#but pining techno is also good

[cherryskeletoncake]

Inspierd by the song ‘’ from the start’’ by loufay

Imagine beeing in love with your bff but he’s straight/j

[honoviadakai]

What you favorite Hazbin hotel song says about you 😈🎶😇

(This list includes songs from the pilot as well as a few others that are not official but are near and dear to the fandom's collective heart)

I’m always chasing rainbows 🌈:

…so how’s your relationship with your parents?

You have a good heart but you’re way too hard on yourself

You don’t always have to be busting your ass off, taking breaks is not a crime

Also failing is not the end of the world

I believe in you, please be kinder to yourself

Inside of every demon is a rainbow 🌈 😈:

Golden retriever energy

You are so sweet but so naive

I honestly feel like if this is your fav song, I could spit in your meal and you'd just smile and get a new plate

It's ok to go apeshit

If you did ever get mad I genuinely feel like you'd be absolutely terrifying

But you're such a sweet person, i can't imagine someone pushing you to that point

Inside of every demon is a lost cause/Alastor's reprise 🎶👿:

You're a cynical bastard and you wear that shit like a badge of honor

You're on the same page as Alastor in terms of redemption being impossible/pointless

If this song is your favorite, you laugh at children when they fall over

very loudly

You're the one in your friend group that everyone has to warn about before introducing you to new people

You receive the bombastic side eye so often you smile every time it happens

ADDICT🕸️🚬:

You need a hug

All of the hugs

You're doing your best and I just want you to know I'm proud of you

Vox's Interlude📺🎶:

You like Dubstep

You like Dubstep to a concerning degree

You're also disappointed Vox doesn't have the same voice effect in cannon that he has in the song

You're a Vox simp, but you're really chill about it

Royal Flush🥃♥️♠️♦️♣️:

Hello my fellow Pansexuals and Husk Fans~

If this if your favorite song, you're a Mick Lauer fan and you were sad to hear he wasn't coming back to the official series and it made you even more jaded than you already were(I feel you)

You're also a fan of Johnathan Young and Rock music

You lowkey giggle every time you hear the "every hole is a goal" line

You probably have a sever resting bitch face that scares ppl sometimes, but deep down you're a softy

A jaded softy, but a softy

Radio Play📻🎶:

Hello Alastor fans that lament the recasting of Edward Bosco

Hello Black Gyrph0n fans that think he's not receiving enough recognition

How deep in the financial debt hole are you because of your love of Alastor and new found desire to have a retro 30's aesthetic once this song dropped?

You have good taste in music but I feel like you'd say out of pocket shit on accident

You probably know how to do the Charleston pretty well and that's pretty cool

Redemption arc🙏🎶:

Hello my depressed gifted child burnouts and Elise Lovelock fans

You're a girlboss, you really are, but I need you to take more breaks and drink more water

You strike me as someone who takes the phrase "act your wage" as a suggestion at best

If over thinking was an Olympic sport, you'd win gold, silver ans bronze

stop trying to carrying other people's baggage on top of your own, that's not building character, its building more work for your therapist

Assuming you've even allowed yourself to see one!

Insane🦌🔪:

You're unhinged

like Niffty levels unhinged

but you have good taste in music

You're also a very vocal Alastor fan

You need to be watched 24/7 because you strike me as someone who'd commit war crimes for fun

Eyes on me📺🥲:

You like Techno a normal amount

you're probably a Bo Burnham fan

You also give the vibe that you like anime like Evangalion

as well as the vibe of hiding behind a chill facade even though you're kinda depressed

you also give the impression that you're into enemies to lovers and once sided pining in romance

You ship Vox x Alastor in a wholesome way and you're foaming at the mouth for their backstory

You hate Val(as you should)

Change the order 👑🪽:

You lament that Lucifer doesn't have a British accent

You HEAVILY lament Lucifer not being a heartless asshole

You oh so desperately wanna see Lucifer and Lilith in their prime/as a united power couple

You have slight daddy issues

You're also probably someone who grew up with some religious trauma

You're in your villain arc but it's mostly yo protect yourself

i highly suggest getting a dog, a rubber duck collection and a therapist

Get hooked🚬🦋:

Your search history is not suitable for human eyes

You definitely have daddy issues

You desperately wanna see Val on the poles

You're fun at partied but you cannot be left unsupervised under any circumstances

You radiate bad bitch energy but I feel like you'd apologize to a kindly janitor if you had to walk on a floor they just finished mopping

You can run in heels and I respect that immensely

Smile like you mean it😁🦌:

I get it! You love Alastor! Please lower your voice a tad friend!

It's concerning how quick you'd sell your soul to this man

You like jazz unironically(nice)

You wanna experience one of Al's radio shows

...I'm not entirely sure if you wanna hear it or be the victim...and that deeply concerns me

Use me up🕷️🥲:

You wanna see Angle Dust fuck shit up(same)

You don't make friends easily but you're the loyalest son of a bitch anyone could ever have and more people need to recognize that

You probably had a really rough childhood

You give ppl middle fingers and sass the way Oprah gave out cars back in the day

You just want a hug, someone to say they're proud of you(I'm proud of you friend) and a month long nap

We're sure to drown🐈‍⬛🥃🥺:

Hello again my fellow Pansexuals and Husk fans

Specifically the ones with severe depression, trust issues and think mixing Tequila and monster energy drinks will help with the abandonment issues

yeah, i see you, put the bottle down mf

get therapy, this a threat

You're so cynical that even shadow the hedgehog would ask if you're ok

asking for help doesn't make you weak fam, i get where your coming from but you need a good plucking you prickly cactus

oddly enough, you give the best advice to the few friends you keep in your circle but take none of your own advice

You listen to country rock with lyrics so sad that everyone in the car with you immediately get concerned

definitely a cat person

POP!👁️💥:

You either wanna be stepped on or do the stepping on

You probably watched Black Lagoon and loved Revy

If you don't know what I'm talking about, look her up, that's your type

Low key probably a pyromaniac

You're that one friend that's ALWAYS ready to punch your friend's ex's in the face

Honestly, I feel like you're scrappy enough to fist fight god with the confidence of someone who thinks they have a shot at winning

My machine 🐍 ⚙️:

You were really excited to see Pentious be one of the show's antagonists

You're still a little bitter about not getting your mad scientist, steam punk, snake man

You did love his War General outfit though

You probably really like shows like Arcane

You really wanted 'Enemies to lovers' CherriSnake or platonic/rivals CherriSnake

You probably have reptile as a pet

most likely a snake

Happy day in hell🎶🎤:

You're a basic Broadway bitch but your optimism is a tad infectious so I'll let it slide

You're a tad too optimistic though

Like, to a concerning degree

Someone could punch you and you'd ask them if they were ok despite having a split lip

you're definitely a workaholic

take that PTO sweetie, work will be there when you come back

Hell is forever😇😈:

you either really like Alex Brightman or you LOVE villains

you also love rock

You kicked your feet like a love sick when Adam did the guitar solo bit

Probably a fan of bands like Skillet

You have religious trauma but your coping mechanism is to crack jokes about it

some of them are probably inappropriate

Stayed gone📺🦌:

You ship Vox x Alastor a "normal" amount

You'd sell your soul for Vox and Al to have more duets together

You're probably a Vox simp

If you're not, its cuz you're an Al simp

You giggled at "That's the tea"

You also drooled at Al's demon form towards the end of the song

It starts with sorry🐍🥹:

friend, you are way too forgiving

someone could steal your life's savings and I feel like you'd just let them have it because "they probably need it more"

You were very proud of Pentious

Respectless💅📱:

You radiate chihuahua energy

You are 5'2 or smaller and 90 lbs soaking wet

someone need to make sure you don't run these streets lawless

don't get me wrong

You are absolutely a bad bitch that serves cunt like a 5 star restaurant serves gourmet steak

but you're gonna say the wrong thing to the wrong person one day

you cannot afford to fuck around and find out when they're over 5'9 my friend, sit down please

Whatever it takes🦋🩰:

you're the eldest child of your family aren't you

You don't need to prioritize everyone before yourself!

Love yourself first damn it!

You probably like Milfs or goths

You also probably wish Zestial had more songs

I have a feeling your favorite Disney movie is Encanto...

Poison🚬🕷️🥺:

Holy fuck you need a hug

You're either a survivor of some kind or life has just been kicking you in the balls for no god damn reason

Come here, I'm adopting you and making sure you're actually happy

You're low key an amazing dancer

literally one of the best people to be friends with

Loser Baby🐈‍⬛🕷️:

hello my fellow queers, Keith David fans, Blake Roman fans and Huskerdust shippers

You are a connoisseur of slow burn romance

You're probably a depressed hopeless romantic

friend, if you want the Husker to your dust...the loser to your baby...you gotta talk to people...

go touch grass

you're that one friend who bullies your bestie but that's cuz that your guy's love language

If anyone messed with your bestie, you'd fight that person to the death the way Husk and Angel did to those loan sharks

Hell's greatest dad🪽🦌:

You either beef with ppl for fun or you're a very flamboyant theater kid

Its probably both tbh

You probably fell in love with the blonde short king after this song

You ship Radioapple

you want a sitcom ft Radioapple and you'd sell your soul to get it

Your fav Disney movie is probably Aladdin

You totally play "HaHA! Fuck you..." on repeat

More than anything🪽😭:

So how's your relationship with your dad...

You cried so hard to this song that it scared you

grab the tissues, get your coziest blanket and go get your favorite treat

and some therapy

Welcome to Heaven😇🎶:

Emily is your favorite character

Your gaydar was going off when St. Peter started existing

Your a chill person

A little too chill though…

You might still be an active member of your community

Ya might wanna consider reducing your hours, there is such a thing as too much loyalty

Treat yourself to a vacation

You didn't know😧🪽:

Hello fellow black sheep of the family with severe religious trauma

You freaked the fuck out when the “If Hell is forever then Heaven must be a lie” line dropped

You felt so vindicated after this song and honestly, same

You LOVED Emily by the end of this song

Out for love 💗 🩰:

You like MILFs

You want Carmilla to kick/step on you

You’re either a magical girl fan, a fan of Latin music or both

You cheered so hard for Vaggie at the end you definitely got a noise complaint 🤣

Ready for this🎤⚔️:

You have anxiety

Your favorite character is probably Charlie

Your favorite movie is probably Marry Poppins or something in the same time period/genre

You’ve dealt with Karen’s before and watching Susan become tolerable was so satisfying for you

You want Alastor and Rosie to adopt you

More than anything(reprise):

You're the poster child of sappy hopeless romantics

You cried a little from joy here

You’re definitely not straight

You want this moment, go get yourself a Vaggie cuz you’re definitely gonna be the Charlie of the relationship

Finale🎶🎆:

You're the ultimate theater kid

This song hit all the sweet spots in your depressed brain for you

Let’s be honest, your favorite part of the song was either the Vees or Alastor

It’d your favorite part was with the Vees, your a huge chaos gremlin

You cannot be trusted with information but you’re very fun at parties

If your favorite part was Alastor’s part, get therapy

If you related to that part on a spiritual level, you mask so hard I’d believe you if you said you were born wearing a mask

[ticktockmyclockworkhart]

HI I LOVE YOUR TROLLS OC

How did trollex meet solo? How did they first get along??

WaaaaUUGH I WASN’T EXPECTING A QUESTION ACTUALLY AAAA!!

@moonpools00

Because his hearing is so sensitive his colors are duller since he’s a bit disillusioned with music as a whole :)

OK SO!! (these scribbles are horrendous too I promise I can do better than these lmaooo)

Solo’s whole thing is sound sensitivity which you can see with how large his ear fins are. He feels “bad” or “broken” as a techno troll because he hates loud sounds which makes their raves a hellish environment for him. He doesn’t hate music though, he actually loves it, but raving is like a social ritual for techno trolls so he’s always felt like an outsider for not enjoying it the way everyone else does. I headcanon the techno trolls rave together to sync their hearts and reinforce the tribe’s harmony/unity, so missing the raves isn’t great for him and he can’t really synchronize with other trolls.

Trollex and Solo originally met when they were kids, Solo was still young and trying to push through going to raves in hopes he’d eventually adjust. The rave that day was a big one, because it was the young techno prince’s first rave! Not that it made much difference to Solo though, he was still overwhelmed and miserable.

He was so stressed and overwhelmed at the time, he hardly cared about the big news of the rave, that the techno prince was finally old enough to join his father on the turntables (my headcanon Trollex parent, King Trance lol) or the way that the very excitable prince as flitting all around the crowd, just so beyond excited to party with everyone!

Until he saw one troll not having fun.

Because raves are such a central part of techno culture and this was a young prince who spent a lot of time at the heart of the partying even before his first rave, he couldn’t fathom someone not having a good time. Trollex wasn’t angry about it, though, but he was kinda hurt. This is their culture, but it was also his dad’s set, and he didn’t really understand why someone wouldn’t like it… but it definitely did make him sad. So like the confident little social butterfly he is, he chose to do something about it.

Trollex gave his headphones to Solo during that rave when he realized the volume was the issue and he was very pleased with his solution! And Solo himself was completely blown away. Not just from this complete stranger’s kindness (he, at the time, was unaware it was the prince since he was so small and so couldn’t see over the crowd to the turntables where the king was) but because the headphones took off the sharp edge of the sound and now all of a sudden he could actually HEAR the music and not just horrible loud noises.

That interaction was what made Solo realize he didn’t actually hate music, which he thought he did, he just hated the noise, and he finally felt like the world and the person he was made sense.

Solo has been pining after Trollex since, but as an excitable social kid he moved on pretty fast and forgot about the interaction because it was just one moment in a long day. They met again as adults and Trollex didn’t even remember until Solo told him! But it was their first interaction! Trollex only became properly aware of him until they met again when they were grown.

The headphones Solo was gifted had been broken by bullies only a month after that interaction and he fell into a much worse mindset, throwing himself into social isolation feeling “wrong” somehow, exploring other forms of art which he mostly did with collage of found objects on the seafloor, close to where his home was. He did this for years but still had a fondness for music, even though he couldn’t really get close to it anymore without his ear protection. He sang to himself, mostly.

One night after a rave, while collecting sea shells for his art at the seafloor, he was singing to himself and Trollex, who was finishing up from his set that night, overheard and followed the source of the sound. That was their meeting as adults and after several more chance encounters the rest was history!

Thank you for letting me ramble aaaaaa

[mcytcares]

Hiiiii, how are you?

Can you maybe do a OSMP Techno with wolf reader?

Have a good day/nighy

sure thing, anon! i did a short one-shot for this, if that's ok! fun fact: the google doc name for this is "bunnyblade and the big, not-so-bad, wolf". hope you're having a good day!!

OSMP TECHNOBLADE AND WOLF READER

Type - One-shot

Platonic

Origins SMP

Note - This involves the OSMP character only. Also this is written with a gender neutral reader in mind :]

Warnings - N/A

Word Count - 947

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You stalk amongst the low, apple-burdened branches of the orchard trees. The shade lets you cool down from the sweltering summer heat, beating down in a shimmering haze. You keep yourself low as you move listlessly between the trees, ears pricked warily. If one were to see you like this, they'd think you were dangerous- stalking prey. In truth, you were more like a sheep in wolf's clothing. Your wolf hybrid lineage passed onto you heightened senses, as well as wolf ears and a tail, and sharp teeth fit for eating meat. You were more than your frightening appearance however- a kindly forager who enjoyed dark furs, the smell of pine trees, and cooking. You only hunted when you needed to- arrows piercing through the air to fire upon a stray buck or an unsuspecting rabbit.

Unsuspecting rabbit, your mind echoed. You watched through the foliage as Technoblade- the bunny hybrid-turned-farmer- dug his trowel into the dirt. He sprinkled carrot seeds into a row of shallow holes, set on planting and nothing else. Off to his side, a basket of carrots. A bountiful harvest. He turned his back to you, bending down to place dirt back over the seeds. You inched closer, ever curious. While you've never formally interacted with the bunny hybrid, you admired his diligence to his work. He seemed to enjoy it, even, looking proudly upon the rows of newly planted carrots. You've never been a farmer- disinterest in vegetables and most fruits lended to that. However, that didn't mean you weren't interested in how exactly the process happened. Technoblade seems to take to farming as easy as breathing. Like it was his whole life. You guessed it was- you'd come by a few times and he was always there, planting carrots.

You didn't want to seem creepy, snooping around- not at all! You were simply just too shy and awkward to approach. The farmer seemed so absorbed in his work, you didn't want to bother him. Still, curiosity tempts the cat- or the wolf, technically- and the cat gives in to curiosity.

One more step, and a branch shudders and snaps underfoot. It makes you pause, shoulders tensing up to your chin. Technoblade stills, caught in the motion of digging. His ears twitch and swivel, trying to capture the source of the noise. You hold your breath, suddenly anxious. You shouldn't be afraid- you know you really have no reason to- but you are. After all, you're about to be caught sneaking around Technoblade's farm!

He half turns, eyeing the tree line. "I know you're there," he says, steady voice breaking the silence. Sheepishly, you step out of the shade and into the sun.

"Hello," you greet, voice hushed and warbling, "sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I was just, ah, watching you work!" You're sweating because of the heat. Totally.

Technoblade gives you a dubious look, one eyebrow raising. It's like he can see right through you!

"I don't- I mean-" You scramble to save yourself from your own awkwardness, "I really like your work ethic! It's admirable! And I was interested in learning how to farm." That's not necessarily true, but if it would get you in his good graces, then you were going to ride this train to the end.

He turns to you fully, tugging at the straw hat atop his head. Your eyes connect and— wow, his eyes are intense. You find yourself unable to look away as he mulls over your words, rocking his weight on one leg. His hands and knees are muddied with dirt, appropriate for a farmer. He wipes one hand on his overalls, using it to tap his chin in thought.

"Hrmm… well, I suppose that's not such a bad compliment. But flattery isn't gettin' you anywhere, 'specially if you want any of these carrots." He looks possessively back at his carrots, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Huh?" You blurt out. Your hands move on their own, defensively coming up and waving around. "Nnoo, no, no! Really, I do admire your work. And– and…" You trail off.

"And?" The bunny hybrid prompts.

"And I think you're the best farmer– ever–! I want to learn from you!" You exclaim.

Technoblade looks at you. And laughs.

It's this low, rumbling chuckle that crescendos into a near cackle. You're left stupefied as he thumps his foot on the ground, getting all the giggles out.

When he's finally done, he looks up at you, a half-smile on his lips. "'Course I'm the best farmer ever," he says, "I'm one of the only farmers around. Nobody's got me beat when it comes to farming. But… If you really wanna learn…"

Techno walks over to a basket full of carrots, still sprinkled with dirt, fresh from the ground. He plucks one out, breaks off a half, and proffers it to you.

"Consider this my metaphorical olive branch," he rumbles. His eyes, you notice, are a carmine red made vibrant in the light of the sun. "Show of good will an' all. I'll teach you, and you stop snoopin' around here."

You take it, slowly, hesitantly, turning it over in your hand. Just a regular old carrot.

"Promise you'll teach me?" You ask.

"Promise," Techno replies.

You take a bite. Crunch.

Techno smiles.

[sixthemeowmeowidk]

HELLO SIX MY POOKIE

ok I decided to hand pick some fics from The Vault for u (I sincerely apologize for how messy it is)

Libertango by anonperegrine ! Absolute classic royal au with delicious delicious slow burn and well deserved fluff at the end (there is also a sequel I haven't read yet though)

If Lying Feels More Comfortable When Wearing A Suit, So Be It by A_Concerned_Citizen ! Ok so. If u find this fic you will quickly realize it's unfinished BUT trust me when I say it still totally works and you won't feel anything like missing or left out so it doesn't rlly matter so long as you ignore it. It's got some good ol fake dating they get all domestic and shit it's so cute

Silver Sails and Indigo Scales by VoidAvon ! I love their fics and this one is a mermaid au! Beautiful writing and there are a lot of sorta clueless mermaid Wil and Q hijinks (slow burn too!)

It Is Nothing to Die, It Is Frightful To Not Live by Aba_02_Cash ! Q helps Wil out of a horrible winter storm and soft shit ensues, literally my favorite fic of all time and while you're at it go read all their other fics if ur in the mood of hurt Wil getting taken care by Q

the sunrise is sleeping by ghostieZone ! Q coming home from work to see Wil still sleeping in his bed it's super cute and shit they are just sadly yearning here but FOREHEAD KISSES

What Happens in Las Nevadas, Stays in Las Nevadas by Paperturtledove ! Wil and Q doesn't remember what they did drunk last night, and if u read the tags. Accidental marriage baby! Also a little bit of preening at the start

Meet the Minecrafts by Paperturtledove (again! I didn't even realize they wrote this one too until now) ! Wil invites Q to dinner to the Minecraft household! Shenanigans ensue. Phil and techno are done with their shit

Seniors by d0gteeth ! Tntduo as you guessed it! Seniors. It's pretty short and sweet and I always have a soft spot for angsty teenagers tntduo so this is one of my favorites

The Sanguine Shore by VoidAvon ! Another mermaid au! This one's a oneshot and is super fluffy and just cute as hell. Wil is a loser who falls in love ♥️ oh and nearly dies but that's beside the point

October is for soulmates and October is for lovers by Endergirl ! You know it's good if it's by endergirl. Just a collection of oneshots and they're all super fucking good !! Can't summarize them all here obviously so looks like you have to read it yourself to find out 👀

Being Revived Was a Real Pain In My Back by mintitack ! Q massages Wilbur's back and it's cute :3

you're gonna drown in your sleep by lav_endermoon ! Wil has a nightmare and Q calms him down. A classic. Q's sudden transition to being tender and soft when he realizes what's up got me tho I love it

We Are All Poetry, Night Vale by alittlebitofwonk ! Pretty short and sweet but with some good ol pining and Q is a tattoo artist Wil is a barista all that good stuff

Candle eyes by VoidAvon ! Rivalry in a zombie apocalypse! Oh what's this? Wil realizes making Q smile is better than riling him up to a fight? This isn't like explicitly romantic but if you can read inbetween the lines... Pretty Gay (also one of my favorites cause Avon's stuff is great)

OK FLASH ROUND

Pretend by Endergirl

automate by darkrooms

we got a love that is hopeless by delusionalbutck

The Pain of No Sleep by Bubblemintbabe

no big deal (I love you) by luminouslotuses

All of Aba_02_Cash's works

All of VoidAvon's works

Another glass of whiskey comin' up! by lovelesmae

Ok...that's all I got in me........my final message........ctntduo gay love..dies

THANK YOU TORI U ARE THE REMAINING BACKBONES OF THE CTNTDUO COMMUNITY THIS VAULT IS INSANE

[ninjago-sins]

I think safe ships are boring. I well aware that greenstorm, Llorumi, ZanexOverlord whatever that's called,* insert more enemy x hero ships here* are toxic, unsafe, criminal in some cases. But I don't read fanfiction for the slowburn now they live happily ever after endings. At least not between this type of dynamic

Especially if they're actual enemies. I don't want them to be happy together. And grow and learn to love and forgive the atrocities and stuff. That's just delusional.

If I'm reading a hero×villain story im there mostly for the conflict. The wrestling mania of having a crush on the worst person on the planet. Thinking that this person beat me up yesterday but I'm still gonna kiss them. The overall conflict of having to explain to other protagonists why on earth they run back to this very evil person. Figuring it out themselves why they like this person and why they keep doing it.

Safe ships do the same thing. Over and over. Kai x Cole ch1 they're pining, ch2 almost kiss, ch3 actual kiss, Ch4 random event or miscommunication, ch5 IVE ALWAYS LOVED YOU COLE!

Most safe ships have this exact or very similar formula. It's repetitive and so very very very very bland

I suppose the sin is that I like unsafe ships because there is more uncertainty and more to work with and are almost always guaranteed a bad or emotionally complicated ending. And you don't get that energy most of the time with more safe ships like Lava or Techno because to make that conflict with *good* characters, you have to be really ooc to get there. l And no I don't think it's hot to be beaten up or support abusive relationships. But in fanfiction it is fun in way.

it's complicated idk man

I do get where you're coming from. exploring bad relationships is always entertaining. Again, if you're not shipping any of these romantically I don't see a problem. I love me some Lloyd hating himself for still liking harumi one shots.

but like... Zane x Overlord. what even is the... what would...

anyway, maybe step away from the very edge. Try some AUs maybe? That's an easy way to switch up dynamics so that outcomes are a little more uncertain. I've seen some really devastating stuff be done with pixane, and that's like the most pure ship.

But also, yeah, fanfic writers, healthy relationships have real problems sometimes. make it interesting. there's a place for fluff, but get some stakes in there.

[tech-two]

Might as well share an AU I wanted to write but got burnt out on lol

AU was where Phil is a prince and Technoblade is his royal knight. Worked on it with a friend we had this shit plotted out

The two met once when they were children. Techno was an orphan and Phil had run off from a royal ceremony thing. Phil was the first person to be nice to Techno so he wanted to repay him someday for it

Techno is still a full on pig

Phil dropped an emerald necklace when they first met which Techno kept

Phil is actually a bastard child with avian blood so he’s been forced to keep his wing hidden his entire life so the people aren’t outraged

Techno joined the royal guard and had basically a celebrity crush on Phil

Like half the royal guard

Niki is Technos bestie and fellow royal guard

Phil picks his personal guard with a sparring match and Techno is the only one to really spar with him. Both get locked at a standstill

Wilbur and Tommy are Phil’s adopted kids. Tommy has Ranboo and Tubbo as his personal guards.

Techno is the first one outside of Tommy and Wilbur to see Phil’s wings. He sees them by accident and accidentally slips out that they’re beautiful

Phil is a workaholic so Techno drags him out for a day on the town. It’s definitely not a date but they’re both pining. It ends with them on a hill with a tree

Phil flies a bit for the first time in years because Techno promises to catch him if he falls

Techno and Philza get very close but Phil feels bad for having feelings because getting with him means either keeping it secret or having to deal with a lot of attention

They practice ballroom dancing and Techno confesses at the end of it while they watch the sunset. Phil says no because he thinks Techno will be happier without all the pressure while Techno thinks that means he doesn’t like him

Things are awkward for a bit until the ball. Theyre apart until someone tries to stab Phil so Techno takes the hit

Ranboo and Tubbo got blackmailed to do an assassination via Micheal kidnapping. They were very bad at it

Techno is stuck in a coma for a week and Phil goes feral bird man mode out of rage

When Techno wakes up, they have the big emotional talk and Phil accepts his confession

Ranboo and Tubbo confess mostly because they feel really bad but also Niki found out and wanted to kill them

Phil just exiles them from the kingdom

Tommy is initially super mad at them and almost doesn’t say good bye. Rolls up on a horse as they’re about to leave definitely not about to cry

Has a timeskip to Techza already married and Tommy is their foreign ambassador. Gets to travel and see his two best friends

Niki is captain

Happy ending :D

@techza idk if this is the kind of thing you want for the archive or not lol

[honeyblockm]

Contemplating small town dreamon hunters au again. How do I make these interpersonal relationships more convoluted. cdteam high school friend group that had a fallout + karlnap high school sweethearts (broke up) + quackity pined aggressively for both of them and is still low key yearning + currently in an indescribable fwb/rivalry thing with the local dilf (counterpoint: wilburs in his mid 30s.) + fundy is wilbur's kid + tommy is wilbur's unofficial adopted brother (he is around. Often) + philza is also here and techno drops by once in a while + techno is mentoring ranboo + tubbo is quackity's brother and he's dating ranboo and he's best friends with tommy + cdream was kind of the local debate prodigy or whatever* and he fucked off to college somewhere far away but he's mysteriously back in town and he's possessed by a demon and he's killing people. And fundy had a middle school crush on him when he was doing camp counselor stuff but that's not really relevant + assume half of these characters have additional odd histories or really awful beef with each other + fundy and tubbo and sapnap are trying to kill dream for possessed by a demon and serial murder (while under demonic possession) crimes

*idk what extracurricular cdream did in high school but he was really good at it

[sekritjay]

How does one judge a song like Now and Then? I'm someone from around Merseyside and yeah, we're of immigrant extraction, but my family came to settle in the north-west at the peak of The Beatles' popularity - listening to them was as important to us as an symbol of our integration but also as a source of common heritage with our adoptive home. And it was certainly genuine. We have some second pressing vinyls of Please Please Me and Rubber Soul knocking around in the basement. And Electric Light Orchestra but we'll ignore that one

So when Now and Then was billed as 'the final ever Beatles track' I knew it'd be a challenge to detach my personal feelings and examine the track as a piece of music rather then as an indelible part of my cultural identity. And so it proved that despite it being four days since its release I've rehashed this post several times as I take the time to reflect on both the music and the professional critiques arrive simultaneously

Doesn't help of course that Now and Then seems specifically tuned to sound whistful and regretful, a moody piano and guitar ballad. Two Beatles long since passed away and the remaining two severely aged despite still performing, pining for the return of some non-specific loved one. Said loved one being the person who wrote and sung the song in the first place

Yeah. Is it a good idea to critique it in the first place? We know it was dumped for a reason when they were first going to put it to tape, and we know of abortive attempts in the nineties to do it too but the technology just wasn't there to do it justice. Now that we have the technology, courtesy of Peter Jackson, should we judge it as a piece of music, or judge it by the context of its release?

Because there's a reason why George Harrison originally described it as 'shit'

Sure even when they were passing back it forth they knew it was hardly going to be the next Strawberry Fields. And when they were recording the demo with Lennon the lyrics at the time were always going to be more for a general feel rather then the final draft and it shows. "I know it's true, it's all because of you" is sincere and heartfelt and flows well too but hardly poetry. And despite all the techno-wizardry something still feels odd about the modern instrumentation and techniques paired with Lennon's resurrected vocals ripped unchanged from the seventies. Some might well argue the dead ought to stay dead and use Now and Then as a cautionary tale

And yet. And yet I'm still thinking about it, rolling the words and melody on repeat, in my head and under my breath. Can't detach my love for the Beatles from the part of me in a black turtleneck tutting and sniffing, more concerned with trying to think of a piercing bon mot, just to ignore the fact that at the end of it all I do love it

I guess I'm trying to say that I think the value of Now and Then comes from its context really. Starr and McCartney, years after their split felt that they had unfinished business with the band that formed with their mates, and after all that time, in their twilight years, some sense of closure. I think much of Merseyside feel the same way. Myself included

[fvriva]

tagged by @cervicrazed to show off my music taste! gonna pick from my shuffle lol

Belgrade // Battle Tapes -> i hear this is a theme song for a show now? anyway this song is a good action song. really fires me up. has a slapping beat and that alt rock band sound

The Woods // San Fermin -> my introduction to san fermin! this song has those spooky witch vibes, an extremely deep male vocalist and tones set by a female vocalist, though some of the other songs with that lead are super pretty. florence welch adjacent

NEVER MET! (feat. Glitch Gum) // CMTEN -> listen, okay, i know hyperpop isn't a real genre but i love that energetic mixture of autotuning and glitchy mixing and electronic beats. i can also almost sing along in time to this one (it's a little fast)

Bii Biyelgee // The HU -> 🫵 go listen to this mongolian folk metal band NOW 🫵 their lyrics are getting really accessible on spotify and other places and they're so emotional and beautiful

Carmen ad deum // Helium Vola -> this genre is like. bardcore but in the other direction, and is actually good. all their songs are based in actual medieval texts and sheet music/period-accurate musical stylings, but reimagined as techno music

Vocalo-Colosseum // SymaG -> technically a cover of a rin and gumi song but i would be a hack fraud without any vocaloid on his list. the song in general just fucks in general but the album art for this song on spotify really enhances the vibe

Tengu Village // Maclaine Diemer -> similarly i would be a hack if i didn't put any ost on here, and GW2 ost in particular. this is one of my favorite new areas in the game, it's such a nice place to idle (or as new as eod is as the second newest xpac i guess)

The Pines // 070 Shake -> my sister introduced me to this one by going "you'd like this band. they have something in common with you." and after a lot of my guesses she was like "they're gay" thanks girlie. anyway this one is another one of those great autotune songs with a fucking EXCELLENT breakdown in the last chunk

Noi! // Yuki Kaijura -> if anyone can find another track with the same general vibes as this song PLEASE hmu. it's giving coraline as well

Camel Dancefloor // Igorrr -> this track singlehandedly got me back into igorrr, my beloved my beloved. it's one of the less crazy igorrr tracks compositionally but it's got an addictive melody motif

tagging: @t4tmetalsonic @breitzbachbea @hunny-k @jin-kies @yoma-999 @awerzo @evilpol

[gdcatboys]

Phil is the definition of chill and subtle and not pining over his bodyguard, dammit Sneeg. No one believes him. No one.

But he's big and strong and could snap Phil on half if he wanted, and he's kind and gentle and so, so good. And also incredibly hurt in ways Phil cannot comprehend and he wants, but he won't make it worse if he can help it.

Phil is so attracted to Techno and already most of the way in love and Suffering.

Phil is doing such a good job of being chill. He is so chill. Sneeg needs to shut the fuck up because he's not pining, he's a prince, he doesn't pine.

And yeah, Techno can break him in half, but he literally never would, and Phil knows that. And he desperately wants to know everything that has hurt Techno so maybe he can help? A little bit?

Phil is 85% of the way in love and quickly falling the rest of the way and he has this completely under control. (He does not)

[cherryskeletoncake]

I ship Techza in a romantic but also platonic way (kinda angsty-)

Romantic in the way Technoblade would do anything for Philza, even if it meant dying to save him. Loving the way the avian looks at him with those bright blue eyes filled with happyness (deep down he knows that Philza's smile isn't entirely directed only at him)

But also platonic in the way Philza likes to spend time with Technoblade and do stuff together because they just understand eachother, platonic in the way Philza would also do anything for Technoblade but he would hesitate if it was about a life or death situation.

(Also, Heather from Conan Gray is a really well fitting song for this)

((Sorry for the wild and long ramble, I had and your blog was the choosen one because your fanart about Techno being in love with Phil but being unable to have his feelings reciprocated inspired me.))

Anon you get it! Emerald duo is good in any flavor🔥

Heather fits 100% for onesided techza. The pining is so good and makes me so sad because i *need* techno to also have a happy ending. But i do also find phil and kristin to be very cute. And the idea of techno and kristen interacting in some way is very dear to me. Phil has two hands you know?

[tothegatesofhell]

I know I’m late but if you’re still doing it, just going around checking the ship blogs— sunset, silver bullet, broadside.

You say late like I'm ever going to turn down the chance to talk about my fics.

Sunset - a chunk of description that I’m proud of The problem with this one is that I actually have a lot of descriptions I still really like. This one is still one of my favorites, though, from Illumine:

They set the portal up in silence, and Phil pauses with the last Eye. Techno is ready, spear slung across his back, hand on his sword. He has potions strapped to his belt, and Phil's chest seizes. If this were a story, a legend told about things that happened long ago, this would be the moment for a final kiss, this would be the moment for a declaration of love, a promise to keep living for the other. This is no story, though, and his love is kept in a careful ball in his chest, to be taken out and cradled with gentle hands only when he is sure no one can see.

Silver Bullet - a favorite trope to write

Uuuuuh okay I think this one is pretty obvious, but I very much enjoy the 'rescued slave' trope. Throw in some pining and a shit ton of miscommunication and I am always going to be interested. I also really love playing with religious themes, I think it's really fun and interesting and means all those sunday school classes are being put to good use lol.

Broadside - the pet head canon I secretly snuck into a fic

I've been so incredibly secretive about this one mhm, it's the golden-winged Phil headcanon that is definitely something secretive. Look, I get that it's basically canon that he has black wings but consider: pretty golden wings to match his hair. I think it's neat.

[the-villainous-ace]

You know, I had no prior opinion of the Velvet Underground and no idea what their music was like before becoming interested in them due to Good Omens. (I'm sure I HAD listened to them before inadvertently but I wouldn't have know it).

Based on the name Velvet Underground and my assumption on the type of music Crowley listens to, or rather what music he'd listen to to give the desired impression. *(-I suspect he has eclectic taste in music, at least far more expansive in his taste than Aziriphale)

I assumed they were punk rock (which I was technically correct about, though not quite punk rock as I know it in a more modern context) but I imagined more rock like Queen or Siouxsie and the Banshees.

I didn't expect when I qued up The Velvet Underground and started listening to, "Pale Blue Eyes"- to hear the soft strumming strings and quiet plucking of a guitar, accompanied by the gentle tap of a tambourine. I found the music very simple and delicate and held this sort of vulnerability to it.

It feels exactly like something I would listen to alone in my room,

(⬆️just like Crowley does apparently⬆️)

When I sat down to listen to The Velvet Underground for the first time one of my first thoughts was

-"I don't see why Aziriphale wouldn't like it?"

It certainly isn't bebop. Nor does it seem to have anything in common with bebop-

**(I imagine Aziriphale refers to all types of modern music that embrace a loud sort of cacophonous/chaos of sound experimentation and expression to be "bebop". Including but not limited to EDM, techno, heavy metal and screamo though I doubt Aziraphale would even consider Screamo to be music at all and would definite attribute it's creation to "downstairs". I would be interested to hear Aziriphale's opinions on Jazz in general though since we see him enjoy a bit of Glen Miller in ep 4 of season 2,

perhaps I'll post an ask to the authority on the matter and pray)***

-So why would Crowley dissuade Aziraphale from listening to it? (ie. The Velvet Underground)

I think it's because Crowley harbors a vulnerability with the music, or rather specific songs.

If you read the lyrics to "Pale Blue Eyes" and "I'll Be Your Mirror" you can't help but deduce who our Demon might be reminded of/thinking about while listening. It'd be embarrassing if Aziraphale also reached that same conclusion if he heard the songs (though it could also have just as easily flown over his head, you can never be quite sure where his wit will land).

But basically, Crowley dissuades Aziraphale because their music is something personal to Crowley that would expose a vulnerability. That he is in love and "secretly" pining over his Angel.

As a huge Velvet Underground fan I'd love to know if Crowley has a favourite TVU song. Thank you!

I suspect that he drives out with “The Black Angel’s Death Song” playing*, but when he’s at home and relaxing and nobody knows it’s “I’ll be Your Mirror” or “Pale Blue Eyes”.

*As long as it hasn’t been in the car for more than two weeks.

[serend1p1ty-0]

lest precious love slip away like time's sand

[Immortal!c!Technoblade x Immortal!Reader]

Warnings: SFW, Dsmp universe, Long Fic (16.3k), Fluff, Pining, Immortals

Title: The Edge of Dawn from Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Word Count: 16.3k

Author's Notes: [REUPLOAD FROM OLD BLOG!!!]

I KNOW I WAS GONE FOR LIKE A MONTH BUT I COME BACK BEARING GIFTS WHICH IS TO SAY I WROTE 16.3K WORDS THUS BREAKING MY RECORD OF 15.6K.

This took so long to write so I genuinely hope you guys enjoy it. Thank you so so so much to my beta readers @simpoot, @inniterhq, and @earthtooz. You guys singlehandedly saved me from descending into actual insanity.

Without further ado, here we go!

All of this is written in and is meant to be taken as the Dream SMP characters. There is no reference or inclusion of the streamers/Youtubers.

Summary: You were the unsung hero of legend that tore down a long-standing monarchy from the inside out. Technoblade knew you well, having been the closest thing you could call a friend.

But the war finished and he left without a warning with only the anarchist ideals that you rubbed off on him as his only reminder you ever existed. The voices begged him to turn back before it was too late, but he resisted and left you to eventually shrivel into the dust, another victim of time's cruel fate.

Or at least that's what was supposed to happen.

So why were you alive? And more importantly, why were you here in the Dream SMP?

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Every legend has a beginning.

Yours happened to start with a brewing revolution, taking the helm and beginning to strategize against the monarchy that ruled the land with an iron fist. The people trusted your guidance, every move designed to chip away at the defenses from the inside out until the government crumbled to its knees. Oh, but they tried desperately to hold on, sparking an all-out war between the citizens and their majesties.

The odds might have been against you had it not been for your companion that joined a little earlier than the halfway mark.

Technoblade was your partner in crime, so to speak. Your confidant and perhaps the closest thing to what you would call a friend in that period of time. He covers your back on the battlefield, a monster of death and destruction himself who has taken the majority of lives and ensured your success in the fights you endured. And after it all, he'd help wrap your wounds and tell you stories to distract you from the stinging pain of healing potions. Nights of pouring over maps and talking tactics and taking notes about routines slowly turn into something more intimate when he helps you with the straps on your armor or lets you lean against him while you read in the rare time you can forget the war.

To nobody's surprise, you fall in love with him.

It's dangerous when you linger too long by his side, committing his touch to your memory that might last. You make a vow to confront him on the matter when the war is said and done.

But on the dawn of the day after your victory, you find that he is nowhere to be found, not even leaving a note to bid you farewell.

Because even though every legend has a beginning, it also must have an end.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Techno cannot remember the last time he's been a part of a war.

Of course, before Pogtopia and L'Manberg, the piglin hybrid has trouble reaching back into his past and pulling out the dusty memories that have been abandoned on the shelf. Wars were always good back then, quenching the voices that would chant insistently for blood and fulfilling his purpose as a vessel. It must have been centuries, eons maybe since he was a part of an army with matching armor sets and wavering flags that meant something to its people.

He frowns.

It must have been the fall of the great monarchy. The one with the legend they call the Grieving Leader. While many historians have speculated about your life and what accomplishments you had made during your time on the Overworld, Techno probably knew you better than anybody out there. He remembers you, knows the idea of you, can still recall the timbre of your voice when you'd berate him for being too reckless. But despite the ghost of you that has suddenly made itself apparent in the room with him, he can't remember what you looked like for the life of him.

Years of pushing your presence in his life down have caused him to forget. Something resembling guilt gathers in Techno's chest as he grabs a notebook and a pencil before settling himself at his desk in the creaky-ass chair he carved himself. He could remember the shape of your head, the length of your hair, but nothing about your facial features. Did you have brown or blonde hair? Was it colored something else? What was the shape of your eyes? How did your smile curl? He stares at the page with the unfinished sketch, the space where your face was supposed to be drawn in becoming a mess of pencil smudges that stain the paper and become irreversible.

He doesn't notice the door click open much less the person who pushes their way in, catching sight of Techno's frustrated expression with dark fuschia eyebrows pulling together and lips pressed into a thin line. It's not until he sees the movement of something black in the corner of his eye that he looks up at the newcomer.

"Who's that?" Philza asks, peering down at the drawing with concern, "And why haven't they got a face?"

"It's an old friend," the piglin hybrid mumbles, running the palm of his hand down the side of his face in exasperation. He huffs out a heavy sigh, pig ear twitching with irritation at his lack of work.

"Older than me?" The winged man asks, attempting to lighten the mood.

"In terms of lifespan, no," Techno says bluntly, "They've been dead for a while."

"Oh. Sorry, mate."

"It's fine."

There's a tense silence as Techno chews the inside of his cheek, rolling flesh between his teeth as he tries to regain a crumb of your appearance.

"What were they like?" Phil asks as he strolls toward the kitchen and begins the process of boiling water for tea. Had you ever made him tea? Coffee maybe? Which one did you prefer?

"Do you know the story of the Grieving Leader?"

There's a loud clunk as something harmlessly crashes into the sink basin.

"You knew them?"

"I was a part of that war, Phil."

"You've never told me."

Techno closes the cover of the book. He can't stand staring at the blurred face anymore, devoid of the smile that you grew naturally when you saw him. Even after all these years, your memory summons a bittersweet pain to the forefront of his mind. One he tried so desperately to prevent by burying you in the graveyard of his past just as he'd done with everyone else.

"I did it for our own good," he says, sadness tinting his tone in a way that he knows his best friend would catch, "I couldn't bear to watch them grow old, move on and shrivel away. Not when I held them so closely."

"Would it have been different if they also had our condition?"

He hears the sound of teabags being dropped into water.

"Yeah."

The condition that goes unspoken is their uncanny immortality that proves to be more of a curse than a blessing. Men search for ungodly amounts of time for the secret to infinite life while Techno and Phil have already both agreed that they'd give it up if they could.

"The stories say they were a fearsome warrior," the crow hybrid hums, "They were a force to be reckoned with and tore down the walls of a castle brick by brick until the government fell."

"They did do that," Techno says wistfully, "They passed out those bricks to every person in the army as a token of their victory."

A vague image emerges in his mind's eye, a crowd of people surrounding one lone figure amidst the ash and dust of a ruined structure. But every one of their faces had the biggest grin on it in celebration of the end of the war.

"Do you know why they're called the Grieving Leader?" Phil re-emerges with two steaming cups and gently sets one down on the desk in front of Techno, "There's a ton of versions for this part."

"Unfortunately, I left before then, but from what I hear, it was for a lover or a child most likely," he says, pursing his lips as he lifts the cup to his lips. His heart stings thinking of you with somebody else.

"A shame. They're one of history's biggest enigmas."

"That's what they would've wanted."

You once said you wanted to be a famous mystery, though Techno refuted you by saying that everybody knowing your name wasn't exactly stealthy. You'd told him to just wait, plaiting his thick hair down his back in a neat braid and tying it down with the band he always used, scoffing when he joked that he'd tell all your secrets to the world. He read you to sleep that night, watching as your expression eventually smoothed out as you drifted to unconsciousness.

But you're gone now, long lost to time and its cruel partnership with death. You'd lived and you loved and you died just as any other mortal had and would. You had a life outside of him and it makes him ache, drenched in nostalgia and anger that he had to leave. The voices have never been so loud, begging for something other than blood as he traveled to the outskirts of the land, casting one last look in the direction where you slumbered cluelessly before leaving for good. They were outraged and made him pay for it with years of slaughter and death staining the pale palms of his hands.

But as his tea goes cold and Phil borrows something for a project before taking his leave, Techno can't seem to stop thinking about you, a blank and blurred face in place of a smile.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

The emerald duo knows when something urgent's happening.

Their main clue was when the sound of crows grow by the minute, exploding in a cacophony of noise that Techno can't understand but imagines sounds akin to the voices that are erratically questioning what was going on. The cawing overlaps as feathers scatter to the snow beneath their feet and black bodies turn the sky dark. The noise grows by the second, rising up like a tidal wave loud enough to make anybody’s head spin as the sea of darkness gives off the impression of a storm.

"ENOUGH!"

Phil's authoritative command cuts through the sea of chaos, the crows bending to his call as they immediately scatter to find places to perch. If Techno wasn't already used to it, he might have been disturbed by the thousands of beady black eyes watching his every move.

"Now," Phil reaches out to one of the birds that immediately hops onto his arm, wobbling as it balances itself, "Tell me what's happening."

Techno wishes he could order his voices around as Phil did his crows. Perhaps it would give him a sense of control, a break from the constant bloodlust. He's pulled from his thoughts when Phil's expression shifts from concerned to shock to thoughtful.

“What’s going on?” Techno echoes the screaming in his head.

“There’s...someone new in the SMP?”

The answer is definitely not what he was expecting. New people don’t settle in the area, immediately warded off by mysterious blood vines and the gaping wound in the earth as a result of Wilbur’s choices and Doomsday. If unfamiliar faces came around, they did not stay long.

“Where?” Techno asks, beginning to wade through the sea of crows to get to his house with Phil not far behind as he listens to the bird still perched on him.

“Not exactly in the Greater. They’re really far out, enough that they’re not near the main chaos, but well within the boundaries to be considered a part of the server as a whole.” There’s fluttering as the crow launches from Phil and takes flight to a spruce tree not far off, “What are we going to do about it?”

“I’m not sure,” Techno mumbles beneath his breath as he pushes into the cabin, “But I think it’s a good idea to give them a fair warning. If word of their presence gets out, they’re gonna be caught in the middle of a war battling for their loyalty.”

“Fair point,” Phil muses, “I’ll send chat out to scout out the safest route since you’re still, y’know, technically wanted.”

“No need to rub salt in the wound.”

“Of course.”

Techno can hear Phil’s smile as he cracks open chests and rummages through their contents. He plucks out stacks of steak, gleaming golden apples, cheap iron tools for spares, potions in case anything goes awry, things that may seem over the top but necessary for the piglin hybrid’s survival.

Phil checks the durability of his netherite, the shining enchantment swirling dangerously in the moody glow of the light, and asks, “So what do we do if they turn hostile?”

Techno knows the hidden question too well. What if you lose control? What if the voices turn your justice blind and you come back to the world with crimson seeping into your clothes and another life making itself known in your head? What if I can’t stop you this time? What if, what if, what if?

“I’ve sworn off of meaningless slaughter,” he reminds the winged man as gently as he could, but still cringes when the bitterness leaks through his tone, “It’ll be fine. You know what we did way back before we found ourselves here. If they don’t want to listen to reason...”

Phil eyes the netherite sword sheathed at Techno’s side and nods solemnly.

“Then we make them listen,” he finishes.

The crows don’t take long to gather information. They were Philza’s eyes and ears after all and soon, there’s a fully marked map outlining the route to take. At the end of the line, there’s a simple red dot for the stranger’s home.

“Take care, Steve,” Techno murmurs to his polar bear, fingers running through the mammal’s thick fur as a farewell. Steve merely grumbles affectionately, nudging his palm and closing his eyes to return to sleep.

Phil comes by, holding out a long strip of heavy-cut fabric and a bag of supplies at the ready. Techno stands up and takes his cape to sling it over his broad shoulders, settling into the familiar weight as he checks through his bag one more time. There’s tension, something akin to when he’d been forced to prepare last minute for the Butcher Army’s arrival but less dire conditions. As they say, stranger danger. You never know who you’re going to get when it comes to new faces. You never know what skills they may possess or what they’re after.

Techno wants to find out what this person’s desire is.

He plucks his mask from the rack and holds it in his hands for a brief moment, The face-covering is fashioned after a pig, fitting perfectly over the upper half of his face like a second skin as he buckles it into place. He grabs his crown next, setting it at home atop his head, and breathing in deeply before exhaling out of his mouth as mental preparation. The door clicks shut and the two start out on their journey.

They begin by entering through their Nether portal, the temperature shifting from the harsh freezing levels to ascending boiling hot that may as well have been classified as hell itself. Techno takes it in stride, snorting offhandedly to Piglins who call out to him at the sight of his golden headpiece. Lava bubbles beneath the winding bridges that multiple members of the server have contributed to overtime providing homes to striders that curl contently into the dangerous liquid.

“Do you think they’re here for somebody?”

Phil’s question catches him off-guard. “Hm?”

“Like, the stranger. Do you think they’re after someone?”

Techno hums and sidesteps a shallow point in the netherrack. “Maybe. We haven’t had anybody come to hunt someone down yet.”

“Mmm, let’s hope he keep it that way, yeah?”

“Fingers crossed, Phil.”

It’s a three-hour journey just in the Nether alone and another two in the Overworld. It’s not too much of a pain for the stamina Techno’s built for himself all these years. After all, he had to keep running to avoid being caught by the millions who’d love to have his head on a silver plate.

Nevertheless, in the time spent in the Nether, he’d come up with a fair amount of scenarios in case the circumstances turned for the worse. Maybe their stance with the bow was a few degrees off or their melee techniques left them open for a split second too long that could cost them his life. The voices in his head agree with each plan, giddily discussing which ways could spill the most blood. Hours later, the two come to a dip in the netherrack where two hills slope into each other.

Phil squints at his map, searching for a landmark in the terrain around them before nodding in satisfaction. “This is it,” he declares.

Techno sets down his bag and nudges aside a few items before producing a sizable amount of obsidian. Its surface glints with the illumination from the fires that burn lazily around them as he sets them up in the shape of a portal and Phil idly tests his flint and steel that sparks sharply when he strikes the iron against flint. Techno disguises the structure’s frame over with more netherrack and nods at Phil. With one flick of the wrist, violet swirls jumping to life inside the border.

They pass invisibility potions between them, the opalescent concoction sloshing in bottles as they drink it down and watch patiently as their bodies vanish from sight. There's something about being invisible that's both mystifying and terrifying at the same time. Techno's had his fair share of usage for the potion, especially helpful when he was breaking Phil free from L'Manberg and to stealthily avoid another face-off with a 3v1.

The Overworld is warm, but not like the Nether. It's pleasant, a small breeze providing cool air to accompany the sun's rays that reach down to kiss whatever ground it can. Techno squints, glancing down at himself to see the wisps of the potion giving away his cover. They'd have to move quickly or else he just might be in some deep shit. Following the sound of Phil's footsteps, the two begin making their way out of the borders of the main server and towards the rural area.

After approximately eight minutes and a sweep of the area to make sure they're in the safe zone later, the invisibility wears off. Their bodies flicker, dispelling the last of the potion before settling into being visible. They continue forward, navigating through the plains and trees.

Time here was spent thinking anxiously of what to say. Techno's never been good at words unless they were said in the heat of the moment, conjuring a grand speech from the depths of his mind while holding wither skulls over soulsand. But passive conversation? Ehhh, that's something he has to work on. It probably wouldn't give off the best impression if Phil did all the talking with a threatening seven-foot tall figure looming over his shoulder.

The air becomes strained by the minute as they grow closer and closer to their destination. The voices are beginning to chant blood. Crows eye them from the tops of the trees. Every footfall feels like it could be someone else's. Techno's ears flick at every sound. Philza clears his throat constantly as if to recalibrate himself. Time was the slowest it’s ever been as Techno counts down the seconds.

A house appears on the horizon.

It's a simple cottage, structured neatly near the edge of the woods that gives them a tactical escape if needed. As they draw closer, Techno knows that if it becomes a manhunt, the outcome is easily predictable. Smoke spouts from the chimney as if to say, "Yes, someone's home." It looks like an easy domestic life and he almost feels sorry that they're disrupting it. Almost.

They approach the door and it feels like the moment of truth. A dramatic reveal. Phil raises his hands and knocks.

There's shuffling.

The sound of tools being put down.

Footsteps creaking wooden floor planks.

The click of a lock.

Squeaking as the door swings open.

A figure appears in his vision.

Technoblade's eyes widen as in what feels like the first time in an eternity, fear spreads through the whole of his body from head to toe.

Your face has never been clearer.

Time freezes as the two of you stare at each other, each unmoving and each trying to gauge what the other will do first. Phil hasn't spoken yet, sensing the tension and backing off quietly.

This couldn't be real. You were dead. You lived centuries ago. You died centuries ago. This must be an ancestor, a cheap trick of the light. A devout believer in the Grieving Leader who fashioned their appearance after you. It wasn't you. It wasn't you. It wasn't you.

But all his excuses shatter the moment you speak.

"Technoblade?"

It all comes rushing back, the smiles and laughter and scolding lilted tones and fingertips dancing across his forehead as they brushed away his bangs. The sharpening of tools and preparing for war and making sure the other was covered in the middle of the chaos and death permeating the air and healing each other's wounds later. The grief and the silence and the anguish that follows his departure like the plague.

All of it and more is right in front of him.

You're right in front of him.

"You're not real," you whisper, backing up slightly, "I'm hallucinating again even after all this time."

Techno wants to say that you're not. He's here. He wants to reach out and pull you close and never let go and tell you what's happened over the time you've missed together. But you're afraid, he can see that now. You're shying away from him and it hurts more than he thought it would.

"You're supposed to be dead," is the first thing that wheezes out of him.

"So are you."

But you're not. The both of you are still undeniably alive and breathing. He hadn't realized how much he missed your voice and wished he could hear it in a better situation. There's a gap where someone was supposed to say anything, but instead, there's just emptiness. It's hollow, cruel, and suffocating and Techno just wishes they would say something.

"I spent so long trying to find you," your voice is scratchy and you swallow thickly, "And all these years I believed you to be taken by death's hands when you still walked the earth without a care."

Your words break him and suddenly, he wants to solidify that you're here even if you hate him. Even if you spit and never want to see him again, he wants to know that you're just...alive. He holds his breath as he shakily reaches out. You don't move.

With the most featherlight touch he can manage, his fingertips run down the sides of your face, grazing from the temple, gliding over the apple of the cheek, and leaving off at the left of your face.

"You're real," he breathes out loud to make the statement a reality.

You quietly choke on a sob and your eyes begin shining with unshed tears.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Things are awkward.

You’re busy shuffling around in the kitchen to prepare tea (you said it’s what you’ve always preferred when Techno abruptly asked out of the blue) while the two men are left in the main area suffering in silence. Phil keeps checking on his companion with worried glances to which Techno keeps waving off.

“So,” you begin slowly, entering the room with a tea tray, “what business do you have with me?”

“Just heard you were in the area is all,” Phil answers, taking a whiff of his cup when you set it down in front of him, “We don’t get newcomers around here often.”

“Any specific reason why?” you set a cup in front of Techno.

“The people in this server are...competitive,” the piglin hybrid answers, identifying the beverage as lavender tea, “If you’re here, you’re gonna have the factions frothing at the mouth for your allegiance.”

“That intense, huh?” you muse, “But I’ve been in the crosshairs of wars before. I think I can manage.”

“Things aren’t like what they were in our war,” Techno refutes and immediately regrets it when your neck nearly snaps when you glare at him. His mistake whirls in his head. Our war, our war, our war.

“I know that,” you say harshly, busying yourself with pouring your own drink, “Nothing was like that period.”

For a split second, he can see you perfectly in the tent you shared. He can see you slumped over the table with eyebrows pinching together as you mark up another possible route. He can see you falling asleep, leaving him to carry you to your cot so you didn’t wreck your spine. He can see you motioning him over to proof check your plans that would be worth his time.

But, here you are now in a humble cottage far away from the action and living a life vastly different than what he remembers from a past life. He looks into your sunken eyes, devoid of the passion that comes with living. It leaves one major question hanging in his mind.

What happened to you?

“Surely the place can’t be that bad,” you say, taking your own seat and looking at the two, “Well I haven’t seen any explosions or screaming yet or I’m too far away to hear it.”

“You’d hear it,” Phil assured, “The last proper war we had certainly rocked the earth to its core. Actually, Techno and I were two of the three drivers of it.”

Your gaze slides to Techno and he keeps his expression remaining indifferent as he stares you back. “Why am I not surprised?” you mumble, turning your eyes down to stare into the dip in your cup “Voices still sticking around?”

“Of course,” he says, “You know better than anyone that they don’t necessarily like the prospect of leaving.”

“They don’t,” you agree gravely.

Up until this point, the voices have been murmuring softly in a state of shock ever since your reveal, but now they’re beginning to grow louder with questions that he almost lets slip from his lips because he’s been asking himself the same things.

He’d told you about them before when you’d asked about his history with combat and what had made him so hardened to the outside world. Technoblade barely made exceptions, but you had softened him somehow through conversing as if he were a fellow human being rather than the beast that the soldiers envisioned him as. You were more concerned rather than horrified when he’d told you about them and asked if there was anything you could do to help. In the end, he spent that night in bliss as the voices cooed over your fingers carding through his hair and massaging his scalp to relieve any remnants of headache.

So they liked you, so to speak.

“What are they saying now?” you ask, a hint of underlying worry in the simple inquiry.

“They missed you.”

You blink like you didn’t believe him. Techno only shrugs indifferently because he’s not going to lie about it, especially not with the bastards watching his every word.

“O...kay,” you back off uncertainly and he cringes when the voices immediately begin arguing over whether it was the right move to make.

Trying to push the eruption of overlapping children to the back of his mind, he takes a sip of his tea and listens idly as Phil asks you some questions and you reply to the best of your abilities. You don’t laugh, not even when the crow hybrid tries cracking a joke or two. Actually, you only smile sadly like you pity him for being a bad comedian.

The hours pass quickly until Phil looks outside and notices the sun creeping towards the horizon.

"We should probably get going," he mentions, standing up and stretching.

"We do still have to feed the animals," Techno nods, draining what was left in his cup and joining his friend's side.

"I see," you murmur, piling their dishes back onto the tray and walking them towards the door, "This was a very nice chat."

Nice wouldn't really be how Techno would explain it since there are many things still left unsaid between the two of you. Sure, it was civilized but he longs to know more. What have you been doing? Why were you here?

The night air is cool on the lower half of his face, the mask blocking it from his eyes. Phil shakes your hand and thanks you for the company to which you politely tell him it was no trouble. Techno begins to follow him down the path they came until a soft call of his name freezes him in his tracks. He looks back to where you linger just outside the threshold of the front door.

"I -" You struggle to gather your thoughts, "Do you want to come back? Soon? I'm sure there are things we need to talk about."

He breathes out a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing now that he knows you're on the same page. "Yeah. I think that'll be good."

"Good, good."

You shift awkwardly from foot to foot and he almost blurts out a goodbye until you open your mouth to speak again.

"Um, you don't need to if it's a personal thing, but I...I know what you - what you look like."

Techno's eyes widen and his fingers unconsciously find the edge of the covering that conceals half of his face.

"Yeah, of course." Anything for you.

"Great, uh," he can tell you're just as poor at this whole conversing thing as he was and the fact gives him a little comfort, "Can we do it tomorrow?"

"I'm free tomorrow," he answers even though he doesn't know if he actually is. Screw it, he'd push it all back if he had to.

"Okay."

"Okay."

Something flows between the two of you, a spark that gives Techno the impression that things will be okay in the end. He gives you a small smile and his brain goes haywire when you return it.

Genuinely.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," he says, getting a bit bolder, "Any time?"

"Whatever is good," you answer, "I'm not really busy with anything."

"Got it," Techno glances behind him where Philza has waited out of earshot. God bless that man, "I shouldn't keep him waiting, huh?"

"I guess not," you sadly smile, "I'll see you around, blade."

The nickname unearths old feelings he hasn't felt in a while. He hated the nickname when Tommy or Wilbur used it, insinuating he was nothing but a mere weapon at their disposal. But, when it was you, all it felt like was just a short of his name like it was supposed to be.

"I'll see you then," he agrees and finally takes his leave and goes to regroup with Philza, gravel crunching beneath his boots.

This time, the voices are not screaming for him to go back but instead are tittering excitedly, eager to return to your side the next day.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

"I've got it, mate. Don't worry."

It feels like Phil's said it for the thousandth time as Techno prepares to take his leave for your house. He's fretting. There's no doubt he trusts Philza with handling all the chores, but…

"I will worry," Techno steps around him and tests the weight of an iron pick in the palm of his hand, "You're old. Shriveling, even."

"What?!" Phil unnecessarily yells before groaning, "And just when I thought I had an ally in this world."

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm being dramatic?"

"I mean, that's what I said," Techno shrugs, and grabs his cape, "Next thing you know, you're gonna be throwing out your back trying to farm wheat."

"Oh, fuck off," the blonde snaps but lets a small smile slip anyways, "You should get going."

"I should," he agrees, strapping on his mask and sliding his crown into place, "I'll send a message when I'm on my way back."

"Gotcha. Good luck."

"Thanks, Phil."

Techno didn't think he'd be getting answers this soon. He walks the route that he did the other day, retracing footsteps and finding the portal with ease. Taking the obligatory invis pot, he passes through and begins on the final stretch to your home. After sending a brief update to Phil on his communicator, Techno spots your house on the horizon. The journey was significantly shorter now that he didn't have to worry about dragging behind his friend. Philza was a good travel companion, but contrary to the man's word, he was getting a bit slower.

You're outside already, setting up a modest farm and working the soil to fertility when your head perks up upon hearing his footsteps. You get to your feet, wiping dirt that smudges on tan pants, and wave him inside welcomingly. The house is warm and Techno kicks the spare dirt off his boots for common courtesy.

"Welcome back," you greet cautiously, closing the door behind him generously, "Do you want -"

Your words cut themselves off as he begins unbuckling the straps of his mask after recalling your request from the day before. He glances up, hands freezing in place and afraid he did something wrong already.

"What?"

"Nothing," you mumble, averting your eyes quickly, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Anything you'd like," he replies evenly and you nod, disappearing into a hallway presumably to change out of your dirt-stained clothing.

Techno sighs, lowering his mask fully and setting it on a side table before sitting on the long couch you had placed next to it. He glances around the room to take in your belongings. There’re the necessities like crafting tables, furnaces, chests sporadically placed around, brewing stands that bubble lazily with potions, but there's also little trinkets like a colorful feather, a collection of rocks carved into statues, a piece of an ocean monument. They all reflect things you've done, a past he didn't get to be a part of. His gaze drifts to a familiar-looking piece of stone and his body jolts slightly as he realizes what it was.

So you'd kept a brick for yourself.

"Sorry about that," you announce your presence, sweeping back into the room and holding out a steaming sweet-smelling cup to him, "Hope you still like hot chocolate."

He hasn't had it in a while and if he ever did have it, his tongue has long forgotten the taste of it. "Thank you," he murmurs, looking at the cream piled on top of the liquid, "I don't know if I still do."

"You really did when we were - uh - comrades?" The title sounds uncomfortable, "So I hope your preferences haven't changed since I cut back on the sweetness the way you liked it."

Techno blinks dumbly. He forgot so many things about you, yet you seemed to remember every last detail about him. Guilt floods through his chest and he frowns.

"What -" he begins slowly, "Happened?"

You sit down on the other end of the couch and draw your knees to your chest, sighing as if mentally preparing yourself for what was to come.

"The war ended. And I wanted to talk to you about something the day after to hopefully clear something up, but…" you swallow, and he grit his teeth nervously, "You were gone. With no - no trace or sign."

Techno doesn't say anything but his lips do press into a firm enough line that it hurts. His mind is racing too fast, overflowing with voices that are arguing over what to say and what to not. It's too loud, too painful. So he just talks.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he begins softly, "I grew too attached too fast, and staying would have only hurt you and me."

"How so?"

"You would've grown up. Or you should've at least. You would have had to fall in love and have a family and settle into a content lifestyle before leaving me. I couldn't bear to watch it." He brings the rim of the cup to his lips and sips. It's warm and chocolatey but not too rich, cutting back on the sweetness just as you'd claimed. It makes him feel warm inside, cozy. Like he'd finally found home after a long day of work.

"But I didn't."

Your words make him look back up, afraid of something in you. Your relationship is rocky after all these years and that terrifies Techno more than it should. He's pitiful, nearly cowering away from someone so small yet so large.

"I'm sure you've already figured it out, but our time on this earth is infinite somehow," you search for something in his eyes but he doesn't know what, "If you stayed, I would have told you."

"I'm sorry." It bursts out from his lips too fast for him to hold back. He can tell the apology catches you off guard, startling as surprise curls your features before settling back down.

"I suppose we should take the time to get to know each other again," you say gingerly, "It's been a long time without you, Techno."

He sighs in exasperation. "I know.”

He knows he fucked up this time. All those centuries he could've been by your side instead of abandoning you selfishly for his own good. He didn't know how to be a friend back then and even though he has Phil under his belt now…

How does he reconnect with you?

He surveys you and you look him right back, not pushing him to say anything. You're patient and it's a virtue you've carried that makes him grateful.

"History painted you as someone who's larger than life," he decides to say, "What happened to you?"

His words were a little harsh, but you don't seem to take it to heart as you shrug indifferently. "People change, Techno. Did you expect me to stay the same after all this time?"

"The people never forgot you," he glances at the brick that lies stiffly on the shelf, "But it seems you've forgotten yourself."

For once, you're speechless and the room falls into an awkward silence. He doesn't regret his words per se but he does admit he could've been a bit more understanding about it.

"Do you know why I'm called the Grieving Leader?"

Techno raises an eyebrow. "I'm assuming it's because you lost a loved one. A significant other, a child, or the like. Time's not really a wish-granting machine."

"It was because of you."

The world stopped spinning on its axis and everything suspended in a perfect freeze.

"Things were such a whirlwind when you were gone," you continue serenely as if your reveal wasn't currently making his entire beliefs shatter, "I desperately looked for you everywhere. Villages knew nobody of your appearance and the people had to watch as I descended into near madness with the sudden emptiness you left in your place."

He suddenly can't get the sudden horrifying image out of his head of you asking every face you encounter if they'd seen him, reaching, calling, never getting an answer as he slips out of your grasp.

"You left me," your voice cracks, finally a break in the defenses you've carefully crafted against him since he showed up at your door, "And I daresay I would've searched to the ends of the earth had my sadness not drowned me before my longing did."

Techno almost breaks the fragile mug in his hands just from how tightly he held onto it. He wants to evaporate suddenly, to sink into the earth and never move again. The agony he forced onto you must've been terrible if the people felt it fit to garner a name for it. He shakes, lost in the way the voices are shrieking at him, rising up and punishing him for subjecting you to such torment.

He feels it festering, the bloodlust that comes whenever they get too passionate about something. Techno tries to repress it, but it's futile to try. His hand itches for the blade in his inventory to spill crimson and take more lives than he can count in a fit of adrenaline and horror. He almost dips beneath the waves to drown.

Until a small hand rests on his.

You've moved from your spot, gently prying the cup out of his hands to set off on the side table. "Techno," you murmur softly, "Stay with me now."

His wide blown out eyes are reflected in your own pupils, ruby red irises fluctuating between light and dark as he fights the entity that thrives on inside of him. "I'm sorry -"

You take a seat next to him, weight dipping into the cushions and making him painfully aware of your presence as you reach up to tilt his chin towards you. "Listen, those voices aren't you. I know who you are." Your gentle tone is something safe to hold onto in the flurry of the storm. It's a shelter. An escape. "I know you didn't mean to. You didn't know."

“But I should’ve -”

“We both should’ve done a lot of things differently,” you interject feebly, “But what’s important is that we work on being better together. And I forgive you.”

Forgiveness. It’s a foreign word to Technoblade that he never seeks after countless betrayals. But, hearing it fall from your lips might have been the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

The voices recede back, letting you have your moment. Maybe he was right before. Maybe it would be okay in the end. You slowly drop your hands from his face and come to rest them on your lap. For a little bit, there’s nothing but comfortable silence as you and he process the resolution you’ve arrived at.

“So what now?” he asks.

You tilt your head.

“Well, I want to hear what you’ve been up to,” he hums, copying your action and lolling his over to match yours, “Like you said, I’m sure we have much to catch up on.”

“You’re not wrong,” you smile, “How about you stay for dinner tonight? I can make you something nice and we can just talk.”

“That sounds nice,” he pauses, “Just don’t poison my food or anything before I make it up to you, okay?”

A burst of laughter bubbles from your lips and he has to pause to listen. Your shoulders shake as if you’ve forgotten what it felt like, the biggest grin he’s yet to see on your splitting your features. It’s beautiful and fragile and fleeting all at once.

Techno commits this image of you in his mind, burning it into his memories so he’d never forget again.

You usher him to the kitchen, flitting around and handing him a stack of potatoes to cut up for dinner as you fish out various other ingredients to prepare the meal. While doing so, he tells you about his life in the tundra with Phil.

"So you have polar bears and how many foxes?"

"Three," Techno answers, taking caution to not dice any of his fingers off as he chopped up the root vegetables, "But only Blitz really trusts me."

"That's a nice name," you muse from where you marinate a roast, "And you said Steve is your emotional support bear?"

"Something like that," he hums, "What about you? Any pets or lovers or stories to share?"

You snicker. "Lovers?"

"You never know," he retorts, "Well, you would. But I don't."

"Fortunately," you begin, walking to the basin where you begin washing off your hands, "I haven't had any suitors since we were last together. God would've had to save the poor souls who couldn't keep up."

"That's good," he lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, "I haven't had a problem keeping up with you."

"That's we've been apart for centuries, dickhead," you say lightheartedly and flick water at him, "You might change your mind."

"I won't," he grumbles and twists to wipe the water droplets off on his shoulder.

You dry your hands on a sage green tea towel and pause by his side. He can feel the weight of your eyes scrutinizing him, looking for something.

"These are new," you murmur, reaching up to run the lightest touch of your fingertips over crudely healed scars that litter his face.

He nearly shudders at the tentative contact, already missing it as you withdraw away quickly in fear that you'd overstepped boundaries. It leaves a ghost of a feeling that he can still feel the weight on the surface of his skin.

"There was a lot of time to get into fights," he answers even though you didn't ask anything, "Enemies tended to aim for the eyes so I just remedied it with a mask."

“Ever the resourceful one,” you chuckle, “Didn’t expect you to fashion it after a pig out of all the animals, though. What made you choose it?

"They like potatoes."

"Of course."

It feels easy talking to you even after all this time like nothing in the world could touch you. It felt so painfully nostalgic, just the two of you having pleasant conversations that would stay between you like secrets nobody else could know.

That night, Techno eats at your table and listens to your stories. That night, Techno lets you study his face and run fingers over scars he’s forgotten about.

That night, Techno falls in love with somebody all over again, but this time, he knows they share his infinite forever.

And perhaps that was the cruelest fate he could be subjected to.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Techno gets a sudden message from you.

This isn’t unusual considering you’ve been talking over the communicators for the past couple of weeks. As you settle into being around each other again and Phil gets used to having you around, you and Techno have certainly been making progress on building up your relationship and healing old wounds.

There's less fidgeting and hesitation, replaced by familiar comfort and the safety that comes with knowing that neither of you are leaving again any time soon. The piglin hybrid notices you smile more and laugh easier, sending his world spinning on its axis when you ask if you can braid his hair like old times. He has to resist the urge to fall asleep to your gentle tugs as you weave his rose-pink locks into a fancy fishtail style, gleefully slinging it over his shoulder for him to see. He doesn't want to take it out.

You make meals and help him take care of the wolf army. Steve's taken a liking to you too, greeting you every time you make the trip to the tundra for head pats. The foxes, although wary by nature, are slowly warming up as well. Life is good for once and it's something Techno rarely thought nowadays because of the server's drama and constant demands for his death.

The communicator buzzes in his pocket and Techno fishes it out, squinting at the screen. There's a single question from you.

"Can I ask you something?"

His eyebrows furrow and curiosity gets the better of him as he quickly types back a response.

"Anything"

"Mind going on a date with me?"

That is the last thing Techno expects and he almost drops the damn device when he reads it. His thoughts scatter as the voices burst out with joy, excitedly chattering away about the possibilities as he tries to form a cohesive thought. He hears his heartbeat thudding in his ears as he stares at your message, rereading it over and over as if there was a hidden message between the lines. Slowly, he begins typing.

Technoblade whispers to you: "Sure When?"

You whisper to Technoblade: "Next Wednesday? Can you pick me up when the sun's setting?"

Technoblade whispers to you: "I can do that."

You whisper to Technoblade: "Perfect! See you then :)"

You shouldn't be so casual about this but Techno's half glad you were straightforward with it. Or maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe you meant it as a platonic date. Those existed. What does he do? Does he dress up for it? Considering his normal attire, it was enough to pass as formal just on its own. What does he bring? Flowers, right? People brought flowers for dates. But what kind of flowers? They all had meanings, and Techno didn't want to accidentally give you blooms that insinuated that he hated you or anything.

Without thinking, he searches through his contacts for someone to help.

/msg Nihachu Do you know anything about flowers?

Later, he's left with a handful of carnations, dahlias, camellias, statices, purple hyacinths, white tulips, and pink stargazer lilies. Niki explained it as she went, combing through fragile petals before handing them all to him and wishing him luck. He reminded himself to pay her back later. Every one of the florets had their own unique scent and Techno could only hope you like them. Honestly, he was probably stressing out more than need be, but it was you.

Just that fact alone was enough to make his foundations crumble

Wednesday came and all Techno had was his rambles to Steve who simply looked up at him with beady black eyes. His flowers were in his inventory, waiting to be presented as he passed through the Nether and up into the Overworld. As he nears your house, he stops. Silently, he moves to crouch behind the trunk of a tree close enough that he can listen.

There's somebody already there.

"Can we just agree to disagree?" You ask, amusement laced into your tone, "Surely we can come to some sort of compromise."

"No, we fucking won't," a voice sharply retaliates, and Techno's breath hitches, "You've fallen off and your lover boy isn't anywhere to be found. So tough shit."

"Quackity, you said your name was?" You ask idly, "I wonder how much you really know about us."

"Enough that I know you're valuable to Technoblade. Now you can come silently or-"

"Uh huh. I've heard that one before."

Techno wants to laugh and cry at the same time. So this is why you'd asked him to come: for backup. He doesn't know exactly if he dodged a bullet or took one, but he didn't have time to think about it now that you required his aid. He slips his mask over his face and straps it into place.

"Listen here, you little shit. You think Techno's a good person? Do you see this scar?"

"Looks more like free dental service."

"Fuck off."

Poor guy. If only he knew the consequences of targeting you. Techno takes a glance around the corner, seeing you practically offering your wrists out as Quackity claps iron cuffs to them. They're similar to the ones the Butcher Army used to restrain him after threatening Carl. His jaw tightens, wondering what you were doing. The voices are brewing, chanting for blood already just at the sight. It's almost irresistible but he reminds himself that you need a level head right now, not a bloodthirsty raging beast.

Just as your captor begins to tug you along, Techno makes his presence known. He stands patiently, eyes flashing dangerously beneath his mask.

"Technoblade!" Quackity cheers, a forced smile splitting his lips, "What brings you here?"

"Wondering what you're doing with my," he glances at you, "business partner."

Quackity's face curls while you merely raise a brow behind him. "Business partner? The fuck are you trying to do?"

"Potatoes," he says and you roll your eyes, but a smile ticks the corner of your mouth, "Don't you know how valuable agriculture can be? It's actually a fascinating pattern in history -"

"Cut the shit," Quackity hisses, "I know you're here for them."

Techno blinks. "Don't hurt anyone now."

"Well, I won't if you -"

"I wasn't talking to you."

His gaze slides from Quackity to you who finally lets loose the smile you've been holding back when you feel the weight of his look. "If I know anything about you, you don't just let people take you willy nilly. So what're you up to?"

"I was bored," you chirp happily.

"Figures."

Quackity sputters, deciding to cut to the chase and draw a netherite axe from his inventory. The heavy blade gleams in the moonlight.

"Techno, if you don't -"

"You might want to keep an eye on your captive," Techno cuts him off idly, "Just a suggestion."

Almost as if on cue, you disappear from sight and the cuffs fall to the ground with a clatter.

"The fuck?" Quackity whirls around, staring at the abandoned iron incredulously, "Where the fuck are you?!"

Ominous laughter rings out followed by footsteps on dirt then gravel. The last of the sun dips below the horizon, bathing the sky in a dark blue. The wind blows gently, adding to the atmosphere.

"You just don't mess with them," Techno shrugs, feeling your invisible hand slip around his wrist, "They're a little sneaky, aren't they?"

"Enough with the fucking games, Technoblade," Quackity snaps, turning the blade onto the piglin hybrid now, "I'm so fucking done with you."

"Alright," he slides you an enderpearl, "Guess that means our little excursion is over."

He shifts his foot eastward before lobbying his own pearl. It makes a graceful arc and another follows it barely a second after. Before he teleports, Techno flips his middle finger at Quackity. He laughs to himself, hearing the man's angry screeches as his feet hit the new ground. Your giggles reach his ears as you land next to him, the potion ebbing away to reveal your figure.

"You," he begins, rushing to catch his breath, "Are so bad."

"Me?" Your smile is brighter than any cloudless sunny day, "You're the one who said we were business partners when I gave you an excuse!"

"I panicked!" He runs a hand through his hair, "That guy tried to execute me, bro."

"Even better," you say brightly, "Can I crash at yours?"

"I don't see any other solution," he grumbles lightheartedly but starts towards the nether portal anyway, "Next time you want a bit of fun, just ask and we can, you know, not mess with people that'll try to use you as leverage against me."

"Worrywart," you tease, "I can handle myself."

"I know," Techno sighs, coming down from the adrenaline and warding off the voices who want him to go back and finish the one-eyed bastard for good, "That doesn't mean I can't be concerned for your safety."

"I'll be more careful," you muse, catching his hand and swinging it leisurely between your bodies, "but only for you."

Only for you.

You tell Techno about your day. About the unfair amounts of poisonous potatoes that were in your garden today. About the pack of dogs you were sad you couldn't tame (to which he promised to give you some bones). About the way you'd learned about Quackity's plans to come after you and decided to make a fun little game out of it.

"He'll probably be targeting you now more than ever," Techno hums, "It's probably for the best that you stay with Phil and me for a bit until things settle down a bit."

"Okay," you agree, "We'll have to go back at some point for clothes, though."

"You can just borrow a shirt of mine tonight," he offers but immediately backpedals when he says it, "I mean - if you want to. You don't have to if you don't."

You fall silent for a moment and he fears he might have crept you out or something, but instead, you hold onto his hand a little tighter.

"I'd like that."

You walk back in soothing silence, nudging bodies into each other and squeezing fingers as if reassuring the other that the both of you are still there. Techno thinks about the flowers in his inventory and cringes. Well, he didn’t want to awkwardly shuffle back to Niki and mumble out an excuse as to why he still had them nor did he necessarily want to keep holding onto them. The voices urge him to just give it to you. After all, they were meant to be a gift, date or not.

Techno removes his cape before you step into the Nether portal to the tundra and you toss him a confused look until you find yourself amid snow and cold winds. You make a noise of protest at the sudden drop of temperature until he slings the thick fabric over your shoulders, blinking as white fur brushes your cheeks and he focuses on clasping it together. The air becomes thick with suspense as if the world was holding its breath waiting for something. Techno meets your eyes, face so dangerously close to yours as his breath hitches and he controls it to not fan onto you. You’re searching for something in his eyes again and the voices murmur softly to close the distance.

Neither of you speak when he slowly pulls away, but the taste of mourning is tangible.

You trudge through the powdery terrain, leaving two sets of footprints behind that’s vaguely endearing in an aesthetic sort of way. Phil’s house is already dark when the conjoined houses fade into view and Techno mumbles something about him being an old man causing you to laugh. The cabin provides a much welcome heat, just in time too as it begins snowing outside.

Techno climbs up the ladder to his room and shuffles through shirts that might be fitting on you. To be fair, his form was much larger than yours so any would provide enough to preserve your modesty. He settles for a soft and simple collared cotton number with adjustable ties, throwing it over his arm and descending back down to find that you’ve coaxed the fire back to life, which crackles heartily. You give him a warm smile when you hear the creak of the wooden planks and he notices his cape is missing from your body, strung up neatly on the rack near the door.

“You can change upstairs,” is all he offers, mind blanking, “Or in here and I can go upstairs. Up to you.”

“I think I’ll change down here if you don’t mind,” you hum, “Think I wanna hit the hay after such an exciting night.”

“Alright,” he agrees softly, tossing the article of clothing over the arm of the chair and turning to take to the rungs of the ladder when he pauses once more.

“You okay?”

Your tone rolls with a slight hint of worry and Techno damns the voices for what they’re pushing him to do.

“Yeah, I just -” he pulls away from the ladder and holds out his hand in empty air, “I know it wasn’t a real date or anything, and no offense, but it was a pretty shit one if it actually was but…”

He lets his words trail off as the bundle of flowers materialize into his palm, their light weight comforting in the anxiety that has suddenly taken home in his throat. He watches your eyes widen at the soft pinks, purples, and whites of the petals and your mouth drop open silently at the implications.

“I mean, it’s not much - and I had to - I didn’t know what to do,” Techno’s rambling now, your lack of words causing some forms of excuses to pour out of him, “You don’t have to take them if you don’t like them. We can use them for dye or -”

“Techno.”

He bites his tongue.

You walk forward, carefully taking them by the stems from his hand and holding them to your chest, just over your heart. Your head dips down, eyes fluttering shut as you inhale their scent and the corners of your mouth pull upward.

“You’re such a dork,” your fond whisper reaches his ears, “They’re lovely.”

The voices sing at your praise, pushing over one another as they celebrate this mini victory. They only exemplify as you reach upward, arm hesitating before brushing aside his bangs and sliding down the side of his jaw, cradling it for a second or two. Techno goes stone still, swallowing as he tries not to absolutely melt into your delicate touch. It feels too long and too short when you retreat. You can probably see the blush that floods his pale cheeks as he fumbles himself back into the real world.

“Goodnight,” he bids you, the voices gleefully recounting what just happened.

“Goodnight, Tech.”

He turns to the ladder and disappears up into his quarters.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

You stare at the flowers in your hands then at the shirt that lies over the couch. Your stomach’s turning with something like adrenaline and something like butterflies as you catch your heart racing. Swiftly changing into his clothing so you can go to bed, you almost choke on his scent that lingers all around you now.

"Shit," you whisper beneath your breath.

Because it appears that even after all this time, you’re still unconditionally and undeniably in love with Technoblade.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Things are so dramatically different between you and Techno, even Phil has noticed it.

There's a tenderness between the two of you, dancing around each other and beating around the bush when your feelings are right there for all to see. Lasting glances and brushing of bodies make Techno's brain go haywire, but you never talk about it. You enjoy the moments but don't risk losing them. However, it soon becomes unavoidable when a snowstorm rips through the area and traps you inside the cabin.

It's intense enough that Phil couldn't even risk opening the door in fear of being blown away by strong winds and unyielding freezing temperatures accompanied by hail. Techno peeks outside and grumbles, rewiring his daily chores to adjust to the sudden weather pattern.  You're unused to it, wonder ebbing into your features as you watch the white landscape through the windows. It's brutal, pieces of ice battering against the reinforced glass panes that thud insistently and threaten to shatter it.

"I made sure they'll never break," Techno reassures when he spots you, "This isn't the first snowstorm."

"So we're trapped in here?"

"More or less."

You don't seem upset about it. Much the opposite in fact, as you merely hum and wander away from the door.

"I guess we'll have to get cozy then," you muse, joining his side where he's adding wood to the fire pit, "There're worse people to get stuck alone with."

Alone together. It's almost like fate wanted the two of you to get the deed over with already. There's not much wiggle room in the cabin itself and Techno usually went into a small hibernation when storms like these happened, lulled away by the sounds of the natural words banging at his door until slipping into unconsciousness. However, now that you're here for this one, he thinks it may be impossible to go to sleep for that long.

"How long do you think it'll last?" You ask curiously, bumping a shoulder into his arm.

"Maybe two weeks or so," he replies, bumping back, "Give it time. I'm sure you'll be out of here before I drive you crazy." Even though you already drive me crazy.

"You can try," you say cockily, "But I doubt living with you will be that hard."

You end up being so very wrong because there's no escape from your emotions now. One moment, Techno would be reading only to find you next to him, idly scanning pages over his shoulder or he'd be smithing at the anvil and catch you watching him with intense focus. You're so irresistible and loud without having done anything out of line or talking and it leaves Techno washed up and dry every time he says goodnight and you hesitate like you want to say something more.

If limbo was anything like this, then he was fucked. Always silently reaching, always quietly calling, always hopelessly trying to suppress himself. You were so close yet so far always almost there before he lets you slip through his fingers again. You keep him on a line without a hook, caught up without even trying. He almost tells himself he doesn't love you but if anything, it only adds fuel to the fire.

Techno's longing. He's suffering. It's all your fault.

He doesn't blame you.

It's one night that all bets are off.  Techno treated you to a nice dinner of mushroom soup and recited a Greek story that he held in the back of his mind, eliciting laughter and wide smiles that he treasures in his memories. The storm is still going on strongly, showing no signs of releasing soon. It's torture, but even though it hurts, it feels oddly good. Life might dangle you on a string he could never reach, but at least he can just exist with you like this for a while.

He's drowsy after the day, having sorted through his chests monotonously and putting things in their places with your help so he goes to bid you goodnight when you speak up.

"How long is this going to go on?"

His eyebrows pinch together in confusion, thinking with muted fear that you finally might have had enough. "I can't exactly tell the snowstorm to stop -"

"Not that," you swallow and fiddle with the long sleeves of his shirt that does not fit on you but suits you well, "You know what I mean. What are we Techno?"

"Friends?"

"Techno."

You say his name in the tone where he knows that you're tired of avoiding the elephant in the room and want to get straight to the point. He sighs, sitting on the couch and mentally preparing himself. He feels you sit next to him, the silence suffocating and Techno wants to fade away again.

There's empty space.

Until he talks.

"Do you know why I left?"

You blink, looking up at him.

"You said it was because you couldn't bear to watch me grow old," barely topping a whisper, "If you stayed in perfect, pristine, and unaging condition while I shriveled away."

"Half right," he corrects and blows out a breath, "I said I couldn't bear to watch you fall in love and grow a family before dying."

You fall quiet, his words rolling in your head and he can almost picture the gears ticking away in your brain. “You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do,” he objects immediately, “You - You’re everything. To me.”

It’s uneasy and not at all the romantic confession you probably deserved. You should’ve had a grand gesture with flowers and confident words proclaiming everlasting immortal love. But, even now, your shared past taints his emotions with uncertainty and makes him stumble. One word from you could silence him forever.

Your mouth opens, then closes. You laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair as you try and find the correct words to say. “I - I’ll be honest, I wasn’t just planning on telling you about my immortality the day you left.” You reach out for him and he readily intertwines his fingers with yours. Your body temperature is significantly lower than his so you’re a little cooler to the touch. “I also wanted to tell you that I - That I grew too attached to you as well. I was afraid of watching you grow older, but I would have done so if just to be by your side.”

“So what of your feelings now?”

You blink then inhale deeply.

“I’m afraid they haven’t changed.”

He can’t help himself as the voices rise up to command him, and this time, he succumbs easily. A battle-worn hand slides gently up your neck, tilting your jaw upwards. Techno doesn’t think. He just does. A fire ignites in him as his mouth claims yours, boiling higher and higher until all he can see is red. His eyes lid as you grasp onto his wrist for dear life, trying to hold your own against the pressure of him on you, and your eyes flutter shut as you give in to the desire that’s grown between your bodies since the day he found you in that cottage. When he moves back to grant you space to breathe, you only chase after him, lips pecking the corner of his mouth as you slide down to rest your forehead against his chest.

He can feel his heart beating strongly against your ear, mind lost in the voices that are shouting your name and in the way you hold onto him still like you never wanted to let go. He realizes then that he truly does love you. It seemed so simple an answer for a problem maximized outside of his control, but it all came full circle. It’s a beautiful truth with transparently brutal candor.

Techno loves you and you loved him back even after all the unnecessary heartbreak he forced you to endure.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you mumble into his shirt, melting into him as his arms wrap around your torso and pull you in deeper.

“Then I’d follow without question.”

Sometimes, living was too hard so existing was all you could do. Miles away from any other civilization and listening to the windows rattling violently against the storm outside, it was easy to feel like you were the only beings on the earth anymore. You felt so fragile in his arms, but if anything, he knew that he held the world’s most dangerous weapon like a ticking bomb, ready to explode and devastate the terrain for miles around.

And so Icarus fell in love with the sun.

That night, he doesn’t leave you to huddle up on the couch but rather invites you upstairs with him. You look at home amongst his things and Techno nearly gets whiplash from the nostalgia of spending nights with you in camp tents as he served as your right-hand man. But you don’t give him enough time to dwell on it, pulling him towards the bed and onto the mattress. That night he tucks you into his body, finally indulging in everything he’s been holding back and felt so liberating to be able to hold you with tenderness like this.

For the first time in years, the voices let Technoblade have a good night’s sleep.

You no longer sleep alone, spending every waking and unconscious moment you can with him. The atmosphere doesn’t swirl with thick tension, but rather a fondness that comes with your newfound relationship. It’s more intimate than when you were used to, putting feelers out and testing the waters on what was okay and what wasn’t. It was a slow learning process, but you were getting there.

He kisses what he can reach, thanks to his stature and you quickly learn that he’s a big fan of the forehead and behind the ear. As for yourself, you like peppering small kisses on the inside of his wrist and on his hands. Even better is when you’re leveled and you can reach more.

Techno takes care of you, always checking to make sure you’re in good condition and you retaliate in kind by asking his voices things to keep them satisfied. They’re happier now that you’ve reunited, and there’s fewer headaches and stress that come with being a vessel for the Blood God.

You don’t go without your ups and downs, though.

“How are you this evening, darlin’?”

It’s an accident and he immediately regrets it as your head snaps to look at him with wide eyes. Pet names were never something either of you had considered or even talked about and Techno himself doesn’t even know where it came from, an apology getting lodged in his throat. That is until you take up one of his large hands in your own two and smile gently.

“Very well, my dear. And you?”

You laugh at whatever expression he pulls and tug him along to the couch, saying something about needing a warm cup of tea. The voices start repeating it, cooing out the word like a mantra which only causes him to be even more bashful. You sit him down and kiss his temple fondly.

“I’ll be back with some water,” you promise, an adoring look in your eyes, “Please don’t flush anymore, or else I’ll think you’ve come down with something.”

Soon, you have two steaming cups of tea in your hand as he reads a tale to you. His monotone dig is soothing even though some would say it droned on, lulling your eyes shut and your cup almost falls from your hands. Techno chuckles softly, plucking the fragile dishware from you and setting it aside. He tucks you into his side and continues reading from the text, pausing every once in a while to answer your occasional sleepy question.

“Can we go to bed?” you eventually ask, “Don’t wanna...fall asleep down here so you have to carry me up.”

“Of course,” he murmurs softly, bookmarking his page.

Anything you asked of him, he would grant to the best of his abilities after all.

The snowstorm begins to calm down, finally satisfied that it has done its job. The next morning, you awake to snowflakes falling gentle as can be to the earth below.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Techno forgets his birthday every year.

To be fair, he had much more important things to be worrying about than celebrating the day he was brought into this world, but Phil was an insistent bastard and didn't like letting it go. This time around seemed to be no different.

The sun intrudes into his eyelids, prodding him awake. He grumbles at the prospect of being conscious and ducks his face into the crook of your neck to hide from it. Your hand comes up, running through his hair and brushing across his scalp lazily as you murmur something.

"Need to get up," you say softly, "There's animals to be fed.".

"Five more minutes,” he pleads like a child, “Not in the mood to be up yet.”

You breathe out a laugh and let him be, continuing on your soothing touch that causes him to wane between being awake and drifting back to sleep. Suddenly, his ears flick upon hearing voices and he realizes they’re approaching quickly. Techno sits up abruptly, causing you to give him a quizzical look until his expression smooths out then hollows.

“What day is it?” he asks.

“The…” you think about it, “first. Why?”

“Of fucking course it is."

You open your mouth to ask something but are interrupted by sharp knocks on the door. Techno growls beneath his breath and swings his legs over the bed.

"Tech, what's going on?" You ask, copying his actions and following him down the ladder.

"Just an annual thing," he sighs, "It's my birthday."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You never told me."

"It's not important," he mumbles half-heartedly, slinging his cape over his shoulders, "But I was foolish to think Phil would forget this year."

"I suppose it's sort of insignificant considering our situations," you shrug on your own cloak you've obtained and set a gentle hand on his upper arm, "But still, it would have been nice to know so I could've done something for you."

"You're already enough."

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut for a brief moment before blinking like you'd been in a trance and weren't sure what you'd been doing beforehand. He takes your hand in his and opens the door.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

The whole Syndicate is there, shining faces grinning expectantly at him. It’s touching, the way they’re eager for his reaction and he catches you tilting your head with a small smile of your own. They’ve set up a quaint area outside, complete with cakes, complete with five seats and it makes his heart twinge at the prospect that they’ve thought of you. They hand over fireworks to shoot into the sky, pass around slices of cake that Ranboo regenerates with his natural silk touch, and talk about the recent server drama that has been afflicting the server. Wilbur still seems to be a sore point for Niki, so Techno makes sure to steer the conversation away from it for her sake.

Somebody was here.

Techno risks a glance and his stomach drops. He doesn’t recall Quackity being invited to the party. He turns his attention back to the conversation where Phil is mentioning the risk of new governments on the horizon which very well meant that there was a chance that the Syndicate would be having work to do. He presses his lips together turns to look at you where you’re wiping frosting from your mouth. You meet his eyes with uncertainty.

“Can I help you?” you ask lightheartedly.

He reaches up, holding your head in place as he thumbs off some of the icing you’ve missed. “Wanna help tear down governments with us? Or was that a one-time thing?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” you huff out a laugh, “Is that what this little book club is about?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll think about it,” you decide, “I’m a little out of shape since the last government I took down was literally centuries ago.”

“You’d do great,” he assures, pushing back his seat and dusting off his hands as he stands.

“Where’re you going?”

“Bathroom,” he answers shortly and you nod.

He leaves, thankful you didn’t ask anything else.

Quackity tells him that Dream wants to cash in his favor. He says that he wants a visit and Techno thinks that it was about time he checked up on his old pseudo-rival anyway. He knows it’s a trap and knows that something will go wrong, but it would be okay in the end because Technoblade never dies. However, as Quackity’s figure retreats and Techno begins routing a path in his head, he thinks about you.

What would you think of the prospect of being apart for another unspeakable amount of time? Surely you wouldn’t be too overjoyed at the fact, but to be fair, neither was he. When Techno returns to the table, you greet him cheerfully and offer a forkful of cake to him.

He brands your hopeful expression into his brain.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Technoblade doesn’t know how to break the news to you. The day he wanted to go was looming nearer and nearer while you stayed in perfect ignorance of his eventual departure. He nearly wanted to say fuck it and not go at all, but he couldn’t do that. Especially not when Dream was cashing in on the wish that Techno promised him for saving his life.

He’s outside right now, standing amongst the icy cold of the terrain. It’s the middle of the night and you slumber on peacefully as he slipped out of bed and into the cool air. It clears his thoughts and though the temperature minimally inconvenienced him, the wind provided clarity to his jumbled thoughts as if it were sweeping it all into line.

The stars glow brightly out here without the hindrance of the torches and lights that come with the Greater Dream SMP. Instead, they twinkle against the dark canvas of sky, tracing invisible constellations of the few he knows the names and stories of. Even after centuries of change and his life whittling away, the stars stayed the same until their time gave up and they exploded.

Maybe if he survived the burning of the world he could walk among the stars. But even for an immortal, that was a long time.

He barely registers the sound of footsteps behind him and a yawn before a gentle touch grazes the back of his hand.

“Tech, come back to sleep.”

Your voice is soft, a siren’s song amid the storm on the sea. He almost mindlessly follows until he hums indifferently.

“I like it out here.”

You sigh, joining his side and lacing your fingers with him. Your breath makes puffs in the air that he gets hypnotized by briefly.

“So what’re you thinking about?”

He should’ve known you would have pieced that much together. After all, you’re the one who’s known him even longer than Phil has and that was an accomplishment in itself.

“I’ve been putting off telling you.”

“Telling me what?”

He’s already told the aforementioned bird hybrid that he was going to go to the prison. The man was understandably concerned for Techno’s safety and even brought up you. Techno didn’t know how to answer then and he definitely didn’t know how to answer now.

He closes his eyes and exhales.

“I’m going away.”

There’s a momentary pause before you shatter the movements of the tundra as if you commanded the world to stop spinning. The wind even stopped blowing, leaving empty space where there was nothing but your shock which he could almost taste on his tongue.

“What?”

The moment shatters and Techno’s jaw tightens.

“Dream’s requested me to visit. He’s cashing in the favor and I don’t - I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

He’s told you the horror stories of the prison. Of how a boy named Tommy had been trapped in there and was brutally beaten to death with his last life shattering inside the obsidian walls. He can feel your breaths quickening, the panic rising.

“No. No, no, no, no, no...”

Barely a whisper and then growing in volume as your fingers tighten in his. Techno can read the desperation, the anguish in your pleading eyes as you look up. For a moment, he can see how you must have been when he took his first departure, the definition of grief and mourning. Your grasp tenses and your repetitive answers become panicked, spilling too fast from your lips and running like waterfalls from your mouth. They only fade when he reaches up a shaky hand to cradle your face, so small and fragile in his arms.

“You can’t leave me again,” you choke out, voice cracking with the phrase that tears down every defense Techno had tried to build for this moment, “I can’t - I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” he assures, pulling you in gently and tucking you against his body. His heart twists when your arms wrap around his midsection, holding onto him like a vice he could never escape from.

He can tell you’re holding back, a dam to hold back the tears from cascading your eyes and staining the white fabric of his button-up. He almost wishes you did just to have something of you on him to remember you by, but if the revolution that sparked your relations taught him anything, it’s that you knew how to make a strong face despite any inner turmoil that might be ruining you. But there’s no facade in the way you shake against his body, shuddering from something that isn’t the cold.

In a twisted cliché moment, snowflakes begin to flutter from the sky, getting trapped in your hair and melting against his skin. Time, he thought, was cruel. It seems to torment him with the same punishment time and time again by allowing him to indulge in you before tearing a rift between your bodies, stretching you across a distance so that you could only be connected by the heartstrings.

You're holding onto him like your life depended on it and maybe it did. He felt that you might dissipate and crumble into a pile of ash as soon as the sun rose even though he knows your life was extended just as much as his was. Technoblade was scared and it figures that you would be the first to instill fear into him after years of life threats and commands for his head. You’d been so large in his life, dipping in then flickering out only to come in with a force equivalent to a million withers.

As he smooths down your hair and presses lips against the crown of your head, he fears a world where you never moved to the Dream SMP. He fears a world where he decided that whatever happened to you happened and didn’t find you. He fears a lack of a snowstorm and the warmth that came with it.

Technoblade fears you because he loves you.

He hates the rift that tears between your bodies when you pull away, eyes shining with glossy tears as you reach up to hold his face in the palm of your hand. He leans into it, pecking a kiss to the inside of your wrist and gazing at you with red eyes beneath his lashes.

The world wheels on as you tread through the snow back up the house together. He holds you close and wraps himself around your body when you collapse onto the mattress. He shushes you when you try multiple times to speak. He whispers for the first time since he’s met you even though he’s thought it plenty of times before.

“I love you.”

A whisper doesn’t skip a beat.

“I love you too.”

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

On the day of his departure, Technoblade gives you an ivory envelope and tells you not to open it until the next day.

It hurts and your heart burns to know what secrets it holds, but you promise him that you’ll wait. For seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, decades, centuries, millennia, eons, whatever it took. You’d wait for him.

When he kisses you goodbye, you can feel his sorrow, his desire to never let go and you watch him fade into the horizon with a heavy heart, a hollow feeling in your chest like something of yours had been snatched from beneath your nose. Philza rests a heavy hand on your shoulder as you stare in the direction of the Nether portal.

“He’ll be alright, mate,” he murmurs soothingly, “Technoblade never dies.”

“He’s still keeping up with that stupid mantra, huh?”

“Of course he is.”

Some things never changed, it appeared. It’s bittersweet but he was gone now, left to fulfill his end of a deal. You can’t blame him, of course, because he had the same system with you whenever you’d save him from an arrow to the back or an axe into the shoulder blade. But those usually ended up in lighthearted favors that never put him in harm’s way. You’ve decided you already don’t like this Dream character and gods forbid that you ever meet him if anything happened to Techno.

He wrote you a letter. In that ivory envelope sealed with an insignia that Phil identified as the Antarctic Empire’s, ink covers fancy pieces of parchment paper written in delicate handwriting that could be argued for calligraphy. You sit down at his desk and read.

My dearest,

I’ll have been gone by the time you read this. Right now, you are waiting for me upstairs as I write this letter to you for an inevitable future I cannot escape from even if I took Carl. You know better than any that time cannot be raced against. I do not know what awaits me and what it will mean for us, but rest assured that my whole being, body and soul, are yours forevermore.

You should know that I've loved you for every day we've been departed and you'll come to find that I still shall whenever we may meet again.

Please look underneath the floorboard just beside the fireplace. Take care not to burn yourself. I've left you something to remind you of me and to ideally give you hope that soon we will be in each other's arms where I'll never have to let go of you again.

I love you and please, stay safe.

Ever yours,

Technoblade

He left you a golden ring that fits perfectly over your ring finger and you slip it onto your right hand. It's well taken care of and feels like it's been forged with the utmost quality. Etched onto the surface is a phrase written in enchantment table that you manage to translate with what knowledge you have.

Whether near or far, I am always yours

The bed lacks his warmth and sometimes, you can feel his ghost still pulling you close for affection he’s never had before you. You dream about him. You dream of his face and his choking laughter and his touch and his scent that all fade by the morning that leaves you clutching at nothing.

It’s suffering, haunted by a man who’s still very much alive. You glance anxiously at your communicator in case of a death message even though all signal inside of the prison was strictly cut off for obvious reasons. Over time, you grow numb to the pain and remain empty. You still have tea with Phil and laugh at his poor attempt at jokes in a vague dad-like way but it doesn’t stop you from the phantom agony that lingers when you go to bed all alone. But you live.

Philza keeps you company, calming your erratic thoughts in the worst of times as you try to ignore the yearning that pulls you in the direction of where Techno is. You keep Steve and the foxes well fed, toying with the ring that encircles your finger at all times. You stand outside in the cold and look at the stars, reminiscing of a time when he was there to do it by your side. You're not sure if this was worse than when he'd left all those years ago. On one hand, there's no hallucinations or people watching you break down like an iron pick after too much use, but on the other, your ache for him has only grown to the point where he fills your thoughts at every waking and unconscious moment.

You exchange stories with Phil and you listen with interest about all the adventures they've been on together. In return you tell the winged man of what Techno had been like before they met.

"He's near the same as he was now," you think, stretching back your memories, "But his hair wasn't as long. I mean, it was long enough that I could make small braids but nothing like now."

"I can't imagine that," Phil chuckles, pouring more tea into your cups, "He always fussed about it. Said that growing it out was real sentimental to him."

"That might be because I told him he should grow it out," you smile, "And he stopped cutting it from then on."

"You have more influence on him than you know," he says lightly, "Never shuts up about you nowadays."

It makes you feel worse than better.

That night, you look up into the sky and wish on a shooting star, begging for his return.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Prison might be Techno’s new limbo.

Dream’s surprisingly unhelpful, watching with boredom as his new companion paces the length of the small room. It's only been a few hours since Quackity and Sam had left the two alone and the period of contemplation still lasted where Techno was still trying to wrap his head around the situation. The bubbling of lava was starting to drive him insane, but he reminded himself that things were going to be alright in the end. He'd given Phil that book with instructions and, well...it would just be a matter of waiting now.

Dream asked multiple times about what was going to happen, but he kept his mouth shut on the matter, assuring him that things would eventually work out.

Naturally, Techno thinks of you most of all.

He misses the little things. The way you'd press your lips into a flat line when scratching a whetstone across your blade, sharpening the edge into perfection. The way your hands shake ever so slightly when handling magma cream and blaze rods because of the threat of burns. The way you'd smile too big for your face that made him feel like he could take on whole armies at once.

It felt like you were worlds apart and it hurt.

"So," Dream begins, then trails off like he's lost his wording, "anything fun been happening?"

Techno stops his pacing and gives Dream a once-over. He doesn't trust the guy enough to tell him about you. Sure they were partners in this small obsidian room, but outside where you were was very much free reign. And, if he broke Dream out, he couldn't risk that.

Just a few days and he’d be back home.

At least, that’s what was supposed to happen.

A day went by, then two, then a week, then a month. Techno was starting to think the enderpearl wasn’t there. He waited patiently but as every second seemed to slip away from him, hope slowly began draining. Eventually, he comes to the reasonable conclusion that he was trapped in the prison. It was soul-crushing, thinking that he didn’t even give you a proper goodbye or get to see you one last time, but life tended to be unfair to him anyway.

While Dream made light conversation with him, he thought of you. While this Jesus Christ headass appeared in the room, he thinks of you. As the man that everybody called his rival punched away at obsidian tediously, he thinks of you.

The voices hate ever second spent here, screaming their displeasure whenever they could and talking about you nonstop. They want to go home as much as he does, see you as much as he does. He’s just glad they’re not blaming him this time around.

But as he sits in the boiling room and roasts potatoes before the lava, he decides that he’s not going to be caged in here. The whole server could be at his damn throat for all he cared (it practically was at this rate) and nothing would prevent him from going finding his way back home to you. Perhaps he could steal you away and move to somewhere else that contained less drama, far far away from the threat of another war and separation.

He holds onto that hope obsessively, closing his eyes and tilting his head up against the wall to try and get a shred of sleep.

Technoblade breathes out a sigh and wishes on whatever star that be out there that he could be at your side soon.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Despite the warmth that comes with the cabin, you feel cold.

It’s been three months without him and you’ve been barely holding on. Phil tells you you’re strong and you appreciate the sentiment, but you can’t deny the heavy heart that rests in the cavity of your chest. Techno’s memory is a distant daydream at this point and even your unconscious visions of him have halted. You tell yourself that he’ll be back but every day is another one lost and you can feel time ticking away like sand marking down what’s left.

The flowers he gave you are pressed between the pages on a book you own, perfectly preserved to last. The colors have faded since then, desaturating into dull hues that are easier on the eyes. You run your fingertips across the paper fragile petals, taking care not to rip them and disturb their frozen forever.

Well...not forever.

They’d dissipate sooner or later and you’d have to watch as they manage to wilt past death until they were just dust in your hands. Would you, Techno, and Phil receive the sweet embrace of death? If you died, would there be an army of a revolution awaiting you with welcome arms or would there be a barren landscape devoid of everything you’ve pictured in the afterlife?

Death was a fickle thing. It didn’t hesitate nor did it care who it took. But it adamantly kept you alive all these years for a reason. You want to cry and laugh and wake up in a tent with his body missing from his cot, a premonition or something along the lines of it. You want to fall in love with him again, brighter than any firework shot on a birthday night, and feel affection that burns brighter than the vivid colors of the bursts of tints in the night sky.

Two conflicting sides tear you from the inside out, existing between hating him and loving him.

You almost miss Philza sprinting out of his cabin, tracking footprints in the snow as he bolts off somewhere. Your mind runs through everything, trying to think of a reason why he’d be in a hurry so fast. You don’t dare to hope but you do.

An hour later, you know it’s him before you can even hear it. You almost slip off the rungs of the ladder as you throw on a heavy jacket and cloak. You leave the door forgotten open as you cross the threshold and hold your breath.

Your name has never felt so sweet being called.

You spot Technoblade, hair mussed and eyes heavy, but it’s him. A feeling gathers in your chest, building up and overflowing as you shout for him and descend the stairs. You fight against the terrain, a sob choking out of you as his features split into what could only be described as unfiltered love. His arms open, awaiting your long-needed reunion.

Techno murmurs your name as you collide into him, arms constricting around him the tightest he’s ever felt from you and he returns the embrace wholeheartedly, careful not to break you.

He’s missed you. he’s missed you, he’s missed you -

You yank him down, lips colliding into a frantic kiss that you could only describe as desperate. Two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together. A tree’s first blossom opening up to the world. A circle finally coming to a close. An hourglass being flipped as the sands reset, slipping and counting down the seconds.

Technoblade’s home.

You’re home.

You only have each other.

And you’re never letting go ever again.

[whirlybirbs]

FEVER-DREAM    ;    echo/reader 

summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.

word count: 3k

pairing: echo / f!reader

tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star

a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.

i reference character redesigns by @nibeul​ in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough. 

“How does it feel?”

The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway. 

His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use. 

When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.

For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet. 

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.

There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives. 

Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing. 

No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika. 

In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.

This makes him feel... good. 

He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.

Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.

(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky. 

Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.

The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)

“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”

Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.

You wince.

You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.

“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.

Echo feels small under your gaze.

Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.

In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin. 

His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.

That damn thing.

A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough. 

It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.

Echo catches it.

His eyes narrow playfully.

He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.

You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.

You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto. 

It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.

“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.

“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.

“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.

The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.

Then:

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.

A baited trick. He’s smiling. 

The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.

“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.

The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.

“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.

His laugh is warm.

“Maybe not.”

“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Then, you remember the task at hand.

You clear your throat.

“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”

Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized. 

Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.

Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now. 

“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep. 

Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin. 

In his lap, both his hands twitch.

He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.

You don’t press him on the details. 

In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.  

In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.

Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.

You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link. 

After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.

“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”

Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile. 

Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.

There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.

You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”

Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak. 

“...Same as before.”

You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”

It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.

He can feel. 

His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.

Your breath catches at the touch. 

Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed. 

The closeness itself is making you dizzy.

Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.

Your skin is hot. 

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.

You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.

He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.

The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you. 

You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation. 

Your mouth is moving before you realize it. 

“What does it mean?”

Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.

“What does what mean?” 

“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”

The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.

You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.

It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.

His nose brushes yours.

Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.

You want to kiss him.

He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.

And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...

Enter Omega.

“Echo, we’re back—!”

The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way. 

You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.

“Hi.”

You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”

“...Whatcha guys doin’?”

Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”

“...Riiiiiight.” 

You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact. 

“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”

“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”

Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right. 

“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.

You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”

Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.

“...What the kriff was that?”