Chapter Text
Ranboo appreciated that there were at least a few constants in the shitshow he called his un-life.
Like, how no matter how much time passed by, there always seemed to be a few kind humans willing to invite him into their homes for shelter, even though he looked extremely homeless, had no clue how he had gotten there or why he was on laying on their doorstep, or the fact that there were multiple suspiciously rust-colored stains on his shirt, despite no visible cuts anywhere on him.
Kind humans took him in, gave him a couch to lay on, a warm, dry set of bee-themed pajamas, and told him he could stay there for a while.
Kind, foolish humans who always cared too much about others for their own good.
There were also a few smaller things that never seemed to change. Like how the patio door had to be replaced every week, either due to Tubbo’s experiments gone wrong, or by the door being ripped off its hinges whenever Ranboo opened it, for some mysterious reason and what do you mean it was almost like he had superhuman strength Ranboo was totally normal it was just the wind-
Anyways. Constants.
The way that they ate dinner in the backyard on Tuesdays, or the way Ranboo’s memory book always seemed to gravitate back into his bag, no matter where he forgot it. Or like how no matter what situation he was in, if Ranboo saw a shiny thing, he wanted it. It was his now.
In his defense, he blamed it on instinct.
Vampires have always liked bright things (not that Ranboo is a vampire, of course. What a ridiculous concept). Perhaps, it reminded them of the brightness of the daylight that they could no longer be in again. Or perhaps, it reminded their cold dead skin of what it felt like to be in the warmth again.
Ranboo was no exception.
Tubbo often complained about Ranboo’s penchant for picking up bits and bobs wherever he went.
A spoon that reflected particularly nicely, his now. A shiny crystal on display at the store, his now. A fancy vintage lamp at the thrift store near their apartment? Illegally taken perhaps, but still his now.
Metal bottle cap on the road? Gross...but also his.
His point exactly. Whenever there was something bright, or even mildly light reflecting, he just couldn't resist.
Maybe that's why he wanted to be friends with Tommy so bad.
Tommy was Tubbo's roommate. A blond, angry boy with spitfire in his mouth and a flame in his heart. He was a strange kid, with wild hair, flailing limbs, and would probably try to pick a fight with a tree if he could (and he certainly had), but he fits right in with Tubbo’s equally eccentric, if a bit less angry, friend group. Most of the people who hung around Tubbo seemed to shine a bit brighter than most, filled with the kind of brightness that made Ranboo feel warmhappysafe .
But Tommy?
Tommy shone brighter than the fucking sun .
Everywhere the boy went, he seemed to be bursting with an infectious sort of energy, always having caused some new mischief, or ready to drag everyone off on a new adventure. Sure, he was rude, but like a cat. Ferocious and disruptive, but overall harmless, and occasionally nice once you got to know him.
He had a certain pep in his step, a walk in his talk, that you couldn't help but admire.
Whether you liked or hated him, you had to admit that there was something about the boy that just made him charming to be around. He was like a beacon that you couldn't help but go towards.
Hell, it's not like he wasn't fun to be around either. Sure, people found him annoying at first, especially after dealing with him for an extended amount of time, but he grew on you. Like a fungus, or a particularly invasive plant species.
Okay, so maybe that wasn't really the most pleasantly convincing description, but Tommy had always been a bit too big for words, larger than life.
Tommy was like the catchy tune that got stuck in your head that you can’t get out. Or like the one bird that sings on the window sill at the asscrack of dawn, but you can't find it in you to shoo it away.
He was deep down, a nice guy, and he usually got along with everyone at some level.
"Ow!"
Ranboo, being an exception to that, apparently.
"Oops, sorry Ranboob . Didn't see your ugly giraffe-kinning, sad excuse for human limbs, pair of legs over there. Honest mistake," said Tommy with a smirk. Tommy who had clearly just whacked his knee with a hammer.
"It's fine!" Ranboo tried, still trying to get the boy to warm up to him. "It barely hurts! Oh, Are you helping Tubbo with fixing the patio door?" He gestured to the hammer in Tommy’s hand.
Tubbo was to be blamed for the demise of the backdoor this time. He had been trying to make a jetpack out of aerosols and a toaster, which had just about the result you’d think it would.
“It's so that I can keep up with the bees,” Tubbo had exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders, “What’s the point of making a mechanical bee army if you can't fly with them?”
It was an exchange of information that Ranboo wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know about, and promptly did his best to forget.
There were a few pros in memory loss, one of them being forgetting mildly concerning information that would have otherwise haunted him, and also made him a lot more wary of going anywhere near Tubbo’s belongings.
Despite Tubbo’s penchant for chaos, he usually knew what he was doing, so he tried deploying one of Tubbo’s helpful friendship tricks from the manual Tubbo had given him.
He didn't really remember how exactly the interaction had gone, but he was sure Tubbo must have convinced him that the guide was good, because he had been using it ever since.
“A foolproof guide, no doubt! Nobody knows Big T better than me. Follow these rules, and you'll be friends in no time, minimal amounts of broken bones too!” Tubbo patted the top of the guide repeatedly, not unlike a car salesman.
“Is this written in crayon?”
“NOT IMPORTANT! Anyway, trust me on this! Have I ever let you down?”
“...Yesterday you forgot me at the grocery store and left-”
“I Repeat, have I ever let you down?”
“...”
“You even helped fix the door last week, didn't you? That's so nice of you!" He said sincerely, “You’re really talented with woodwork! I could never manage to work with those kinds of things, you're really smart when it comes to this stuff!”
Tip 25: Honest Encouragement and Praise Can Go A Long Way When Conversing With Big T!
Tommy scrunched his nose, tilting his head to the side. Was it working? Were Tubbo's lessons on Befriending The Innit: A Reference Guide , working?
Tommy nodded his head, apparently coming to a decision.
That decision being to whack Ranboo's knee with a hammer.
"I’m smart at everything, bitch!" He declared and stomped out to the patio, luckily not noticing the slight dent in the hammer where it had hit his totally human knee.
“AND I STILL DON'T LIKE YOU!”
Well. That didn't work.
Sometimes Ranboo wondered if the universe held a grudge against him. Was it because of his undead nature, or perhaps it was because of his penchant for wearing socks with sandals?
(Tubbo would probably say the latter, but then again, Tubbo's wardrobe consisted of only hoodies ranging from shades of gray-green to gray, so he was in no position to judge.)
But still, he was a good person. He donated to charity every now and then. He even volunteered at animal shelters every decade or so. And any crimes of identity fraud were committed only out of pure necessity, so he really didn't see why the universe hated him so.
"Incoming, Bitch!"
Ranboo ducks, just in time to dodge a hammer flying from the patio entrance, and hitting the wooden wall directly behind where his head had been.
It wouldn't have hurt him, of course, but in any case, it's always concerning to see a hammer being thrown in your direction, and it would've been hard to explain how he was unscathed.
"Tommy!” Tubbo hollered in the distance.
“Oops.”
“You can't just do that! What if he had gotten hurt? You could have killed him!" Tubbo quickly made his way towards Ranboo, checking to make sure he was okay.
“He’s fine! Besides, it wasn’t like it would hurt him!”
“What do you mean it wouldn’t have hurt him, it’s a fucking hammer! What if-”
Technically, it wouldn't have hurt him, Ranboo thinks, zoning out the sounds of a lecturing Tubbo. Apparently being undead made it incrementally harder to actually damage his physical body. Again, not that he was undead. He was human, totally. So it probably would have bashed in his totally mortal meat sack head. Ranboo understands Tubbo’s worries.
He turned around to inspect the wall, which now has a gaping hole in it, and gave a clear view of Tommy's bedroom, which was located right behind the living room wall. Oh, dear. This wasn't going to be pleasant for anyone. A Tommy whose privacy was invaded was an ‘even angrier than usual’ Tommy.
"-And I honestly can't believe it!" Ranboo startled back to Tubbo scolding Tommy, who looked not unlike a chastised, but still angry pomeranian," You know what? I'm not even going to bother with this, because clearly , you don't seem to regret what you did."
"Nope!" Tommy sang, clearly smug.
"In that case, I guess you're willing to fix the wall you just broke then."
Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but Tubbo cut him off with a glare that reads 'you will listen to me or you will deal with the consequences', a glare that both Ranboo and Tommy have come to fear.
"No arguments, either fix it, or it’s staying there. Who knows, maybe breaking the wall will break the walls in your heart, and you'll put aside whatever you have against him. Or-" Tubbo put on a grin so wide he looked borderline manic, "Maybe I’ll break your kneecaps if I have to put up with more of this! Let’s see which happens first!" Tubbo picked up the hammer, waving it threateningly.
“Jeez, fine!” Tommy held his hands up in surrender, eyes wide and innocent.
“...Just you wait, I'm going to stick my bee army on you one day,” Tubbo muttered as he stormed out of the room. Which was totally not concerning at all, nope.
The second Tubbo left, Tommy turned to Ranboo, giving a glare that could probably kill mortal men. Which Ranboo was, of course.
“This is all your fault Ranboob,” he declared, squashing Ranboo’s nose with a threatening index finger.
Ranboo pointed out that his name was not Ranboob, and that he wasn't the one that had attempted to yeet a hammer at his housemate, which only caused Tommy's scowl to deepen.
“This isn't over, Bitchboy. I’m watching you ,” he threatened, as Ranboo batted his hand away from his face.
“Yeah yeah,” he said, watching as Tommy made his way back outside, “Watch out for the toolbox on the floor-!”
“Fuck you Ran-” A loud crash sounded as Tommy tripped on the toolbox, eating a face full of floor.
“Are you okay? I told you to watch out for the-”
“FUCK YOU!”
So maybe it wasn't the universe that hated him, just Tommy.
Ranboo just sighed, and went to go find a “definitely- not -blood-and-totally-juice” pouch.
Honestly, couldn't a soulless being of the undead get a break?