Archive of Our Own

Prologue

The thing is, Tommy quite likes being a demigod.

When he first arrived at Camp Half-Blood, his satyr guide sweating buckets, and donning a few scratches of his own, Tommy thought to himself: Finally, a place where I belong. 

He had been hopping homes before, from orphanage to orphanage, from adopted parent to adopted parent. For one reason or another, he just couldn’t stick. Too much of a nuisance, too much of a handful. It was difficult not to think that people just didn’t want him, that he could never find a proper home. 

But, when a satyr found him and told him there was a place he could go for people just like him, a newfound hope settled in Tommy’s heart. He was reassured too, when he first heard this, that all this time when he thought it was his fault that he couldn’t settle properly, the truth was that it was never something he could control.

And so off he went, to Camp Half-Blood, narrowly avoiding death here and there. By the time he was reaching the woods leading to the camp, it was late into the afternoon and they had already been travelling since morning. 

Upon his arrival, many welcomed him in, among those being a boy named Tubbo, who would soon become his inseparable friend. In fact, it was Tubbo who had been the one to show him around, introducing the camp’s facilities to him.

Tubbo was a fairly small guy, to say the least, but still somewhat intimidating nonetheless, with his brown hair almost covering his pale blue eyes. He hadn’t been smiling when the satyr nominated Tubbo as Tommy’s tour guide, and at first Tommy thought it was because Tubbo had been reluctant, but soon after Tommy learnt that it was just how Tubbo normally looked.

(Tommy then made it a challenge to himself to make Tubbo laugh or smile as much as possible.) 

Tommy had always been vaguely aware of greek mythology, and it had been the satyr that explained to him about the whole demigod business—how he’s got a godly parent just waiting to claim him back at camp. But, apparently, that claiming thing wasn’t always immediate, so Tommy found himself surprised when no glowing symbol appeared over his head.

“Don’t worry, it takes a little time,” Tubbo said to him as they wandered past the archery field, careful to avoid the flying arrows. “But usually demigods will get claimed right before lights out on the first day, so they’ll know where to sleep for the night.”

Each demigod gets to sleep in a cabin corresponding to their godly parent with the rest of their half-siblings, which was by far the most exciting thing to Tommy yet. He had already seen some of the cabins filled with campers, joyously going about their day, and imagined what it would be like to be part of that. 

“I hope my godly parent is the same as yours,” Tommy nudged Tubbo’s arm, grinning wide. “Who is…?”

“Nemesis,” Tubbo answered flatly, before gesturing to the dining pavilion. “This is where we eat, same concept as the cabins. Each table, different godly parent. Same rules, you can’t eat anywhere else except your table.”

Tommy racked his brain, trying to remember which god that was, and perked up, “Vengence?”

“Surprised that took you a while to think,” Tubbo wrinkled his brow, amused. “Considering it’s also, y’know, an actual word too.”

“I prefer rival,” Tommy held a finger up.

Tubbo rolled his eyes, but it was evident through his lingering smile that he was still entertained, “Well, since you haven’t been claimed yet, you’re welcome to join me at the Nemesis table for dinner.”

“Right, dinner,” Tommy said, only noticing now that the sun was about to set. It made sense why Tubbo made the mess hall their final stop for the tour. 

When they got seated and waited for the dryads to come serve them dinner, Tommy took note of the others beginning to toss a small portion of their food into a campfire he thought was meant to light up the place. It was then Tubbo briefly explained to him, as he got up as well, that they were burning offerings to the god.

“It’s just tradition,” Tubbo said as Tommy tagged along. “You give thanks, you ask for a little something. The dearer the portion to you, the likelier they’ll listen.”

And because Tommy had yet to develop a favorite food, he burned a few strawberries—because they looked sweet and juicy—and prayed to be claimed before he goes to sleep.

Tommy soon realized that a good amount of the Nemesis kids were of similar personality to Tubbo. There was a certain calculative suave to them that Tommy couldn’t describe, but he supposed the word ‘introverted’ could describe them just as well. Tommy found himself frequently being the loudest as they talked, especially when he laughed.

But he was reassured that they all enjoyed his presence, with how they all seemed to even smile the same at him whenever he was going on about one his antics again. Some would even bubble out laughs, which made Tommy feel extra proud. The worst they would become is irritated, but never in a way that made Tommy feel bad.

Never in a way like before, in all those houses he’d been living in.

Slowly, one by one, the crowd thinned out at the Nemesis table, with the initial few saying they were going to turn in for the night. At the same time, Tommy finally noticed that, in comparison to maybe the Apollo table or the Aphrodite table, the amount of Nemesis children were quite small. He could probably count the number on both his hands.

Then, the final few started making their way over to the campfire, prompting Tommy to come join since his energy would totally fit the vibe. Obviously, Tommy was quick to agree, but it felt a little strange going anywhere without Tubbo, who looked a little too drained to keep going.

Before Tommy could say anything, Tubbo stood up and pointed to the campfire, “Wilbur’s on guitar tonight. You don’t want to miss it.”

“Who’s that?” Tommy asked as they strolled side by side, finding a spot with the other remaining Nemesis kids. 

“Apollo cabin’s best singer,” Tubbo supplied. 

They were in the middle of a campfire song that Tommy couldn’t pick up the words to when they entered, and so he opted to just listen. It took a bit of straining, but he managed to tell which voice was Wilbur’s, and quickly agreed with Tubbo that he did , in fact, have a good set of pipes to blow.

As the song slowly died down, Wilbur, pushing his gold and round-rimmed glasses up, gestured to Tommy quick with his strumming hand and said in a loud, announcing voice, “Looks like our new camper has come to finally join us!”

A chorus of cheers and claps. Tommy took a dramatic bow in his seat, almost knocking Tubbo in the face with his swinging arm.

“Go on, introduce yourself,” Wilbur grinned, resting his arm on his knee. 

Tommy immediately stood up, “Hey everyone! The name’s Tommy, don’t wear it out.”

“Hi, Tommy,” said the audience watching on. He felt his cheeks ache from smiling.

“Have you been claimed yet?” Wilbur asked, curious.

“Not yet,” Tommy puffed up a chest, thumb pointing to it. “But, it’s bound to happen soon, yeah?”

“Right you are!” Wilbur laughed. “I admire your confidence in them, Tommy. Don’t wear it out. You can’t get far with just faith alone, y’know.”

Quietly, the crowd chuckled and hummed in ambiguous tones. 

“In any case, I say we keep singin’ till Tommy here gets claimed,” Wilbur continued, flexing out his fingers, before hitting a chord. 

But no matter how long they sang, Tommy’s godly parent never brought a symbol over his head. Eventually, they couldn’t last any longer, and they all went to sleep.

“Don’t worry, Tommy,” Tubbo reassured, leading him to the Hermes cabin, where rare cases of unclaimed campers would normally go to spend the night. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, attempting to hide his disappointment. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Main story I

Tommy and Tubbo have a lot of things in common. They’re both around the same age, with Tubbo being older by a few months, and they both don’t have a family to go back to when summer ends. So they stay in camp, all year round, and help out wherever they can.

It’s winter in Camp Half-Blood, but it stays warm on the inside thanks to the barrier around the camp. Only occasionally will there be snow, but it’s never deeper than two inches usually. Fortunately, strawberries are capable of taking cold climate, so even if there wasn’t a weather controlling border over the camp, their sales for strawberries wouldn’t dwindle by a bit.

(The strawberries help with their expenses, according to Tubbo when he was first introducing the camp to Tommy.)

Without most of the Demeter and Dionysus kids in, tending to the fields mostly fall upon the satyrs and dryads, but Tommy and Tubbo make it part of their daily chores to come help. They’re not exactly experts on farming, so they normally end up getting kicked out within the first hour, and then they would be on their merry way. 

If they aren’t training together, they’re hanging around the arts and craft centre making gods know what. Without the Athena and Iris kids hogging the area, they were free to do whatever they want there, and that includes making little creatures out of clay.

They’re in the middle of sculpting an abomination of their separate clay figures together when they hear a commotion arise distantly from somewhere near the entrance of the camp. Nosy and curious, the two got up and headed over to check it out, because it isn’t like they’ve got anything else to do.

They find a crowd of satyrs, dryads and the occasional camper surrounding someone, and when they finally manage to get a good look, they see a figure covered head to toe in snow on the ground. The electrons in Tommy’s head zapped for a moment and he deduces it must’ve been snowing pretty hard out there for the guy to wind up like this.

Eventually some campers manage to heave the unconscious, but still very much alive and breathing body towards the infirmary at the Big House, with Tubbo watching on in concern as he rubs the scars on his hand. And that was the last Tommy and Tubbo saw of that stranger for the  morning.

When lunch came along and the two boys gathered at the mess hall to eat, someone was already there at the Hermes table, hunched over and talking to a dryad briefly. The dryad departed right after Tommy and Tubbo neared, which gives them the opportunity to interact.

It doesn’t take an Athena kid to gather that this person was the freezing stranger from this morning. Earlier, Tommy thought the white bits in the stranger’s hair was just snow, but now that he’s all warmed up, Tommy learns it just how his hair looks. Split black on his right and white on his left. 

Upon closer inspection, even his eyes are heterochromatic, with his right eye being lime green and his left being ruby red. But just as Tommy’s eyes met his, the stranger quickly flinched away, surprised by the boy’s sudden approach.

“Um, hello,” the stranger speaks, purposefully avoiding eye contact, only to find Tubbo to be on his other side, which causes him to stare nervously at his own knees.

“You’re new,” Tommy says.

“How’d you survive the snow in just that?” Tubbo pinches at the rolled up sleeves of the stranger’s white dress shirt, which greyed and browned at certain parts. “Where’s your camp shirt?”

“Yes, I got here this morning,” the stranger answers Tommy first, then Tubbo next. “I had more on, but they’re drying at the…um…the…”

“The Big House,” Tubbo helps, letting go of the sleeve.

“Yes. Thank you.” the stranger runs a hand up his forearm where the sleeve is. “And they couldn’t find one in my size.”

At first, Tommy wanted to argue that he isn’t that big, but the stranger’s torso is long, and not only that, even his legs are freakishly long as well. To the point his knees bend upwards as he sits. Which makes him taller than Tommy and even…

Tommy shakes his head, before continuing with their questions, “What’s your name?”

“Ranboo,” he supplies.

“That’s a pretty name,” Tubbo compliments.

Ranboo blinks rapidly, slouching further, “Th-Thank you…?”

“Not any better than mine though,” Tommy says proudly. “It’s Tommy, by the way. And that’s Tubbo.”

“Do you want to join us at the Nemesis table?” Tubbo points a thumb towards it, where the dryads have already left their plates and drinks on. 

“Um,” Ranboo says, before slowly getting up. “Okay.”

“Normally you’re not supposed to sit at other tables that aren’t your godly parent,” Tubbo sits and explains as Tommy takes his left and Ranboo takes his right. “But you haven’t been claimed yet, so this is okay.”

Ranboo hums in acknowledgement, attempting to follow, but still looks a little lost anyway.

“I’ll give you the full tour later,” Tubbo follows up. “After we eat.”

“A bit eager, are we?” Tommy raises an eyebrow, jabbing at his food.

“Shut up, I toured you around too,” Tubbo snorts, bumping shoulders with him.

“Before that,” Ranboo says, slowly eating. “I need to run back to the…um. The…”

“The Big House?” Tubbo helps again, a little perplexed that Ranboo had forgotten it so soon.

“ YYYYYes. There. To get something,” Ranboo nods slowly, as though unsure if it’s even correct himself. “But, um. Could you…take me there? I forgot my way.”

“That’s fair,” Tubbo tells him. “It’s a bit camp. Easy to get lost on your first day here.”

“I didn’t,” Tommy pipes up, just to flex.

“You lost your way to the toilet on your first day.”

“I did not,” Tommy lies, which only makes Tubbo roll his eyes and laugh.

When they get to the Big House, Ranboo got all his things back. Apparently the ‘more on’ he mentioned earlier that supposedly kept him warm enough for a blizzard only referred to a suit jacket and a tie, so Tommy continued to gawk at how Ranboo is even alive.

Other than his other articles of clothing, Ranboo brought along a backpack with essentials to keep him going. There’s barely anything left in his backpack now, since he used up most of what was inside trying to get to camp, which only leaves one thing of interest in there: a journal.

Tommy could tell the journal is of great importance to Ranboo with how quickly the boy reaches for it. He quickly flips to the latest page, starting fresh, and turns to the both of them, looking fairly sheepish as he asks, “Can I get your names again?”

“You…forgot?” Tubbo strains his eyes at Ranboo, now more than just confused. He was concerned. “Maybe you need another check up.”

“No, no, no, no,” Ranboo shakes his head, flustered. “It’s…something I was…born with. I think.”

“You think?” Tommy asks.

Ranboo frets a bit, feeling rather overwhelmed by them, and sensing this, the two slowly backed off. This didn’t rid them of their concern though, but now curiosity was building up inside of them. Mystery boy shows up at the front door covered in snow all by himself, has memory issues, and is only dressed in formal attire.

Who wouldn’t be a little intrigued?

“You know, you can tell us more as we walk,” Tubbo says, gesturing to the path ahead. “There’s a lot of walking between each location. Helps with getting to know each other. Right, Tommy?”

Upon hearing his name, Ranboo notes it down quick, right as Tommy replies, “Yep! Couldn’t agree more, Tubbo!”

Ranboo notes that down too, before reluctantly going with a sigh, “I’ll…tell you as much as I know.”

“Great!” Tubbo beams bubbly, which Tommy thought he was the only one capable of making Tubbo do.

“Before that,” Ranboo says, once again embarrassed as he points the back of his pen to the house behind them. “What’s that called again?”

Ranboo’s story goes a little like this:

One fine day, he woke up on a plain field. The clothes he had on that day are the very same ones on him right now, which explained its slightly tattered look. With him was this very same backpack and very same journal, but the problem was that the journal in his possession is volumn two.

No matter where he looked, he couldn’t find volumn one, and when he flipped through his current journal, all there is in there are his personal details and instructions on how to get to Camp Half-Blood. This was several weeks ago, before it started snowing.

He has no clue when the memory problem started, but based on the fact that he owns a journal with his personal details on it, written in a way that makes it seem like a past version of himself feared he would forget, he assumes it’s a problem he always had.

“Well that’s not spooky or scary at all,” Tommy deadpans. Tubbo punches his shoulder for being insensitive, which seriously hurts, so Tommy groans.

“Where is everyone anyway?” Ranboo asks as they continue to tour around the place, passing the climbing wall and heading towards the beach.

“Home, school,” Tubbo answers. “This is a summer camp.”

“Then why are the both of you here?” Ranboo asks.

“We have no home or school. Camp is where we live,” Tubbo deadpans.

“Oh… Sorry,” Ranboo mutters, feeling like he must’ve crossed a line.

“What are you apologizing for?” Tubbo scrunches his eyebrows together and Tommy notes how Tubbo doesn’t punch Ranboo in the shoulder for supposed comedic effect. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I’m guessing since you’ve got close to no backstory, you’re gonna be joining the forever camp club, huh?” Tommy grins up at Ranboo, who looks away immediately.

“I guess so…”

“So anyway,” Tubbo redirects, gesturing towards the beach. “This is where sea related things happen.”

“Uh huh,” Ranboo raises his journal and begins to pen it down. Tommy looks at him weird, wondering how on earth Ranboo could possibly forget how an ocean works.

With the facilities freed up thanks to the lack of campers, Tubbo figured they could get an early start on figuring out who Ranboo’s godly parent is. The camp has done this a couple of times before, and usually they’re right, with how some telltale signs are, well, telltale.

They’re quick to cross Apollo off the list after having Ranboo try his hand at archery, and considering his voice is average and he has no healing abilities, there’s just no way the sun god is it.

They try to goad Ranboo into a fight to see if that would ignite any war spirit in him, but the most Ranboo does is shrivel up further in anxiety.

“Maybe Aphrodite,” Tubbo suggests, smiling at Ranboo as he twirls his hair. Ranboo, in response, steps from side to side, pinking by the ears.

“I’m not feeling it,” Tommy scratches his chin. He’s seen Aphrodite kids before and he’s not ashamed to say the boys are very attractive, as an official non -boy kisser.

They then try to get Ranboo to make things, to see if he’s a son of Hephastus or Athena.

“It’d be real handy, honestly,” Tommy tells him as Ranboo stares blankly at all the metal around them. “My sword, Shank. It needs a bit of sharpening.”

“You know, it was a Hephastus kid that helped make these for us,” Tubbo says, reaching under his shirt to pull out a compass that’s attached to him like a necklace. Ranboo looks at it curiously, and as Tubbo moves the compass, he notices how it will always point towards Tommy.

Ranboo turns to find Tommy brandishing the same compass, this time pointing towards Tubbo. Under the needle, it reads, ‘Your Tubbo’. Tubbo’s being similar, except it says ‘Your Tommy’.

“That’s cute,” Ranboo smiles gently. “You must really be great friends.”

“Actually, we got it for a quest,” Tubbo tucks the compass away. “Didn’t want to lose each other, y’know?”

“Oh.” Ranboo tilts his head, then slowly writes that down, before eyeing Tubbo as he carefully asks. “Is that how you got your scars…?”

Tubbo blinks at him, subconsciously running a hand over the burn scars on his arm, “No. Different situation.”

Ranboo decides not to probe any further, which causes an awkward silence. To solve this, Tommy cuts in, redirecting their attention to him.

“You wanna know what else we got from a quest?” Tommy grins widely, very well meaning to flex, and Ranboo perks up at him curiously.

Back then, there were only thirteen cabins for the major olympians, perfectly forming a singular U-shape. But after they started adding cabins for minor olympians, the cabins started resembling a rainbow with its second belt of cabins right behind the first set. 

The entrances to the second set of cabins sit between two cabins of the first set, so passing through the first set is pretty inevitable, which is why they bump into Niki on their way to the Nemesis cabin.

She’s on her way to the Apollo cabin carrying a plate of food when Tommy and Tubbo spot her and they’re quick to call her out, shooting her a wave each. She smiles, waving back, before continuing her journey to the Apollo cabin.

“Who’s that?” Ranboo asks, holding his journal up.

“That’s Niki,” Tommy answers. “I think she was there when you were passed out on the ground.”

“Oh,” Ranboo replies, growing a little embarrassed as he writes that down. 

As they pass the Apollo cabin to reach the Nemesis cabin, Ranboo attempts to peak in right as Niki is entering, but Tubbo tugs him away before Ranboo can see anything, and then the door promptly swings shut. Neither Tommy nor Tubbo seem willing to look towards the Apollo cabin and it looks like they’re trying to pull Ranboo’s attention away from it too.

“Here we are!” Tubbo declares, swinging the door open to reveal the Nemesis cabin.

Tommy turns the lights on for them, shedding light on everything. The place is kept neat and tidy safe for two beds at the end of the room. There’s a quarter-filled shelf in the corner and a table with an empty scale on it in the center.

Each bed is decorated in a way to indicate its owner, with Tubbo’s being littered with stickers of bees and nuclear bombs on the metal frame. A second bed is pushed next to Tubbo’s to form a makeshift double bed, but as opposed to Tubbo’s decorated one, this bed is bare.

As they approach the bed, Tubbo reaches under it and pulls out a chest the length of his arm. He sits on his bed, putting the chest on his lap, and Tommy joins him by his side. The moment Tubbo pulls the lid open, Tommy quickly puts his hands inside and pulls out two discs that shouldn’t have been able to fit inside. 

Magic box, is all Ranboo writes in his journal, accompanied by brief descriptions of the Nemesis cabin’s interior. 

“So,” Ranboo says, watching Tommy dig around the chest further to pull out a record player. “What does it do?”

“Unscratchable,” Tommy smirks, playing the green one first. The song starts playing, a peculiar tune filling the room, with a sense of cheeriness to it.

“Anything else?” Ranboo tilts his head, sitting by Tommy. “Is it…I don’t know… Magical?”

“Nah,” Tommy lets the music play, resting the record player on his lap as Tubbo sways his head to the beat. “We found it in a cave we were camping out in during our quest. Turns out the two Gorgon sisters were in there though.”

“Would explain why they were left behind. Must’ve been from a previous demigod,” Tubbo adds, still jamming to the song.

Ranboo stares at the two of them bleakly, wondering just how they could say something so morbid with such a calm tone, “So these belong to dead people?”

“I guess so,” Tommy shrugs. “We’ve had them ever since. It’s been through some rough patches, but they survived along with us.”

“They must mean a great deal to you then…?” Ranboo asks.

“To the both of us,” Tommy says, wrapping an arm around Tubbo, who nods. “Here, I’ll play the next one.”

And Ranboo continues to sit there, silently watching the disc spin on the record playing, fixated, in deep thought.

“Ah, hello. I’m Niki,” she introduces when the trio finally leave the Nemesis cabin. Now that she isn’t just a figure in the distance, Ranboo can fully observe her appearance and finds that she’s pretty, but cannot tell whether the aesthetic she’s going for is pink and cute or dark and goth. Her hair is bubblegum in color, but the make up she dons is blacker than the night itself. 

Judging by the empty plate in her hand, she seems to be returning to the mess hall. 

Ranboo ducks his head in a polite bow and keeps his eyes pointed to the ground, “I’m Ranboo.”

“Glad to see you’re okay,” Niki smiles. “Half-bloods don’t usually make it to camp by themselves like this. You’re a really brave boy.”

“Th-Thanks,” Ranboo smiles back bashfully.

“Oh, right, Niki,” Tubbo says, gesturing to Ranboo before she could leave. “We’re trying to guess which godly parent is his. Think you could sense if there’s anything magical in him?”

“Um, I don’t really work like that,” Niki laughs, amused by Tubbo’s thinking.

“Magic?” Ranboo blinks, confused, because he swears she was at the Apollo cabin earlier, and last he checked, Apollo has close to nothing to do with magic.

“Daughter of Hecate,” she explains curtly, which explains the vibe Ranboo was getting. “And this guessing thing… It’s not usually reliable, so don’t trust in it too much.”

“You only say that because they got you wrong the first time,” Tommy points.

“Well, it was an understandable mistake.” Niki shrugs. “You perfect a garden at night and suddenly they all think you’re possibly a daughter of Peresphone. Turns out I’m magical in all sorts of other ways too.”

“Like what?” Ranboo asks curiously.

She lifts a finger up at him and a small flame appears at the tip, which startles him, and she laughs, “It’s not so impressive now since the sun is still out, but how about you try your luck at the strawberry fields and see if you’re a kid of Dionysus or Demeter?”

“Good idea,” Tubbo says.

“But if that doesn’t work, come find me at dinner and we can figure out if he’s my new baby half-brother,” she winks.

When she leaves and the three begin to make their journey towards the strawberry fields, Ranboo’s lip tug at its side, and when he finally finds the words, he speaks, “I thought if we were already claimed, we weren’t allowed to go into other cabins.”

“Oh,” Tommy says, a hand sweeping up his arm nervously. “Niki’s an exception in the Apollo cabin.”

“Why’s that?”

Tommy shifts uncomfortably, unable to answer.

“To deliver food,” Tubbo answers for Tommy. “There’s someone in the Apollo cabin under house arrest. She’s the only one Chiron trusts with him, and the only one he is willing to be surveillanced by.”

“Oh. What’d he do?” Ranboo further prompts.

“What else? He’s a danger to everyone,” Tubbo says, picking on the rim of his shirt. “But it’s not like we can banish him out there. Who knows what else he’d do?”

Tommy looks away distantly, still somewhat uncomfortable by the topic of conversation, and taking note of this, Tubbo switches topics, “Anyway, maybe the only reason you survived the cold is because you’re a nature guy or something.”

“Maybe…?” Ranboo smiles awkwardly.

Unfortunately, Ranboo is not a nature guy.

For some reason, every strawberry he picks always end up tasting strange and not-so-good, to the point the satyrs grew irritated and kicked them off the fields. Second time for Tommy and Tubbo today, but not before Tommy can sneak away a pocket full of strawberries to munch on. He shares them with his friends.

“Haha, maybe I’m, like, a Nemesis kid or something?” Ranboo rubs the back of his neck, taking a strawberry from Tommy to munch on.

Tubbo’s mood considerably sours, “I’d hope not.”

“Why’s that?” Ranboo asks.

Though it is hard to tell through all that hair, Tommy swears he saw Tubbo flush for a minute, before returning to normal, “We’re gonna run out of beds.”

“I’m sure he can fit on our double,” Tommy grins. “It’ll be a tight squeeze though.”

“Yeah, because of the two of you,” Tubbo jams a finger into Tommy’s chest, who winces in reaction. “All legs and whatever.”

“Anyway, we’ve still got Niki to check if he’s Hecate’s,” Tommy says. “And, who knows, maybe he’s Hebe’s.”

“Or Hermes’,” Tubbo nods.

“Nah,” Tommy folds his arms, holding a strawberry up to Tubbo. “He didn’t even steal any strawberries.”

Tubbo leans forward and bites it whole, and through his stuffed mouth, he goes, “True.”

“How come we aren’t considering any of the big three?” Ranboo asks, puzzled by their process of elimination.

Tommy laughs, almost spilling the handful of strawberries he brought out from his pocket, “That’s, like, impossible.” 

“We haven’t had a big three kid in, well, forever,” Tubbo joins in, laughing through his nose. “They’re rare, like really rare. They probably don’t even exist anymore, maybe. Besides, if you are a big three kid, you wouldn’t have survived the trip here alone. For sure.”

“Oh…” Ranboo mumbles, sounding disappointed, which is funny to Tommy because who wouldn’t be glad about having higher survival rates. In some way, it reminded Tommy of himself—he thinks, maybe, Ranboo was simply looking to be someone special.

Or maybe he just wanted to belong somewhere too.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tommy wraps an arm around Ranboo, though he has to get on his tippy toes just to make it work. “Demigods usually get claimed right before you head to sleep, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Ranboo brightens a little, eyes aimed at the top of Tommy’s head, which is the closest Tommy will ever get to having eye contact, “Really? That’s a relief. I guess I won’t have to worry about sleeping outside, or something.”

“Nah. I mean, even if, by a rare, rare, rare occurrence, that you don’t get claimed, you can always sleep in the Hermes cabin. That’s where all the unclaimed kids usually go to, back in the ol’ days,” Tommy smiles wide, patting Ranboo’s back as his arm slips off Ranboo’s shoulders. “It’s got tons of extra beds.”

Slowly, Ranboo grew more and more assured, “That doesn’t sound so bad either.”

“Anyway, it’s about time we go grab dinner soon,” Tommy eyes the horizon, watching the sky turn a pleasant orange and yellow. “Then we can talk to Niki and see if you’re a Hecate child.”

“Well, with the sun gone,” Niki takes Ranboo’s hands into her own, closing her eyes. “I think I’ll be able to sense something, if there’s anything…”

She had only just arrived herself, and the tables were scarce of people, yet not many of them chose to eat together to fix that blatant loneliness, abiding by the mess hall rules. Niki being one of those people, though she seemed content sitting by herself.

Meanwhile, Tubbo has gone off to sit at the Nemesis table to eat, while Tommy has gotten up to burn some offerings to the gods. By the time Tommy returns to the Nemesis table to sit with Tubbo, Ranboo has finished speaking with Niki. 

“So, what did she say?” Tommy asks.

“Well, she did sense something,” Ranboo writes it down as he tells them. “But she’s not sure if it’s exactly Hecate’s blood in me.”

“So it’s like Hecate adjacent, like any other “ dark ” god,” Tommy says ‘dark’ with air quotes. “That narrows it down.”

“To what?” Ranboo grimaces, grip straining on his fork. “And dark god?”

“Don’t listen to Tommy,” Tubbo holds a hand over Tommy’s face. “Even if your godly parent is conventionally evil, that wouldn’t make you anything like them.”

“Well, yeah. I think I knew that,” Ranboo murmurs, which makes Tubbo slightly doubt him. “It’s just, we already ruled out Nemesis, and Hecate doesn’t seem to be it.”

“Maybe it’s Hypnos,” Tommy suggests as he eats.

Tubbo opens his mouth, about to refute that, but goes a bit quiet and thinks about it, “Well, it would explain the memory thing… Maybe it’s a self-inflicted accident and he just doesn’t know how to undo it yet.”

“So if it does turn out to be Hypnos,” Ranboo brightens up, invisible tail wagging in excitement. “There’s a chance I can fix my memory issue?”

“Let’s not get our hopes up, we’re just making an educated guess here.” Tubbo holds his hands up to calm Ranboo down. “There’s still other gods we haven’t considered, like, um…”

Quietly, Tommy says, “...Apate…?”

“Well, yeah. But, you know. The last time we had an Apate kid was…” Tubbo gestures his hands about, before totally blanking for a minute. Then he smiles gently, moving on from that completely. “In any case, there are others. There’s also Morpheus.”

“Hypnos’ godly child?” Ranboo tilts his head. “Does he have memory powers too?”

“Um, I don’t…recall, actually,” Tubbo taps his cheek in thought, which visibly disappoints Ranboo.

“To be honest,” Tommy pipes up, finishing up his dinner with a few more bites. “It’s about time Ranboo gets claimed anyway, so there’s no use theorizing now.”

“That’s right,” Ranboo perks up, finishing his food as well, almost choking in the process. “Any moment now, right?”

They all sit there in silence as Tubbo continues to eat the rest of his dinner at a normal pace. But when nothing happens, both Tommy and Ranboo begin to deflate.

“We can keep waiting at the campfire,” Tubbo suggests, scraping his plate clean, before finishing it off with a gulp of water. 

“That’s a good idea,” Tommy nods, hopping to his feet, and pulls Tubbo along with him. Ranboo follows closely behind as the trio headed towards the campfire, where they can distantly hear guitar strumming but no singing.

It’s a rare sight to see anyone at the campfire outside the days of summer, so both Tommy and Tubbo were surprised to find someone playing music there. When they got closer, they realized it’s only Quackity. Head hung low and playing a slow melody on his old guitar.

“A bit empty here, huh?” Ranboo murmurs as the three take the log opposite of Quackity, just to give the man some space.

“It’s winter,” Quackity answers quietly, continuing his somber tune. “Everyone’s gone home.”

“I know,” Ranboo runs a hand over his journal’s cover. 

“Usually the Apollo kids would be playing when it’s summer. We’d sing camp songs,” Tubbo tells him, watching the campfire cackle a gentle and cold purple.

“Oh, please,” Quackity snorts, halting his song. “Just because I’m a child of Athena doesn’t mean I can’t work a guitar half as good as an average Apollo kid.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Tubbo huffs. “I was just explaining to Ranboo—”

“So that’s the new guy’s name, ey?” Quackity grins at Ranboo, who feels intimidated under his gaze. “Aw, don’t be frightened by the scar on my left eye. It only hurt a little. I’m Quackity.”

“It isn’t the scar…” Ranboo mumbles, finding it difficult to speak further.

“Has he been claimed yet?” Quackity turns to Tubbo, an eyebrow raised.

“Not yet,” Tubbo replies.

“What’s your educated guess?”

“Um,” Tubbo rubs the back of his neck.

“Hypnos!” Tommy answers with a jump and a pose.

Quackity watches with mild amusement, “Pretty educated.”

“Anyway, what’s with this boring, slow music?” Tommy slumps, staring at Quackity with his lips downturned. “Can’t you play anything more, I don’t know, hype?”

“Not really.” Quackity raises his eyebrows at Tommy, unimpressed by his antic. “Do I look like a camp counselor to you?”

“You’re head of the Athena cabin…”

“Well, can’t argue with that logic,” Quackity returns to his guitar and plays a faster tune, plucking the strings in a more upbeat way. 

“That’s more like it!” Tommy cheers, the fire burning from purple to orange. “Come on, Tubbo!”

“I’m tired,” Tubbo complains, but nevertheless lets himself be pulled up by the arm to join Tommy in a dance. To no one’s surprise, neither knew how to properly dance, so the most Tommy does is flail his limbs around to the rhythm while Tubbo sways along next to him.

Ranboo laughs from his seat, entertained, perfectly content where he is. But he supposes neither boys would stand for it if one of their friends was just sitting down and not joining in on the fun, so Tubbo pulls him up as well, the same way Tommy did to him, and soon Ranboo found himself awkwardly bopping next to them.

“Aren’t you going to give us some words, Big Q?!” Tommy gestures a hand over, right as the flames rise high to match his spirit.

“Oh, Tommy. You know I don’t sing,” Quackity laughs, concentrating on maintaining the fast-paced tune. 

“Yes you do, you sang plenty before!” Tommy does a little twirl, stepping closer to the guitar player.

“Not anymore,” Quackity shakes his head. “Just let me play my guitar and you can keep doing your silly dances.”

“Quackity, it’s been a year,” Tommy drags, shimmying and shimmying in front of him.

“Drop it, Tommy,” Quackity chimes, miraculously still playing despite his growing irritation. 

“But—”

“Tommy,” Quackity strains, looking up at the boy.

Tommy, seeing that he’s about to cross a line, begins to distance himself away, accepting defeat. Ranboo and Tubbo have joined hands in his absence, pulling and pushing away from each other in a messy dance, and when they see Tommy has returned, they open up a spot for him to link in with them.

They start spinning in circles as Quackity’s song comes to a rise, and as they find themselves growing more winded, the song getting higher and higher, Quackity finally hits that final, perfect chord and the song comes to the complete end.

And still, no symbol has appeared over Ranboo’s head.

“That’s a shame,” Quackity rubs at his good eye, standing up as he heaves his guitar over his shoulder. “Well, there’s always tomorrow.”

He then walks off, leaving the trio standing there with their labored breaths.

Now that it’s quiet, and they’ve stilled, Tommy finds it difficult to tell what the mood is—whether it’s just the exhaustion from jumping around or the disappointment from not being claimed.

“Hey, Ranboo,” Tommy starts slowly, putting a hand on the boy’s upper arm. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t been claimed either so… Don’t feel so bad about it—”

“I don’t feel bad about not being claimed,” Ranboo tells Tommy. By the tone of his voice, Tommy could tell Ranboo was being genuine. “I think, you know. It’ll be okay. I mean, it’s not like anything will change whether I get claimed or not. I’ll still eat the same food, have the same friends—the both of you—and sit at this same campfire when the day ends. So, I think, it’s not so bad. You know?”

Tommy blinks up at him, perplexed by Ranboo’s mindset. Tommy remembers feeling so dejected when he realized he was never getting claimed and it took some time to come to terms with it. And a few life or death scenarios to put things in perspectives—there are bigger things for him to worry about than knowing who his godly parent is.

Still, the hope never truly left him. Tommy is still waiting to be claimed, till this day. Some part of him feels almost glad that Ranboo is the same as him, which made him feel bad initially because he thought Ranboo would have the same reaction to being unclaimed and that would mean Tommy was benefitting from the boy’s misery.

But now it doesn’t seem so bad anymore. If Ranboo doesn’t feel awful, and Tommy now has a new friend to relate to, then everybody wins.

“You can sleep at the Nemesis cabin with us if you’d like,” Tubbo offers as the three begin making their way towards the cabin. “Since you haven’t been claimed yet and none of my siblings are in. No one’s gonna catch us.”

“Is that why Tommy’s been sleeping in the Nemesis cabin?” Ranboo asks.

Tommy laughs, putting his hands behind his back, “You’ve caught me.”

“I thought you were a Nemesis kid originally, that’s why I never questioned it,” Ranboo sighs, flipping through his journal. “But I was curious why your bed hadn’t been decorated like the rest.”

“It’s ‘cause it’s a spare,” Tommy sticks his tongue out. “Nemesis kids let me crash from time to time because they loooove me.”

“That’s nice,” Ranboo smiles, noting that down.

“But I’m supposed to be located at the Hermes cabin. It’s where I spend most of my nights at when it’s summer.” Tommy tells him.

“Anyway, do you have any spare clothes on you or do I have to find clothes to borrow?” Tubbo asks Ranboo.

Ranboo frowns, already knowing the answer without having to check, which makes Tubbo sigh. He frets, worried about making Tubbo mad, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m more than happy to help, but the problem is…. The only spare clothes I can think of borrowing from that’s around your size is from…” Tubbo grimaces when he turns to gaze at the Apollo cabin.

“I can go for you, if you want,” Tommy suggests.

“Bad idea. You’re not supposed to be talking to him anymore,” Tubbo makes an ‘x’ with his arms. “I’ll do it. The two of you just head to the showers first without me. I’ll be quick about it.”

Tommy frowns, evidently worried, but he knew there’s no use arguing with Tubbo once he’s made a decision. So, with a heavy heart, he obliged, heading into the Nemesis cabin first to retrieve a change of clothes while Ranboo waited for him outside.

Tubbo makes a turn towards the Apollo cabin, and right as Tommy and Ranboo pass him to head towards the shower, he begins to knock and waits patiently for a response.

The door creaks open slowly and Tubbo finds himself face to face with an old friend.

“Hey, Wilbur,” Tubbo deadpans, not at all hiding his slight contempt towards the man. “I was hoping Niki was still here, to be honest.”

“She went to bed,” Wilbur rests the side of his head on the doorframe with an easy smile. “Did you need her or something?”

“No, I came to ask for a favor from you,” Tubbo folds his arms. “There’s a new camper and they haven’t got his size for clothes. Was wondering if you could lend a change for the night?”

A noticeable glimmer passes in Wilbur’s eyes, “A new camper, huh?”

“Yes. So, the clothes. Yes or no?”

“Has he been claimed yet?”

“No. The clothes?”

“That’s interesting,” Wilbur hums, tapping his chin. “It is wonderful that tomorrow will be a sunday.”

“Wilbur.” Tubbo firmly says. “I’m gonna take that as a ‘no’ if you keep ignoring me like this.”

“Clothes, right,” Wilbur smiles at Tubbo, disappearing into the dark of his cabin.

It takes a minute for Wilbur to come back with the clothes neatly folded in his hands. Tubbo extends a hand, waiting for Wilbur to pass the clothes through the door, but Wilbur remains stagnant. The boy’s brows furrow, wondering what gives.

“Ahem,” Wilbur raises a wrist, dangling a gold bracelet, greek written along it. There’s another similar looking one on his other wrist as well. 

Right. Enchanted so he can’t physically go past the door. Or his hands, at least. And it doesn’t seem like Wilbur’s eager to chop his hands off just yet.

Tubbo reaches his hands through the door so he can take the clothes, but when he finds that Wilbur still wouldn’t let go, he growls at the man.

“Oh, where has the time gone?” Wilbur purrs. “I remember when we were still friends, and I helped you become the person you are today. Such a brave leader of something once so beautiful, now demoted to a nobody.”

“I do recall the downfall of that land was your fault?” Tubbo hisses.

“Well, it was ruined when that son of Dionysus you call a father—”

With one great tug, the clothes were fully in Tubbo’s possession. He isn’t going to be having any of that, thank you. “Bye Wilbur.”

“Gah. Look. I’m sorry,” Wilbur calls out. “Bad habits. You know? Slip of tongue, from an unkind past. Something I want to learn and move on from. It’s why I’m in here still, right? Please, forgive my rudeness. I know, you Nemesis children, always easy with the grudges and whatnot. Don’t let your emotions drive you the way it did me, Tubbo.”

With his back turned towards Wilbur, Tubbo tenses up, only to let all of that stress out with a sigh, “Wilbur, I…”

Wilbur straightens up in hope, “Yes?”

“I don’t hate you,” Tubbo looks into Wilbur’s eyes, head turned. “I really don’t. Back during that quest. The building of a second mount olympus. For the minor gods, you said. I helped you oversee the project, helped when it fell for the second time. Now that it’s been permanently cancelled, and the prophecy has been fulfilled, it’s hard…to dwell in it. I had to move on, or the world would go on without me.

“And that…sorta includes hating you,” Tubbo shrugs. “All those feelings I had about that whole… situation. It’s over now. I don’t hate you anymore, not as much as I did then.”

Wilbur really brightens, “Oh, you’ve really matured since the last we’ve spoken. You really, really have grown well—”

“But!” Tubbo’s voice raised, ears reddening from embarrassment. He’s not used to expressing himself, it only ever comes along once in a blue moon, and he supposes the moon must be the color of sapphires tonight. “That doesn’t mean I’m not done, y’know, feeling kinda uncomfortable around you? Tommy deals with the feeling better, but I don’t. Nemesis kids things maybe. I don’t know. Whatever.”

He turns away once more, “Anyway, it was nice talking to you again. I guess.”

“Likewise, Tubbo. Send Tommy my regards.” Wilbur waves.

“Good news is, he’s getting better,” Tubbo holds Ranboo’s clothes out for him right as he’s getting out of his to shower. “Bad news is, he’s still poetic.”

“Apollo kids defense mechanism, maybe,” Tommy hums in thought. 

“He also reminded me that tomorrow is sunday,” Tubbo adds, stepping into the warm shower.

“Damn.” Tommy scratches his head.

Ranboo asks as he’s attempting to get himself clothed, “What’s going on tomorrow?”

“Wilbur’s free day,” Tommy and Tubbo say in unison.

“Hey, that means you get to watch Quackity and Wilbur flirt,” Tommy bubbles. “Also, we’ll wait here on this shower bench for you to finish, Tubbo.”

“Thanks,” Tubbo replies.

“Quackity and Wilbur what?” Ranboo deadpans. “Is Wilbur the name of Mr. House Arrest?”

“Oh. Yeah, it is,” Tommy shifts in his seat. “Normally we go out on sundays when Wilbur gets some sunlight, but, well.”

Ranboo blinks at him, confused still.

“Right, you’ve forgotten already.” Tommy sighs. “The dryads say the snow is still heavy, so we can’t get out.”

“Ohh, right,” Ranboo nods. “That’s okay. I’m actually pretty curious about this guy.”

“Even though I said he’s a danger to everyone?” Tubbo calls from the shower.

“Oh. You said that, huh?” Ranboo scratches his head. “Um, well. He shouldn’t be all that bad if he’s still in camp and gets to have sun…light days… Oh is that why it’s on sunday? Because ‘sun’?”

“Ohhhh,” both Tommy and Tubbo go in unison, as if they had only just figured it out when Ranboo said it.

The bed arrangement is pretty simple. Like Tommy had said before, they could squeeze into two beds as three people, but that would mean having to really squeeze. So, taking advantage of the empty cabin, Tubbo decided there would be no harm borrowing one of his half-sister’s beds.

And so they combined the three beds, with Tubbo being in the middle, and after lying in bed talking about all sorts of things—quests Tubbo and Tommy went on, things Ranboo can vaguely remember encountering—they eventually tired themselves out to sleep.

Though, sometime in the middle of the night, when Tubbo felt his left side to be too cold and empty, he slowly sits up and discovers that Ranboo has gone missing. Drowsily, he didn’t start panicking until he realizes Ranboo didn’t just fall off the bed. He’s genuinely, one hundred-percent missing, which causes Tubbo to shake Tommy awake.

“What- What?” Tommy stammers, blinking awake tiredly.

“Ranboo’s not here.” Tubbo says, slipping his shoes on.

“Maybe he went to the toilet,” Tommy yawns, sprawling across the three beds now that Tubbo’s off. 

“I’ll check,” Tubbo says.

Tommy sits up, uncomfortable with the thought of being left alone in an empty cabin, “I’ll come with you.”

The two left the cabin in search of their missing friend, starting with the toilets first. But before they could even make it there halfway, they hear something, and they turn towards the campfire, still burning gentle and small.

Somewhere near the campfire stands a lone figure, and as they got closer, they slowly realize it’s only Ranboo—based on just height alone. He doesn’t even have his shoes on, socks now stained with dirt and grime, which only unsettles Tubbo further.

“Hey, big man,” Tubbo calls out, Tommy standing close behind him. “What’s going on? Did you lose something or…?”

Silence.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo calls out again, this time straining his eyes. As they get closer and closer, Tubbo started to hear a familiar sound coming from Ranboo, and immediately becomes relieved. He turns to Tommy behind him. “I think…I think he’s sleepwalking.”

“Holy shit were we right about him being Hypnos’ kid then?” Tommy blinks.

“Maybe,” Tubbo sighs, pushing his hair back, before reaching towards Ranboo so he can safely guide the boy back into the cabin and laugh about it tomorrow morning. Just as he was about to grab Ranboo, however, the taller suddenly disappeared into the darkness, right as Tubbo only blinked. Puzzled Tubbo began looking around. “Where’d he go—”

Behind the two, the ground starts to shake, and instinctively, they turn to find Ranboo has somehow travelled behind them without them noticing. Before they can even question anything, cracks begin to form in the ground, skeletal hands leaking out to grab at their feet, and Tommy couldn’t help but let out his highest, most pitchiest scream.

This causes the other cabins to wake up, and like a stage cue, the lights all started to come on sync. Safe for the cabins that had no one inside.

The first to come barrelling out is Wilbur. Since it’s already past midnight, it technically makes it already sunday, and Tommy couldn’t believe himself for being happy for once that Wilbur’s out of the Apollo cabin. In his hand is his guitar, but anybody that knows Wilbur also knows that he may very well be holding a gun.

“Cover your ears,” Tommy tells Tubbo quick, doing so himself, and Tubbo, understanding the situation immediately, follows suit just as fast.

With a simple yet powerful strum, the soundwaves begin to travel, louder and louder to the point it made the very earth shake. Ranboo, unprepared, groans and falls to his knees, hands clutching his head as the vibrations made his brain shake in his skull.

The hands grabbing for Tommy and Tubbo begin to retract back into the ground, but the floor stayed cracked, and dizzily Tommy thinks about how the dryads and satyrs won’t be pleased about this. Maybe even Chiron.

“Watch it,” someone says in the distance, followed by what Tommy assumes is a punch to the shoulder. “That’s a fellow camper!”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Wilbur replies snarkily with a condescending grin. “Did you want me to wait for one your excellent battle strategies?”

“Is being careful and considerate not part of your stupid brain’s wiring or something?” Quackity barks back.

“And I miss you dearly too, Quackity,” Wilbur hums back, leaning in close.

“Can the two of you quit it?!” Niki pushes between the two of them, rushing straight towards Ranboo. “Poor thing can’t catch a br—”

Before she can reach Ranboo, however, she’s stopped when a symbol suddenly appears over Ranboo’s unconscious head and gasps, stepping back.

Blearily, both Tommy and Tubbo get up, staring at the symbol as well, and there it was.

Hades’ sceptor.

Main story II

It’s really fortunate Camp Half-Blood regulates its own weather, otherwise, Ranboo thinks they’d be suffering from the snow by now.

He finds it funny that, somehow, he’s always unconscious when a climatic point happens in his life. Like when he first arrived at camp, freezing from the winter snow in only a suit and tie, and upon entering the suddenly warm climate of the camp, the thermal shock sent him into snooze town.

Even the beginning of his tale starts with him being unconscious, with how he woke up in the middle of a field and found nothing but a journal to his name. With his name in it. He couldn’t remember anything before that, and judging by the fact that the journal he possesses is volumn two, he must’ve had a life before he found himself there.

A life he literally cannot remember. 

But with a map to the camp in the journal he has, he figured getting there would bring him some answers, and somewhat it did! As it turns out, he is a demigod and monsters are real—explains why those things kept chasing him around when he was getting to camp—and now that he knows, his life will become so much harder.

Supposedly. Though, he figured since the camp seems to be a safe haven for demigods, he thought so long he doesn’t put himself in trouble, he’ll never be in trouble. So what if he doesn’t know who his godly parent is? Like that hardly matters in the grand scheme of things. 

He has friends he likes—Tommy and Tubbo—and cool people around him—Niki and Quackity—and facilities he can use to fill up his time, a lifetime supply of food, a bed to sleep, a shelter to lie under… Whether he stays unclaimed or gets claimed, that isn’t going to change the fact that he’s safe and happy.

And then, in the dead of night, once again unconscious after having being knocked out by Wilbur, his godly parent decides to claim him right then and there.

Apparently, not everyone is a big fan of Hades.

There’s a rule that demigods aren’t allowed to dine at other tables that isn’t your godly parents’, and so Ranboo finds himself having to eat breakfast alone the same way he had to move into the Hades cabin and sleep alone the night before. 

Which is fine because his friends are only a few tables away and they’re sitting facing towards him and so is he, so he can still talk to them just as long as they keep their volumn loud. Which only slightly bothers the other campers that stay in camp all year round unlike the rest that go home after summer.

Ranboo has a feeling they aren’t being as vocal about their irritation as they want to be because they’re afraid big bad son of Hades will do something to them, but that’s just paranoia speaking at this point.

Anyway, as Tubbo and Tommy are going on about something that was initially loud enough for Ranboo to follow but has steadily gone quieter due to the exhaustion of their throat, a person suddenly approaches from his side, and Ranboo whips his head around to find Wilbur smiling right at him.

He hasn’t sat down yet, but something tells Ranboo that he will be soon, and it seems like neither Tubbo nor Tommy have noticed that Wilbur has made his grand entrance at the Hades table yet. Nervously, Ranboo greets him politely, “Morning, Wilbur. How does it feel…being out in the sun again this week?”

“Great, great, just as wonderful as I remember it last week,” Wilbur nods, stretching an arm. “Sorry about last night. Your head alright?”

Ranboo touches his head, “Yes.”

“Great. ‘Cause I did a bit of healing while the others weren’t looking, thought I might’ve been too far for it to work, but whaddya know?” Wilbur barks out a laugh, which draws the two boys’ attention from the Nemesis table.

For afar, Tommy stands, and so does Tubbo, and they quickly walk over to Ranboo to put some distance between him and Wilbur.

“Is he bothering you?” Tubbo asks Ranboo gently.

“Alright, Wilbur, that’s enough interaction with the new guy for you,” Tommy shoos the man away, who smiles back at the blonde with a perplexed look. “Go do something else.”

“Oh, but I’m very, very curious about Ranboo,” Wilbur drawls, leaning over to look at the boy in question. “It’s not everyday you see a child of the big three sitting in our camp.”

“And I’m sure he’s just as curious about our infamous criminal on camp, but you don’t see him bothering you,” Tubbo rolls his eyes.

After contemplating pushing further, mostly for the sake of seeing how far Wilbur can go before they finally cave or they finally break, he decides against it and steps back, hands held up in surrender, “I’ll go, I’ll go. But if you need me”—

“We won’t,” Tubbo deadpans.

—”I’ll be wherever Quackity is.” Wilbur smiles, before walking off towards the arts and crafts centre.

“See? Flirting,” Tommy shakes his head. 

“Maybe you should be a little nicer to him,” Ranboo tells them, tapping his fingers together.

“Nah. Any longer and he’ll convince you to start a third rebellion with him,” Tubbo shakes his head.

“Oh.” Ranboo says.

“Anyway, what shall we do today?” Tommy grins, rubbing his hands together. “You know, since you’re a child of Hades and all, I thought of a few fun games we can play with your abilities.”

“Huh?” Ranboo blinks.

“Yeah, and while you do that, I’ll be cleaning the pegasi stables,” Tubbo grimaces.

“Aw, what the hell,” Tommy goes, throwing his arms in the air. “Why?”

“Had to trade with Niki. She’s busy on im-por-tant matters,” Tubbo wags his finger at each syllable of ‘important’, which makes Ranboo giggle in amusement. 

“Can’t she do it tomorrow then?” Tommy complains.

“Can’t. The pegasi get restless,” Tubbo shrugs. “Just how it goes, man. But you can go play with Ranboo all day.”

“Hmm,” Tommy looks over at Ranboo, who has just started journaling down a few bits of his morning to remember. “Okay. Come find us when you’re done.”

“It’ll take a while, alright,” Tubbo sighs, already dreading it, and walks off.

When Tubbo has walked far enough, Tommy grins at Ranboo cheekily, rubbing his hands once more, before putting an arm around Ranboo’s sitting figure, “Now, Ranboo, I want you to picture this…”

Ranboo never once considered himself much of a guy that liked to play tricks on people, but somehow, being around Tommy, he thought he could be a little, well, mischievous for once. 

First, Tommy had Ranboo try his “teleportation”—called shadow travel, apparently—to scare people in the shadows, which worked well enough, but at some point it started taking a toll on Ranboo’s health, and by the fifth shadow travel, Ranboo was turning green in the face.

“Can you summon any more of those skeleton creatures from the ground?” Tommy asks, wiggling his fingers at Ranboo as they idly walk past the cabins. “I want to ask Tubbo if he needs a hand, then I throw him a skeleton arm.”

“Umm, I don’t…think I can do that yet…” Ranboo rubs the back of his neck. “Well, safely, at least.”

The two glance over at the cracks that still remained from last night when a sleepwalking Ranboo unknowingly attacked Tubbo and Tommy with skeleton hands from the ground.

“Is there anything else you can do?” Tommy bounces.

“I’m still pretty new to this whole thing,” Ranboo smiles. “So, I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Can you talk to ghosts?” Tommy asks curiously.

“Mmm, I don’t know…”

“What about letting ghosts possess your body,” Tommy mimics the movement of a zombie as he describes this. 

“That will be very freaky,” Ranboo snorts. “But, I don’t know.”

“Boo, okay. Let’s just do things my way then,” Tommy thumbs his chest, before dragging Ranboo along.

“What are we doing?” Ranboo asks as Tommy leads them towards the Aphrodite cabin.

“I like to rearrange their make up when I’m bored,” Tommy snickers, jiggling the door to find it locked. Go figure. He remembers there aren’t any Aphrodite kids that hang all year round at camp and thinks no Aphrodite kid will ever be sane enough to do that even if they had to. “Hold on, this is gonna take a while.”

“What are you…?” Ranboo watches Tommy work the lock.

“Just something I picked up in my spare time,” Tommy grins, holding two weirdly shaped pins in his hand. After a few minutes of tinkering with the lock, he manages to get it opened, and out swings the door.

“Maybe you’re a child of Hephastus,” Ranboo says. “Knowing how things work. You know.”

“I dunno,” Tommy shrugs. “I suck at blacksmithing, so that can’t be it.”

“Oh, or Hermes?” Ranboo asks.

“Well,” Tommy shifts uncomfortably. “I’d be bummed out if that was the case.”

“Why’s that?”

Tommy sifts through all the drawers, finding all the make up from one of them before moving them to another drawer, swapping things here and there, “Because then…that’d be dumb. Spend my whole life waiting in the Hermes’ cabin only to be a child of Hermes? Like, hello~? Dad? What’s the deal?!”

“Maybe he’s waiting for a special time to come,” Ranboo murmurs, taking one bottle of foundation and switching it with where the concealer is.

“Ugh, so many special times have gone by and still nothing,” Tommy sighs, plucking the photos off the vanity mirror to tuck them between two eyeshadow palettes. “Maybe he just doesn’t want me.”

“Don’t say that…” Ranboo quietly says, watching Tommy swap the brushes of two different lip gloss of similar but still very much different shades.

Tommy turns his head quick, blinking at him, “Ack, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to dump that on you. Won’t happen again.”

“No! It’s okay, it’s just, you know… I hate to see you so down like that,” Ranboo frets. “Even if your godly parent doesn’t want you… I want you!”

Tommy scrunches up his face, “Oh, man. I kinda don’t swing that way…”

“I mean!” Ranboo reddens to the core. “As a friend! As a friend!”

The blonde breaks into laughter, reaching over to Ranboo to grab the boy by his quivering shoulders, “I’m kiddin’, I’m kidding! I knew what you meant. And…I appreciate it, really.”

Ranboo smiles softly, hands wringing together, “You know, Tommy. I…know I’ve only been claimed for less than a day, but…a part of me wished I stayed unclaimed.”

Tommy stares at him, fixated in awe and confusion as Ranboo tries his best to avoid eye contact as much as possible, “Mate if you don’t explain yourself I might just have to sock you.”

“It’s just!” Ranboo quickly says. “It’s lonely. In the Hades cabin, and the table. And everyone looks at me a little weird, and-and-and I don’t want to be stuck as just the shadow guy or something!”

“Pfft,” Tommy snorts, letting go of Ranboo’s shoulders. “You make it sound like we aren’t even on the same camp!”

Ranboo flushes, embarrassed for seemingly overreacting in front of his friend.

“I get you though. I mean, even though the Hermes cabin is never empty, I get lonely too, so I sleep over at the Nemesis cabin. I get it.” Tommy nods. “But we’re still here, you know. ‘S not like you’ve got, what, object permanence. We’re gonna be your buddies even if we’re not in the same room.”

Ranboo runs his thumb over his knuckles, “Yeah…”

“And, who gives a shit?” Tommy punches Ranboo’s shoulder lightly. “You may be Hades’ kid, but you’re still Ranboo. You’re a nice guy, and even if you do some Underworld stuff, who cares? That’s your business. And, besides, just because you’re a Hades kid doesn’t mean you gotta do everything Hades does. Quackity plays music and Niki does a bit of gardening. ‘S how it works!”

“Yeah…” Ranboo nods in agreement. “Yeah!”

Tommy laughs, watching Ranboo get all pumped up.

“Okay, since you’re tall enough, help me take that poster down. I’m gonna wear the tape out so that it’s just sticky enough to stay on the wall until a gentle gust of wind comes along.”

“You’re actually evil.”

“Teehee.”

When they finish what they came here for, the two step out and Tommy locks up the door. But before they can make their full departure, Tommy pokes around the well decorated windows of the cabin and pucks a flower out, one for him and another for Ranboo.

“Souvenier,” Tommy tells Ranboo, grinning. “There’s so many alliums here, they’ll hardly notice.”

“Just like how they’ll hardly notice all the damage you’ve done?” Ranboo raises a brow. Tommy only giggles again.

Later, Ranboo would write in his journal that Tommy is truly a special guy indeed. A really special and strange guy. He’ll need to think of a third adjective that starts with the letter ‘s’ to make the line smoother though. And then he sticks the allium Tommy gave him right in between that page and closes the journal.

“Hey,” Ranboo greets, nearing the pegasi stables, but still keeping his distance so he isn’t in the splash zone.

“Hey,” Tubbo smiles at Ranboo, scrubbing down the area still. “Where’s Tommy?”

“You’re not gonna like this.” Ranboo says and he can already see Tubbo frowning. “But he went to see Wilbur and Quackity.”

“Fuck,” Tubbo groans, throwing his scrubber to the ground. “Ughh. Whatever.”

“You’re not gonna do anything?” Ranboo asks, taking a seat on the ground, getting comfortable in the grass.

“Tommy can do whatever he wants,” Tubbo kicks the scrubber, placing it on the top of his boot, before kicking it back into his hands. Ranboo claps in amazement, which makes Tubbo flush a little. 

“I sort of had the impression you guys were a little more clingy than…that,” Ranboo opens up his journal and flips to a fresh page.

“Well, at some point you learn to be apart once in while and still know you’re always together,” Tubbo answers, continuing where he left off.

“Must be nice.”

“Mm,” Tubbo hums.

“You know, one thing I can’t really wrap my head around,” Ranboo continues, pen scratching away. “What’s the timeline of everything? It feels like the two of you have known each other since forever, but at the same time, you can’t be that old, and you couldn’t have been that young.”

“But I was that young,” Tubbo answers softly. “Half-bloods don’t exactly have the best record of surviving into adulthood.”

“But there’s Wilbur, Niki and Quackity, and a few others,” Ranboo points.

“Yeah, exactly,” Tubbo turns to look at Ranboo. “But to answer your question, I’ve known Tommy for almost a year now? Maybe a bit more. Wilbur’s whole thing kinda started shortly after Tommy arrived at camp, but it ended just a few months ago. Summer, actually. This summer, the end of it.”

“Wow,” Ranboo says. 

“Yeah,” Tubbo snorts, amused by Ranboo’s curt response. “Wow indeed.”

Silence follows as Tubbo cleaned the stables and Ranboo continued on with his journal. When lunch time finally came, and Tubbo was just about done with the last spot of the stables, he chucked his scrubber into his bucket and walked over to Ranboo, who’s too focused on his journal to notice Tubbo coming over.

“Is that me?” Tubbo asks, fascinated as he bends down to take a better look.

Ranboo flushes, instinctively closing his journal with a loud snap, causing Tubbo to jolt back in surprise. Remorseful, Ranboo looks to see if Tubbo is okay, “Sorry!”

“Aw, but I thought it was cute,” Tubbo stands back, regaining is balance after having almost fallen over from his surprise. “I like your face too.”

“Tha-Than-Thank you,” Ranboo stutters out, clutching his journal closer and closer to his chest.

“Anyway I am famished,” Tubbo places his hands on his hips. “And I stink. I’m gonna wash up and you can head over to the dining pavilion first. Tommy might already be there.”

“But I don’t think you stink…” Ranboo says, but Tubbo was already too far away to hear him.

Once again, Ranboo found himself being approached by Wilbur, who looked all too eager about breaking the basic rule of the mess hall. But with the fact that nobody dares approach the son of the Underworld, nobody really spoke up against Wilbur plopping himself right down next to Ranboo.

With Tubbo still in the showers, and Tommy nowhere to be seen—he probably went to find Tubbo first—no one could really stop Wilbur from inserting himself into the Hades table. Well, except for Quackity, but he must’ve fought with Wilbur earlier because he isn’t even looking this way at all.

“Not gonna burn any offerings?” Ranboo smiles nervously, thinking that might buy him some time before his friends get here.

“That’s a dinner tradition,” Wilbur beams. “And I don’t do that anymore, to be honest.”

“Oh, well,” Ranboo squirms, poking at his food.

“So, Hades huh?” Wilbur rests an elbow on the table, cheek in his palm. “What’s that like?”

“Normal,” Ranboo answers curtly.

“Was that the first time you’ve performed necromancy?” Wilbur asks.

“I think so,” Ranboo eats slow.

“Interesting,” Wilbur brings his other elbow onto the table. “Never in my life did I think I would ever meet a child of the big three. You would’ve been real useful back then.”

Ranboo thinks about how Wilbur will eventually sway Ranboo into joining some cause he doesn’t actually want and continues to repeat what Tubbo said to him in his head.

I like your face too. Not that one!

Any longer and he’ll convince you to start a third rebellion with him. Yes, that’s it.

“Back then…?” Ranboo asks, remaining curious nevertheless.

“There was this prophecy almost a year ago,” Wilbur explains. “Goes something like, 

“Children of passion, join in arms

“Led by friend, loved by all

“Build what’s deserved, for the dismissed divine

“And a tongue of silver, will fill your minds,

“For the marble to steady, tighten the bond,

“Otherwise your symphony will be destined to fall.” 

Ranboo stares at Wilbur, slowly penning that down, “And that means…?”

“You’re a smart cookie, you’ll figure it out,” Wilbur reaches over and ruffles Ranboo’s head.

“Haha,” Ranboo readjusts his hair. “I can’t imagine why Tubbo has such a grudge against you. I mean, you’re a pretty alright guy.”

“Yeah?” Wilbur smiles. “Same to you too, Ranboo.”

And Ranboo genuinely smiles back.

Side story A: Wilbur and Niki, a tale in three parts.

“So, what are you in for?” a girl with hair that barely brushes her shoulders asks, legs swinging on her chair, still too short to touch the floor.

“Everyone’s been comin’ to me for scratches the playground. They think it’s not safe or whatever,” a boy with glasses almost too big for his face replies. “They should see the real nurse. As if he doesn’t suck!”

She snorts, extending a hand to him, “I set the garden on fire.”

“Wow,” brown curls bouncing when he hops onto his seat, shaking her hand right after. “I’m Wilbur, by the way.”

“Niki.”

“Niki, do you want to be my first audience for this new song I’ve been writing?” Wilbur grins, pulling out a harmonica from his pocket. 

“Sure.” Niki answers.

“It’s called, ‘This school is all bollocks.’”

And she laughs again.

It’s really awkward, sitting beside a man that’s a goat from the waist down in a bus taking them to the forest, but Niki thinks it’s not the strangest thing she’ll see yet in her life. Wilbur is clutching her hand tighter than he ever has, which tells her he must be really nervous. 

He had his doubts, about this half-goat thing, however with how the two were almost trampled by what they thought was a small stray cat but was actually a large and incredibly dangerous cat, Niki thought they could take their chances.

Every time the bus hit a bump, Wilbur’s grip would increase tenfold, and Niki would always sit through it and let him squeeze. When they reach the camp, finally safe, finally proving the half-goat truthful, Niki thought a handprint would linger on her hand for days, but she found it void of any evidence that Wilbur held it at all.

Don’t leave, the handprint would’ve said if it had stayed. But Niki figured its disappearance simply meant that Wilbur would be okay.

“But you aren’t an architect,” Niki wrinkles her nose, amused by Wilbur’s pitch on what the prophecy could’ve meant. “You’ve never built a thing in your life that isn’t written or song.”

“But that’s just the thing, the creation is referred to as a symphony,” Wilbur tells her, buzzing with excitement. “This is our chance to be recognzied, to be heard. To be listened to, and our blind faith will finally be paid back!”

“I don’t know,” Niki folds her arms, returning to her book. “I don’t like how it ends.”

“Niki I want you to be there with me when this all happens.”

She looks up again, “This isn’t really a quest, is it?”

“Pretty sure it is. It’s how it usually goes, no?” Wilbur scrunches up his face on one side. “It didn’t foretell a death, so I’m sure we’ll be safe.”

“There’s other things that’s just as bad as dying,” Niki tells him.

“Okay, but,” Wilbur takes her hand away from the book she is holding. “Please?”

And because Niki has practically known Wilbur all her life and his, she finds it difficult to say ‘no’. 

“Okay,” she complies, smiling soft, closing her fingers over his. “I’ll help you with this…whatever.”

“You’re my dearest friend, Niki,” Wilbur shakes with glee, swinging her hand about. “Truly, truly.”

She would believe him till the very end.

Side story B: Wilbur and Quackity, a tale in two parts.

The thing is, Quackity often wishes Wilbur is as stupid as he calls him. But there’s a reason Wilbur is still here, in this camp, despite everything. He personally isn’t a big fan of what Wilbur did, as a son of a divine architect himself, but at the same time, it’s hard not to admire the tenacity on the guy.

Sometimes, and only sometimes, Quackity would entertain the man with a game of chess—to also entertain himself.

When they were younger, the battles they had were in song. It’s not everyday that a non-Apollo kid finds himself capable to go up against Wilbur, so occasionally Wilbur or Quackity would challenge each other with song battles at campfires, and to judge the winner, the audience would cheer, and whoever raised the highest flames for the night would win.

They don’t do that anymore, of course.

So it really surprised Quackity, when Wilbur invited him to a game of chess over an iris message for the first time, because Quackity hadn’t known then that Wilbur would be just as much of a competent opponent as he was in song.

Quackity rarely ever loses, even in his own cabin, and so found himself surprised when he became neck and neck with Wilbur at the end of the game. Because Quackity had doubted Wilbur from the start, Wilbur won.

The man had, of course, laughed in Quackity’s face. So from that day on, Quackity never doubted Wilbur’s skill in chess ever again. Or any skill Wilbur challenges him with, for that matter.

It’s late autumn and Quackity has turned his ‘sometimes’ into ‘most times’ over the course of this week alone, almost heading in everyday when Niki isn’t around, just to play several games of chess with Wilbur.

“Do you grow bored of me?” Wilbur asks, making a move.

“Yes,” Quackity deadpans, making his move.

Wilbur frowns, making his next move, “You lie.”

“Figure that out,” Quackity rolls his shoulder, moving his next piece.

“You still come by everyday,” Wilbur says, shifting his piece. “A bored person wouldn’t do that, much less someone that claims to hate my presence. Do you actually hate me, Quackity~?”

“Ugh,” Quackity wrinkles his nose, pausing the game in disgust. “Stop that.”

“You’re absolutely no fun at all,” Wilbur’s tone flattens along with his lips. “At least react better.”

“I wouldn’t want to give you that satisfaction,” Quackity bites.

“And yet you still come crawling in here,” Wilbur sneers. “Because you’re just like me and you know it. They didn’t need to lock you in a cage because they know you won’t fly, you can’t. They put me in here because they know I bite, we both do. Difference is, they let you out there because you’ve plucked your own feathers bare before they can chain you down to the ground, but that doesn’t mean you still aren’t just as locked up as I am—”

Quackity flings the bored, hitting Wilbur square in the nose. It’s a shame he’s Apollo’s boy, because Quackity would’ve loved to see its crooked shape for the next few weeks. “I’m not coming back in here anymore.”

“You say that now, but you’ll always come back,” Wilbur smirks, head tilting up, a hand hovering over his bleeding nose. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“I won’t,” Quackity flatly tells him and then he’s gone through the door.

It’s the first week of winter when Quackity has the displeasure of seeing Wilbur again. Less because of Quackity and more because of Wilbur. Weeks prior, when they still had their regular chess matches, whenever sunday came along, Wilbur would first go to Quackity.

It became a routine. Quackity would be at the arts and crafts centre unwinding however he chooses, and Wilbur would come strolling in, not exactly touching anything but not exactly leaving anything alone. Then they’d bicker, mostly about Quackity saying something along the lines of ‘leave me alone’ and Wilbur going ‘you don’t actually want me to’ ‘I do’ ‘make me then’ and so on and so forth.

The difference in today, however, is that Wilbur did not come strolling in as he usually would at the usual timing. In fact, the man had been late, which made Quackity feel oddly anxious and unsure if he should feel relieved or worried.

But Wilbur eventually showed up anyway, babbling on and on about the new camper, Ranboo, and how fascinating it all is. Though, the surprising thing is, Wilbur has been keeping his distance the entire time. He would have hovered a finger over Quackity’s current project by now, but not a single breath from Wilbur was exhaled anywhere near the clay.

Which is great, and fantastic, and wonderful and also unsettling. Things aren’t falling into routine, or more rather, it is falling into routine because Wilbur is acting like they hadn’t just fought five days ago, but it’s different, hair-raising-ly so.

Then it dawns upon Quackity, by his tenth head raise towards Wilbur’s direction, that Wilbur’s doing this on purpose. Wilbur knows he’s making Quackity unnerved by making things slightly different than usual, and he’s waiting for Quackity to say something about it.

And saying something would most likely lead to a scenario where Quackity would have to admit that he would rather Wilbur and him go back to how things were, ergo admitting defeat. That, yes, Quackity does eventually come crawling back.

So, Quackity stands, disrupting the routine as well, before turning to Wilbur firmly, clay in hand, and declaring, “I’m going to wash my hands.”

“You’re not even done yet,” Wilbur eyes the half finished piece.

“I’m not feeling it,” Quackity says, tossing the thing into the recycled materials section for clay.

“But it’s a sunday,” Wilbur tells him.

“Yes.”

“You always feel it on a sunday,” Wilbur continues.

“Well, not this one,” Quackity deadpans. “Bye.”

It takes about five steps for Wilbur to catch on, and just five steps too little for Quackity to be considered too far away to hear Wilbur when he goes, “Ohhh, I see why. You noticed, didn’t you?”

“What?” Quackity turns, unimpressed.

“Missed me that much, Quackity?” Wilbur purrs, crossing his legs and swinging the one above the other gently. “I never knew you to be a runner, though.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Quackity maintains his pocker face.

“You’re not being as slick as you think, Quackity,” Wilbur wags a finger at him. “I can read you.”

“Aren’t you being a little too obsessed with me right now?” he wrinkles his face up, to which Wilbur would carefully observe for a minute and five seconds and then…

Blank. It’s not a usual sight to see Wilbur at a loss, and Quackity wonders if he’s gotten better at acting overtime or if his real exhaustion helped put a little truth to his act. Nevertheless, he feels his chest well up with a sense of pride. Wilbur, at a loss. What a sight.

“I’m going to wash my hands now.” Quackity tells him, turning away once more, before suddenly feeling five full fingers wrap around his wrist. Unsurprised, Quackity turns his head again to meet Wilbur’s widened eyes, which almost gives Quackity a scare. “What are you doi—”

“Quackity, do you grow bored of me?” Wilbur frets, really frets, and it almost tugs at what’s left of Quackity’s heart.

Fortunately, Quackity maintains his composure, “Didn’t our last chess match answer that?”

“Gods, Quackity,” Wilbur strains, tightening his grip, and Quackity finds himself wincing. “You are just so…infuriating, sometimes.”

“Takes one to know one,” Quackity scoffs, attempting to shake his hand off, but the man does not budge. “I wish you’d just stop bothering me and leave me alone.”

“But I would, you know I would. I will,” Wilbur laughs, taking Quackity’s other hand as though pulling him into a waltz. “And I did, you know I did. Kept my distance earlier, I knew you could tell. You think you won there, but you didn’t. It’s the way you react. Every. Single. Time. It’s what really gets me.”

“The hell do you think you’re—” Quackity grits as Wilbur gives them a spin. “I didn’t notice anything!”

“You are such a liar,” Wilbur cackles. “I would tell you to at least pretend you hate me, but you actually do. You pretending you don’t… You drive me insane.”

Quackity stamps his heel down Wilbur’s toes, which causes the man to buckle, leading Quackity to dip him in their dance, “If you hate me so much, why don’t you just leave?”

“And if you hate me so much,” Wilbur grinds his teeth through the pain, back aching due to the way their height differed, and someone so short was never meant to pretend he was of enough height to dip someone so tall. “Why don’t you really beg me to go?”

Quackity, unable to answer, Wilbur’s breath brushing against his nose, decides his best option now is to just drop it.

So he drops Wilbur on the ground.

“Ow.”

“I’m washing my hands,” Quackity huffs, then rubs his nose with his shoulder. “And my face.”

And then he goes.