Techno was used to Ranboo coming into his house without knocking. It just wasnât a sustainable practice, seeing as only a small handful of people lived out this far, and Ranboo needed frequent access to Technoâs basement for glass. Techno was pretty much used to it by now, his ear and sometimes his dogs twitching in Ranbooâs direction before laying back down, but that was usually while the sun was up. The birdS would typically be singing. Ranboo did not often careen through Technoâs door mid-blizzard, wind howling and bundle clutched close to his chest.
âRanboo?â Techno asked as he staggered backwards, using his shoulder blades to slam the door shut. This put distance between himself and Technoâs other guest, âTubbo?â
âHiiii, Technoblade! Sorry to barge in like this?â Tubbo tried. The two were still awkward around each other, despite their stint as The Revengers, living right next to each other, and Ranbooâs revival.
âYeah, no, welcome. Make yourselves at home. In my home. Which is, notably, not your own?â
âFurnace went out,â Ranboo muttered by way of explanation, setting his bundle down in front of Technoâs fireplace, nudging Steve over with a foot. âI would be fine, but Tubbo and Michael are warm blooded.â
âTrue,â Technoblade intoned, watching Ranboo half-unswaddle Michael so he could get a little more direct firelight. âAnd you picked my house?â Wait, no, that sounded wrong, âNot that Iâm complaininâ! Not that I am complaininâ, you know Iâm always happy to have youâall three of youâbut, you know, Phil is also right here and Connorâs closer to you.â
Tubbo snorted. âConnor is going to freeze to death. I donât know how he hasnât yet.â
Techno once again declined to bring up the fact that Connor was already a ghost. âThatâs fair. Thatâs fair. He doesnât get a lot of uhhhh, yeah, yeah, probably not his house then.â
Ranboo shrugged. âI just knew we needed to go somewhere warm and this was the first place I thought of.â
He was a little different, since coming back. Less shy, maybe, or it could be that he was just more inclined to say the things he was feeling without worrying about other peopleâs reactions. In this situation, the fact that Ranboo thinkinâ of Techno first totally and definitely didnât warm his heart at all. Did not warm his heart at! All!
âYeah, well, youâre welcome to stay until the storm blows over. I was just about to head to bed.â
âRight. Should we, uh,â Tubbo looked around the room. Technoâs couch was nice, but hardly big enough to fit two people and a toddler.
âYou can join me in the bed. It should be big enough for all of us.â Techno had built it the same day heâd rescued Phil from house arrest, the manâs impressive wingspan requiring a larger bed than most and the fact that the two of them needed to share (at least until Philâs own house was built) meaning that Technoâs previous bed had been nowhere near large enough. Even after Phil had moved out into a home of his own, Techno had been too lazy to switch the bed back, so now he had a small kingdomâs worth of mattressed land ready for use. Plus, Ranboo was skinny and Michael was a baby, how much room could the three of them possibly take up?
âUp!â Michael demanded, facing Techno and not, you know, one of his dads. Techno grumbled something that probably wouldn't have saved his reputation even if they had heard it, and picked up the bundle of babyboy and blankets. Michael made a happy and altogether too high pitched noise, very close to Technoâs ear, mind you, and Techno grumbled again.
âAlright, bedtime for the children in my house.â
âWe are both adults.â
âSure, Ranboo, up you go.â
The big bed did in fact fit them all, Techno with his back to the wall and Michael happily snuggled up in the middle. Techno tried to find a good place for his arms that didnât wind up draped on top of the small child. He had big arms! What if he crushed the kid!! Michael was so small, Technoblade wasnât used to small creatures. What if his arm was heavy enough he crushed Michaelâs little chest underneath the weight of it and his pupilâs kid died?
Tubbo, fortunately, did not share Technoâs hangups, bundling Michael close to his chest, and Ranbooâs arms twined around Tubbo, staring at Techno from over the young manâs hair.
Techno squinted at him.
Ranboo seemed only more amused.
Techno huffed. âYou tell me what to do with my arms then.â
Ranboo laughed, and while he was definitely laughing at Techno, it didnât feel mean. âHeâs a kid, not honeycomb. You can snuggle him,â Ranboo allowed, and Techno snorted again. But, delicately, he rested one big hand on top of Michaelâs little hip, and the snoozing child gave a happy little chuff that made Technoâs stomach flip flop about.
âThere, see? You didnât even break him.â
âSarcasm from my own pupil. From my own pupil! I canât believe this.â
It got a small, sweet laugh from Tubbo, and Techno did not feel hopeful and soft at that, either. Any accusations or lies leveled against his emotional state would be dealt with via duel to the death. Ranboo nuzzled against his husbandâs hair.
Tubbo drifted off next, and Techno was fairly surprised at that, given how highstrung and paranoid the guy was. It was either a testament to just how tired he was, or that Techno had mended the bridge with him a little better than heâd thought.
âThanks,â Ranboo murmured, quiet and soft into the night, low enough to not wake the others.
Techno made a soft grunt of his own, questioning.
Ranbooâs hand caressed his sleeping child, and then his spouse. âTrust doesnât come easy to Tubbo.â Yeah. Techno knew that. âI rarely get to see him relax. It means something. So. Thanks.â
Techno really needed to stop underestimating Ranbooâs ability to touch his heart. Really. Just. Mmmmmm, sleep, not lookinâ at feelings head on, sleep time, goinâ to bed.
But even as successfully as Techno was at Not Thinking About It, he was the last awake in the quiet room, Michael snuffling against him.
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Ranboo struggled against his bindings, the chains around his wrists, the gag inside his mouth, the stones tied to his ankles. He shouted, muffled as it was, begging any of the onlookers to believe him, to help him! He even, in his desperation, met their eyes, but each gaze that was turned on him was cruel and leering, eager to see the show. Little freak of nature, cast off the side of a cliff, left to drown like a normal human or burn from his water intolerance, they didnât care. As long as he was dead either way.
His heart drummed in his chest. Heâd be dead either way. The moment the cruel hands on him lifted his thin body and heavy stones and hefted him off the cliff, he was as good as dead. The moment he hit the water, he would be. He screamed, pleadingly, uselessly, tried to catch the eye of even the people who were hauling him, but it was useless. All of it, useless.
His stomach swooped in the free fall, one final scream of terror wrenched out around the gag, and then with a splash his skin began to sizzle. He screamed until he was out of air and thrashed, immediately losing which way was up or down, unable to feel the stones tied to his ankles thanks to the agony, and could not even form enough coherent thought to know that this was it.
This was the end.
He would die, in pain, burned to death in the sea.
âŠWhich was why, as he groaned at every aching, burning inch of skin, he felt it was rather odd that he was even alive at all.
His eyes opened, blurry and unfocused, to a dry, clean room. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, but it took a good, solid fifty to sixty seconds for it to do so, during which he was afraid heâd been blinded permanently. But the room swam into focus (more or less) and his head twisted with slow ache, every movement further agony.
âHey, kid.â
Ranboo tried to look at the source of the voice, but it was too far for his head to turn. Fortunately, the man who spoke approached, and settled himself on the edge of the bed Ranboo was lying in. Ranbooâs lips parted to speak, but only a chalkboard wheeze came out.
âEasy. Donât push yourself too hard: you barely managed to survive.â
Yes, Ranboo certainly felt like that was true.
Warm, rough hands were gentle on him as this stranger helped Ranboo sit, but despite his care Ranboo still felt every breath of pressure as a special hellish agony on his skin, the act of moving almost painful enough to knock him out again.
âOkay, itâs okay, shhh,â the stranger was saying, barely audible through Ranbooâs ears. âWeâve already given you the max amount of potion you can get before weâre riskinâ overdose. Niki says itâs the water that burned you, but you think you could drink some soup? We need to get somethinâ in you.â
Ranbo was heaving just from being upright, but distantly he knew he did need to eat something if he was going to survive. He forced himself to nod, the tiny motion sending agony through him.
Gently, warm mushroom soup was poured down his throat, the taste vaguely reminiscent of daisies, and then Ranboo wasâstill very painfullyâsettled back down into the soft bed. Even knowing he was laying down, his mind somehow wished he could lay down even more.
Part of Ranboo wanted to ask questions: who this man was, why theyâd saved him, how theyâd saved him, what if the people whoâd tried to execute him came after his saviors, where was he, thoughts churning around in his head like rags in a bucket, but more than that Ranboo was tired.
âGo ahead and sleep, kid. The three of us are gonna watch out for you.â A warm hand gently settled on Ranbooâs forehead with the words, and he closed his eyes and slept.
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Day 3 of @peerpressureweek I got real excited about this one lads
Cultural differences and language barriers my beloveds <3
âEnder prince,â the particles that hovered on the edges of his vision whispered. âWe may have found a solution.â
âHave you now?â he muttered, voice pitched low and distracted as he surveyed The End. The dragon was still keeping the main portal locked away beneath her wings, stranding thousands if not tens of thousands in the Nether and the Overworld. Only Ranboo, being the prince, and a handful of other particularly powerful Endermen could make the jump without the portal open. Well. Most Endermen could make the jump out. It was making the jump back in that posed the problem.
More than that, she thought herself a tyrant, making demands none of them could deny, for her overwhelming strength. She ate too much. Stored too much of her energy in those deadly crystals, the ones that none could break without risking damage to their Pearls. Even if they could somehow band together and wound her, sheâd just draw on those energy reserves to heal herself, and sheâd scorch and eat them all long before they managed to bleed the crystals dry.
But a solution. That had Ranbooâs ear.
âIn the Netherââ Ranboo pulled a face, which had the particles laughing at him immediately. He hated the Nether. âYes, in the Nether, our Ender prince. There is a Piglin king. He is strong. Stronger than the dragon. His bastion wants to expand, but a clade of Endermen block the Piglinsâ path most violently."
Ranboo perked. âSo I go, order the Endermen to back down, and tell the Piglin king that if he kills the dragon, they will leave his territory entirely.â
The particles made a pleasant hum. They warned him again of danger, but yes. Ranboo knew. If he was strong enough to kill the dragon, he was more than strong enough to pose a serious threat to Ranbooâs life. Heck, if the particles were right, heâd might even be strong enough to kill the clade that blocked his path. Why didnât he try? Ranboo had never heard of a Piglin being overly cautious.
Well, either way, Ranboo was thankful for it. Reincarnation might return the dead Endermenâs Pearls to The End, but nobody liked dying, and a peaceful, mutually beneficial resolution to the conflict was more than welcome. He donned his elytrian cloak, put chorus fruit and weapons in one shulker box, three diamonds in another, and closed his eyes and breathed.
Nether.
He opened his eyes, his Pearl thrumming behind his diaphragm, and scrunched his nose at the oppressive heat.
âI have arrived in the Nether; which way do I go?â he asked his particles, and they led him on a long and frankly confusing journey, during which he mentally recited what he was going to say. His path bottomed out in a stretch of warped biome, where he was promptly attacked by a hoglin. Okay, maybe he shouldâve kept his weapons out, and only put them away after heâd reached the bastion. Shows of peace didnât do him much good with wild animals.
But he dropped the hoglin carcass into the shulker box with the diamonds and called out for all Endermen in the area to come to him. Being their prince, they didnât have much choice but to obey, though all seemed quite happy to see him.
âAre you alright?â
âWhy are you here?â
âAre we able to go home yet?â
âAre we able to go home soon?â
âHow can we help you?â
âWhat are you doing?â
Ranboo raised his hands, his tail flicking in a smile. âI am here to negotiate with the Piglin king thatâs giving you trouble. Please refrain from attacking any Piglins unless they attack you first, at least until I say otherwise.â
All gathered Endermen bobbed their tails in a nod, and Ranboo flicked another smile at them. âHave any of you picked up blocks with gold in them? I hear Piglins like those; I can add them to my gift if you have any.â
So in the shulker Ranboo had three diamonds, a hoglin corpse, and two blocks of gold nuggets. Perfect gift, honestly. âI will return with the verdict. Stay away from the bastion for now.â
He warped to the bastion, the Piglin guards immediately on alert, but Ranboo made a show of dropping his weapons into his shulker, and then set the second shulker down between them.
âPlease take this to your king. It is a gift from me. I would like to speak with him.â Nailed it.
They regarded him with open hostility and wariness, looking at his face (but Ranboo did not attack, despite their baiting him to do so). One guard kept a crossbow trained on him, the other tapped the box open like it might explode when he did. But, seemingly content with its contents, the guard nodded at the other with a grunt and took the box in.
Ranboo stayed right where he was, and he and the guard pointing the crossbow at him had an honestly wonderful interaction. The guardâs tail kept flicking and twitching, and so Ranboo flicked his own smiles back in kind. What a friendly guard! Ranboo was expecting them to be far more hostile, for their conflict with the nearby clade! How nice :).
The bastionâs main gate opened once more and a group of Piglins poured out, their king at their center. Ranboo certainly thought he was king, his hands had golden rings on nearly every finger, and his body language spoke of confidence.
âPiglin king,â Ranboo greeted, giving another friendly flick of his tail. Hereâs hoping the king was as personable as the guard, whose tail was practically wagging, now.
âEnderman. I thank you for your gift. You wanted to speak with me?â
âMy Pigspeak is rarely practiced. Forgive me if I misspeak.â Ough, Ranboo was pretty sure that was the word. Pigspeak was a tough language, their sentences structured differently than Voidtongue, but Ranboo wanted the dragon dead more than he wanted to avoid social interaction with a member of a different species in a language he barely knew. âI have a problem. You have a problem with my Endermen. I would like us to,â Ranbooâs tail lashed in a frown, searching for the right words.
âMake amends?â
His tail and ears flicked up. âYes! Amends. I will help your problem with my Endermen. You will help with my problem.â
âAh, workinâ together then.â
Another issue was that Ranboo had learned Pigspeak with Ender tutors. The accent was⊠rough, to translate around.
âWorkinâ together, yes. Together amends?â
âRight.â The Piglin kingâs eyes were sharp. âWhat are you proposinâ?â
Ranbooâs tail lashed in another frown, his eyes pinched around the edges. âWorkinâ together is easier if you do not staring at my face,â he hissed, and tried not to give in to his urge to deathcall about it. That would summon all the nearby Endermen, and he wanted to prevent a bloodbath, not start one.
âA Piglin looks his opponent in the eye,â stated the king.
âWe are not opponent! We are together amends!â Ranboo all but shouted, and mercifully the eyes did leave his face, the king now looking amongst his entourage.
âWe arenât,â he thankfully agreed, his gaze now settled somewhere around Ranbooâs neck, which was a little intolerable but much better than his face. âCome inside. We can discuss this further privately.â
Ranboo strode forward and pretended that he was not bothered by being encased in blackstone and surrounded by Piglins. He was the prince. He could kill a Piglin easily enough, and teleport away when their numbers overpowered him. Even so, it was easier when he and the king settled into a small, clean, and well furnished room. Well. Small in terms of height, the size of the room was about average but Ranboo had to stoop.
âFor Piglins, not makinâ eye contact means youâre a coward and a weaklinâ. I couldnât keep havinâ this conversation with you out front; Iâd lose face.â
Ranboo desperately tried to keep up with his accent and the confusing terms he was using as he took his seat. âYour face⊠will be torn off you?â Ranboo asked. That seemed a dire consequence for not doing something that no reasonable species would ever do in the first place.
âEr, no. It means theyâd stop respectinâ me as much.â
Then why not just say that? Ranboo huffed, his tail lashing with agitation, but he only let it lash once. He was being polite. Well mannered. He was ignoring that Piglins had some terminal fucking issue with not saying what they meant. No, no, rude thoughts, he was being polite he was being polite.
âThank you for conversation with me in here,â he said instead, âI have asked my Endermen do not attacking your bastion already. They are waiting for me. If you help me, they are leaving here total.â Ranbooâs tail lashed with a frown. No, that wasnât the right way to say that. âThey are leaving here entire? EntireâŠâ
âEntirely.â
âLeaving entirely.â
âAnd youâre some kind of big hotshot who can make that kinda call?â
Call? Hm. He supposed he had called them to him. âI am Ranboo, prince of The End.â
That seemed to give the Piglin king pause. He leaned back in his chair, and dipped his head. Ranboo was pretty sure that this was a sign of respect? Endermenâs heads didnât really move much, except to look at things. It involved him removing his eyes from anywhere near Ranbooâs face, so he would go ahead and assume that meant it was a respectful gesture.
âI am Technoblade, king of this bastion. What do you need from me?â
âSlay the dragon.â
The Piglin king did not move for a very long moment. Ranboo was content to sit in the silence while his thoughts moved; such things were commonplace in Ender conversation.
âHeh?!â
Oh, maybe Ranboo had used the wrong word. âKill? Kill the dragon. Dragon stop aliving.â No, wait, that wasnât a wordâright? Ranboo was pretty sure that was not actually a word.
âI, yeah, okay, I got that, actually, but you want me to?â
âYes.â
âCanât you, I donât know, do it yourself?â
âNo. You know the game Fruit, Seed, Stone?â
âIâm⊠not familiar, no.â
âFruit defeats seed, because without fruit, seed does not have energy to grow. Seed defeats stone, because stone cracked open by seedââ he didnât know the word for germinating in Pigspeak, âgrowing. Stone defeats fruit, it can⊠fruit open.â Ranboo mimicked the act of bashing a rock against a chorus fruit to open it. âEach weak to one opponent and strong to other.â
âAnd this is like that? The dragonâs strong against Endermen, but weak against Piglins?â
âYes! You understand.â
Technoblade sighed and pushed his ringed fingers through his hair, head tilted back towards the low ceiling. âWhat happens if I donât agree?â
Ranbooâs tail waved in a shrug. âMy Endermen cannot leave. The dragon locked The End. She guards it. They cannot go home. I told my Endermen do not attacking your bastion. They will not. But they cannot leave.â
Technobladeâs head bobbed forwards and backwards, which was a very strange motion Ranboo couldnât decipher in the slightest. âRight. But if I kill the dragon, that frees The End, and if I unlock The End, theyâll go home with you.â
âYes.â
âAnd we can send our hunting parties out to forage mushrooms and kill hoglins that way without issue, once theyâre gone.â
âYes.â
âWhat makes Endermen so weak against the dragon, anyway? She stare at you too hard?â
âFire,â Ranboo said, stone serious. âHer breath deadly to Piglins, yes, but her breath very deadly to Endermen. I can,â he mimicked bashing again, âPiglin with my hands until Piglin dead, but I cannot punch fire, and I cannot reach her when she flying.â
Technoblade huffed out a laugh, and sat forward again, extending a hand. âFine. I play pest control for you, you get your people outta my backyard.â
Ranbooâs tail flicked in a smile at Technobladeâs outstretched hand, but he didnât have any block to put in it. Oh well. He pulled up a block of the blackstone floor and placed it in Technobladeâs palm, happily leaving his own hands on the brick.
âYes! I am happy you together amends with me.â
Technoblade laughed again, and set the blackstone back where Ranboo had pulled it up from. âSounds good. But you gotta either let me teach you better Pigspeak, or teach me your language. Listeninâ to you talk is makinâ my ears bleed.â
Ranbooâs tail lashed with a concerned frown, his head dipping this way and that to examine the kingâs ears.
âEr, ah, no, not literally bleedinâ, itâs a figure of speech.â
Ah, more Piglin nonsense. âI will teach you Voidspeak, but you must saying what you are meaning.â
Technoblade snorted. âFair enough. I look forward to workinâ with you, Ranboo.â
And Ranbooâs tail flicked with a smile as he agreed.
