Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Technoblade stands still in falling snow. Ranboo faces him just across the meadow, just as motionless. They are both wound like springs.

Snowflakes swirl beneath their shifting feet, crystalline as it dances in the grey light filtered through dark clouds. The sun peeks through the grey clusters, filtering through the trees onto stoic faces as they position themselves in defensive stances- Techno’s low to the ground and spread wide, while Ranboo’s has their feet planted hard in the melting snow, one leg bent and arms dangling by his sides.

If not for their vibrant purple eyes, casting a violet light over their cheekbones, and the building static in the air that emanates from their chest, Ranboo wouldn’t appear to be much of a threat at all.

Phil stands nervously behind Techno, wings flared in distress. He doesn’t dare move and disturb the teeming silence. There is a long scratch down his face, just to the left of his eye- a little closer and he’d be bleeding from the eye. Ruby droplets dot the snow, dripping from Ranboo’s ashen claws.

There is a moment of terrible, petrifying eye contact between the brute and the enderman. Techno looks into purple void, Ranboo staring directly back without hesitation.

Then the static rises to a crescendo, the moment is broken, and Ranboo makes the first move.

They move quickly as a cobra, in front of Techno before he can blink with their hand swiping at his head. Techno bends like water around the slash, kicking one foot out to hit the enderman in the stomach- but his foot is met with empty air. Ranboo has moved just out of range, unfortunately is still close enough to attack with their long arms. The static builds and crumbles in the air around them, falling with the snow.

Claws nick Techno’s shirt, leaving a clean tear in the white fabric. He just barely avoids it touching his skin, shifting his weight back to lean away from the attack. Ranboo rushes him with another swipe, trying to overbalance him- but Techno uses their momentum to grab their wrist and tug them farther forwards than they were prepared to go. He swipes their feet out from under them, and the top-heavy enderman tumbles into the snow.

They shriek, static and glitching, withering at the edges of the sound, tearing at Techno’s sensitive ears. He winces and flattens them against his skull, muffling the noise. Their skin begins to steam gently, billowing in the wind and mixing with the flurries that are building up around them.

 In a burst of purple sparks, the hybrid vanishes, reappearing a few feet behind Techno, who doesn’t hear the crunch of snow through his own deafening mechanisms.

Ranboo swipes at his back, tearing through the thick fabric and skin, leaving scarlet streaks in their wake. Techno bellows in rage and pain, blood and Chat now roaring in his ears, and instinctively summons his axe. He swings immediately at Ranboo’s arm, the sharpened netherite edge slashing neatly and nearly to the bone, right below their elbow. The enderman screeches again, taking Techno’s swing as an opportunity to get in another slash at his ribs. 

The piglin spins the axe mid swing, glancing Ranboo’s claws off the blade. The violent glow of their eyes reflects off the scuffed surface, swathing them both in shades of indigo and lavender.

 Ranboo overbalances and crashes into Techno’s axe, giving themselves a long slice across their upper arm. They kick at Techno’s stomach in rage, nimbly avoiding the blade. Techno is pushed back and nearly sent toppling into the building white.

Phil stays back, watching the battle anxiously. His withered wings cover him from the worst of the growing storm, though they twitch with every blow and swipe, itching to protect or intervene- but Ranboo will turn back to themself soon, and he will simply get everyone more hurt if he steps in now. He has faith in Techno’s fighting abilities.

The two keep up the fighting for an immeasurable amount of time, exchanging axe swings and claw swipes like they’ve been planning every move for decades. In the twinkling snowfall, they could very well be dancers instead of warriors, putting on a play in a sparkling theatre for Techno’s invisible audience. As Ranboo teleports again and again, becoming quicker and going in less expected places, some of the violet sparks stay and join the twirling mass of snow and blood. They look like diamonds, shimmering gently in the light of Ranboo’s glowing eyes.

For a moment, Phil can almost pretend it’s another training session, with Techno going very obviously easy on Ranboo as the piglin hybrid’s Voices build, Phil collects a murder of his crows, and Ranboo’s ever present ender particles swirl around them in the heat of the moment. He can almost imagine that neither of them are bleeding, that the axe is brown instead of grey and red, that he is in his basement instead of in a growing snowstorm.

He can almost pretend they’re safe.

The illusion shatters as Ranboo blinks mid swipe and their eyes flicker- from violet to violent , bright to brighter. They let out another enderman scream of rage and agony and suddenly yanks Techno’s axe directly out of his grip. Standing to their full height and kicking Techno to the ground, they raises the axe above their head-

And teleports to their front door. 

They open it and go inside, closing it carefully behind them.

The axe is left midair where Ranboo’s hands held it, and it falls to the ground with a soft crunch of snow.

There is silence again.

Techno pants, adrenaline coursing through his veins, then flops all the way to the ground, his pink hair splayed against the white. Phil hurries over and kneels next to him, checking the full expanse of the damage.

He has several scratch marks on his back, torso, arms, and a single gash bleeding steadily on his forehead. His eyes are open, but they aren’t focused- the Voices must be in chaos right now. His breathing is heavy.

Phil takes out a health potion and helps Techno into a sitting position, putting it to his mouth for him to sip. The hybrid drinks with no comment. Once the potion is in his system, the scratches begin to stitch themselves together, emitting a faint ruby glow in the dimming light- and isn’t that something, the sun is beginning to sink below the horizon.

Dragging Techno to his feet, Philza acts as a crutch on their way back to the house.

The snow only builds as night falls.

Chapter Text

Ranboo wakes up with a scream on their lips and the smell of blood in their nostrils.

They’re in their house, sitting on their bed empty handed and without their suit coat. Their arm is throbbing horribly, and there is a dark stain in his white shirt where a gash protrudes from their sleeve.

There’s blood seeping into their sheets.

“Oh,” They swallow, lifting their hands into view to find the tips caked with drying blood. “Oh no, not again.”

“ Of course, again. ”

Ranboo forces themself to swallow the scream that almost leaves their lips, tensing and standing from the bed. “No,” They say, they plead, they beg . “ No .”

“ Yes, Ranboo .”

“I got rid of you.” They whimper.

The voice laughs. If they listen intently, they can hear where it circles them, looping around their living room like a predator, a vulture. Their ears twitch with the effort.

It is Dream’s laugh. Not the frantic wheeze he once heard when the man had passed with Sapnap at his side, not the light cackle when he teased his friends. This is something dark, something sinister, something that slithers into their head through their ears, leaving something slimy in its wake like a malevolent slug.

“You can’t get rid of me .” He says sweetly. “I’ve always been here. ”

“ No no no -” They claw at their ears, pressing them against their skull in an effort to silence the words. Dream simply cackles louder.

“ Your Enderwalk is getting worse, isn’t it? ” It says with fake sympathy. “And by the looks of it, more dangerous. ”

Trembling, they shake their head and try not to feel the blood on their fingertips.  “No, no- I’ve killed animals before while Enderwalking, it was- it was probably a bear, or-”

“But what if it wasn’t?

“I’m in the middle of nowhere!” They cry in exasperation.  “Who could I possibly-”

There. On their pants.

A black feather, glistening and sticking to the fabric with thick, wet blood.

They fall to their knees, landing uncomfortably on the wooden floor. “Phil,” They say weakly, voice empty. “I-”

“Phil only has one life, right?” The voice ponders. “Wonder if Technoblade can forgive you for almost taking that away.”

Ranboo grips their arms. “I wouldn’t.”

“But you obviously did,” It reasons, “I mean, look at how much blood is on you- not all of it is yours. He obviously put up a fight, but he’s an old man, and you can get rather… violent when you’re Enderwalking.”

“I wouldn't ,” They insist, ears twitching and tears building in their eyes, burning at the lids. “I would never - Phil could kill me easily, I couldn’t- I wouldn’t -”

“ Do you really know that?”

There is a crushing, hollow silence as the tears finally slide down Ranboo’s face, leaving acidic burn marks on their skin because they can’t say yes . They don’t know enough about how the Enderwalk works- their Enderwalking self could potentially do anything to Phil, things they themself would never do.

“It’s not your fault, of course,” The voice continues, like their world hasn’t just shattered inside of them. “You could have distanced yourself before this happened; but of course Techno will understand that you thought your relationship with them was more important than their safety.”

They start to choke on tears. “No! That’s not- I didn’t- I didn’t mean-”

“Although, he is awfully protective of Phil. ” It muses. “He might not take it that well… ”

“ Stop it !” They clamp their hands down on their ears once more, scratching at their scalp in panic. “ Leave me alone -”

It scoffs a laugh. “You are alone, Ranboo! You’ve chased away everyone who trusted you- Phil and Techno hate you, Tommy and Tubbo are far away, and I’m not even here! ”

They seize up, scrambling to their feet. “Don’t- don’t say it-”

“ I’m not even real , Ranboo. ”

A static scream rips from their chest, and they swipe in the direction the voice comes from, and before they can even process what they’re doing, they break the window and dive out into the building storm.

They run.

...

It burns.

…

Everything burns.

...

Static swirls in their head, chest, all around them, building up as fast as the falling snow. They can’t think through the panic, through the pain- humans were so lucky they got adrenaline rushes when they panicked. At least they wouldn’t be able to feel the burns creep gradually across their body, each snowflake sizzling as it hits their skin.

Their thoughts are swirling around in their head, buzzing like flies and just as hard to pin down. They don’t know where they’re going, or why they’re running, or where they are, all they know is the urge to leave wherever they are, and the numbness crawling under their nerves and into their bones. 

Suddenly, very suddenly, they realize how tired they are.

But they cannot go to sleep here, so they let their legs carry them far away, 

somewhere safe, 

somewhere familiar. 

Somewhere they can-

They trip as the snow turns to rain, landing against the harsh wooden planks of the prime path. Rain pelts their skin in freezing droplets, and they let out a singular scream before beginning to seize up against the agony branding them with colored welts. Steam begins to rise from their skin, and it’s all they can do to curl up and cover themselves as best they can with their soaking clothes.

And cry.

And start to black out.

“ This could have been avoided, Ranboo ,” The voice croons in their ear, and they can almost feel fingers brushing against their face. It sends shivers down their spine. “ But you insisted on being stubborn, and now… well, Dream can always find new puppets. ”

The silence leaves their head emptier than ever, and they slump their head against the soaked planks of the path, eyes sliding shut.

“ Ranboo?! ”

The edges of their vision blur through the cool numbness of their skin and mind. They manage to glance up and catch a glimpse of Tommy standing drenched in the rain, horror written over his face before-

Before-

A drop rolls into their eyes, and their vision fades out as they go limp one last time.

Chapter Text

Tommy has never been a fan of storms.

He’s been averse to water for a long time- maybe since the duel when he fell in the river with an arrow in his chest, slowly freezing, drowning, and bleeding to death, or maybe since exile when he continuously woke up inhaling seawater.

Bright flashes and loud bangs haven’t been his friends since the first war, when explosions first began haunting his dreams and plaguing his nightmares.

He can never force himself to sleep during storms. Most nights, he can down a weakness potion to wrestle his brain into unconsciousness, due to necessity rather than a desire to sleep. The darkness of his dreams was too close to the emptiness of Limbo for his comfort, but he was a big man and big men needed to sleep in order to not trip over rocks and skin their knees and seize up in the absolute agony of any sort of contact. So he chokes down weakness potions every night until he passes out, collapsing onto his tiny cot in his hobbit hole house by the prime path.

But storms were a different story. Even with potions, every strike of lighting was a punch to the gut, jerking him forcefully from whatever semblance of sleep he had managed to grasp and bring him scrambling away from the precarious edge of his mind where visions of fireworks and TNT and withers preyed on him relentlessly.

So instead of sleeping tonight, he's sitting on his floor, sharpening his axe to ease his nerves. Every roll of thunder, every flash of light, every torrent of rain or gust of wind is another strike of the whetstone against the blade. It’s already wicked sharp and polished enough that he can see his face in the reflection, white streak of hair and all, but each stroke is calming and familiar and loosens something in his stomach, letting him breathe.

Another crack of thunder hits him like a falling log, and he shudders and the whetstone scrapes against netherrite in a sweeping motion and a spark lights up the room. He glances out the window into the pouring rain-

-and sees a towering figure illuminated in the next strike of lightning.

He scrambles to his feet as the thunder rolls over him, blade forgotten on the floor as he rushes to the window. There is no silhouette when the next flash lights up the path, but a scream rips through the air as harshly as the lightning that follows it, and stops just as suddenly.

Tommy is out the door before he can process his feet rushing him there. The wooden door slams open in the wind, which buffers him just as hard as the rain. Raising an arm in front of his face to recover his sight, he scans the area for the figure, only to find them lying on the prime path just in front of him. In the darkness, he can’t see any defining features. As he approaches cautiously, he sees steam rising off of them in torrents. It can’t be…

Lighting strikes somewhere just down the path, and in the light he catches a glimpse of a tattered suit and two tall horns.

“ Ranboo?! ” He says in horror, and the hybrid makes eye contact for a split second from where they are curled up on the ground, before a raindrop falls into their red eye and they fall limp to the path.

“What the fuck .”

He gives himself three seconds to panic, like Puffy taught him, breathing speeding up as the rain soaks him to the bone- not that he could ever get much colder.

One: Holy shit holy shit holy fuck Ranboo’s burning aren’t they allergic to water they’re gonna be so burned are they gonna live are they alive are they ok they can’t die not another one-

Two: fucking best friend stealer stole Tubbo should leave them to die they don’t deserve Tubbo no one deserves Tubbo not even me I’m just selfish enough to take him Ranboo can’t have Tubbo Tubbo should belong to me best friends brothers always together Ranboo took that away I should leave them to die

Three: Tubbo would never forgive me if Ranboo died while I could do something about it I would never forgive me if Ranboo died while I could do something about it they’re with Phil and Techno but they’ve only ever been kind to me and I hate pity but they felt they owed kindness and now they just do it all the time and I never want them to stop they would probably stop if I let them die I can’t let them die I would never let them die I have burn cream maybe they won’t be able to see out of one eye later but they’ll survive and then it’ll be me and Tubbo and Ranboo and was that ever really so bad

And so he takes a breath and grips the Enderhybrid by the back of their suitcoat, dragging them along the wooden path and into the still-open door. The steam doesn’t stop even after they’re out of the rain, and Tommy realizes with horror that their clothes and hair are drenched: he’s going to have to undress them or the burns will just get worse.

Suit Coat rustling gently against the floor, he pulls them onto the cot and removes their coat and shirt as quickly as he can, refusing to take off their pants until he can build up the courage. He uses his only blanket as a towel, drying the hybrid’s hair as best he can. Moving to rifle through his chests, he quickly realizes that he’s out of his depth when it came to the level of injuries Ranboo was sporting- he’s nearly out of magma cream for the burns, and he has no idea just how long they had been out in the storm or how bad the burns are- much less how deep they went.

He can’t do anything.

He can’t do anything...

Pride tries to push against his chest, swelling to force his hand away from the thought of assistance. He shoves it down, knowing that if he tries to do everything himself then Ranboo won’t make it without losing one of their lives. So he snatches what’s left of his magma cream and brainstorms furiously as he gently applies the cream to Ranboo’s face.

Who can he trust?

It’s a question he’s asked himself often, but this is the first time he has to add a clause- who can he trust with Ranboo? He knows that most of the people on this server, if given the chance to help him if he was in a situation like this, wouldn’t respond to a cry for help. If he’s asking for help with Ranboo , however, the list of people he can ask is slightly longer. He has standards, so there are people he’s still not letting anywhere near him in any circumstance, but for the Enderman hybrid’s sake there are a few he’s willing to let slide. Not that Ranboo ever has to know that.

Technoblade is ruled out- not just because Tommy doesn't want him near his house, but also because the man knows jackshit about healing other people. Tommy nearly lost a leg to frostbite because Techno didn’t know how to help someone else treat it.

Niki isn’t an option, he doesn’t trust her and she’s either asleep or working on her city, not that she would respond to him anyway. He’s lost her favor somewhere down the line, though he hasn’t been able to pinpoint where.

Tubbo is also ruled out, for very different reasons. He’s definitely asleep, not to mention all the way in Snowchester with his son, and wouldn’t respond to a communicator call if the world depended on it.

Jack wants to kill him and isn’t particularly fond of Ranboo. Puffy isn’t a healer. Sam won’t leave the Prison unless he’s working on whatever Quackity is paying him for, and he hasn’t seen Quackity in weeks. Drista is offworld, as usual.

Everyone else he can think of wants him dead. Kind of depressing.

Everyone except one person.

Tommy sighs and rubs the last of the magma cream into Ranboo’s shoulder before reaching for his communicator, hands shaking from the cold. The storm rages on outside.

TommyInnit whispers to you: Phil

TommyInnit whispers to you: Help

TommyInnit whispers to you: It’s Ranboo