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elysianightsss · 1 year ago

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Human!Techno x reader

Warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, humanTechno being a grump, grumpy guy-sunshineish girl. George complaining (no hate). Touch starvedness. I didn’t mean for there to be a size kink but there is one.

You’re confused, nothing new there, your head swirling from your long week and silly meetings at work. Nothing was more tedious than listening to George drone on about utter nonsense, mindnumbingly stupid complaints that were pointless to point out.

But even after getting up at four am every morning to work late into the night you still agreed to hang out with the gang at their shared house, at first you thought it was idiotic so did Techno maybe that’s why you two and a few of your other friends didn’t join in on the whole living together fiasco.

As much as you loved your friends thirty plus people in one house, no matter how big, was a recipe for disaster. Apparently not. Two years later and they had all managed to make it work setting up chore schedules, and bathroom schedules that seemed to make the house run perfectly.

Still you couldn’t be more glad to end the night in your own apartment snuggled up in your large bed, which is why you’re confused as to why you agreed to hang out tonight knowing full well that Wilbur wanted to have a piss up.

Pretty much everyone had a drink in their hands expect for you. You instead, after having half of the sangria Quackity had made for you, had claimed the little area in the back corner of the big living room. Head tipped back again the sofa, eyes closed and pressing into something warm.

Techno had arrived half an hour after you did, his week had started off great, but by the end of it he couldn’t help but feel a little agitated. He hadn’t seen you the whole week and as much as he’d never admit it out loud, and definitely not to you, he’d missed you.

You were the only person he could truly relax around and he needed that. Has done since he met you. Ten years ago it was, you had been stood up, sitting at a bar quietly crying to yourself when he bumped into you pouring his whiskey on the rocks all down your back, soaking your dress and pulling a squeal from you. A squeal he still teases you for. But he spent the rest of the night doing everything he could think of to make you smile and laugh to make up for it. It worked and you’ve been friends ever since.

Techno weaved his way through the huge hallway into the large kitchen to grab a beer from the double door fridge offering small nods to those who greeted him on his way to the massive living room area. His curious eyes scanning the space until they landed on you, the corners of his lips turning up slightly at the sight before him.

With a shake of his head he sat down next to you perhaps a little too close but when you sighed so softly pressing yourself into his warmth he relaxed against the leather sofa. “Long week?” He asked watching with a knowing gaze as you nodded. Knowing because this would be one of the nights he’d have to get a very sleepy you into his car and all the way up to your apartment and into your bed.

Techno dragged his gaze away from you to watch Wilbur try and teach Tommy and Tubbo how to play poker. At that point Phil and his wife arrived, Phil immediately coming over to Techno giving him a bro hug and saying hi to you which revived a thumbs up and a lazy smile. No matter how hard you try to open your eyes they were just so damn heavy you couldn’t do it, Phil smiled anyway glancing at Techno when he huffed at you.

“Take her home dude.” Phil patted Techno’s shoulder making the latter nod passing his unopened beer to Phil before picking you up. It was meant to be bridal style but you clung to him subconsciously wrapping your legs around his waist. He adapted a big arm around your waist and another under your tush, glaring at those who made whooping noises or whistled too loud making you whine softly onto his neck.

“Alright bun we’re going, we’re going.” He soothed, the words feeling a little foreign on his monotonous tongue.

“Tec!” Tommy was quick to stop his beefy uncle hooking your little handbag onto his shoulder, the sight was enough to make Tommy snicker to himself as he walked away. With a roll of his eyes Techno left the large house rather happy he had managed to skip the get together.

—

You thanked Techno ten times over in the morning when you woke in your own bed, you knew exactly who got you there. You felt ridiculously bad resulting in you spending the whole morning and most of the afternoon baking him sweet treats while you waited for his reply text to see if he was coming over or wether you’d need to drop them at his.

Music played through out the kitchen, your cherry covered apron wrapped around your oversized T-shirt clad body as you iced the cupcakes to look like little Minecraft piggys giggling as you did so.

“Well isn’t this a sight.” You jumped back at the sound of Technos voice, looking up to see him grinning at you.

“What the fuck Tec!” You huffed dropping the icing bag to place your hands on your hips, he simply held up the spare key you’d given him before slipping it back into his pocket. “Dick.” You scoffed instantly regretting it when Techno gasped loudly, overexaggeratingly.

“Excuse you missy! I carry you home-“

“You drove.”

“Risk my life getting you up those stairs-“

“You always take the elevator.”

“Almost die trippin’ over the pile of dirty laundry-“

“It was one sock.”

“And this is the thanks I get?! Unbelievable.” He huffs crossing his muscular arms over his rather burly chest. You suppose you’ve never stopped to think about how big your best friend is, how good looking-

“Those better be for me.” He grumbles coming further into the kitchen freezing when he rounds the island you’re icing the cupcakes on to see your exposed legs. Clearing his throat and shaking off whatever that was, it’s not like he’s not seen it before. Hell he’s seen you in a bikini, this is nothing but he swears that’s his shirt as he walks closer.

“Yes they are Mr.Grumpy.” You smile when he pinches your hip slightly, his hulking form compared to you standing behind you, hovering over you as you work to get the pig just right. What you don’t expect, it really does take you by surprise and a warmth spreads in your stomach when he gently undoes the apron sitting on your hips only to redo it tighter.

It’s a simple act of helping but it has your cheeks warming like this man hasn’t done it before, like it’s new but it isn’t. “Thanks.” You internally praise yourself for not stuttering. Techno doesn’t even notice the slight tremor in your voice too focused of the that fact that you smell so good. Like vanilla.

Well maybe great minds think alike because his musky scent is now all your mind can focus on, it swirls around you stinking up the area around you, bursting your precious bubble replacing is with his cologne. Cinnamon and hint of tangerines? An odd combination but it smells so fucking nice on him, you just wanna bury your face in it.

“You missed the eyes.” He chuckled, eyes scanning over your face while you blink out of your little trance.

“Oh right.” You laugh stiffly, nervously. It makes Techno frown, he’s never heard you nervous around him. Others, yes. Him, never. That’s how it should be, yet you are. It makes him lean forward placing both palms on the worktop, essentially caging you in.

“What’s the matter bun?” He asks gruffly and as if by instinct your thighs press together, a small wiggle of your hips to create some unknowingly needed friction. His voice and that nickname, both of them usually so sweet and calming suddenly have a strange effect. Maybe it’s just you simply being touched starved? The loneliness catching up with you?

“Nothing.” It’s a blunt reply but it’s all you’ve got, you don’t dare turn around. How can you? Then you’d have to stare at his gorgeous face, you already feel his careful gaze burning holes into your head.

“Now I know that’s not true.” His breathy laugh skims over your skin making you shiver, he notices his hands sliding to your hips to turn you around, thumb and index finger keeping your chin locked so you have nowhere else to look but him. “Tell me bun, what’s troubling you? The long week?”

His voice, his eyes, his whole demeanour is too sincere it has a whimper slipping from you. The noise enough to make you both freeze, Techno’s eyes darkening.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You admit honestly, fists tightening in frustration. You hadn’t felt like this in a while always too busy with work to sit and wallow in your feelings, maybe that was a good thing because right now with Techno so close; someone you trusted and knew cared for you; your body was taking control, letting you natural instincts take over.

You needed him, and Techno understood. He understood the look in your eye from what he’d seen in his own. Moving a few inches forward he wrapped his arms around your waist, one hand sliding up to tangle itself in your hair soothingly. Before you could even think about freezing up, “Relax bun, I got you.” He encouraged making you melt slipping your own arms around his muscular form.

“What do you need from me?” He asks after a few minutes feeling you grow restless in his hold. He knew you needed more but what he says next takes you back slight, “Do you need an old school finger fuck and make out session on the couch?” He asks jokingly though there is an air of seriousness to it. Especially with what he says next, his beautiful eyes sparkling with want, “Or do you need to sit on my face and let me lick you until your cum runs down my jaw?”

He squints when you whimper gripping his arm tighter, his head tilting slightly as he looks you over “Or maybe you just need a good fuck?” It takes you a second to comprehend but his hand’s already sliding up your leg, his rough palm against your soft skin.

“Mmmhmm, yeah, I think that’s it. Here, lift my t-shirt up a little so you can slide these panties off.” You blush at his words but do as he says, watching in almost shock when he drops to his knees large hands sliding up your things guiding you to open your legs slightly.

“Oh god your thighs are so soft bunny.” He murmurs against your skin, his nose dragging over the part where your thigh and your stomach meet. “And this pretty pussy, I can’t believe you’ve kept this hidden Bunny. So selfish.” He chided playfully.

The grin broad as daylight disappeared between you thighs, your head falling back, hands seeking purchase on the kitchen countertops. He placed a pressured kiss right on your clit listening to the hitch of your breath. Techno swears he’s never heard a sound so pretty than the moan he pulled from you when he wrapped his lips around little nub.

He wants to work night and day to make sure you never stop making that noise. Techno watched your wetness trickling down your thigh quick to lick it up not letting any go to waste. It’s as if his first taste transformed him from the composed grump of a man you knew to a starving man who had a three course meal laid out in front of him, your eyes rolled back, sinful moans echoing in the room.

He moved his tongue like he was possessed, licking into your clenching hole as if he was digging for something before closing his lips around your clit and sucking it so hard you swear it will be bruised tomorrow. His harsh and continuous actions on your cunt had one of your hands grasping onto Techno’s hair, your back arching as you started a slow grind on his tongue.

“That’s it Bunny make yourself cum, use my to tongue.” He hums into your weeping entrance, but you’re so focused on the feeling of euphoria coursing through your veins you don’t hear him, all your senses being taken over and before you know it you’re cumming, drenching the lower half of his chin though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, slurping down all you give him, trying to pull more from you.

Though with a push of your hand against his head and whine of sensitivity he conceded rising from his knees instantly pulling you close into his hold, lips pressing against your own.

With one roll of his hips he’s inside you and not giving you a second to comprehend it. No, he’s already pulling back and slamming into you over and over again watching as you arch your body into his.

Techno is swift and slick with how he manages to pick you up, placing you on the worktop and deliver a hard thrust quickly after leaving you short of breath.

His large hand slides up over your throat applying slight pressure to push you down against the counter. Then up to your mouth, two thick fingers slipping inside letting you moan and whine around them, saliva dribbling down your cheeks. Neither of you care so engrossed in the feeling of being fucked so thoroughly.

Your moans down right pornographic, when he hit that spongy rough patch inside you. Striking it over and over again, Techno had never looked more happy than when he watched your head fall back, eyes rolling with it.

“Fuck, yes bun clench around me like that, take all that I’m giving you like a good girl.” They way he grunted the words into your ear before sucking your earlobe into his hot mouth had you whining around his fingers. White hot pleasure engulfing your messy form, nothing had ever felt better than this moment.

Your body felt like it was burning with each thrust of his hard cock, all you could do was lie there on the kitchen counter and dribble around his fingers while he fucked your pussy ruthlessly. If this was his version of a good fuck, you’d happily have it everyday.

The coil in your lower abdomen tightened and tightened, until you shattered on his cock, cumming harshly as the waves of pleasure rolled over you so intensely, your walls clenching around him tightly. He snapped his hips into you quicker chasing his own high, wanting to fill you up desperately.

“Please Tec, cum inside me!” That did it for him, absolutely finished him. He groaned thrusting into you so deep as he finished inside you just like you begged him to.

“Fuck bun, you did so good for me. Just relax, breathe, I’ve got you.” He soothed blinking away the last remaining blur of his orgasm, focusing on you and the aftercare you not only needed but deserved.

Cupcakes forgotten about Techno picked you up and carried you to your room laying you on your bed then helping you remove his shirt.

“So fucking pretty bun.” He shook his head staring down at your body, you were ready to disagree absolutely sure you looked like the mess he’d certainly fucked you into but the way his eyes darkened as they raked over your body had your mouth closing.

“Now, before I start running you a bath. I need another taste.” He groaned kneeling in front of the bed, grabbing your ankles to pull you closer to his face.

“But Tec you already-“

“No but’s bun, you’ve been keeping this fucking delicacy from me for far too long. I’ve got a lot of pussy worshiping to make up for and I’m sure she would agree.”

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#squishycheekanon #squishycheekanonanswer #asks are appreciated #beefy!techno #squishtalks #squishysneekpeaks #squishyreblogs #dreamsmp x reader #dreamsmp members #mcyt fanfiction #techno x reader smut #techno x reader fluff #technoblade imagine #technoblade x reader smut #technoblade x reader

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bleue-flora · 2 months ago

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Btw based on the real life measurements, where 1 block is 1 meter, the cell is 3 meters or approximately 9.8 feet high, which is about the standard ceiling height. So, with Dream being 6’2 (1.88 meters) that means there’s a good over 3 feet (1.12 meters) extra room in the world’s best Minecraft torture box. In other words… suspend away… ;]

#unless…. I’m the only one who was thinking about that low ceiling while writing fanfiction……… lol XD #don’t mind me tryin to do realistic Minecraft fanfiction… what can I say I want it to be plausible otherwise it ruins the immersion for me #anyways this info can also be helpful hand considering Techno and Bad’s height if you so desire to make them big #dsmp #pandora’s vault #c!dream #dreblr #prison arc #dream smp #mmm… tall ceiling. chains in Minecraft… you get the picture right? :]

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starry-bi-sky · 24 days ago

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you can't choose what stays and what fades away

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes I never knew daylight could be so violent A revelation in the light of day You can't choose what stays and what fades away

(and I'd do anything to make you stay)

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Shen Yuan wakes up in a woodshed.

He's in a body that's not quite his own.

(WIP also available on ao3!)

He wakes up in a woodshed.

No, actually— let him correct himself. Shen Yuan does, indeed, wake up in a woodshed, but it’s not the first thing he realizes upon waking. No, in fact, consciousness comes quite slowly to him; sluggish, his mind attempting to slog through calf-high bogland without exhausting itself. It’s like he’s trying to drag himself to the surface of a river with a weight tied around his ankle, the weight trying desperately to drag him just as quickly down.

His senses come to him just as slowly, his hearing and touch and smell and taste all trying to claw its way up back into existence till they’re thrumming beneath the thin skin of his body. Yes, it’s very much like trying to wake up from a long, deep sleep where he didn’t get quite enough rest, and he wonders, not for the first time, if he had collapsed again. His mouth is dry, his lips feel crusty, and his eyes are sealed shut by congealed-whatever-mixture of disgusting bodily fluids his eyes are capable of producing.

Much like breaking free from sleep-paralysis, the moment he’s able to register that he’s actually sensing things again, the strange, spongy film that had been dampening them suddenly crumbles and collapses. Everything rushes forth like water spilling out of an open dam, or maybe like blood from an open scab, and Shen Yuan is abruptly accosted by the world and its sounds and sensations.

The sun is hitting his eyes in just the right way that he can see the light burning behind his eyelids – which, that can’t be right, his curtains should be drawn, -- and there’s the distinct and gentle sound of wind rustling past, of birds singing softly, and the faint trill of music floating through. Shen Yuan is abruptly imposed with the mental image of a yellow autumn leaf falling delicately onto a still pond, that is how tranquil the world around him sounds.

It is so, so, incredibly cliche, that he can’t help but open his eyes with a deep rooting incredulity planting itself firmly in the core of his chest. What he expects to see is the ceiling of his bedroom – the ground is hard enough that, for a moment, he thinks he may have fallen asleep on the floor again, or perhaps the hospital, because then that would at least explain better the tranquil sounds in his ears and the sunlight hitting his face.

(Except he doesn’t smell the familiar sting of septic and cleaner, nor does he hear the beeping of the heart rate monitor beside him, the bustle and soft murmur of nurses outside that are always on the move. There’s no paper thin and slightly scratchy blanket laid over him. And never, not once, has he been subjected to the sounds of an eight-hour tranquil music ASMR while in the hospital.)

(In fact, his nose feels rather stuffy. The same way it gets when he has a runny nose that just dried or a bloody nose that just finally stopped bleeding. He smells dirt and wood, and— and… is that blood?)

There’s still crust clinging to his lashes and the corner of his eyes when he opens them, so his vision is immediately blurred in the way only recent consciousness can create. But even then, he can see the roof clearly enough to know that this is neither his bedroom nor the hospital. Shen Yuan sits up while his heart drops right out of his chest, regretting the action immediately as an ache shoots up his arms and staunchly reminds him of a terrible soreness spread throughout his body, one that he was not previously aware of.

The hiss he makes is involuntary, and the sound rusted and weak, irritating his sore throat while his head pounds behind his eyes like a hammer against a nail. Get your bearings, Shen Yuan, he thinks, vision swimming, sucking in his dessert-dry bottom lip between his teeth and catching it on the incisors. The air does nothing for the inside of his mouth. Where the fuck am I?

His eyes flick around the crust poking irritably at his corneas, as he tries to soak in where exactly he is. On instinct, his hands come up to flick away the crust obscuring his sight, and when he pulls his fingers away, there’s dark, brown-red buildup crumbling against his skin.

Wh—? Shen Yuan rubs his eyes again, and realizes there’s a flaking trail coming from his eyes down his cheeks that, when he rubs at it, peels off into what can’t be anything but dried blood. It does nothing for his rapid-beating heart and the sinking shock and horror settling between his ribs. Why has he been bleeding from his eyes?

He looks up from his hand. That shock and horror rising as he finally, finally takes in his surroundings, while also realizing, his dry tongue running against the back of his teeth and the corner of his mouth, that he was tasting blood too. Faint and stuck against his gums, but there.

Shen Yuan is surrounded by cut wood, and beneath him he’s sitting on an old, tattered blanket. He’s wearing robes. Robes, worn and slightly dirty, made of a pleasant-to-the-eye green and white fabric, and straight out of every single Xanxia novel, drama, and poster he’s ever read and seen. There’s a simply, if slightly tattered, white fan tucked against his thigh.

Oh, oh no. His hands fly up to his hair and— yep. Yeah, slightly tangled but undeniably soft and smooth, black hair slips against his fingers like silk and pours over his shoulders and down his back. It’s ten times longer than it should be, ten times longer than he’s used to, and he’s sitting on the ends of it. He releases his hair only so Shen Yuan can slap his hands against his face, automatically picking at the trail of dried blood on both corners of his mouth. His fingers are chilled against his skin, and he ignores it to trace his new (he thinks—the bow of his mouth and the curve of his cheekbones feels achingly familiar) facial features.

Whose face am I wearing? What book have I entered? Because wasn’t this transmigration one-oh-one? The last thing he remembers was becoming incensed with the ending of Proud Immortal Demon Way and, in the middle of his scathing rant, dying of food poisoning. This was totally transmigration one-oh-one. Dying after reading a book, only to wake up in a place that was not the modern world, only to realize shortly after that they were now in the book they had just read?

Wait— if he follows that trope, then... Shen Yuan’s heart decides it’s had enough time in his stomach, and leaps right into his throat. His eyes flitter around anxiously. There are bamboo stalks rising out the window, and the music he’s hearing, Shen Yuan realizes belatedly that it’s the sweet plucking of a guqin. Oh no. Don’t tell me--

Like an activation phrase, a too-loud notification ‘ding!’ goes right off in his ear, resulting in Shen Yuan flinching violently as a too-bright and eye-stinging blue message box seals open into existence right before his eyes.

[ SYSTEM Successfully Activated! Welcome to the world of Pride Immortal Demon Way! You are ‘Shen Jiu’ -- otherwise known as Shen Qingqiu, thirteen-year-old Disciple of Qing Jing Peak. Currently your actions are restricted due to a frozen OOC function that will eventually be unlocked after you familiarize yourself with the world. ]

No! Of all the people he could have been transmigrated into, did it have to be the villain? Scum Disciple Shen Qingqiu? No— no, of course it was the villain; wasn’t that also transmigration one-oh-one as well? That the transmigrator was either the hero, the villain, or an NPC related to either one?

Was this karma? Was the world enacting karmic justice on him for all those late nights spent arguing with internet randos online when he should have been doing something productive with his life? Of all those hours spent countlessly researching mythical beasts and animals and folklore all so he could tear the author a new one for his terrible plot and even worse papapa? Did Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky inflict some kind of curse on him that resulted in him being dragged into his shitty, shitty, stallion novel to act as the same guy who later gets his limbs torn off and pickled by the main protagonist?

It had to be. That’s exactly what this was. This was karma.

(Oh god, he’s never going to see his family again, is he? He’d died. He’d died in his world, he knows it. That’s how this always goes. At least he hadn’t been hit by a truck, at least he’d died somewhat originally. But he died. He’d been choking and everything went dark. The fluid filling his lungs, the lack of air, the steady crawl of blackening fuzz slowly encircling his vision--)

(Who will find his body? How long will it take? It’d only been a week prior that he’d gotten into a fight with da-ge and the others, and they usually give him space for a while when they do. It’s not like Shen Yuan had any close friends left either--)

(Will they find him rotting? Will they blame themselves? What will they think?)

--(...Oh god, who was going to tell Hai-ge--?)--

Shen Yuan drops his face into his hands, ignoring the throbbing of his skull and the influx of nausea that sloshes from his chest to his stomach as he does. He groans, low and painful, ignoring the sharp sting of his throat it causes. Does it have to be Shen Qingqiu? He asks, and wonders if the SYSTEM needs an audial vocal command or if it would just--

[ You have been chosen to play Shen Qingqiu, the Scum Villain Disciple! ]

Annoyance burrows into his throat. That’s... not what he asked. His teeth grind against each other, the stupid message box burning into his eyes. That at least answers that question, though. He won’t have to talk aloud to communicate with the SYSTEM, so at least he won’t look insane for talking to himself in public. Why does it have to be Shen Qingqiu?

[ Shen Qingqiu plays a vital role in Pride Immortal Demon Way! You have been chosen to take on his role as the Scum Villain Disciple. ]

What vital role!? Shen Qingqiu, sure, had a role in the beginning of the book as the disciple who did nothing but cause a ruckus and trouble on Qing Jing Peak when the protagonist’s back was turned; trying to drag Peak Lord Luo Binghe’s precious name through the mud while inciting what was basically tyranny by clawing his way up to a Head Disciple position through being a green tea bitch. He then went and used that power to abuse and bully the younger disciples when the adults weren’t looking.

He only got away with it for so long because Luo Binghe was so busy with important missions and night hunts and the sweeping-of-peerless-beauties off their feet off the peak, that when he was on Qing Jing, it wasn’t long enough to realize just who was behind the disruption. And Shen Qingqiu was sneaky about it, so it took even longer.

Only coming to a head at the Immortal Cultivation Conference when demons attacked and it all came to light like a hellish volcano, resulting in Shen Qingqiu not only finding out about Luo Binghe’s status as a half-heavenly demon, but also him being pushed into the Endless Abyss. He re-emerges half a decade later, brimming with demonic cultivation and a half-crazed lust for power and vengeance — revenge that ends up failing because he’s going up against the powerful protagonist.

He causes a handful of actual problems before Luo Binghe finally has enough, and in the end, Shen Qingqiu ends up with his non-vital limbs cut off and stuffed inside a jar like a human pickle. A horrifying and befitting ending for any villain and antagonist of the main character.

That is to say, nothing about him is actually vital. He was, for all intents and purposes, pretty much a low-tier cannon fodder villain meant to boost up and accentuate the protagonist’s abilities in the beginning of the book. A way to introduce the audience to the might and intelligence of the main character and their problem-solving skills when there is a ‘mysterious figure’ going around besmirching his name.

Which... may just work in his favor, actually. Shen Qingqiu ended up with the fate he got because he went against the protagonist, a big no-no in practically every trashy novel. So, solution so Shen Yuan doesn’t end up a human stick? Don’t get in the protagonist’s way.

That annoying ‘ding!’ rings in his ear, causing yet another flinch out of Shen Yuan as a notification unapologetically forms in front of him.

[ WARNING: OOC! Host’s refusal to stay in character will result in automatic point deductions. If Host’s point score gets too low, SYSTEM will automatically mete out punishment. ]

Of course it wasn’t that easy. Of course not, because why would it be easy? Of course there was a point system, this was a SYSTEM after all. Of course he couldn’t just avoid the villain’s fate, because that’d be too easy. His annoyance simmers out across the plane of his chest, and he decidedly ignores the faint tremor in his arms and the pulsing beat of his heart as he picks himself up off the ground and stands.

His legs, much like his arms, tremble, and his head swims. He pushes through it, ignoring the ill-feeling of fear making itself home in the pit of his stomach. He should ask what those punishments are; what they’ll look like. He should ask about the point system, about how to increase his point score, about all the functions in the SYSTEM and what he has available, and what he does not.

He should ask how old he is – because he’s much smaller than his old adult self had been; probably child-sized? -- and where he is in the book. What year is it, how long until the Immortal Cultivators Conference. Just when is he?

Shen Yuan reaches out to grip onto a particularly towering stack of firewood, careful not to knock it or himself over. It feels like physical therapy all over again. Granted, a primitive, unsupervised, cobbled-together version of physical therapy, but physical therapy, nonetheless.

His foot kicks against the fan, he’d frankly forgotten about that, and it slides off the blanket and across the dirt. His fingers twitch to grab it, something possessive and uncomfortably vulnerable rearing in his lungs – ah, an instinctive emotion from the original goods then? He’s heard of that in other transmigration stories he’s read, the novels failed to mention the full extent of how strange it felt.

(It felt so eerily natural to want to pick it up. Of course he’d be upset about kicking it, and the unhappiness of dirtying it slots itself against him like second nature. How strange. How creepy.)

Instead of asking any of that though, Shen Yuan turns his bitter mind inwards to the SYSTEM and asks, perhaps, the most important question of them all; Why did you bring me here if you were just going to kill me again?

Isn’t that unnecessarily cruel?

[ Host has been brought to Pride Immortal Demon Way because it is our sincere hope that Host can transform this stupid work into a magnificent, high-quality, first-rate classic! As part of the welcoming package, and to help ease the transition, a few things have been left in Host’s inventory! We hope you enjoy your time in Pride Immortal Demon Way! ]

To change--

To change--?

To CHANGE--?

Indignancy surges itself from the tips of Shen Yuan’s fingers to the crown of his head, anger not unlike every single time Airplane threw away an interesting plot point for sex fuzzes out his vision and turns his pounding headache into a full-fledged migraine. His grip on the firewood tightens, and he can feel the rough and textured bark digging into his skin.

His mouth curls inward, the cracked skin splitting down the middle of his bottom lip as Shen Yuan threatens to snarl at the SYSTEM. How the fuck am I supposed to change the plot if I can’t even change the way my character acts!

[ Reminder to Host: The OOC Function is frozen, but not permanent. Once Host has become properly settled in and completed the tutorial will he be able to unlock it. ]

Fine, fine! He has half a mind to unload a string of curses at the SYSTEM, because apparently its rules were as stupid as the author who made this world. Shen Yuan refrains; he doesn’t know how sentient the thing is, and upsetting it right now when he has no idea when he is – nor does he know a thing about the point system -- would only be detrimental for him in the long run.

Instead, he lets loose a groan from his throat that could be more accurately compared to as a growl. With his one free hand, Shen Yuan drags his palm down his face, and then loops it back up to comb it through his hair. ...His hair that is much longer than it used to be, and which is snaggled with little knots and tangles that he’ll have to get out.

He hits the first knot and immediately withdraws his fingers, freeing up a few strands of ink black hair while he’s at it. With a quick wrist shake, the strands fall to the floor and Shen Yuan leans the rest of his weight against the log pile. Some of his anger cools down until it’s nothing more than boiled water gone cold, and he sighs out through a clogged-up nose until there’s nothing more than a quiet pressure of unease curled around his shoulders.

There’s really not much he does know about how Shen Qingqiu acts – after all, he put up a responsible and dutiful disciple front when he was in the presence of Luo Binghe, and was only then revealed to be a scumbag later down the line. Which only got backed up with secondhand accounts of the other Qing Jing Peak disciples.

He didn’t show up often either, since most of the time Luo Binghe was off the peak. Nobody wants to read about a powerful peak lord being a teacher after all. Many more interesting things in the world around him than his students.

SYSTEM, how old am I? He must be pretty young if he bases it off how small he is – although, Shen Qingqiu didn’t have much of a description in the first place. He was only described as having skin as white as jade, with glossy black hair and a noble air surrounding him. Height, eyes, and finer details like that were left unmentioned. Why did I wake up in a woodshed? What time is it?

[ Host is currently thirteen years old! Last night Shen Qingqiu experienced a severe Qi Deviation after having an altercation with the Head Disciple. It is early morning; the other disciples will be getting breakfast. ]

That doesn’t explain why he was in a woodshed. But at this point, Shen Yuan was starting to believe that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of every question he asks. That does explain the blood in his mouth and crusted on his face – and the soreness and exhaustion currently wrought through his body, though.

In a rapid set of blinks and a little bit of mental fiddling, the message notifications disappear out of his sight and the rest of his senses begin to filter back in, the SYSTEM seeming content to disappear into the back of his mind – which, wow, feels just as weird as the original goods’ instincts from earlier.

More of his own strength had returned, enough that Shen Yuan feels comfortable with pushing himself off the firewood stack and standing on his own. Making sure that his legs won’t collapse under the weight of his own body, he takes a tentative step forward and drops his gaze down to the little white fan sitting on the ground.

...The idea of leaving without it returns that discomforting, vulnerable feeling from earlier, as if he had walked out without a shirt on. The hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up on its own with unease. Shen Qingqiu was mentioned to hide his face behind a fan in every appearance he made, it must be the original goods’ emotions he’s feeling then. Again.

He leans down, his core trembling just a little, and plucks it right off the ground. The grooves of the wood fit against his fingers perfectly, hinting at weeks, if not years, of use and the oils of his hands wearing it down. He beats the side of the fan against his leg lightly, ignoring the bruising-aches it shoots up his thigh, and brushes off the dirt clinging to it.

Without thinking, Shen Qingqiu flicks it open and flutters it about for a few quick beats. The unnerving, skin-crawling sensation marking across his spine settles down, and he snaps the fan shut before reaching for the door.

[ OOC: Host should make himself look presentable before being seen in public. Failure to do so will result in immediate point deduction. ]

Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth again, there’s nothing in here but dirt and wood, how am I supposed to do that? It’s not like he had the whole layout of Qing Jing Peak memorized; Luo Binghe was barely on so where everything was, wasn’t important. Is there some kind of bathhouse somewhere?

Which, if there was, he wasn’t planning on using until it was entirely empty – the mere thought of it returned that gross, uncomfortable skin-crawling discomfort. He’ll shower at night, thank you, repressing a shudder at the horrifying idea of someone potentially walking in on him.

[ OOC: Shen Qingqiu would never bathe with the threat of other disciples around. There is a nearby creek that Host can clean himself up at. ]

That’s really not much better. But, so long as he isn’t undressing in public, he can probably just... wash the dirt off and get his hair damp enough to detangle it. If Shen Qingqiu was sleeping in here, then he probably has a change of clothes somewhere around here, right? He should look around for any hidden bags before leaving.

He finds a small qiankun pouch tucked safely between a set of wood logs near the blanket, and inside it is a clean set of robes for him to change into, which, perfect! The robes he was wearing right now weren’t terribly dirty, but there were a few dirt spots visible enough that Shen Qingqiu was sure that he’d probably get a point deduction out of it, or a scolding from senior disciples.

(Does Shen Qingqiu sleep in the woodshed often? Shouldn’t he be in the dormitories?)

He plucks the bag out of its little hidey-hole, giving it a place on his belt, along with his newly acquired fan, and turns towards the door. Shen Qingqiu crosses the room in the span of a few large steps, and just as he’s about to curl his hand around the handle, he... pauses.

It’s only for a split second, a moment of hesitation, of personal confirmation that, once he opens this door, there will be no going back. Not that there was since he opened his eyes, but, it would cement it.

Shen Qingqiu breathes in a shaky breath, and then opens the door to the rising sun.

#starry writes #svsss au #svsss fanfiction #scum villain #scum villain self saving system #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #mxtx svsss #disciple shen yuan #svsss fic #:] pls read and give feedback. im very pleased with this even if it may be OOC of SY. but i think he deserves to be moody here #shen yuan and shen jiu are the same person #i said i was gonna do that if i wrote this slajhf #if this flops i'll be sad :((#ALSO WRITING THE SYSTEM IS ANNOYING. props off to all fic writers in SVSSS. i havent had such a tedious time writing smth since i once #wrote a DSMP fanfic from techno's pov and made the horrid mistake of including the chat. god that was annoying. at least thats optional #but no the system is CANON. i've got to include this fucker at least a few times.#long post #i dont normally make fic so soon into fandom bc i like to get the characterizations down first. but the brainworms were worming #so i gotsa do it. i had to.

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by-speaker · 21 days ago

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Rituals (ENG. VER)

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words and Happy Halloween!

There were rituals that were purely Missa — lighting incense every morning, leaving offerings of fresh bread and water, murmuring blessings in Nahuatl while hanging fresh cempasúchil in the windows. Santa Muerte had its own traditions to uphold, after all.

There were rituals that were uniquely Philza's — boiling water three times for morning tea, hanging horseshoes over every new door, whispering ‘white rabbit’ on the first day of the month. The Angel of Death had his own customs to observe.

And then there were the rituals they had created together, as a family.

Every night, without fail, Missa would tuck Tallulah in while Philza read a story to Chayanne. Then they would exchange children — Philza would kiss Tallulah's forehead and tuck in her nightcap, while Missa would sing softly to Chayanne until his eyes closed. It was their nightly ritual, as sacred as any ceremony.

‘Why do they always have to do everything in that order?’ asked Chayanne once, half asleep.

‘Because that's the way it should be,’ Missa replied simply, running his bony fingers through his son's blond hair. ‘Like the sun rises every morning and the moon rises every night.’

Sundays had their own rituals. Philza refused to do laundry, of course, but he compensated by helping Missa clean the altars. It was a curious sight - Death and the Angel of Death, side by side, dusting off the offerings and swapping wilted flowers for fresh ones.

‘Isn't it a bit redundant that Death has an altar?’ asked Philza once, as she held up a fresh bouquet of cempasúchil.

Missa smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement beneath his mask. ‘Isn't it redundant that the Angel of Death fears bad luck?’

Tallulah had her own rituals as well. Every morning, without fail, she brushed her hair exactly one hundred times — she had counted it once and refused to do it any other way ever since. Then Missa or Philza (whoever was available) would braid her hair, always ending with a purple ribbon.

‘It has to be purple,’ she insisted in sign language. ‘It's the colour of royalty.’

‘Of course, princess,’ Philza replied each time, as Missa hid his smile behind his mask.

Chayanne, for his part, kept a secret ritual that not even his parents knew about. Every night, before going to sleep, he would take out his Technoblade stuffed animal and tell him about his day in whispers. He would tell her about his training, about Tallulah's antics, about the stories Missa brought back from her travels, about Philza's superstitions.

‘I know it's silly,’ he once confessed to his stuffed animal, ’but I like to think that somehow you can hear me.’

What Chayanne didn't know was that Missa, being who she was, could ensure that somewhere in the afterlife, Technoblade smiled every time he heard his little admirer's stories.

#qsmp #qsmp pissa #pissa #pissa nation #missasinfonia #qsmp missa #speakerwriting #deathduo #qsmp philza #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp tallulah #qsmp chayanne #dsmp techno #technoblade

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kingsleywrites · 1 year ago

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How They Would React To Seeing Your Top-Surgery Scars

Characters: Tommyinit (Platonic), Tubbo (Platonic), Wilbur (geared towards romantic), Dream (geared towards romantic), Technoblade (Platonic or Romantic)

Fluff

A/N: For whatever reason my mind has only been giving me angst ideas like I like angst but I need some fluff 💀🤚

Y/N will be used (Meaning your name)

CW: swearing

This can be for anyone who has gotten top surgery and needs comfort about their scars (your beautiful no matter what <;3)

Tommy:

When he first sees your scars it doesn't really register in his mind that they are your top surgery scars

He just thinks that they are just scars that you've gotten in one of the countless battles

He definitely thinks they're super cool and asks you a bunch of questions about them.

"Hey Y/N- Woah! Where did you get those scars! These are cool as fuck!"

He would try and start guessing where you got them.

"Did you get them while in the nether? Was there a Piglin that tried to fight you and then they cut you with their tusks? Oh! Did you duel with Dream? or Techno? Did you kick their asses?"

You'd probably have to calm him down and explain to him that you didn't get into a fight and you just got them from top surgery

He would be very understanding of your situation, though he would apologize for jumping to conclusions.

He immediately wants to know if you have other scars and what the stories behind them are.

If you have more and decide to show them to him, he would listen very intently to the stories, and he finds the battles that you've been through (even if they aren't that big) very interesting.

If you have no other scars or you don't want to show him your other scars he is perfectly okay with that, even offering to show you his scars to make you feel better, telling you how he got each of them in a way that makes it interesting to listen too.

"And this one I got from when me and Tubbo were sparring, he felt so bad that he was apologizing for what felt like hours!"

If he ever felt that you were uncomfortable about the topic he would ask if you wanted to change it to make you feel more comfortable.

Overall he just wants to make you feel happy by saying "Hey, it's normal to have scars, and yours are just as valid as any others."

Tubbo:

When he first saw your scars he was really concerned and started panicking asking you a whole bunch of questions

"Y/N, do you wanna- Oh my god! Are you okay? Where did you get these from? Did someone hurt you? You can tell me but I swear if it was Sapnap or something me and Tommy will literally kick his ass!"

After calming him down and explaining to him that no one hurt you and these scars are from your top surgery

He would apologize for jumping to conclusions but he would be a little confused at first, I don't think that he would know a ton about the LGBT community so he would need a little clarification.

"Uh, I'm sorry if i'm overstepping your boundaries and you don't have to answer this if you're uncomfortable but, could you explain to me what top surgery is?"

After knowing exactly what top surgery is he would immediately ask if there's any way that he can help.

Want to try and fade the scars? Words of affirmation about how having these scars make you human or how your struggles are just as valid as anyone else's? Or even if you just want a hug, he'll find some kind of way that he can help you feel comfortable.

Tubbo really just wants you to feel comfortable in your own skin even if he is a little new to the whole LGBT community and how to help.

Wilbur:

Wilbur doesn't bring up your scars unless you come and talk to him about it first.

He starts to check up on you more and more.

"Hey Y/N, how are you doing? Everything is alright right?"

Just little check ups until you're ready to tell him about it.

If he ends up seeing your scars more than once he might bring it up at that point.

"Hey, um, what are those scars on your chest, if you don't mind me asking?"

Once you tell him that they're your top surgery scars he pulls you into a hug and assures you that he will always love and care about you no matter what.

Basically he will just praise the hell out of you, tell you how amazing you are, how brave you are for going through the surgery, how pretty and handsome and beautiful and cute you are.

Every time he walks by you he will just give you a kiss on the head as reassurance

He never wants you to feel like you are a burden

He will go to Fundy for advice on how to help and if there is anything that he should do to comfort you further.

Just a sweet guy who wants you to feel loved and appreciated.

Dream:

First thought is that someone hurt you and he wants to know who so he can kill the fucker

"Hey Y/N- what happened? No, No it isn't nothing, what happened. It matters because who every hurt you will have about five seconds to count their fucking blessings before I kill them."

You being you might respond with something snarky like "hey the doctor who gave me top surgery shouldn't die, I'm living my best life because of them!"

To which he responds with a mental facepalm and he gives you a hug

He just wants to protect you and sometimes takes it too far

Your chest becomes his new favorite part about you

Every time he gets the chance he will give you a kiss to remind you how much he cares

Cuddling where his head is buried in your chest? Expect him to be kissing your chest till one of y'all falls asleep.

"What? Can I not kiss my beautiful lover and give them all of the love they deserve?"

Technoblade:

Like Wilbur, Techno won't bring your scars up unless you make conversation about it

The difference is, He won't bring it up no matter how many times he sees your scars

I feel like with how many battles Techno had been in he has his own collection of scars some of which he would like to fade away and to never be talked about or brought into existence again.

So he won't talk till you want to talk

Once you do tell him he would say something like:

"Oh that's what those are? Yeah I've seen them before."

When questioning why he didn't say anything he would say something along the lines of:

"We all have our own scars, some you can see, some you can't, some you're fine with the world seeing and some you wish that they would disappear because they remind you of something that you want to block out and forget entirely. I've had my fair share of scars that should fade away just like those painful memories. I would hate to bring you back to a place that you wanted to forget."

As for comfort, he isn't too big on it, not because he doesn't want to give it to you but because he doesn't know how, maybe the occasional word or words of affirmation or hugs when you need them, but anything else and he would need Phil's help on what to do.

He is a great listener though, so if you ever need to vent he'll be the guy to go to.

Techno is just a piglin with a soft heart for you and he would hate to make you uncomfortable.

*****

Another one done! My apologies if this isn't the best I have never done headcanons before so this was new to me. I also tried to keep it gender neutral as I know not only trans males get top surgery so I wanted to make it as inclusive as possible so I'm sorry if things are too geared towards trans males.

Word Count: 1255

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