I’m A Yellow Gremlin

You know when something is so cute that it makes your nose sting and then u feel the need to start crying? THATS WHAT THE CUTENESS OF THIS DID TO ME!

— tommy reflects in exile. [424 words] [→ alternatively, local buffoon (me) attempts to write synesthesia (i do not have synesthesia i am sorry)]

Colours were rather special to Tommy. They were the feelings in his heart and the thoughts in his mind; they were simultaneously the only thing that could express how he really felt, and a tool to twist and warp his thoughts and emotions. Now, colours were the only thing Tommy had as he sat atop a rock and gazed into the sun meeting the ocean horizon.

just a silly Dream SMP fanfic. I honestly don't know much about the lore, and I wrote this a while ago, right after watching an animation. this will be continued eventually, with my own lore to the Dream SMP, and just want u to know that barely any of this is canon, including character personalities.

this occurs after Technoblade escapes his execution and gives Quackity a taste of his PVP skills (he tasted mostly the pickaxe). it's basically just Technoblade interrogating Ranboo and them being friends.

Warnings: mild descriptions of injuries, violence, blood, gore, and manipulation. Nothing too graphic

With the light coming from the oak house’s dusted window, Technoblade could see the damage.

Ranboo’s face was a mess of blood-stained bandages wrapped over flesh. Each breath he attempted to take entered and left his lungs shaking. His hands, also laced in cloth, had been stabbed by splinters and sliced by sharp stone, aching at the slightest movement. More dressing was located around his neck and shoulder, covering sensitive and ripped skin. Under his collarbone was a hauntingly dark crimson stain, to which had turned a little pale from time. His split-coloured hair was damp from sweat, giving him an almost sickening look as it stuck to his temple and nape, draping over and under the cloth wrapped across his face.

Technoblade could only pity the hybrid. Having to sit in a chair not too far from the small bed where Ranboo lay and watch him shudder with ache was just as awful. Yet, it was all he could do. He was an extraordinary fighter himself, but he had to admit, he was terrible at dealing with the aftermath of battle.

So much blood spilled by a mysterious masked fighter, yet no clue of why.

The guy with the dark hood and smiley mask had helped Technoblade find Carl, his horse, after he and his also hooded helper had interrupted Tubbo’s speech in Technoblade’s execution. Technoblade should have died, but he was quick enough to pull out his Token of Undying and be brought back from the dead within seconds after being crushed by an anvil.

But, why? Why did the masked man help Technoblade while every other person except Tommy and Phil wanted him dead? Why did his helper go after Ranboo? Was it because Ranboo was with the men who wanted Techno’s head? But, if so, out of all of the men, why Ranboo?

Ranboo could have killed Technoblade, or perhaps imprisoned him again. The endermen hybrid had stumbled upon the fugitive between the chaos. Technoblade could even remember the scratches all over him and his armour from fighting the mysterious duo with the others. Ranboo might not have won in a fair 1v1 against him, but he had a way of thinking that Technoblade could only pray to predict. Yet, they were left in a standstill for an agonizing moment before Ranboo gave Technoblade directions to a room with weapons where he could armour himself and run away.

Quackity had found Technoblade in the room, but Techno was almost sure that Ranboo hadn’t intended him to get caught. But even if he had, Quackity was dead, either way. Technoblade enjoyed the glory of fighting, yet he never felt pleasure in killing, even when necessary. Quackity’s death was deserved, and he didn’t care who pointed fingers and blamed him for it.

While Technoblade and Tommy were running through the tunnels under the men’s library, Ranboo busted through the stone roof due to an explosion above. The masked man fell along with him, his diamond sword pressed to Ranboo’s throat, clarifying that they were fighting.

When Token of Undying are used to bring one back from the dead, a booming sound can be heard. And unless Technoblade’s mind was playing tricks on him, to which he was pretty sure it wasn’t, he had heard a Token being used. It was muffled by stone, yes, but he had heard the boom enough times to tell it apart from other sounds.

What if Ranboo had somehow killed the masked man, who then used the Token?

No… it didn’t sit right with him. None of the questions regarding the masked man trying to kill those who threatened Technoblade felt right.

Out of every person, why had the man’s helper gone straight for Ranboo? Quackity and Tubbo were closer, and were technically more likely to endanger Technoblade. So why Ranboo?

If he wanted real answers, he’d have to ask Ranboo himself, which wasn’t too hard. Despite his reluctance for questioning someone so injured, Technoblade knew some things must be done, regardless—

“How… how is Carl?”

Technoblade’s head turned toward the bed. “Hm?”

“Your horse. Is he alright?” Ranboo asked again. His voice sounded ruined, but Techno could tell he was trying to keep it firm.

“Oh, yes! He’s just fine,” Technoblade informed, smiling slightly. But memories chased away his joy within seconds. “Why are you asking?” he questioned, suddenly feeling on edge.

Ranboo cleared his throat. “You gave yourself away for a horse. That means you care for him enough to risk your own life.” A small pause. “I felt the need, or rather instinct to ask, since you looked so agonized when Quackity threatened to kill Carl.”

Ranboo cared enough to notice Technoblade’s despair and then ask if he was alright. Ranboo helped him escape, instructing him directly to where the weapons were so Techno could defend himself. Ranboo called Carl a “he,” not just an “it” as if the horse was just another animal no one cared about. And way back, when Technoblade still fought alongside the men, Ranboo would always watch his back, saving Techno from threats he wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late.

Tommy had said that Ranboo was too dangerously clever to keep around, and he was right. But, perhaps, Technoblade could trust Ranboo.

“Say… how’d—” Ranboo’s words tangled in his throat, leading him into a painfully dry cough. He was forced to deliver the rest of his sentence in a rush before another storm of coughs came upon him. “...How’d you even find Carl?”

That’s my chance!

Technoblade smacked his lips before responding. “The masked guy who attacked you. I saw him with Carl at the corner of my eye during the execution, and I followed him, and he led me to my horse.”

Unconsciously, Ranboo’s brow furrowed, which gave Technoblade the uneasy feeling that he was hiding something.

Techno leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. “Do you happen to know why he attacked you?”

Silence stretched long enough that Techno considered asking if Ranboo was alright.

“...His name’s…” Between the hesitation and exhaustion, Ranboo sounded scared, and it was a familiar fear to Technoblade. “...his name is Dream.”

That was a start, but still not the answer Technoblade was searching for. “What else?” he demanded.

“He’s the best fighter I’ve ever known.” Ranboo’s shoulders tensed. He turned his gaze to Techno’s, and the piglin hybrid held his ground, pushing for the answers he seeked. Once Ranboo realized there was no way out of it, he sighed, his reply coming in a cautious and  low tone. “...He and I worked together.”

If Dream was the best fighter Ranboo had ever known, then during their fight in the library, it might have been Ranboo who used the Token. And them working together meant Ranboo had a connection with Dream.

Had Dream only tried to get Technoblade out of the way so he could kill Ranboo?

Ranboo only stared at his bandaged hands, an expression of tired guilt playing on his brows. “We did stupid things together. Set villages ablaze, stole from and hurt people, and often came face to face with death.” The hybrid adjusted his shoulders, his long tail peeking between the blankets as he spoke. “Things… didn’t go well between us, and we parted. Then Tubbo found me, I joined you and the others, and you know what happens from there.”

“What exactly didn’t work out between you and Dream?” Techno pushed.

Ranboo’s face suddenly twisted into that wide-eyed, familiar fear. He turned his head away, muscles tensing. His tail tapped the bed in a stubborn way.

Techno frowned. “Ranboo, please, I need to know.”

Finally, after a long wait, Ranboo let out a quiet and shaky response. “He manipulated me. He made me think that all the awful things he made me do were my choice. And now, he haunts my every nightmare and I am terrified about it.”

Technoblade leaned back, guilt creeping up his spine.

A thousand memories of nights where Ranboo would burst out of night terrors with his eyes wide and body shaking came upon Techno. Was that why Ranboo had so much insomnia?

“And about your other question,” Ranboo continued, “Dream clearly wants me dead, but I’m not sure why. Likely vengeance."

Or maybe he wants you dead because you are much too intelligent, Technoblade thought, but that would only complicate things, so he kept quiet. And what did you do to make him want revenge?

The guilt grew stronger, pushing Technoblade into an apology. “Sorry for asking. That was… personal.”

Ranboo lifted a bandaged hand. “I must get over it eventually, especially now that Dream is after me.”

Techno let the silence stretch, watching Ranboo settle against the bed more comfortably, his face toward the ceiling.

The bandage across his face was there to shield an ugly injury that had been carved into his cheekbone, stretching to the bridge of his nose. The last time Techno had seen the cut, it was just below Ranboo’s right eye, which was huge luck, considering how Ranboo could have been half-blinded.

Something felt as if it was missing. Just… the image of Ranboo felt incomplete.

Oh! His little golden crown! Techno realized.

Everywhere he went, Ranboo wore that golden little crown. The crown was nothing. It didn’t give him power, title, charm, or anything else. But to Ranboo, that crown was meaningful, despite looking useless in the eyes of others.

Just like Carl is nothing to others but so much to me.

Technoblade lifted from his chair, rolling his shoulders upon reaching the coat hanger across the room. He grabbed his bag and rummaged through it, hands bumping into useless garbage he was too lazy to dispose of. But, after some time, he found the little golden crown.

It had a layer of dust over it, dimming its little glow from the light’s reflection. Dry blood stained the edges, like a memory painted into it. It also had a few cracks around the edges, as if someone had tried to break it.

From the bag, Techno also grabbed a hand-sized cloth, flicking it in the air as he made his way back to his chair.

He glanced at Ranboo. The endermen’s eyes were closed, calm, yet still exhausted.

The dust caught the light as he began meticulously cleaning the dirtied crown, careful with even the most stubborn stains. As Techno traced an exceptionally damaged edge of the crown, his brain flooded with thoughts and questions again.

Techno’s own crown was made of the same material. It only had a few different jewels embedded in it. Stepping on it would be the only way to make cracks like those.

A painful pause came to Techno. He inhaled quietly before speaking. “Your crown… he took it, didn’t he?”

Ranboo stiffened beneath the sheets. “He didn’t just take it,” Ranboo whispered. “He crushed it right before me. Said a pawn doesn’t get to pretend to be a king.”

Technoblade’s jaw tightened as Ranboo’s words echoed inside his skull. He hated being manipulated, and knowing that someone who saved him countless times went through the same thing, and still had to deal with it by himself, triggered a little angry voice in the back of his head to shout with fury.

“He’s wrong, y’now.” Technoblade made sure his voice was firm and reassuring. “A pawn can reach the other side of the board.”

“But it’s more likely that it’ll die before it can do so,” Ranboo shot back.

“Yes, and the same goes for any piece. But no matter which piece you are, it doesn’t stop you from fighting your fears and getting what you want.”

Ranboo went silent for a moment, then let his shoulders relax, whispering a line of gratitude before he closed his eyes again.

Technoblade smiled, satisfied with not just Ranboo’s understanding, but also with the feeling that he was actually helping. He let his gaze drop to his hands again. “So, when you and Dream were battling in the library, I heard a Token of Undying being used. You feel comfortable telling me about that?”

Ranboo hummed to confirm it as positive. “That was me.”

Technoblade knew very well how painful the reincarnation was. When he had used his Token in the failed execution, that had been his third time.

Being reincarnated by a Token is extremely painful. When using a Token, your cells are recreated exactly as you were before, and you feel each molecule being reborn from thin air.

It hurts as if your body was frostbitten all over, and a cauldron of boiling water was spilled over your head. It hurts as if you’re thrown into a meatgrinder, and then your flesh begins to rebuild itself. It’s like having gravity fold you inward, and then popping you back outward instantly. It’s agonizing, excruciating, and it happens in seconds. And when your body is reconstructed, the pain vanishes like it had never happened. An intense headache is left from the overwhelming experience, but it has nothing to do with the rebirth and everything about not being able to process it in time.

“How did you get the Token, though?”

Ranboo frowned. “...I stole it from Quackity.”

Technoblade’s head shot up so fast he felt dizzy. “RANBOO! That could have gotten you KILLED!”

“I know, I know,” Ranboo said, nodding his head agreeably. “I’ve had it for a while now, long enough that Quackity assumed he’d lost it. Now it’s been used, and the boys will want me dead either way if they find out I’m with you, so it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

Ranboo had said that he and Dream stole from people. So did he learn this from Dream? Was he even loyal to Quackity all along? And why had he stolen the Token?

“Why’d you steal it?” Techno asked, possibilities rushing through his mind.

The endermen hybrid sighed. “It was a bad action of mine. I was having the persistent feeling that Quackity was going to do something bad with it, maybe revive or give it to the wrong person. I don’t know. I’ve had these gut feelings before, and they rarely fail me.”

“Well, you really don’t need to worry about Quackity’s actions now. He’s gone,” Techno said, resuming cleaning the little crown. “His death was my doing.”

Ranboo was still for a moment. “I think he’s still alive.”

Technoblade stopped, almost as if paralyzed by the words. “W-what?”

Technoblade remembered how he had roared that he’d put his pickaxe through Quackity’s teeth. And he did. He remembered clearly how Quackity had fallen to the ground, yelling in pain as blood sprayed from his fresh wound. If Technoblade had been the one on the ground, Quackity would have kicked him, mocked him, and spoke his dirty little words. But Technoblade wasn’t like him. He ran out of the room carrying as many weapons and potions as he could, then met Tommy in the tunnels. Quackity already looked stiff and very well dead on the ground as he left, so Techno had assumed he was gone for good.

Maybe… maybe Quackity was alive. Afterall, Technoblade hadn’t waited to see if he would survive the wound or not.

“I am not certain, but, I believe it’s best we keep it in mind,” Ranboo said, turning his head away again.

Techno felt sick for a moment, his heart drumming an anxious rhythm on his ears. “Um, either way. How did Dream kill you?” he excused, attempting to switch the topic.

“He stabbed me clean in the heart,” explained Ranboo. “I didn’t expect reincarnation to be so painful…”

“Relatable,” Techno stated, a small laugh escaping him. “Other than agonizing pain, how did it feel like for you?”

Ranboo winced. “I felt my flesh shifting inside me, and my blood seemed to be… buzzing, or maybe vibrating. I don’t know.”

“Yucky,” Technoblade joked.

“Not as yucky as having to watch your whole body rebuild itself and crop through an anvil as if it was nothing,” Ranboo shot back, his tone dry.

Techno snorted a laugh.

Ranboo turned his head, and both frowned at each other, realizing how insensible their topic was.

But then, Ranboo’s gaze dropped to Technoblade’s hands, and he let out a small gasp.

“Y-you — my crown! You found it and you’re… cleaning it,” Ranboo observed, his tone dropping at the end of his sentence.

Techno nodded. “No problem. I like cleaning things.” He grinned. “With my bedroom as an exception.”

Ranboo offered a weak laugh. “Thank you. Not just for the crown, but for saving my life.”

“Shut up. I should be the one thanking you. I lost count of how many times you’ve saved me!”

Ranboo smiled at the older warrior. “You have an untamable determination, Technoblade. I admire that because it’s something that is completely you, not anyone else’s. I respect that, and showing respect for you as a fighter and care as a friend means helping you through the toughest of times.”