Chapter Text
Ranboo did not have any issues, obviously.
They were perfect in every sense; good looking, intelligent, level-headed, smart, they knew multiple languages, and spoke them perfectly, they had so many friends, they were “the beloved,” of Void’s sake.
Ranboo was the epitome of perfection and some stupid Overworld half breeds weren’t going to taint their image of themself.
Ranboo “The Beloved” had no imperfections and definitely zero issues.
“Who the fuck took my red sweater?!”
Tommy was annoying, the opposite of perfection.
Tommy had a shrill voice, grating yell, ugly personality, and was far from elegant and respectable.
Ranboo watched as the blonde avian raved and screamed at the group of hybrids inside the Pub(e). He had barged in not even a minute ago, golden wings puffed up and arms swinging wildly as he yelled about a stupid sweater.
Phil, the only other being in the surrounding thousand blocks that had some sort of decency, was the only one attempting to diffuse the issue that Tommy was.
“Toms, are you sure you didn’t just misplace your sweater? Have you checked your room upstairs? Or the nest?”
“Crowfather—yes, yes I have! And I know for a fucking fact that someone took my fucking sweater—”
Ranboo tsked, turning away from the conversation. Why the avian had to swear so much was beyond them. And besides, couldn’t he just replace the piece of clothing? Clothes were replaceable, far from something of true value.
Overworld beings confused them.
“Tommy I can help you look, alright? But you need to calm down first, here, why don’t we go take a quick flight then we can look again. Sound alright mate?”
Ranboo wasn’t looking to see the younger avian's response, but the opening and closing of the Pub(e)’s door was answer enough. Idle chatter started up again among the few Overworld hybrids around but once again Ranboo didn’t associate themselves with such idle conversation.
“Kid loves that sweater, I feel kind of bad,” Sneeg, or the small one, as Ranboo called him, voiced out from where he was sitting on the purple one’s shoulder (Ranboo knew that his name started with an S but they couldn't be bothered to actually remember).
“Is that the one Wil made him?”
“Yup, that’s the one,” The purple one hummed in understanding, as if there was something to understand.
Ranboo watched as the two continued talking but their disapproval was left buzzing under their skin.
Was Tommy not old enough to contain his emotions over something silly? Ranboo scoffed to themselves at the thought. He’s the same age as me, 13 overworld “years,” but acts like a little child. Maybe the Overworld just matured their kids slower?
Ranboo didn’t particularly care either way but sometimes the differences between the End and the Overworld made their head spin unpleasantly.
Scott’s and Sneeg’s conversation continued on, moving away from Tommy’s temper tantrum and onto an “adult” conversation.
Not that Ranboo couldn’t follow an adult conversation, they were raised to for Void’s sake, but it was boring.
With a loud sigh, Ranboo hopped up from their seat in the corner, drawing the attention of a few of the Pub(e) dwellers. They paid them all no mind as they quietly brushed off the creases of their dress shirt, an easy smile grew on their face.
“I’ll be leaving now,” Ranboo announced to the Overworld hybrids, basking in the way everyone’s attention was drawn onto them.
Their exit was smooth and elegant, like usual. Good thing the weather was also good because it would’ve been slightly embarrassing to make an exit from the Pub(e) only to be forced back side by something like rain or snow. It hadn’t happened yet in their two weeks or so of stay, but it could happen and Ranboo would need to make a plan for if that did happen.
Regardless, Ranboo made the quick descent from the Pub(e) to the ground. The easy smile slipped away from their face once their feet touched Earth and for a moment they stood there taking in the world around them.
They… weren’t quite sure why they left the Pub(e), now that they thought of it. Sure, it was boring to sit around hybrids who didn’t acknowledge them, but being alone in the Overworld was much worse than being alone in the End.
In the End, Ranboo valued their alone time because it didn’t happen often. But here? Their time alone was stifling, somehow it physically hurt them. But they’d never bring that up to any of the dumb hybrids here, obviously.
They weren’t Ranboo’s allies, they didn't deserve to know about their personal life!
They don’t deserve to be my allies anyways, Ranboo thought as they straightened their crown. They couldn’t handle being allies with someone so out of their… their… value level!
With a deep breath, Ranboo started the short walk to their “humbleaboud” which was really just the cave Ranboo had been staying in since their arrival to the hybrid commune.
It was a little damp, didn’t really keep out the rain all that well and smelled a little funny.
They could appreciate how cold it was, though. It was cold enough to make them think they were in the End if they woke up slow enough from a vivid dream (nightmare, really).
Ranboo didn’t love it, didn’t hate it. It served its purpose well enough.
(Even if it was lonely.)
Face planting into the soft bed tucked away around a bend in the cave was a secret indulgence Ranboo had been taking every chance to abuse whenever they were in their cave house. While the bed wasn’t nearly as soft as their one in the End, it was still something.
The cave itself wasn’t very decorated (not like there was much Ranboo owned in the Overworld, unfortunately).
They did have a small chest full of items from the End that they were able to grab before they left. There was a second of the shirt they were already wearing, a black ruffled shirt that oozed elegance, a small pouch of coins and another small pouch with a small fragment of an end crystal.
It really was a small chest.
But that was fine because even if Ranboo didn't have any decorations or personal items that reminded them of their true home, they still had the chest hidden underneath their bed.
Their fists curled into the bed sheets just thinking about the thing. There was nothing wrong with Ranboo. Ranboo was perfect and actually pretty above normal. They did not feel shame curl into their gut as they slid off the bed and blindly reached for the stupid dumb chest. Shame was reserved for those that were less than perfect; less than royalty.
The chest itself was ugly. It had no design and the wood it was made from was chipped. It was unsuspecting, no one would want to touch it.
Even when Ranboo opened the stupid thing and a stupid red sweater stared back at the Ender, they refused to believe that it made Ranboo any less “normal.” Whatever that even “normal” was in the Overworld.
They couldn’t control the way their hands reached into the chest and pulled the red sweater out. It was soft and it was just so easy to take.
Hugging the article to their chest, Ranboo refused to acknowledge the heat building in their eyes. Ender can’t cry, it’s simply a part of their genetics.
And yet, here Ranboo was, fighting something they shouldn’t have to.
The red sweater cruelly brought warmth to their heart.
Another day passed and Tommy’s red sweater was declared officially stolen. The special thing about the commune’s case of the missing sweater was that with the declaration, more and more of the community brought up missing items.
Hair brushes, hats, jewelry, tools— items all across the spectrum. Everyone was a little concerned about the new case of a thief that was hiding in their midsts, but Phil had brought everyone together for a little commune meeting once the little panic started to cross a little line of extreme.
The meeting was held in the Pub(e), as all meetings were, and everyone was circled around the Crowfather.
“Okay, everyone let’s settle,” Phil’s voice cut over the talking group. It wasn’t like there were many hybrids around but he was respected. Respected people get listened to. “I know everyone is getting a little worried but I think we’re all exaggerating it— just a little. I think what’s happened here is that you’ve only now realized you’ve lost your items because Tommy was loud about losing his stuff yesterday. None of you seemed too concerned before that, so I do think most of us have just misplaced items.”
“Maybe you’ve misplaced your shit, Old Man, but we’re young and not so forgetful,” Tommy’s giggles had the rest of the group snickering, leaving Phil to his scowling and Ranboo to just sitting there. (They spoke common perfectly, 100% fluently, but sometimes jokes were harder to comprehend.)
“Alright alright, I’m old ha— funny mate, but anyways,” Tommy squeaked out a protest at being called mate when he was literally Phil’s son but the older continued. “Let’s say there is someone going through the community stealing. There might be a hybrid looking for supplies but they’re too nervous to speak to us. Or, we all know how hybrid instincts can be, some of us— now I'm not accusing anybody here, I am just saying— that some of us have hoarding instincts that can be hard to control. While that isn’t an excuse to steal, it’s an explanation and that’s perfectly fine. No one here should feel ashamed of their instincts, okay?”
The strange tension over the Pub(e) lifted, Phil’s words were always reassuring, even if some still held mild doubt. If there was a new hybrid amongst them, hiding away but stealing their supplies, they were understanding. They had all been there, alone and fighting in a world that didn’t accept them and sometimes it was easier to stay hidden among those like you than to put yourself in danger by putting yourself out there. The whole instincts thing was a little funnier—
“So this is all Fundy’s fault then?”
“What the fuck?!”
The meeting ended in fighting, nothing serious other than a little scuffle between Wilbur and Fundy. But ultimately, the worries of the community were drained as quickly as it rose.
Ranboo, however, felt strangely worse after the meeting. Once they were all left on their own and everyone went off to talk to one another, Ranboo had expected someone to come speak to them.
They were sitting, posture clearly open to conversation and yet no one looked their way. Not like Ranboo really wanted anyone to talk to them but it would’ve been nice if maybe Tommy or Tubbo or Beau said “hello” in their silly little Overworld greeting ways.
Time passed slowly as Ranboo watched the community slowly disperse until there were only a few hybrids left in the Pub(e). Everyone was tired after such a day and had gone off to their homes, apparently.
(Ranboo didn’t want to go back to his cave and face himself after such a meeting.)
“Hey, Ranboo?” Phil’s voice startled them out of their… whatever that was.
“Yes, Philza?”
A look fell over the older’s face, though it was hard to say what it meant. Worry? Nervousness? Anger? Exhaustion? Common had too many words for too many emotions, and yes, Ranboo knew his emotions, they were just hard to place on others… sometimes…
“I— hmm, I'm just trying to figure out how I want to say this,” Phil admitted. Something akin to worry clenched at their throat, one emotion that was actually easy to pinpoint in themself. “I guess I’m just wondering how you’re settling down mate? I know it’s been a lot, changing Dimensions so quickly is never easy and you haven’t been talking much with the others so I just wanted to check in.”
Ranboo watched Phil’s wings twitch behind his back, something felt a bit off.
“Well, my stay has yet to be pleasant, but it has not been the worst experience I’ve lived through. As for not speaking with… the others… I simply do not need to interact with such common hybrids all the time. Alongside, those here who are my age act vastly too inappropriate for my liking and even those who are older act like children. The Overworld is strange in its ways.”
The older’s face strained to stay level, that much was evident. Have I said something wrong? Ranboo mused, I have simply answered his question. If that’s not to his liking then it’s not… not to blame me.
“I suppose that’s fair mate.”
It felt as though a blanket of something fell over the Pub(e) dwellers but it was as though Ranboo was the only one acknowledging it.
Phil cleared his throat uncomfortable and suddenly everyone’s eyes were on the two.
“Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. It’s just… I see that you seem to get annoyed at Tommy anad Tubbo the most and I understand, they’re quite loud but could you try and be nicer? You don’t need to coddle them, they just look for approval from everyone older than them and I just…” he gently rubbed his forehead, a more serious look adorned his face before he continued. “As both a parent and the head of this commune, I just ask you to try to at least be a bit nicer, mate. I’m not mad at you, I don’t know what you’ve been through or how you grew up but it just makes me a little worried to see everyone not getting along.”
Ranboo stared up at the man standing in front of him, confusion swimming under their skin.
“I…” they stood up, suddenly enough to have Phil take a step back and the chair they were sitting on to nearly fall over. “I do not understand your worries as a parent or as a leader, Philza. I would assume that a parent would not want their children to be annoying as it does not make their future bright and as a leader I would hope you want your people to be intelligent but I have assumed wrong.”
From across the room, Wilbur and Scott stood up at the commotion, and finally an emotion that was easy to name was stretched across their faces.
“Hey— you need to watch your language—”
“I am telling the truth,” Ranboo, as much as they wanted to scream and whine like a child was actually able to compose themselves like any competent being and kept their voice level. “But also, Philza Minecraft, your children act like tod- tod- however little children are called. They do not act 13 ‘years’ of age; I have not acted as they have since I was half my height now. I do not say this in mockery of your parenting as I do not understand how Overworld hybrids raise their children but their behaviour irks me some.”
There a few times during Ranboo’s short stay in the Overworld, that they wished they were not as tall as they were. They were short compared to the other’s at home but in the Overworld, even at 13 “years,” they towered over even the tallest in the commune. At first it made them giddy, they were better than these hybrids but then they noticed that some of the hybrids seemed… nervous around someone of their height. They didn’t think they looked scary, per say, intimidating maybe but scary?
Royalty should never be scary. Power does come from fear but constant fear leads to rebellion, distrust (not that Ranboo was royalty anymore, but that’s all they knew…)
“Wait, Ranboo, how—” Scott pulled Wilbur back from his reach for the Ender and it seemed that Wilbur’s angry stuttering brought Phil out of his own head, too, and suddenly Phil was looking up at Ranboo with a calm face once again. “How old are you? You’re like— 17 or 18 yes?”
Oh, Ranboo’s anger fizzled and evaporated and a feeling of… nothing stretched over them.
“No, I am not 17 or 18 Overworld years, starborn. Why would you assume such a thing? I would hope I do not look so old. I shall rightfully assume every dumb hybrid here thought me to be so old, then? Well, I am not. I am 13 over world ‘years.’”
“Mate—”
“I hope I’ve successfully answered your questions, Philza, but I must be going now as I can see that if I stay much longer your… son… might lose his composure. That was a bad talk, let us not repeat it.”
Teleporting was second nature for the Ender and Ranboo had never been more grateful as soon as they finished speaking they were on the bare Earth underneath the Pub(e). Faintly, they could hear some sort of yelling but they ignored it. A feeling, tingly and prickly like the sweet berry bushes they had once walked through, pricked at their mind.
Usually Ranboo tried to fight it, but they were just… tired.
The call to fill that ugly void in their heart (the only thing Ranboo would think to call ugly about themself), was irresistible.
Sometimes they felt like they were sleepwalking when such ideas caressed their brain, their heart, their entire being. But now, they had never felt more awake.
Phil felt a little… distraught… to say the least.
The whole Ranboo situation had ballooned well further than he had expected. Truly, he just wanted to get the guy to be nicer to the kids— not that Phil necessarily blamed him for being blunt or rude all the time, but his anger and annoyance towards the two much younger boys just felt more targeted. He was just hoping Ranboo would lay off, he didn’t expect… whatever happened the few days before to have happened.
Ranboo was decidedly not as old as everyone had thought he was. Phil had some suspicion he wasn't but it’s not like any of the commune had much experience with Enderman. They tried their best to be accommodating but it felt like with every attempt Ranboo shot down with anger or annoyance or just… by saying he hated everything.
The kid was blunt but Phil assumed that learning a second language as fast as Ranboo probably had would create some… barriers. There was a chance he had been taught common in the End but that was unlikely as most Enderman who lived in the End were not much different from the simple Enderman of the Overworld or Nether.
(The fact that Ranboo was clearly a hybrid and not full blood Enderman was ignored as Ranboo spoke of everyone else as “lesser” and that whole… thing was labelled as a touchy subject and every moved on.)
Now, however, Ranboo wasn’t the biggest issue on the commune’s hand, it was Wilbur.
Not that Wilbur was dangerous or a danger to anyone, but the phantom’s anger through verbal attack could be brutal. A poet at heart, his son, and while Phil was always proud of how Wilbur could make anything he said beautiful and make you listen, he had to admit it just made arguing with his son insufferable.
Everyone in the commune had gotten used to Wilbur’s anger; well, everyone had gotten used to everyone else and how they expressed themselves. That’s what made Ranboo such an enigma; he never made an attempt to connect with anyone… not once. For the most part, everyone had silently agreed to leave the Enderman alone once they realized he was a bit prickly, adjustment periods were different for everyone and the commune just expected Ranboo would come around eventually.
Ranboo had not come around… at all. But now knowing that Ranboo was not an adult, far from an adult, had made a few things a bit clearer to Phil.
Not that Phil would describe himself as a children expert, but he thought he could deal with kids pretty well. He was practically a magnet for teen and children hybrids, for some reason. Ranboo’s brooding was not uncommon for scared children and with the newfound fact that Ranboo was but a child, Phil realized that Ranboo reminded him a lot of Techno, at least in some ways.
At first, when Phil met Technoblade, a young rabbit hybrid who seemed too good at fighting to be self taught and too mature for someone barely in double digit years, Tech had pushed him away. Literally and figuratively. Phil got hit… a lot… by Techno’s little fists and oddly strong kicks but Phil knew it was just because the young rabbit hybrid was scared. It took time and patience and fatherly love for Techno to come around, maybe that’s what Ranboo needed?
But… even Techno had made some effort to reciprocate the trust Phil was trying to make.
Maybe I am getting old, Phil thought idly as he let his head rest against the bar counter in the Pub(e). The past few days brought more tension to the community than ever before; first with the potential mystery thief and then with Ranboo added with Wilbur’s dislike of the kid. As much as he hated the idea, Phil realized he would have to have another meeting with the commune but without Ranboo and Wilbur.
In theory, it sounded easy enough, but there was a lot that could go wrong with having a meeting with everyone but two. Clearly miscommunication was already an issue within their commune and Phil didn’t know if he wanted to risk anything.
God I feel old…