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Ever since he could remember, Ranboo had long hair. He usually wore it in a low ponytail. It stayed out of his face and was just convenient. He couldn’t remember a time where that wasn’t the case.
Of course, he couldn’t remember much in the first place, so that wasn’t the best way of telling how he’d developed the habit. But hey, it wasn’t too bad.
In his house in L’manburg he’d often wear his hair down. He was in his space, his home , he had the right to wear his hair down if he wanted.
He remembered the first time Tubbo had seen him with his hair down he’d just stared. Ranboo had gotten self conscious. In hindsight, he knew now why Tubbo had been so interested.
One night, long after they’d been married while lying awake, neither of them able to sleep - Tubbo was too restless, even after years of not having to fight, and Ranboo had recently Enderwalked again and was too afraid to sleep - Tubbo had told him why he’d stared so much that day.
“You’re very pretty.” He’d said matter of factly, his voice laced with exhaustion, “You look even prettier with your hair down. You’re very nice to look at, big man.”
He’d then proceeded to go on a long rant about the ethics of selling organs for flowers if one needed to eat like a bee - how the topic had switched so drastically was beyond even him - and so Ranboo tucked away the little confession into the back of his mind. He scribbled it down in the corner of a page in his memory book later on that same night, when Tubbo had finally fallen asleep and Ranboo was feeling the exhaustion begin to weigh on him as well.
If Ranboo wore his hair down around the house more often after that, well, it wasn’t anybody’s business but his own.
-
When he’d began to live with Techno and Phil, Ranboo had noticed relatively quickly that the piglin hybrid kept his hair long.
It was pink, thick and well cared for. Always in a long, well made braid. It was obvious Technoblade had been doing this for years, by the neatness of it.
The only time Ranboo had seen Techno with his hair down was when the news of Tommy’s death had come. Of course, at first, during that first Syndicate meeting, nobody had believed it when Ranboo had told them. They laughed it off, claiming it was Tommy , how could he die? To the hands of Dream, no less?
But when the next Syndicate meeting arrived - on Techno’s birthday, of all days - and Phil confirmed that yes, Tommy had actually died, Ranboo hadn’t noticed the slight slump in his friend’s shoulders as he’d heard the news, or the hidden disappointment in his voice as he reacted, like he had been looking forward to hearing he hadn’t actually died.
But later that same evening, Ranboo had stopped by Techno’s house, in need of a few spare materials, and that was when he’d seen it. Techno was seated in his comfortable chair by the fire - when Ranboo had first been to the house, back when Tommy was there, the chair hadn’t been there. He always assumed Phil somehow brought it to Techno.
Techno had Steve right beside him, and he’d been stroking his fur absentmindedly as he stared at the fire, muttering to himself and what Ranboo assumed to be Chat. He hadn’t understood at the time what was going on until he heard a few utterings that sounded an awful lot like “Tommy” and “dead” and “not sad.”
He’d done the math, and decided he didn’t actually need those materials as much as he thought he did. How hard could they be to get?
The next day Techno had gone back into hibernation, and Ranboo had simply looked sadly at the house as he passed by, going to visit his husband and son as he usually did on nice days like these.
On one such nice day, still not long after Ranboo had moved in with Techno and Phil, he could remember trekking through the SMP with Techno. They’d been going through the Nether, he couldn’t remember what for at this point.
“Why do you always wear your hair in a braid?” Ranboo asked.
“Well, you see, Ranboo,” Techno had replied, “It’s just more convenient. Easier to fight when your hair isn’t flyin’ everywhere. And I don’t like cutting it.”
Ranboo nodded, “I wear mine in a ponytail and it works.”
“Trust me, it’s a lot better in a braid. At least for fightin’.” Techno said.
Ranboo didn’t argue. After all, Techno was the warrior here, not Ranboo. He was a pretty decent fighter when he needed to be, but Techno was the one with real experience.
Some time later Ranboo had brought it up again. He’d been having one of his usual sleepless nights - they’d been especially bad after Doomsday - and he went out to the dog house to distract himself from thoughts of explosions and voices that weren’t real and forgotten actions that were. He’d run into Techno there, and for a long time they didn’t speak to the other.
Ranboo had noticed how even now, in the middle of the night (or early morning, he really didn’t know), Techno’s hair was in its usual neat braid. How did he do that? Ranboo had once tried to braid Niki’s hair, and it had gotten all tangled. He didn’t try again after that. Yet here Technoblade was, his hair braided daily.
“How do you always do your hair so well?” Ranboo had said, his voice hoarse from disuse and almost whiny, not unlike an enderman. He tried to hide his embarrassment, and seeing as Techno didn’t react, he figured he’d succeeded.
“Practice.” Techno gruffly replied, reaching over to pet one of his many dogs, “Years of practice.”
“Could you teach me?” Ranboo blurted out. He stammered as he realized just what he’d asked, but decided against backtracking. “You said it’s better for combat and I want to know how to do it in case I need to.”
Techno had stared at him for a moment before nodding.
The next morning Ranboo had forgotten about the conversation. If not for the hastily scribbled note in his memory book, it would’ve been as if they’d never talked about it at all.
But, just like he’d asked him to, Techno did end up teaching how to make a braid. First on others - Phil was their begrudging test subject - and then himself. Ranboo found it was much harder to braid hair when he couldn’t actually see it and had to reach back to do it. Techno had laughed at him.
He’d learned, though, eventually. It was never as neat as Technoblade’s, and his hair was never quite as long - he liked to keep it trimmed, unlike Techno who grew it out as long as he could - but it was still a good braid.
-
“Boo.” Michael said, immediately getting Ranboo’s attention.
Then again, most noise from the seven year old would get his attention. He couldn’t help it, he loved his son.
“Yeah, buddy?” He asked.
Michael grabbed at the braid in his hair, holding it out to Ranboo as if he was showing him something new, “Teach me how.”
“You want to know how to braid hair?” Ranboo asked, tilting his head to the side, a quirk he’d picked up from Tubbo.
Michael nodded, beaming. Ranboo returned his smile, sitting down beside his son on the floor in his room.
“Well, I’m not sure if I’d be able to braid your hair, being a piglin, but I’ll ask Techno next time I see him.” Ranboo said, more to himself than Michael, “But I can teach you how to braid other peoples’ hair.”
“Okay.” Michael said, quickly standing up and walking behind Ranboo, where his hair was.
Ranboo quickly undid the braid in his hair, smiling at the little waves that remained after being in a braid for so long. He chuckled as he felt Micheal run his hands over them.
He began directing him on how to braid hair, “So first you separate it into three pieces. Get as equal as you can.”
Michael did as he was told, and Ranboo refrained from correcting him as he felt a much larger chunk in the left than the right. After years of doing it right, Ranboo could pick up on the little differences. But considering his son was a newbie and was only seven, he’d cut him some slack.
“Good job.” He said once Michael finished, “Then get the right section, yep, that one, and cross it over the middle.”
Michael did as he was told, “Nice! Okay, now cross the left over the middle. No, not the first middle, the right. The new middle, the first right.”
“That’s confusing.” Michael said, but he still did it right.
“Sorry.” Ranboo replied, “You just repeat it from there until there’s not enough to braid, and then you tie it off. That’s the simplest way.”
Michael didn’t reply, too engrossed in hair braiding. Once he finally finished he tied it like his father said, and stepped back, his hands on his hips.
“Done!” He exclaimed.
Ranboo turned around, resisting the urge to run a hand down it to feel for any issues, and he smiled at his child.
“You did a really good job.” He replied, standing up, “Let’s go show Bee.”
Michael grinned, taking Ranboo’s outstretched hand and nearly skipping from excitement as they left the room, going to find Tubbo.
-
Tommy grumbled something as he walked into the kitchen, tiredly waving at Ranboo and Tubbo, who’d been chatting as they usually did in the mornings. Michael sat at the kitchen island, once again trying to eat the weird creeper themed cereal they seemed to always have for some reason. He didn’t know why he had it so often, he didn’t like it.
Tommy sat beside him, and neither spoke to the other as they both internally complained to themselves. Michael about the cereal, and Tommy about waking up. Michael knew that Tommy had trouble sleeping ever since he’d been revived, so he didn’t say anything about the dark circles under his eyes.
“Boo, can I braid your hair?” Tubbo asked as Ranboo sat down at the other side of the island.
Ranboo smiled and nodded.
Tubbo had picked up on how to braid hair sometime within their marriage, but honestly Tubbo couldn’t remember when specifically. It just seemed like he learned through watching Ranboo.
He stood behind his husband’s chair, grumbling about his height once again as he had to still look up, even as the other was sitting down, and he got to hair braiding.
Now, he wasn’t as good as Techno or Ranboo was, but he wasn’t necessarily bad at it either. He was pretty average. Ranboo loved it.
Soon enough the braid was finished, and Ranboo smiled as Tubbo passed by him. He leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek, and Tubbo snickered as he looked down, embarrassed.
Later on when Michael was sitting outside in Snowchester - he’d gotten a bit restless and decided to go for a walk - Tommy pulled him aside.
“Does your whole family know how to braid hair?” He asked.
Michael tilted his head to the side, “Yeah.”
Tommy’s eyes caught on the small braid in Michael’s own shorter hair. He was a piglin, but the hair on the top of his head could grow a bit longer, and he’d taken to braiding random parts of it when bored, whatever was long enough to actually braid.
“Did you do that?” Tommy asked, pointing at one such braid.
Michael nodded.
“Damn, it must be fuckin’ cool to know how to braid hair.” Tommy said.
Michael refrained from snorting. The other boy wasn’t exactly subtle. He couldn’t help but notice, though, how Tommy’s hair was beginning to get longer. He doubted he’d want to cut it, still being weary of weapons and other similar sharp objects, but he probably did need to tie it back.
“Want me to teach you?” Michael asked after watching Tommy shuffle around for a moment.
Tommy’s eyes lit up. “I guess you can teach me, if that’s what you want.” He said, making it sound like an inconvenience, but Michael could see his excitement.
Soon enough they found themselves back inside, in Michael’s room rather than outside in the cold.
“My hair’s not that long.” Michael said, “So you’ll have to learn with something else.”
Tommy watched as he looked around the room, and before he knew it the younger teen had pulled out a doll.
“Bee gave me this after Boo taught me how to braid.” He explained, “I wanted to do it more, but they didn’t always wanna be pestered.”
Tommy shrugged, “Yeah, I wouldn’t wanna be pestered by you either.”
Michael didn’t reply, just cracking a smile, knowing Tommy was kidding despite his nonchalant expression.
Bringing the doll over, Michael sat Tommy down where he was on the floor.
“There’s a chair right there-”
“Too far.”
Not really, Michael had just always had a preference for sitting on the floor if he wasn’t reading in his big chair in the corner, but Tommy didn’t know that yet.
Tommy grumbled, but didn’t argue, and Michael smiled.
“Separate the hair into three parts.” He directed, and Tommy did, though they were a little uneven. Michael adjusted them from where he sat, receiving a glare with very little heat behind it from Tommy. “Then put the side parts over the middle until you can’t anymore.”
It was a bit simple and could probably be misinterpreted, but Michael thought he did a decent job describing it, if he did say so himself. Considering how Tommy did it right - okay, Michael had to correct him once, but it was only once - he figured he explained it well enough.
Ranboo was walking down the hall when he’d heard talking from Michael’s room. He wasn’t the kind to eavesdrop, so he contemplated leaving, but he decided against it in favor of checking on his son, like he’d originally planned.
“Like this?” He could hear Tommy ask through the door.
“Yep.”
“Wow, I’m already so much better than you.”
“Uh-huh.”
Ranboo opened the door, poking his head through. He looked at the two teens on the floor of the room - Tommy was braiding the hair of an old doll of Michael’s while Michael guided him. Said piglin noticed his father’s entry, and smiled at him, giving him a thumbs up. Ranboo returned the gesture, before closing the door and leaving them be.
He noticed the next day that Tommy had a little braid in his hair, and it made him happy to know that the revived teen was doing okay.