#technoblade Drabble

[fandomlit]

concussed confessions (technoblade x reader)

requested by anon “Helloo, i was wondering if you'd be up to writing about c!techno and reader being best friends with secret crush on each other and during a some mission it gets really dangerous. Not sure if they'll walk out alive and squeezed in some tiny space they have this moment of intimacy and honest conversation about their feelings? :)”

summary you and technoblade find each other while fighting a raid off of a familiar village. after techno takes an axe to the arm, you rush to help him, and the buffer in the midst of chaos is enough to allow him to open up to you about his feelings.

warnings swearing, violence, fighting, killing, injury, blood and gore

a/n y’all.. this sat, completely finished, in my drafts for way too long. welcome this fic to the public eye

gif cred belongs to @mineyourowndreams​

techno barely felt the arrow plunged into his armor, nor the arrow that followed that. his shield had broken long ago, but the netherite encasing his body did well in its place.

when he heard the raid bell sound, he had gotten himself prepared immediately before heading toward the village. he was taking down pairs of pillagers at a time with his axe and sword, double wielding as he had many times before. he took down one that wielded a crossbow before he heard the voice calling to him.

“technoblade!”

he turned to see a pillager coming down on him with an axe, and just barely managed to block it from pounding into his chest plate with his own axe, knocking the pillager down before delivering the final blow. he turned to see where the former warning voice had come from, and did a double take when he saw you fighting off a hoard of your own. he quickly ran his way over to help you.

“what the hell are you doing here?” he yelled over the sounds of fighting, working his way through the mob that surrounded you and a few fighting villagers.

“i have too many friends here to watch it be destroyed!” you grunted, pushing back a parade of arrows with your shield before swinging with your powerful axe in retaliation. as focused as technoblade was on winning the fight, he couldn’t help but note how beautiful you were in that moment. when you had a brief moment, you turned your determined eyes to him. “what’s your reason?”

he quickly shielded a villager next to him from an oncoming arrow before swinging back with his sword, feeling the butt of it hit against a hard skull and knocking the victim to the ground. he looked up at you with an equally serious expression. then he just shrugged, and you would’ve laughed had it not been for the next pillager charging toward you.

techno watched, almost in a trance, as you easily fought one off with a kick to the ground, wheeling around and knocking another with the blunt of your sword. most enrapturing of all was when you easily swiped one’s head off with a strong swing of your axe, a hefty flow of blood causing many other pillagers to back away while you simply basked in the spray, waiting for the next challenger.

she’s beautiful, the voices seemed to scream.

techno was so distracted by the way you simply turned your axe over in your hand and continued to fight with everything you had, that he didn’t notice the pillager creeping up behind him until it was too late. he was knocked in the back of the head, but quickly embraced the hit before he turned to his attacker. but techno was ready to block or swing a little too late, and the pillager’s axe lodged itself into the meat of his bicep. he let out a loud grunt of pain as a flush of white hot pain ran through his arm. he swung with his good arm to stab his attacker as he heard you call out his name.

“go with him!” one of the villagers at your side called. “take him into a house and block it off; we’ll be okay!”

that was all you needed to hear. you nodded in thanks before running over to the hybrid who had fallen to his knees and tugged at his good arm. “c’mon!” techno lifted himself to the best of his ability and you guided him toward a nearby house, sitting him on he small bed as you used other furniture in the room to block the door. he groaned, placing his hand on the handle of the axe, ready to rip it out.

“don’t!” you exclaimed, quickly rushing over to place your hands atop of his. “it’s preventing from bleeding out right now, wait until i can get some things.”

he let out a heavy sigh, removing his hands from the handle and you gave him a sad smile before beginning to trifle through the chests in the small house.

“you shouldn’t have come,” you spoke, your heart panging with guilt as you watched techno attempt to swallow his pain.

“i wasn’t jus’ gonna let this place burn,” he muttered, watching as you picked out a couple of materials.

“well, why not? i thought you didn’t have loyalties to people other than phil.”

“and you,” he added, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the cabin wall. he could still hear the fighting outside. “and i think im starting to be okay with that ranboo kid.. but i like this place.”

you finally sat next to him, placing down the things you had gathered. “why?”

“‘cause this is where we always meet.”

you paused your actions as you mulled over his genuine words. your heart skipped a beat as you thought. he was right; whenever you two decided to adventure together or simply hang out, you used this village as the half way point between your homes.

you began to resume your actions when he spoke again, “i dunno why, but i thought you would leave with it.”

your cheeks began to heat up at his sappy words, and you offered a quiet, “i think you’re concussed.”

“i didn’t get hit that hard.”

you ignored his words as you began to unwrap the roll of bandages you had found. “do you think you can pull it out or do you want me to?”

“i can do it,” he muttered, words slightly slurred from pain. he was sure a muscle had been torn, sparking a sudden wave of exhaustion within him as his entire body tingled with numbing pain. you were definitely smart for keeping the axe in.

you gave him a look as you began to wrap the bandage just below the wound. “can you?”

he let out a grumble before ceding, “maybe you should do it.”

you nodded, “thought so.” you held the bandage wrap in one hand and took the axe handle in the other. you looked at techno to warn him, only to see his eyes beginning to droop. you tapped his cheek with your finger, and his vermillion eyes turned to you instead. you placed your hand on his cheek. “hey, hey. it know it hurts, but i need you awake. i can’t do much for you if you’re asleep, okay?”

“whatever you say, pretty lady.”

you felt a blush creep up your neck but just sighed, “yep.”

“yep what?”

“you’re concussed.” before techno could say anything else, you yanked the axe out of his muscle, quickly dropping it to the ground as he let out a shout of pure pain. you got to work with swiftly and tightly wrapping his arm in bandages until you ran out of the roll.

after securing the bandage, you spoke gently, “good?”

“amazing,” he grunted, placing a hand on the tight wrap. he was surprised the blood wasn’t already seeping through it, but credited that to your quick work. “i didn’t know you doubled as a nurse.”

“well,” you hummed, offering him a healing potion, “you do enough dangerous stuff, you figure it out.” he frowned as he took the potion from you before gulping it down. “by the way, i might have to stitch that up when we get back to one of our houses. but i don’t have the materials here, so you’re safe for now.”

“figured,” he sighed, cringing at the bitter taste of the potion and you gathered your thoughts. 

“im not leaving, by the way.”

his eyes turned to you, still tired, but stronger. “i know. it was a stupid thought.”

“no,” you said, shaking your head, “it wasn’t. it was sweet.” he raised his eyebrows in the slightest and you continued, “it shows you care about me.”

“‘course i do,” techno attempted to shrug nonchalantly, the faintest of blush creeping up onto his pale cheeks. “who else would offer to stitch me up after i got distracted staring at them and got whacked by an axe?”

you just shook your head, standing up to look for another roll of bandages to take with you. “i know you say my focused face is funny, but in the midst of battle, tech-“

“that wasn’t why i was staring,” he spoke, shaking his head. you tucked the bandage roll in an empty bag, along with another healing potion before looking up at him.

“did i have something on my face?” you persisted with a chuckle, moving to see if you could snatch anything else from the small house before you went back into the dying battle.

“no,” he said softly, watching your tactical eyes scan the room before lifting to meet his own. “you just looked beautiful.”

you offered him a flattered smile, and he took pride in the way your cheeks flushed. “you’re concu-”

“don’t believe me?” he questioned, eyeing the way you seemed to brush off his comment to keep moving about.

you hummed sheepishly, opening another chest to see what laid inside. “can you blame me? i’m in netherite armor and, uh..” you looked to the red specks that littered your exposed skin. “covered in blood.”

he just shrugged, still gazing at you in a way that made your heart actually jump. “doesn’t matter to me.” you shook your head at him amusedly and he raised his eyebrows at you. “i’m the fuckin’ blood god.”

you laughed. “right. almost forgot.” you continued to silently rustle through the chest despite your now racing heart, now too aware of his sharp eyes following your movements.

“i mean it, though,” he offered, shifting his body as best as he could to allow himself a bit more comfort. “you’re beautiful. i’ve known it since the day we met.”

“i was also covered in blood the day we met,” you hummed, standing after bagging another potion. you finally looked to techno, giving him an amused look. “so maybe you just really like blood.”

“i do,” he admitted with a shrug. “but you’re beautiful without it, too. i’ve been around you enough to know that.” 

you nodded, finally settling down on the table across from where he was propped. “you are around me a lot,” you spoke, your mind still working through the honesty of his words. techno just looked at you as you jokingly offered, “maybe it’s stockholm syndrome.”

“maybe,” he agreed with a breadth of a chuckle as you wiped at some blood on your chin with a smile. he persisted, “or maybe i just really like you.”

your eyebrows raised in the slightest, your smile unwavering. “really?”

“really,” he spoke without hesitance. “i wasn’t whacked hard enough in the head to lie to you.” his pain-filled mind only barely processed his confession; he was still tired and aching, but he knew enough of his surroundings to acknowledge that you remained the most prominent thing in his mind, even when the voices were dulled by his pain. they did mutter when he saw you press a gentle hand to your heated cheek.

“that head comment is debatable,” you sighed, dropping your hand from your face. he rolled his eyes. “but.. i really like you, too.”

“really?” he questioned, almost with a mocking tone as his heart swelled in his chest.

you gave him a look, but still spoke, “really. which is crazy of me, considering you almost die every time i look away.”

despite the happiness that still lifted his heart, he gave you a deadpan look in return. “technoblade never dies, y/n.” you just rolled your eyes, though your smile never left your lips. 

“keep thinking like that, and you’ll never see it coming,” you warned, taking a moment to scan your eyes over the wound you had wrapped only minutes ago.

techno gave you a skeptical look. “was that a threat?”

you let out a laugh, pressing your hand to the bandage on his arm, feeling the warmth radiating off of the cut. “no, it was definitely a promise.” you gazed up into his amused eyes, giggling again as he admired your amusement. his eyes began to feel heavy as your eyes began to look at his unscathed armor instead. when your gaze flickered back up to see his eyes fluttered closed, you immediately tapped at his cheek, “none of that. i need to properly concussion test you before you can doze off, tech.”

“right, right,” he huffed, opening his eyes again with great effort. “pretty lady telling me what to do. gotta stay awake.”

you rolled your eyes once again. “you’re just gonna keep complimenting me until we get the all clear?”

he shrugged. “yeah.” you let out a laugh, bringing up a hand to rest of his cheek. “keeps me amused.”

“i’m sure,” you hummed, moving your hand down to his good shoulder. he looked into your inquisitive eyes for a moment before watching as you leaned forward and pressed your warm lips to his own. his eyes closed again, but this time with joy and pleasure rather than exhaustion.

[ks1971]

Minecraft server au where Phil has like this gorgeously built house and every morning, without a fail, he likes to sit on the front porch with a nice cup of tea. He gets 500 ticks or so of pure relaxation, aided by the beautiful sight of the flower fields, and the mountain biome peeking from the horizon. That is, until the day that He appeared. His neighbor. Or the bane of his life, depending on who you ask.

He heard that a piglin player has bought a plot of land close to him.

Nobody told him it was the flower fields.

The flower fields that were inevitably desecrated by a six by six cobblestone hut right in the middle of the landscape.

The trend continues, until Phil decides that enough is enough when he sees techno putting dirt on the roof. He ends up asking the piglin if he can remodel the place, and surely Techno can see how beautiful his traditionally japanese styled house looks- Techno said no. Phil nods, his hands curled in fists. Technically he could, y'know... This isn't hardcore after all- no. Bad Phil. The guy can do what he wants. Maybe he had a bad day, he'll just come by to ask again.

[lennjamin-o7]

"I-I really don't get the plan here, mate."

"Bruuuuuh. It's simple, Phil! You said I can't go undercover because people look at me and think 'Oh man, that guy looks like he could rip out my liver with his teeth'-"

"I just said you are unapproachable-"

"-so, of course, the logical thing to do is make myself look harmless, right? Make it so people don't vibe check me and get 'Dangerous' as a result-"

"And how exactly does dying your hair bubblegum pink make people look at the six-foot tall buff former soldier and think 'non-threatening'?"

"Pink is a calming color, Phil."

"You're a fucking dumbass."

[lookinghalfacorpse]

/dsmp /rp

cuddling with dream and the many possibilities, scenarios, and obstacles you may encounter. don't let him read this. a guide by technoblade.

i'm about to blow your minds with how complex this is. i'm a master at my art (sleeping), alright? i'm an experienced craftsman (at sleeping), i perform at my best in all locations (with naps, mostly) (yes, even in the obsidian box), and i'm very good at cuddling. i'm practically built for it. i would never, ever think about writing a guide about how to cuddle with philza minecraft (or anyone else, really), but this squirmy little guy is different.

-the best approach is the Sudden Drop. walk over to him, no matter what he's doin, and just drop onto him and stay there. spare no body weight. he'll probably think it's a bit funny, and that's why it's the best one. he's more likely to humor something if it's a good bit, and having a giant piglin treat you like a sofa cushion is a GREAT bit. he'll laugh.

-(the second best approach is when he's upset or panicking or crying, and you can see him grabbing onto himself. normally that means... idk, that he wants held? Or he wants to hold something? i'll sit down, slowly, and wrap 'im up. he'll latch onto me. hard. fingers twisting my fur-- the whole nine yards)

-otherwise, he's shy with his hands. a few times now, i've grabbed his hands and put them somewhere on me because he was just, like, hovering them awkwardly. like, cmon, man. i'm laying my whole body on you, what part of your hands do you think is gonna bother me.

-but, come to think of it, sometimes he's afraid of my hands, too. if i move them in the middle of the night. if i lay them somewhere sensitive, like his sides or the small of his back.

-another scenario: he might approach me, too. i thought it'd never happen. you know that feeling with the stray dog is finally close enough to sniff your hand and you stay super still so you don't scare it? That's how i felt. he normally just walks over and leans on my shoulder, and i still can't tell if that's all he wants or if he's asking me for a better cuddle. more experimentation is needed here.

-location is key! in all scenarios, near the wall is best. i think of myself as a secondary wall and kinda close him in- if sam were lookin', he'd only see me.

-(he's so little. he's SO little. was he always this thin? i'm gonna crush the kid.)

-expect the unexpected. sometimes he'll hit you. sometimes he'll start to cry, and sometimes that means you need to let him go, and sometimes that means you need to hold tighter. it's complicated. but everyone needs it, especially dudes bein tortured in a box, so it's worth the effort.

-(sometimes i need it, too. i'll admit it, i'm scared.)

[viktorscane]

🐦‍⬛👑

‘in the bedroom after the war’

when technoblade left the dream smp. phil adjusted relatively quickly. after all, the two had spent plenty of time away from each other in the past and he knew it was only a matter of time before they would see each other again.

one thing he would never quite get used to though, was the quiet. while techno was never a super talkative person the creaking of the wooden floorboards, the mumbling to himself, the front door opening and closing often as the piglin hybrid went about his daily chores, the dogs barking, the scribbling of quill on parchment. all sounds that were inherently technoblade were suddenly gone.

the first few days were hard, a grief settling over phil’s heart as he tried to navigate the silence and understand why his closest companion left so suddenly. on the fourth day, though he awoke to the usual caw-ing of his crows outside. he rolls over, the sun streaming in through the window bathing the room in a beautiful pink and golden glow. it was peaceful and quiet as his new life typically was.

he stirs more and finally pushes himself up out of the large, empty bed. pushing himself down the stairs to the still smoldering fire. he throws a few logs on top, adding water into the kettle perched atop it. reminding himself to add only enough for himself, as he had been making enough to serve two the last few days.

he rubs his eyes sleepily, giving a crow a light scratch on the head as he passes it. it caws shrilly, staring pointedly at the seed bag in the corner of the kitchen. “i know, i know.” he mutters. “let me make my tea first, mate.”

he opens a cabinet to grab a mug from the shelf, he notices that most of the clean mugs were on the highest shelf. most of them being varying shades of red and pink, belonging to techno. phil sighs and pushes himself onto his tiptoes and reaching almost blindly to get one. the shelf buckles a bit under the weight and the closest mug tips and down it goes.

it hits the ground with a loud thud, phil swears and rubs his temple with annoyance.

dropza LOL dropza dropza OLD AGE LOL fallza E

he pauses, quiet voices echoing around his brain. he takes a step backwards looking around the room to find the source of the voices. only being met with more quiet chants of ‘PHIL!’

it took a moment for his tired mind to process that these voices existed in his mind, but were very much real. he wracks his brain for some sort of explanation, he hadn’t hit his head recently right? was the events of the last few weeks finally taking a toll on his psyche?

he listens to the chants for a second longer, the mumbling blended together mostly but some things stuck out to him. one phrase in particular was very very familiar.

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!

it was a phrase that techno mumbled to himself often and had mentioned that the voices in his head spoke that phrase like a mantra. from his understanding, when technoblade had ascended to godhood the voices were a side effect. they mostly rambled about whatever he was doing in the moment but they also helped him during combat to give him information about the other party. they were bloodthirsty and violent but techno always regarded them as a part of him.

phil bends down and picks up the mug, it remarkably hadn’t broken in the fall. he turns it over in his hands brushing the dust off of it. he runs his fingers over the crown that had been carved into the front of the clay. he remembered techno sitting down with his dagger on the steps of their home and working at the clay. it was clumsily made and the crown was crooked, lines shaky and uneven. but it was so inherently techno that it made phil smile fondly.

the voices rumbled on about what felt like nonesense in the background as phil sets it down on the counter, bracing himself against it.

he could only take this as a sign from his long time companion, friend and ally. sending his greatest assets to phil as if to tell him that he’s okay. his heart ached but he persevered, tipping the boiling water into the mug and adding the tea bag in. he pushes open the curtains, staring out the window towards the brilliant pink and gold that was slowly fading away from the sky as the daylight began to filter in.

“hello there, old friend.” he says softly.

[foxglovewritesstuff]

the new priority // bedrock bros drabble

Summary:

Phil turned his eyes towards Tommy. “It’s pretty unlike Techno here to run away from a fight,” he explained.

“I did not run away!” the piglin man- Techno, protested. “I just had… new priorities.”

or

Tommy is in danger and scared, and he's rescued by a stranger who brings him safety in that moment and for the rest of his life.

Words: 1k

Warnings: None

The fire was warm. Tommy could feel the heat from the torch next to his head as he pressed himself against the stone wall. The guards were coming from him. All he wanted was walls around him for a night, but when he thought that, he didn’t mean the walls of the castle dungeon.

Voices echoed down the hallway. Really, if they were quieter, maybe they would’ve had an easier time catching him. Their tendency to be heard didn’t make Tommy feel any less terrified. This is who he was, and he hated it. A bird jumping at the slightest noise, ready to take off. Quick and small, always fearful of not being quick enough.

Tommy bolted. He was good at that. Running. He slipped through the doors out the side of the castle and into fresh air. The forest. It was less than a hundred metres away, he could make it. The noises of the guards chasing him grew louder, and he sprinted into the forest.

There, he could lose them. There, he could lose the hurt that chased him like the guards. There, he could lose himself.

Twigs scratched at his legs as he ran. Were they behind him? How close? He just had to run. Run, run, run, and maybe he would be far enough. He couldn’t be caught. He couldn’t.

His lungs were burning, were the footsteps he heard his own or the guards’? his legs were starting to tire, he wanted to lie down and be taken, he wanted to run far far away- he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and then it was too late. A strong arm grabbed him and yanked him behind a thick tree. Tommy almost screamed, but a hand covered his mouth. No no no no-

“Shut up kid, you’re gonna get us caught,” a gruff voice muttered. Tommy stopped struggling.

The guards grew louder, and Tommy heard them nearby. So close. He was so close to getting caught. Was he already caught?

“Where did he go?” a harsh voice said.

“Listen, kid,” the man holding Tommy breathed, “I can get us out of here, but you’re gonna have to trust me.”

Tommy nodded.

The man let go of him and stood up silently, which was impressive for his massive frame. Tommy got a good look at him for the first time, and his jaw dropped. A piglin hybrid?! This was the coolest. Well, it would be even cooler if there weren’t guards mere metres away. Long pink hair in a braid, scarlet irises, a thick red cloak. Why was he wearing a cloak that thick in this weather?

The piglin man picked up a stone and threw it impossibly far with enough force to make Tommy flinch. The guards fell for it.

“I can’t believe that worked,” the man shook his head.

“Um, who are you?” Tommy asked. “And are you a piglin hybrid? Your hair is so cool and- whoaaa…” he trailed off as he saw the axe on the man’s back.

“Okay, where are your parents?” the man asked, and Tommy scowled.

“I don’t have parents, bitch, hell if I know.”

The man opened his mouth slightly, then closed it. He nodded. “Do you need somewhere safe to stay?” he asked.

“I- yeah. Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Come with me.”

Tommy followed the piglin man for several minutes until they came to a horse tied to a tree.

“Uh, this is Steve. Steve this is…”

“Tommy,” the boy supplied.

“Tommy.” The man nodded. “Hop on.”

Tommy stared at the tall horse in front of him before lifting his leg as high as possible and shoving it into a stirrup. Wordlessly, the man grabbed him and lifted him fully on, before climbing on. He took the reins, sitting behind Tommy.

As soon as Steve started moving, Tommy let out a gasp. “Holy shit! He’s so fast! Even with both of us on!”

He felt the man nod. “Yup. I bred him to basically just be the best horse ever.”

It wasn’t exactly comfortable, Tommy was sitting forwards on the saddle, bouncing with every stride, but he could feel the warmth of the piglin man behind him, and despite speeding over the ground with a stranger, he felt almost safe.

After a long while, the horse began to slow. Snow fell gently around them, and the ground was covered in a healthy layer of it.

“Whoa! The snow! This is so cool.”

“C’mon, we need to get you to Phil. He knows how to deal with children.”

“Hey, I am not a child!” Tommy told him indignantly. He felt better, as if he had left his fears behind as Steve carried him away from them. He realized he probably should’ve been scared of the piglin man in front of him, with the massive axe strapped to his back.

The man started walking, and Tommy hurried to catch up. “Who’s Phil?”

“You’ll see.”

The man walked right up to a house- two houses attached? Tommy couldn’t tell- and opened the door.

“Hey, mate!” someone called from inside. The man waited as footsteps drew nearer.

Tommy’s jaw dropped for the second time that day. The man that appeared in the doorway had blond hair, a green and white striped bucket hat, and crow wings.

“Oh! You brought someone back!” Tommy frowned. This guy didn’t sound angry, surprisingly. “Well? Come inside!”

Tommy followed the piglin man in, and relaxed as a blast of warm air hit him. They entered a room with a fireplace and a few armchairs scattered around.

“Who’s the guest?” Phil asked, once they were seated.

Tommy looked at the piglin man. He glanced at Tommy and said, “This is Tommy. I found him getting chased down by guards at the castle. He doesn’t have… well anyone, really,” he finished, looking at Tommy again.

“No blood… you didn’t fight the guards?” Phil raised an eyebrow.

“No, we took Steve back.”

Phil turned his eyes towards Tommy. “It’s pretty unlike Techno here to run away from a fight,” he explained.

“I did not run away!” the piglin man- Techno, protested. “I just had… new priorities.”

“Thanks for saving me, big man, and bringing me here. I can leave if you’d like-”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, you have potential, and Techno needs a new friend anyways.”

“I- really? You’ll help me?”

Techno nodded. “He asks a lot of questions, be prepared,” he told Phil.

Phil smiled. “Rest up, Tommy. Want me to show you our potions tomorrow?”

“Yes! I wanna see that axe, Techno- can I call you that?”

“Go rest, kid,” he said, but voice was fond.

Tommy grinned and pulled his chair closer to the flames in the fireplace. He was safe. He felt warm, his heart was warm. The fire was warm.

[bunfloras]

trying to think of an epic and cool extra whumpy prompt but all my brain got is. hit phil with a rock. one bird one stone . bonk him in the head. get that loser. Concussed. rock time baby

It’s raining.

No—maybe it’s not. He touches his fingers to his face, and they come away sticky. Rain isn’t sticky. But it’s much too dark to even see his hands, let alone what’s on them. He opts for blissful ignorance instead, and closes his eyes again.

A shame his head hurts so bad. This is a nice spot for a nap.

Drip, drip, drip.

It slides from his hair and down his cheek. He blinks sluggishly—not that there’s much difference between the world behind his eyelids and the world outside. Some of it gets in his mouth. He spits it out, repulsed by the acrid, coppery tang.

The ground is awfully hard beneath him. Not much like grass at all, really. The air smells stale, and wet—like the smell after it rains.

Petrified?

…Petrichor.

He groans, rolling onto his side. The pounding in his head is getting louder, sharper. It’s like footsteps, thumping painfully against the inside of his skull, getting heavier and faster and—

“Phil?”

Hands lift him upward, bracing him against a warm chest. There’s light, now, flickering and orange and much too bright. He glares banefully at it for a moment, then back up at a pink snout and a furrowed brow.

“Go ‘way. ‘M sleepin’.”

Technoblade snorts. Phil swats weakly at him when he’s jostled again, a hoof prodding at his head. It makes fresh pain lance down his skull, and he recoils with a hiss and a twitch of dusty wings.

“Tha’ hurts, y’ fuckin’ asshole…”

“Bruh.” Technoblade hefts him easily up, like little more than a ragdoll in his arms. Phil wishes he’d just fuck off and let him sleep. “Stay awake, old man. You can get yer’ beauty sleep after you aren’t concussed.”

Right. Concussed. That would explain it.

“How did you ever survive on yer’ own for so long? It’s like you have a danger magnet, or somethin’.” Technoblade’s voice is gruff, but even concussed, Phil can sense the undercurrent of worry.

“Five years…” His eyes flutter shut as the spinning and swaying of the world becomes nauseating, but the squeeze of a hand brings him back.

“Yeah, yeah. Five years in a hardcore world, I know. Every player knows.” Technoblade huffs, his breath stirring the hair on Phil’s forehead. “Five years, ‘n a pebble’s what brings you down. Not a good look, man.”

Why did Phil ever agree to take over the world with him again? He opens one eye to glare at his partner.

Technoblade just hums. The hand squeeze’s Phil’s arm again.

“…I’m glad you’re alright, Phil. Don’t go scarin’ me like that again, though.”

“No promises.”

[mavia-anon]

Pandora's Key

Tommy had been having a good day.

For once, in his fucking miserable life things had been going well.

He should have known it wouldn't last but never, not in his wildest dreams, could he have imagined it would go to shit this badly.

The fucking Blade bares down at him, all fucking six feet whatever of pure bloodlust and barely contained rage with a shimmering sword at his throat. Red eyes glowing behind a skull mask stare into his soul and he's saying something, Tommy thinks. Asking him questions or hissing threats, Tommy doesn't know. He cant-- he can't hear him over the sound of his blood pounding in his ears.

The sword at his throat digs in a little deeper, a sharp burning pain that makes Tommy full body flinch and that only makes the pain worse and there's blood on his skin and those red eyes narrow, just slightly and--

Tommy doesn't know how long has passed, but when he finally comes to, he's still in his apartment. The Blade standing a healthy distance from him with his sword sheathed at his side.

Not that he needs it to be able to kill Tommy in a hundred painful ways, but it settles his nerves, if just a little.

His hands are tied behind him, is the next thing Tommy becomes aware of, a dull ache in his shoulders as the bindings wrap tight from his wrists to his elbows. He's completely fucking helpless, not that he would have been able to fight before but at least he could move, could run could--

"Well then," The Blade starts as he sees Tommy blinking blearily up at him. "Where were we?"

When Tommy doesn't answer, the Blade crosses his arms over his chest. He can't see the villains face, but he can imagine the withering glare he must be giving him.

"The blueprints." The Blade demands.

For a moment, Tommy is confused. He doesn't have any damn blueprints, he works customer service at a restaurant, he's not a damn architect or engineer or anything that could be considered important.

And then he realises.

Tommy doesn't like to think about his life during his time with Dream. And even if he wanted to, he can't even remember half of it.

He knows that Dream loved him, a long time ago. In his own way. They were not quite brothers but- had things been different, if Dream wasn't a hero, they might have been. He knows if he thinks about it too long, his head gets fuzzy and reality feels like a distant concept and--

And there's one memory that sticks with him, as vivid as the moment it happened. Dream, with a resigned look in his eyes and a knife in his hand. Dream, who pinned Tommy to the ground and brought the knife down on his back.

Dream, who spent weeks making sure the scars stayed. Healed in jagged lines and burned edges.

Tommy swallows thickly, desperately trying to keep the sick feeling in his stomach under control. He'd never been able to look at what Dream had done to him. At what hours of torture had left him with. He could barely stand to think about it most days, even when after hours of working left his skin tender and the pain became bone deep, he could never bare to behold what lay there.

It would break him all over again, he thinks. To know what Dream valued more than him. Someone he used to claim he would burn the world for.

But with wide, horrified eyes, Tommy suspects he finally has an answer for all his unasked questions.

There are no blueprints, no carefully kept and cleverly hidden sheets of paper Tommy can fork over and then continue on with his life.

There is only Tommy, and the mottled expanse of scars on his back. Blueprints-- a map of Pandora's Vault. The prison in which Dream is currently rotting in. Where he should have stayed, forever.

And Tommy is the key that will let the beast free.

[beautifulaestheticsanon]

Intro and workshop

Hello, I'm BeautifulAestheticsAnon! You can just call me Aesthetic though. I'm a inspiring story writer and I thought 'why not make my own Tumblr blog?' My inspiration came from Squishycheekanon, please go check her out she makes AMAZING stories!! This workshop will grow as more stuff is made, and a masterlist will eventually get made.

This is a 18+ blog, there is NSFW and slight dark themes.

Who I will write for:

C! Dream

C! Georgenotfound

C! Sapnap

C! Technoblade

C! Foolish

C! Punz

C! Karl Jacobs

C! Eret

What I will write:

Degradation

Somnophilia

Darcryphilia

Hair pulling

Spanking

Choking(light)

Daddy/mommy kink

Bondage

Size kink

Praise

Heat/Rut

Breeding

Free use

Overstimulation

Orgasm Denial

What I will not right:

Piss/Shit kink

Knife/Gun kink

Pain kink

Rape

Dubcon

Angst

Hate sex

Please respect these boundaries, but otherwise ask away and have fun!!!!

[caged-crows]

c!techno is probably living in cave somewhere. probably a lush cave or something. there are some axolotls in the river, he feeds them raw cod he gets from the surface sometimes.

he misses phil and niki a lot. sometimes he takes out his emerald, and and just stares at it, or just hold it close to his chest.

he can't go back, though. not yet. not until he finds a way to get ranboo back. if techno gonna come back, it wont be alone. he refuses to let it happen, stubborn as he is.

[wendy130]

One Of Those Days

// Very short writing prompt to get back into the groove. Inspired from this art post I made. Thanks @x-pair-o-dice-x :P

// Warnings: soft vore, safe vore, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi Techno.”

Techno peers an eye open, blinking slowly as his eyes flicker down onto the empty beach. His gaze lands on a familiar black-and-white haired human, and he hums sleepily, “hullo Ranboo.”

The human looks… tired. More so than usual, at least. They’re shifting back and forth on their feet, looking rather anxious. And, despite it being a hot summer day, they’re wearing a sweater and long pants. On a beach, no less. Usually, they’d be wearing some kind of floral shirt.

He shifts his tail, which is submerged into the ocean, and lifts his head off of his folded up arms with a yawn, “did you need something?”

Ranboo falters and hugs their arms, “uh. Yeah.”

He waits for them to continue on, raising an eyebrow when they don’t. “Okay? What do you need?”

Their mouth opens and closes like a floundering fish, and— now he just feels concerned for the human. “Well, uh,” they start slowly, “I— I, uh, wanted to ask something of you— you don’t have to say yes, obviously. I would understand if you wouldn’t want to—“

“Ranboo,” he cuts them off with a grumble. It only serves to make them more nervous, but he was never the best with comforting people through flowery words. “I’m sure I’ll be fine with whatever you’re talking about, but I kinda need to know what you’re on about.”

“Oh. Right. Uh,” Ranboo digs their nails into their arms with a wince. “Um. I was wondering if… well, if you’d be okay with… with… Um.” Their next words are so quiet and quick, Techno has to strain his ears to understand them. “Eating me.”

And— Oh.

Techno feels his heart soften immediately as he rolls onto his side to reveal his underbelly. “Is it one of those days?”

Ranboo takes the invitation immediately, dragging themselves over to his chest and leaning against it. “Mm.. yeah.”

“…Want to talk about it?”

“No.” 

He doesn’t push. “Okay.”

Neither one speaks for a few minutes, no words needing to be said. They know each other well enough to understand the other’s needs without tedious words. Techno breaths in and out slowly, letting Ranboo match the leisured pace, and Ranboo presses their ear against his chest, listening to Techno’s beating heart, to his powerful lungs, and to his rumbling stomach. 

They sit, until Ranboo has enough courage to pull away. 

Techno takes it as his cue to cup his hands around the boy and pulls them to his face. “Still want to hide away for a bit?” When Ranboo nods, he parts his jaw open to reveal a glistening, hungry maw awaiting the two-color haired teen. Sliding them past his sharp teeth with ease, he hums in delight. Ranboo always did taste good. 

Ranboo bats at his tongue gently as he starts to lick them, soaking up their flavor. “Oh come on, you really can’t hold yourself back, can you?” 

He chuckles fondly, mumbling around them, “hey, if I’m getting the chance to eat you, I want to enjoy it a little~”

They groan, and he lets out another chuckle, tucking them further into his mouth with a purr. Despite his teasing words, he continues onwards and left them hanging at the edge of his throat. 

“Ready?” He hums, his voice rumbling deep into the human’s bones from how close they are to his throat. 

“Yeah,” the human whispers, pawing at his tongue. 

With that confirmation, he tilts his head back and swallows. He hovers a hand right against his throat, feeling their little bump glide down against his hand and— something about Ranboo just clicks his instincts into overdrive. 

They feel like a mer pup, albeit much smaller, who’s getting tucked away to be safe and sound. He purrs, loud and comfortingly. They’re much safer in his storage, where nothing can reach them. 

He lays back down, shifting to rest on his back instead of his stomach, and he places a hand over his storage as something featherlight slips in. “You good?” he drowsily murmurs.

A muffled ‘yes’ is all he gets before he feels them flop down with a groan. 

He chuckles. “Alright. I’m going back to napping. Let me know when you want out.”

[brick-a-doodle-do]

"they frantically shoved another handful of swedish fish in their mouth"

rhhrhrhrh i had trouble with this but now i got it all figured out! i also switched the characters so many times and we eventually ended up with bedrockbros so yippeee ! ?

blinded by imperfect form

wc: 589

cw: intrusive thoughts, uninvited vore-related instincts, swearing

—–—

Light from the television hung lowly over Tommy's face, which Techno had only noticed because....well, because he was watching Tommy. Not stalking him, or plotting his murder, just, Tommy was in eyeshot, and he was small, and Techno happened to have rather entitled voices holding Tommy and his fragile form captive, and he found it soothing to watch the way the tiny moved.

The tiny was propped on a pillow supported by Techno's legs, who laid along the couch with a blanket keeping him warm from the winter air. The rest of the blanket had ended up around Tommy, who leant into it like he owned it.

And that was partially true, because some part of him had picked apart a sewing hobby over a boring coarse of life and decided it was worth it to present the boy with a gift.

Only, again, because of his voices.

Normally he wouldn't indulge in the activities his voices prompted, but this seemed harmless enough; it's not like Tommy was bothered by giant gifts and the occasional prowl.

Speaking of which, Tommy had seemed to tear his attention from the screen (which was playing Moana on a very convincing three-step plan that Techno had ended up giving into on account of his own pity of Tommy) to ask Techno for another piece of food.

Instead of asking, he stopped short and tensed at the intent eye-contact from Techno.

"Uh, Techno?" Tommy asks.

Techno's eyes never falter around Tommy as he responds. "Hh, yep?"

"Any reason you've decided to stare at me 'n shit?"

Techno shrugs. "You're unusually small, if you haven't noticed. Don't wanna lose you, Phil'd have something strong to say about that," he says. Okay, it had been made up on the spot, but it's not as if Tommy was anything unfamiliar with his voices, although admitting of his instincts only dug an opportunity for embarrassment.

Tommy blinks. "Wh– Techno I'm not gonna fall or something! I'm not fucking stupid," Tommy says, defensively.

It would be much easier for him to not fall if he was somewhere safer, a voice muses as his eyes drift onto the floor; more importantly the tumbling fall that'd injure the tiny without a second thought.

"Whatever, 'Creep-no-blade', I want food," Tommy demands, just as Techno had assumed.

"Yeah? And what food would that be?" he asks, eyes finding the various bags of snacks that had accumulated near Techno.

"Uh..." Tommy trails off as he gazes over his options: popcorn, Swedish Fish, M&M's, chip's, and... oh, well, there was a bag of donuts.

As Tommy decides, a voice chimes in with an peskily persuasive reminder as to what he wants for a snack.

"Techno? You with me, big man?" Tommy asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. He swallows, for the first time in a long time feeling genuine uncertainty.

"Ah, I hope so. What'd you say?"

"Popcorn," Tommy repeats.

He obliges, digging into the bag of popcorn and grabbing a piece, then handing it over to Tommy. The tiny's hands grab at it, two needed to support the almost air-like weight of it.

How easy it would be to grab Tommy right there and put him where he needs to be.

Techno's throat swallows impulsively as he imagines Tommy travelling down his gullet and finding a soft spot in his storage.

Instantly, upon his now-troubled self, he ignores his impulsivities and grabs at a bag beside him, frantically shoving a handful of Swedish Fish into his mouth to try and dampen his urges.

—–—

[deoxitheeclipsewolf]

@mcyt-drabble-exchange for @denzartriste

I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you like it :)

Waves crashed along The Syndicate and the wind blew a constant whistling in the captain’s ears. There was a splash in the water below, and he glanced down. Oh, he was wrong about the wind part, because Niki was swimming alongside them, her voice cutting through the noise.

“Hello Techno.”

“Hallo Niki,” His voice rumbled back. “I thought you weren’t going to be back until spring?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Foolish got lonely and dragged me along.” Technoblade turned around to see Ponk and Sam leaning over the starboard, laughing.

“Oh,” He said, smiling, “Well, I’m glad you’re back.”

..................

The hot wind of the Nether blew through the small cave Tommy called home as he waited for his brother to return. Techno had only been gone for a few hours, but all the shiny gold trinkets he left didn't make up for the loneliness he felt. Techno was leaving for longer every time just to get the same amount of supplies. Stupid humans. Tommy thought to himself. Why couldn’t they just stay in the Overworld?

Nearby, a ghast shrieked and Tommy curled further into himself, holding the note in his hands to his chest. One day, we’ll be safe.

[ufuckingpastry]

Could I have an emduo drabble? Or peerpressure, if we want to keep the jailbreak theme.

I said any ship/duo. Thank you for fighting the good fight.

- - -

"Hi mate, what–" Phil stopped the moment he walked into Techno's house, blinking at the sight in front of him:

Steve, on his feet for once, growling low. Blitz, growling back around the sword handle in its mouth. And Techno, standing between the two, somehow keeping them from lunging at each other. His hand was bleeding a little.

At Phil's arrival, Techno lifted his eyes up from the growling polar bear and mouthed a "help me". 

"Alright, okay. You grab Steve, I'll get Blitz?" Phil said, a laugh on his breath. Techno nodded. As if on cue, both of them darted forward. Phil snatched up Blitz right as Techno took a polar bear face to the stomach. Phil danced away, holding Blitz up and way from where Steve now laid on top of Techno.

"You know," Phil started as he carefully tucked the sword-wielding snow fox under his armpit. "Maybe having a bear in the house was a bad idea."

"Noted," Techno replied in a muffled groan from the floor.

[lookinghalfacorpse]

great achievements my piece for the @technoblade-first-try-challenge my prompt was: technoblade braiding his hair highly inspired by this post

/dsmp /rp

------

Dream shifted uncomfortably beneath the heavy cape.  It was too hot to wear inside the cell, if he were being completely honest with himself, but the weight and coverage granted the illusion of safety.  “Illusion” was the key word here; he wasn’t safe.  Not here, not with anyone.

Yet, Technoblade sat behind him, carefully twisting his long hair into a delicate braid and then curling it within itself, making something of an updo.  A few hours ago, he had Dream crouched over the cauldron and washed through the matted strands the best he could, and then he waited for it dry while occasionally combing through it with his fingers.  Once that was done, he sat Dream down and did his best to put it into a style that won’t get mangled again.

“I’m bored.  Not much else to do,” was Techno’s excuse.

Dream’s excuse would’ve been something along the lines of ‘I had my back to him many times already.  He would’ve hurt me already if he was determined.  He’d wait until I was asleep.’ but he didn’t say it.

“Ya know, there’s no mirror in here.  I could make you look like anythin’ and you’d have no idea,” Techno deadpanned at some point, breaking the silence suddenly and making Dream jump.

“Don’t put a dick on my head,” Dream rebutted.

“Dream.”

“Or... uh, that sounds bad.  Uh, don’t... don’t put my hair in the shape of a penis.”

“I was thinkin’ Pennywise hair myself, actually.  Or maybe double pigtails-- a bit of Harley Quinn action.”  He placed two fists on the top of Dream’s skull, miming where pigtails might have sat on him.

“Harley’s cool,” Dream granted.

“You ever see all of my braids?”

It seemed like a dumb question.  They were hard to miss.  There were many brains of different sizes and lengths along Techno’s head, some which were adorned with beads or twisted around a colorful fabric.  “Yeah?” Dream replied.

“They’re piglin culture.  I braid the same things into my hair every wash day, and it takes forever.  They all mean different things.  There’s a warrior one, and another for all the weapons I’ve mastered.  A few spiritual ones.  One that’s matchin’ with Phil.”  He ran his finger along the side of Dream’s temple.  “I gave you one.  It’s a little hidden.”

Dream felt heat rise to his face.  His excuse would’ve been ‘It’s hot under this stupid cape of yours,’ but he didn’t say it.  “What does it mean?”

“It’s for a great achievement.  The achievement bein’,” Techno’s smile was evident in his voice.  He was awful proud of this, “survivin’ in a death box.”

“I haven’t survived it yet.  Neither have you.  Quackity could come back any day now--”

“--and we’re gonna survive it, that’s what I keep tellin’ you!  C’moooon, have some faith, c’mon.  You’re never get the ‘faith’ braid at this rate, c’mooon.”

Dream adjusted the cape on his shoulders a bit, with a smile on his face.

[ria-writes-stuff]

Now what if Ghost killed Gore and then realized it was Teagon?

(Sorry, felt devious today, but asking those questions was fun lmao)

Sure hope the Syndicate won't freaking decimate Ghost for it...

(Oohh. Ohohohohohoooooo. Oh you’re so devious, never be sorry)

He hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t, he promised, it had all been so fast - one moment Gore had been standing in the rubble of a fallen building, drenched in blood, his armour torn after his battle with the Warden, the Hero now nothing more than bloody pulp on the ground. He’d turned towards Ranboo, and he’d been so terrifying, taking one large step towards him, hands flexing like Ranboo was next to be turned into mincemeat.

It had been animal instinct to throw the vial clutched in his hands towards the man, fight kicking in instead of fight for the first time in his life, arm swinging back, vial arching through the air in a miraculous show of dexterity, landing solidly against Gores neck and shattering on impact. He had no clue what the liquid would do - he had no idea when he picked it up either, or how long it had been clutched in his sweaty palms, only that at soon as it made contact, Gore started to choke, hands fluttering up to his neck.

He was frozen solid as Gore spasmed, muscles contracting in a way that was clearly agonising from the way he groaned, dropping to his knees on the ground. There was some sort of animal terror in his eyes as he gasped and choked, one hand ripping his mask off in an attempt to get air into airways that had clearly closed up. His lips were turning blue, Ranboo noticed from a distance, a man drowning on dry land.

And he was still frozen. For a very different reason now.

He remained transfixed, a sick sort of disbelief lodged tightly in his own throat, helpless in his body to do anything more than watch Gore - watch Teagon - die. Because that was Teagon, there on the bloodied rubble, that was Teagon who was dying in front of his eyes, Teagon who’d been threatening to kill him for months. That was Gore, and that was also Teagon, and he didn’t know how to make the connection between them in his mind.

So he fled.

As soon as his feet allowed him to, he was running away, away from the voices calling after him, the news outlets wanting to talk to the up and coming Hero who had slain one of the most feared terrorists in the world, his fellow Heroes coming to congratulate him (and some to comfort, he was sure), but worst of all, away from a ragged scream coming from Cerberus, who had reformed to their side a while back, but apparently hadn’t been prepared for the dead body of his father still twitching on the ground.

He wasn’t sure where he was going until he got there, letting himself into the offices where at least one of the trio could usually be found, the guards tense, but letting him through regardless. He was still wearing Ghosts suit, but with the mask off and a hoodie pulled on top, it passed well enough as a weird fashion choice instead of the Hero they were surely already scouring the city for.

He ignored the way he was yelled at to come back as he entered Kristen’s office without knocking, the guards stumbling over themselves at the entrance, too late to stop him, too scared to enter the room with explicit permission.

Kristen was- more composed than he would’ve guessed. Phil was sat opposite her, they both had tear tracks down their face, and they were holding hands as they grieved.

“I’m terribly sorry Madame-“ huffed one of the guards, “If you give us permission to enter we’ll remove him until-“

Kristen waved them off, her eyes tracking Ranboo’s own tear streaked, devastated face. “It’s fine. Leave us be.”

The guards nodded and closed the door behind them, leaving Ranboo a wreck in the centre of the room.

Kristen didn’t speak, she only watched him as he shook, waiting for a sign to move. He received it in the form of her arms opening, and he was moving in seconds, sliding with a thud to his knees so he could press his head into her stomach, arms wrapped around her waist.

He cried bitterly in her arms, Phil’s hands coming up behind him to rub his shoulders while Kristen ran her hands through his hands.

“You figured it out then.” Kristen’s voice was steady and calm, but tinged with curiosity and warning, and underlaid with the raw grief of having lost her husband. Because of course, if Teagon was Gore, than Kristen and Phil were Madame Mortality and Shriek. He felt stupid for not figuring it out sooner.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-“ he choked himself off again, tears rising again, “I didn’t-“

“Shush, don’t be sorry, darling. You were going to find out one-“

“No- no you don’t understand-“ Ranboo’s voice broke, “It was- it was me. I kill- I killed him. I killed him. I didn’t- I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know, I was so scared and then he-“

He broke off into tears again, burying his face further into Kristen like he could hide from the way she stiffened, and Phil’s hands stopped moving for just a second.

“I see.” Kristen’s voice was soft, and it only made him shake harder, “You’re Ghost, then.”

He nodded, beyond words.

“And you came to us anyway.”

“I didn’t- I couldn’t-“

“Shush,” she hushed him, one hand coming to rub the back of his neck, and he shuddered as he realised she’d pulled off her gloves, bare skin against lightly calloused fingertips, “I know darling. You didn’t know. We didn’t either. But actions have consequences- you know that better than I do. A message needs to be sent.”

Something cut cold down Ranboo’s spine, and he shuddered again, nausea rising in his gut. Phil’s hands had started to move again, and he could feel the man crowd in behind him, arms rising to pin Ranboo to his chest in an air-crushing grip. He let out a ragged sob as his arms were pinioned to his sides, but bowed his head anyway, leaving the back of his neck exposed to the cold air.

“I’m sorry-“ he said again, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears still leaking, “I’m sorry- I don’t want to- I don’t want to die please-“

Kristen hushed him again, and he keened as her bare hands looped around his neck, hind brain taking over for just a moment as raw animal terror rose in his throat-

And then his body was made of nothing but agony, and Ranboo shrieked as Kristen’s power tore through him, every nerve ending alight, and oh god oh god oh god-

-0-0-0–0-0-

Kristen sat for a few minutes with the corpse of the boy she’d loved for a few fragile years in her lap, Phil still clutching him tightly from where he’d thrashed and screamed in his final moments. Perhaps she should have waited - made this a show for the Heroes, showed them that they couldn’t get away with murdering her beloved. But she still had enough love, enough mercy left for this to be a swift death. She’d focused in on his brain, left the rest of him as pristine as she could manage, and from the slosh of his head, she’d been successful in liquidating his brain.

"What do we do now?"

Phil's voice was oddly solemn, as he stroked Ranboo's hair idly, the corpse falling limply off Kristen's lap and onto the floor.

"I believe we have a second funeral to arrange," said Kristen briskly, standing upright and walking away to pour herself a stiff glass of whiskey, something she didn't usually drink but would hopefully take the edge off, "We'll bury him to the right of Techno. He would've wanted him close."

"And after that?"

Kristen gave her husband a feral smile, raw grief being processed into an all-consuming rage, "We burn this city to the ground."