in one of the other chairs. "I'm the only resident who actually matters here, 'cause I'm just that cool," Techno grins, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back. "Nerds," Ranboo sighs, narrowing his eyes playfully over at the other God. He swears that one day he's going to kick the other three of them out, he's certain of it. "What're you makin' today, Phil? Anythin' new, anythin' deadly? Poisoned?"

"That's what I asked! He wouldn't tell me!" Ranboo huffs, grinning over at the older God. "He's being rude. He's not even looking at me."

"He's old, let him be," Tubbo grins, nudging him with his elbow. "He's too old to-"

"Tubbo," Phil sighs, turning unbelievably slowly. "If you keep that up, I will stab you, you little shit," Phil points a knife at him, and Ranboo briefly wonders where he got that from, or if he just magicked it into existence. Either one is equally likely. "You're all so annoying. I swear, one of these days I'm actually going to kick you all out."

"It's my house!" Ranboo laughs, feeling his heart soar. Everything right now is great, everything is so perfect. Ranboo can remember a time where he was sat with these same Gods, when the war was still going on. He remembers raising a glass to their freedom and to their presumed success, and that was so, so long ago. He remembers considering that moment home, and he realises that it still is home. But right now, this moment right now is also home. So long as he's with Tubbo and Techno and Phil, he'll be home. For the first time in so long, he's home again.

Ranboo is home, and no matter what happens from here on out, he knows that he'll be able to get through it. It doesn't matter if he loses his memories again, that's not important. What's important is that his family is with him again, what's important is that Ranboo is home. Nothing, not even the God of nightmares and dreams, could take that from him. It isn't like Ranboo would let him, either. Ranboo is so much stronger now, and even though Dream is supposedly dead, he doesn't entirely trust that. So until Ranboo puts the God of nightmares and dreams into the ground himself, he'll keep alert, he'll keep aware. But until then, Ranboo is happy and content to spend the rest of his life in this stupid little house with his family, and that's all he could ever ask for. 

No matter what, Ranboo is going to keep his home. 

And he doesn't think that he could forget that ever again.