#possible future sbi oneshot?

[ixylle-d-from-the-stars]

Deathworlders everywhere but in Space

This is sitting in my brain because I haven't seen anyone else do this, but take a second to think about this: There are other deathworlders in space, terrifying ones, huge monster orc things. They are massive and nightmarish and impossibly strong. So thats why humans stand out. Thats how we survive. Human's are terrifying because we aren't built for one biome, one climate or even one planet. We aren't necessarily the strongest or fastest or scariest looking, but we're built to survive fucking everything. What if other deathworlder's are almost always only made to survive in one climate? (similar to some of the most deadly predators on earth currently) All the other deathworlders are terrifying, yes, but the second they step off their planet they're weak. Massive aliens of hulking muscle but their planet's gravity is a lot lower than the standard, so they barely meet the average strength bar whenever they go outside their gravity zone. Aliens that have venomous spikes all over their body and look gnarly as shit but their venom has practically no effect on 99% of discovered intergalactic species. Deathworlders whose planet is the nether from minecraft IRl, but they can't survive in any other temperature for any amount of time because their body just can't handle the cold and regulate their temperate (or, vice versa for tundra species). Aquatic species that are kraken-like nightmares, giant sirens and deadly squid-like beings. But they can't leave their home at all, because theres a very specific chemical makeup of their water that isn't currently found within their life-span distance travel. Deathworlders that genuinely can barely survive off planet and are frail compared to even the most docile prey species whenever they have to travel. Their called deathworlders because going to their planet is certain death, but if they leave they'll be meeting death just as quickly. And then along come humans, and everyones like, oh, another deathworlder, nothing to worry abou- wait. These guys dont seem to loose any of their natural strength off planet... and their fast and strong... and- AND THEY CAN SURVIVE IN PRACTICALLY ANY CLIMATE IN THE KNOWN UNIVERSE??? HELLO? Oh and of course their predators. Of course most of their planet is completely uninhabitable for most of us. Mhm, yep. thats fair. Totally Basically, deathworlders are a thing, the more common 'terrifying alien monster' type, but their harmless because they can't survive like everyone else. They can't thrive like humans can. It scares the shit out of everyone for a wholeeeeee while, after all, no one ever expected a deathworlder that doesn't die.

[amyelevenn]

When Worlds Collide

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Chapter 1 of my series Glimmer in the Eye of the Curious

PAIRING; c!Technoblade x gn!reader

SUMMARY; the introduction 

WARNINGS/TAGS; graphic description of injury/violence

A/N; ahhhhhh first chapter!!! just wanted to get this out so people can get a feel for what this will be about :))) also if this sounds familiar its bc i rewrote one of my oneshots (christmas - sbi) bc i’m lazy so that’s why lol

2.4k words

In your opinion, running had never been a fun task. Whether it was in a race, or from a pursuer, it was never something you seemed to be able to enjoy. The ache of your legs, the burning of your lungs, the pounding of your heart almost as if begging to burst right out of your ribcage -- I mean, who could blame you?

But to you, running was especially invigorating when it was away from mobs. It always terrified you that they were out for your blood, and didn’t help when you had the occasional arrow whiz past your ear, 9/10 times barely nicking the skin and nothing more. At this point, you were surprised you still had ears from all the times you had encountered skeletons.

You understand that the whole point of being an isolationist was to stray from politics and remain as neutral as one can be and that with isolationism came living alone with no possible human contact, but the lack of life you had encountered was outstanding. You knew living in the middle of nowhere was a risk, but you hadn’t quite fully grasped just how far out you resided.

You just wanted to take an innocent stroll outdoors – it had been a nice, sunny day and you hadn’t gone outside in a while due to the recent poor weather – who could blame you? Turns out you had brought the wrong map, and since you didn’t know the area well, it was only a matter of time before you ended up lost. But, you persisted, determined to find your way home – and even after losing track of the time, even with what little weaponry you had and the sun sitting idly on the horizon, ready to turn in for the night.

You had been running for what felt like days, but in reality, would’ve only been a mere few hours, perhaps not even that. You didn’t allow yourself to stop, knowing that if you did you would be well and truly dead in a multitude of seconds. Considering you seemed to have journeyed right into mob-central, you couldn’t see a future where you did stop and made it out alive.

It also didn’t help that your ankle was gradually bleeding out from a creeper blast you gained less than an hour into your journey. With that same explosion, you’re pretty sure that your hearing got screwed up in one of your ears, which wasn’t exactly a part of your ideal scenario. Pure adrenaline was coursing through your veins, which helped you ignore the impending pain.

Your breathing was short, heavy and ragged – easily suffocated by your mask. Your intake of air was limited, not helping the need for immediate oxygen into your panting lungs. The mask covered your nose and mouth, making your face uncomfortably warm and undoubtedly red, cheeks more than flushed.

If you could of, you would have ditched it the second you realised you would be running the long game, but the damn clasp had been broken for so long now that it had just become the new norm. You needed to be stationary and concentrating to be able to get it off on a good day – so despite it ineffectively slowing you down, it would have to stay on for now.

Many – way too many – mobs were still hot on your tail, and it didn’t help that you were running right into a snowy forest. The trees seemed to cop most of the snowfall, but the foliage didn’t collect all of the white powder that managed to pile up to your shins, soaking your already ripped, singed and ruined pants.

You ducked as another arrow flew over your head, aimed straight for the back of your skull. You shuddered at the thought of it piercing through your bones, but kept up your unsteady pace. Weaving in and out of the trees proved much harder in the snow, but you were determined to not die in the middle of nowhere with no one to find you.

You are going to die here! and no one alive knows of your existence! Ha! How’s that for karma? Winding up dead against a tree with your flesh splayed across the ground in front of you. Being left to freeze and rot and be eaten by wild animals and--

You swallowed as that train of thought crashed and died, and almost as if right on cue, light flooded into your vision. Not just any light, no, but that of a torch; a beautiful sign of life. Human life. And you knew that human life could equal help.

Or death.

You felt your adrenaline peak, using what strength you had left to get to the light. It didn’t take long to be surrounded by trees lit by small torches, but you didn’t stop there. They seemed to be lighting a path, one that you didn’t hesitate to follow. Within mere paces, the sounds of your chasers dispersing met your ears, clearly not appealed at your sudden escape.

As the groans of displeasure quietened around you, you noticed yourself slowing down. You willed yourself forward, hyperaware of the fact that if you stopped here, you would more than likely die of hypothermia in the soft snowstorm. Ironic after the whole hours-long cat and mouse that the monsters wouldn’t even be the ones to deal the final killing blow.

The snow was much thinner on the man-made path, which made it so much easier to run through. You were more than grateful for whomever it was that carved the way, hoping to the gods above that they would be showered in their greatest desires. It sounded a bit extreme, but your emotions were working overtime, so who cared for an extra bit of gratitude?

You became aware of the torches thinning out ahead of you but soon realised that was because the forest ended here. Not long after, you were in the middle of a clearing, the moon now being your only source of light and direction. That is, apart from the glowing windows of the house not too far off in the distance.

You were more than ecstatic at the face of civilisation. Mustering what dwindling energy you had left, you trudged through the snow and to the cottage. The outside had a few lanterns at the base of the stairs leading to the patio, but the main source of illumination was from what appeared to be the kitchen window. You couldn’t see anyone behind them, but as you steadily approached, you could make out a faint voice echoing around the house.

Your ankle was starting to ache, the adrenaline wearing off, agony deciding to take its place.

You had made it halfway from where the forest line had broken and where the building was placed when you sensed that you weren’t alone any longer. And by sensed, you meant the fact that an arrow was sent flying mere millimetres past your arm, slicing your shirt but nothing deeper. You had gotten lucky for now, but you knew it wouldn’t last long. It never did in your case.

Just make it to the house, you thought.

Turning back for just a second, you got a glimpse of who was attempting to take your head; two skeletons and a creeper.

With the throbbing of your foot, you were now much slower than before. There wasn’t much you could do but turn and fight. Although, that wasn’t the smartest option either, considering you didn’t have a shield and the only weapon you had on hand was a mangled iron sword. It would have to do.

Taking a few quick deep breaths in a feeble attempt to calm your pounding heart rate, you turned to face the oncoming threats. The first arrow was easy enough to dodge, the second being the same. The third, however, is not so much. The tip managed to skim itself along the inside of your thigh, and it went in mildly deep. An involuntary grunt escaped your lips, loud enough to gain some attention.

With a new bloody hole in your pants, you swung your sword at the closest skeleton, slightly proud of yourself as you watched it turn to dust at your feet. But your victory was short-lived, the all too familiar hiss of a creeper way too close for comfort. Before you had time to register what was happening, you were being thrown away from your position, landing hard on your back.

Hard enough to knock the wind out of your lungs, leaving you spluttering and gasping. Hard enough to easily give you a concussion. Hard enough for something in your shoulder to crack, most likely a broken bone. Hard enough to somehow make you cough up blood, something you should be much more concerned about.

But you weren’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to be, the pain and agony being too fresh to be able to focus on anything else. A harsh wave of anguish washed over you from head to toe, sending unpleasant shivers over your whole body.

You couldn’t move, either. With the blood dripping from the slice along your thigh, your mangled ankle, heaving chest, pounding headache, what feels like a broken shoulder, and the cold snow pulling you under, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to get up and keep going.

At least this wouldn’t be the worst way to die. The snow falling from the sky blended in nicely with the stars, a wonderful blur of white painted across the inky night sky like a Monet portrait. A quiet sigh escaped your lips, and you let yourself close your eyes.

If only for a split second in real time, everything felt slow and sluggish in your head. You could’ve sworn you heard the beautiful sound of the last skeleton meeting its end, but it was most likely just a hallucination. Yet you forced your eyes to snap open again at the crunch of snow underneath the shoes of the person approaching you carefully.

The feeling of cold metal(?) against your throat was enough to keep you living for a little while longer. The tall figure above you blocked the moon and stars from your view, effectively masking themselves in the dark.

“I come in peace,” you mutter, your voice hoarse and unused, muffled by your mask. You weren’t even sure if they had heard you. “Please.” Your whole body was in agony, and you just wanted everything to be over. You were miserable.

If they walked away, you would be dead in under an hour. He couldn’t leave you here, it’d be on his conscience for months, possibly years. And also for the fact that you would most definitely die if he left. Totally not just because of the whole conscience thing.

The blade is taken from your neck, a small breath releasing from your chest you hadn’t realised you had been holding. They had heard you and was beginning to lift you from under the armpits to hoist you up.

“I'll help you,” he murmured softly, “but if you do anythin’ funny, I'll snap your neck an’ toss you out into the snow to freeze, got it?”

Crying out in the burst of pain pulsating through your shoulder at the sudden movement, you make an effort to nod so they know you understand. Your conscience was now ever-wavering, unforgivingly teetering between life and death like an unbalanced acrobat on a wobbly tight rope.

After blacking out for a little, the next thing you remember was calloused hands laying you down on a pillow next to a raging flame whilst scanning you up and down for any major injuries. To their surprise, they were greeted with many more than they had anticipated (and wanted). Five major injuries were what they counted, with heaps of smaller cuts and bruises. How you were still conscious – hell, still alive was beyond a miracle to them.

The same calloused hands began to work away at the wounds, trying their best to keep the blood in and keep the pain out, which proved to be a very difficult task. You barely managed to keep an exhausted and wary eye on them to make sure there wasn’t any funky business going on when it clicked that you recognised them from somewhere.

It was something to do with the pink hair pulled back into a messy braid that screamed a sense of familiarity to you, along with the white boar-ish mask (skull?) that adorned their face. The way they moved – so effortlessly graceful on their feet, practically prancing around the room you were placed in.

Yet none of that fully tipped you off as to how you knew your rescuer before now. No, what did it for you was how he would quietly mutter something to himself, but would almost try to be so quiet you wouldn’t hear.

“Technoblade?” you mumbled, disbelief pushing you to sit up on the wooden floor you had been lying on. Your mask was still pulled taught across your face, which you now realise had never felt more suffocating. Your heart was beating uncontrollably fast and loud in your ears, the thunderous rush enough to make your head spin.

He froze where he stood in the kitchen, but was quick to turn his front to you so he could protect himself if needed. His posture stiffens as he placed a hand on his sheathed sword, his face stony and eyes void of emotion behind his disguise.

“You know me?” he all but growls, a hard, unblinking gaze drilling holes into your head.

His tone was more than enough confirmation for you, along with the fact that he quite literally admitted to being your old pal. Well, more so didn’t not say it wasn’t him. You didn’t know how or even if you were able to process this new piece of information right now, being too busy trying to fight off the crashing waves of nausea washing over you.

Too afraid to use your voice (along with the added idea of vomiting all over his pristine rug and floors), you nod a quick few times. Even that made you feel even worse than you had before. Clasping your hand over your mask, your body began to give up on you. Your eyelids felt like lead; heavy and droopy, along with the rest of your limbs. Everything started shutting down, the whole night way too much for you too quickly.

Technoblade seems to notice your form failing itself, and sat next to your side in seconds. Unbuckling your mask with surprising ease, he coaxes a regeneration potion down your slack jaw and throat, immediately chasing it with that of a healing potion.

He’s also not overly fond of how his thoughts jump straight to how currently vulnerable you were, and the two different demands being screamed at him now.