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[writing-oof]

Do you think in the omegaverse there’s a new, awful layer to “the talk” that teens get

[writing-oof]

collection of posts for a very specific dynamic

[writing-oof]

Summary:

The Federation was testing El then, but it's clear they've grown tired of the parasites that are the E.G.G.s, even if the islanders have welcomed them into their homes like fools.

He doesn't know exactly what's being done, most of the current plans made over his head and out of earshot, but he knows they're going to involve him in the next stage of it.

Something like satisfaction swirls in his chest.

El's finally proven himself to the Federation, proven that he knows the truth and isn't being swayed by the E.G.G.s, and they're going to let him help in their plan to finally rid the island once and for all from the super-powered monsters they made.

.

(or: the E.G.G.s have superpowers. this, surprisingly, is only the beginning of El's problems.)

.

(or: or: El Quackity gets rehabilitated like a rabid dog, Quackity yoinks his evil little brother, and A1 is safe and sound at the end of things)

TW: Mild Horror Elements/Body Horror in the first chapter, but it is a fairly chill fic after that! (i.e. it will be once I post the chapters lol), read the AO3 tags for more information!

[writing-oof]

[writing-oof]

Books, Vampires, and Baby Vaccines

Day Six: (All) I got Technoblade and the Syndicate, and I started typing and ended up with vampires. Oops : ]

TW: mentioned dog bite, mentioned rabies vaccine

When Technoblade founded the Syndicate, he did not expect it to end up like this.

Honestly, it was just supposed to be a book club. How was he supposed to know that nobody read Greek Mythology except him and a bunch of immortals?

His aunt would probably kill him if she knew he was out in the woods cozying up to a bunch of vampires. In his defense, though, it is really cold.

And, despite the fact that they're dead as dust, Ranboo's pretty damn warm. Their blanket is super soft too.

And they're also like twelve, so Technoblade's pretty sure that even if they did decide to attack him all of the sudden, he'd be alright.

Probably.

He did see Tommy pick up an entire car once, but Ranboo had seemed pretty shocked themself so he figures that maybe that's just a Tommy thing.

Tommy's a weird kid.

Even weirder than Technoblade, who's the weirdest eleven year old in the whole city.

He knows because his teacher Mr. Skeppy tells him all the time, and he'd normally be upset, but the man says it like Technoblade's his kid and he just got an A+ on his report card so he doesn't really mind all that much.

Anyways, the point is that Tommy's weird, Technoblade's weirder, and the whole book club is vampires now except for him.

Actually--

Technobalde shifts to look at the spot between Ranboo's eyes. Ranboo, who's super polite, doesn't even look at Technoblade's face.

"Could I be a vampire?" Technobalde asks and Tommy makes a face.

"You're definitely not a vampire," he says and Technoblade rolls his eyes.

"No, I mean could I be a vampire," he says, "Like, could you make me a vampire?"

Tommy looks excited for half a second before his face falls and he scowls.

"No," he says, crossing his arms clearly pretty upset about it, "Dad said we can't make anyone else into vampires until we're a hundred and twenty."

"It's a mean rule," Tubbo says, blinking sleepily while Niki ties braids into his hair.

"It's still the rules, though," Ranboo points out.

Technoblade, who has never once followed a rule ever--and Mr. Skeppy doesn't count--says, "You shouldn't follow a rule if it's ridiculous."

Ridiculous is Technoblade's favorite word, ever since Mr. Halo--who he's pretty sure is Mr. Skeppy's secret demon husband--said that he was very ridiculous after he wrote a story about their demon marriage that made Mr. Skeppy so red in the face that he looked like a tomato.

"We have to follow the rules, though," Niki says and Technoblade scowls, sitting up more but not pulling away from Ranboo or his blanket.

"But were the Syndicate!" he points out, because they hate the rules and there's a lot of them and that's basically unionizing so they shouldn't have to do anything.

"Yeah, but Phil's the Syndicate too, though," Tubbo points out and Technoblade frowns.

He knew he shouldn't have invited any grown-ups into the Syndicate.

But Philza was cool!

He's the coolest vampire ever, with great big wings and a really nice bunch of birds that sound a lot like Chat when they caw a bunch at the same time.

"Fine," Technoblade says, "I'll just become a werewolf or something."

"No!" Tubbo cries, "Don't be a werewolf! They stink!"

"Tubbo," Niki scolds, "Jack doesn't stink."

"He does too," Tommy says, sticking out his tongue at her, "You're just mad 'cause he's your boyfriend."

"You take that back," she demands, getting up to her feet and leaving a sleepy Tubbo falling back onto the ground.

"Never!" Tommy shouts, turning to run deeper into the forest.

Niki chases after him, hot on his heels and Technoblade decides to ignore any screaming that may or may not commence after the face.

Tubbo, now sleep and grumpy, pushes at Techno until he lets him crawl into the blanket with him and Ranboo.

When Technoblade founded the Syndicate, he did not expect it to end up like this.

He's pretty okay with that, though.

---

Technoblade does not turn into a werewolf.

He does, however, have to explain the angry-red dog bite on his arm to his aunt and he gets himself scolded silly and taken to the doctors for a babies vaccine.

He tries to insist that he's not a baby anymore, especially since he fought a dog all by himself, but his aunt does not relent.

Techoblade resigns himself to being turned into a baby by the doctors. At least then he might have a chance at living long enough to get turned into a vampire.

---

Technoblade never does turn into a vampire.

By the time Tommy's finally old enough to turn him, Technoblade has already made himself a place in the coven--his coven--as the infamous Blood God.

And, while the Sleepy Boys end up called a lot of things over the decades, the Syndicate always seems to be the title that sticks.

And to think that it all started over a book on Greek Mythology and a couple of kids in the woods.

---

So Wilbur just shows up one day to the book club, a normal human who definitely is not a changeling here to take Technoblade's soul

I just ran out of time to write his part again

[writing-oof]

Sometimes I Forget How to Wake Up (That's Okay. We'll Wait for You)

Day Five: (Situations Wheel) I got Hibernating Technoblade, so I speed-ran a nearly-1k hurt/comfort fic for this :]

TW: sleeping, fatigue, temporary paralysis

Technoblade doesn't make it to his room before it hits him.

He would have been fine, if he hadn't been pushing it back nearly a week now. He's just lucky he wasn't out in the snow when it happened.

He stumbles up the steps, his vision blurring and the world starting to spin. His limbs drag heavily, as if tied to stones twice his weight.

When he trips on the top stair, he can barely move his arms in front of him in time to catch the ground before it slams into his face.

His nose still clips the floor, even with his hands splayed in front of him, and a throbbing pain spreads through his head and behind his eyes.

It isn't broken, thank god, and Technoblade slumps over onto his side, curled up on the ground like a baby.

He considers making the fight to drag himself to his bed, just a few doors down, but he doesn't have much time to consider before he's gone. His eyes shut and his muscles fall lax, a heap of himself in his hallway.

---

Technoblade wakes up falling.

He would shout in surprise if his vocal chords weren't loose in his throat. As it is, he breathes out just a bit harsher than normal.

don't fall again someone says, quiet and soft.

Even Chat is quiet, apparently, lulled drowsy and slow.

It takes him far too long to realize he's being set down on his bed and not dropped off a cliff or something.

Philza meets his gaze, admonishing and fondly exasperated in equal measure.

dadza crafting a belt someone jokes.

"Mate," Philza says, his eyes too concerned for Techno not to twitch his gaze away. "You've really got to--"

He never hears what Phil tells him, his head drooping so quickly it snaps back to hit the pillow before the man can make it out.

---

The next time Technoblade wakes up, someone is sitting in the chair next to his bed.

It isn't Philza, and he can tell before he even wakes up.

The person breathes too shallow and smells too tense. There's something earthy to them, and something that couldn't be further from the earth.

Ranboo, Techno realizes, waking up stiff and sore.

Ranboo!

ender boi

good morning

He tries to look at the kid, get his attention, but his eyes stay stubbornly motionless. He can barely feel where one side of his face presses into his pillow.

Technoblade tries to move his hand with everything he has, but his fingers only twitch.

Ranboo must have been looking at him, because the kid makes a surprised noise and asks, "Are you awake, Techno?"

Techno twitches his fingers again and Ranboo makes a pleased noise.

"I'm glad you're awake," he says, "Phil was worried about you."

Techno would snort if he could. Sure, Philza probably fretted more than he should, but he can smell Ranboo's own anxiety from here.

sleepy

too tired

"I've--uh--I've never seen someone hibernate before," Ranboo admits, "It's pretty quiet, since you've been asleep most of the time."

big nap

Most of the time, not being all of the time.

Technoblade wonders if he'd said anything, or done anything in the moments between sleep he can't remember.

probably something stupid

heyy

shhh you're being loud

"I'm glad you're okay," Ranboo says and Technoblade rolls his eyes. In his mind, since his actual eyes still aren't moving.

L

If Ranboo says anything else, it's drowned out by the sleep calling for him again.

goodnight someone says, and no one says anything else for a good long while.

---

Tommy is in his room.

Technoblade flickers awake like an old candle at the sound of the door opening, his younger brother's scent thick in the air, letting out a soft noise as his fingers twitch.

"Morning, Blade," Tommy says, too quiet. Subdued.

Technoblade twitches again.

The bed creaks, the mattress dipping as Tommy comes to sit next to him.

The room is quiet, Chat whispering unintelligible complaints about being woken up early, and Technoblade can feel Tommy staring at him.

His eyes don't open still, too deep into the hibernation for his brain to want to work with any more sense than he has to, but he's too tired to remember to be worried about being blinded.

"How can you stand not being able to move like that?" Tommy asks, poking his cheek gently.

"Doesn't all that hair in your face drive you crazy?" he asks.

And, it didn't, before Tommy pointed it out.

But now that he knows it's there, feeling the strands stick to his skin and shift with his breath, Technoblade starts to feel like his skin is crawling.

He twitches his fingers and Tommy makes a contemplative sound.

"You want me to braid it or something?"

Technoblade thinks. He tries to, at least.

braid pog, someone offers and Technoblade doesn't have it in him to disagree. Besides, it does solve the problem.

He twitches his fingers and, listening to Tommy hum something soft and quiet, falls asleep with fingers in his hair.

---

Hibernating isn't safe.

He can't afford to do it when he's alone, even though his body does it anyways.

It's always a gamble, if he'll be alright when he wakes up, if he wakes up at all.

He's lucky he was home this time. He's luck he had a home to hibernate in this time.

But, he has a feeling that even if he'd fallen still in the snow he would have broken his hibernation in his bed surrounded by his family anyways.

[writing-oof]

At Least It's Not Evil Capitalism (TM)

Day Four: (Design Wheel!) I got Modern Technoblade, so I raise you with Future!Technoblade living in a Modern World while having Time Traveled to save the world Featuring Twin!Wilbur and Criminal!Quackity

TW: mention of weapons, implied violence (it's pretty chill though)

Technoblade has no idea who this guy is. He's pretty sure, almost one hundred percent certain, that he's never seen this dude in his life.

He says as much, but the guy only seems to buckle down.

"We're twins," he says, gesturing between the two of them, "We're practically identical!"

The guy does kind of have a point, as much as he hates to admit it. Technoblade frowns.

"When was your birthday?" he asks, scouring his unlikely-twin's face for a single feature that seems out of place.

"July third," his possibly-twin says and Technoblade frowns a little more.

"What are your parents' names?" he asks, because there's no way.

The other guy blinks, then breaks out into a grin. "I didn't mean literally twins! Do we really have the same birthday?"

Technoblade nods and his definitely-not-twin points out, "That's sure a coincidence."

The guy shakes his head in disbelief. "What next? You're a secret time traveler sent to save the world?"

Technoblade freezes.

How the hell--

Before he can panic about the government having a plant in a high school, the guy starts talking.

"Relax," he says, which is pretty ridiculous given Technoblade's circumstances that he's apparently aware of, "You left your notebook in the library. Sounds like a pretty cool story."

Technoblade breathes an inaudible sigh of relief.

"It's personal," Techno says, frowning.

The other guy makes a face, looking sheepish. "My bad?" he offers, holding out the aforementioned notebook, and Technoblade rolls his eyes.

"Whatever," he says, because that seems to be a pretty common word in the 2020s.

Technoblade grabs his book and turns to leave, but stops short when the guy seems to want to keep talking to him.

"Uh..listen," the guy says, "I know you're new and all, so I figured you probably don't have a partner for the Econ project next week."

"Econ?" Technoblade asks, because the people at this school already think he's a hermit. Better than the truth.

"Economics," the guy says, seeming please Technoblade hasn't run away screaming yet. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't think he's seen this guy with anyone other than that loud first year. Thesus, or something.

Actually, Techno's pretty sure that's just what he decided to call the kid, if he's remembering the right brash blonde.

Either way, a loner could be a pretty good source for Techno, later. If he knows anything, it's that the quiet ones always know more than they should.

He must have taken too long to respond, because when he looks up the guy looks crestfallen.

"What's the project?" he asks, and the guy seems to light up, giving Techno a brief synopsis of something that sounds way too complicated for him.

Capitalism.

Techno bites back a scowl.

Honestly, he preferred the future government's methods of indoctrination. At least there everyone knew it was bullshit.

By the time the bell rings, Technoblade has the guy's number in his phone and plans to meet the next afternoon in the library.

Even though he makes a fool of himself in his Maths class--really, though, who needed to know this stuff when the literal world was ending?--he thinks today was a win.

Sure, his ego will never recover, but at least he has someone interested and knowledgeable to bear the brunt of his capitalism homework.

In his phone, two new contacts sit.

One from the government plant at the cafe down the street from the school, and the other labeled 'Wilbur :)'.

---

Quackity definitely knows what's going on.

Technoblade doesn't know how he knows, but the barista pays way too much attention to certain unsavory customers.

Actually, the fact that men in suits with guns under their coats come to a coffee shop in the suburbs is evidence enough, but the fact that Quackity's the only other person who seems to know that these guys are bad news is an even bigger clue.

Where Technoblade is gripping his sleeves to keep from grabbing his knife, Quackity greets those customers with a smile and impeccable detail to their orders.

None of them ever pay, or tip, so he knows there's something shady going on.

And, with the looks the man keeps giving Techno whenever he comes by for the cafe's free water and WiFi for his legally sourced tablet, he's pretty sure the man has been reporting back to those customers about him.

They never spare him a glance, that he can see, but Quacktiy has a lot more to balance, so it's no surprise he slips up every so often.

Once, the man even offers to buy him dinner.

Technoblade got the hell out of dodge at that, not coming back to the cafe for a week afterwards.

If the government wanted to drug him, they could do it themselves instead of making someone like Quackity do it.

Honestly, Quackity was pretty bad at his job.

He was a great barista, according to Wilbur, but he wasn't really good at being a plant.

He was too obvious, watching Technoblade any time he went into the cafe by himself, sending him more looks the later it got.

Still, after Technoblade's temporary disappearance, Quackity seems reluctant to do anything hasty.

.

Quackity, working for a literal crime boss: Why is there a literal homeless child in my cafe? Am concerned

Technoblade: He's working for Evil Capitalism(™) I can tell

...

So the idea here is that Technoblade accidentally got involved with some Big Shit in the future and somehow (accident) ended up being the one to go back in time to save the world.

Wilbur isn't going to let him do it alone and neither is Tommy once he finds out about it, and Quackity--who works at the cafe that fronts for a money laundering scheme--is pretty damn worried about the kid who stays way too late at his cafe, never buying anything and always just tapping away at his cracked iPad that still has the broken security tag on it.

[writing-oof]

I May Be Small (...But?) But I Do Like Carrots

Day Three: (People and Situations Wheel!) I got Niki + Techno for people and Niki and Tiny OSMP Technoblade (what a coincidence!)

MerNiki and Rabbit Techno (tw: scared rabbit, briefly?)

Niki wakes up to a rabbit on her rock.

It's not technically hers, the same way that Tommy's tree branch perch and Ranboo's patch of grass aren't technically theirs.

Usually, it isn't a problem to get someone to leave. Niki just reminds them that it's her rock and that's the end of it.

Unfortunately, though, that doesn't really apply to the wildlife. Technically, she could just nudge the little rabbit away, but it looks so peaceful with its tiny eyes shut in sleep as it soaks up the sun.

She would feel bad about making it move, especially since it's practically her if she were a rabbit, a nice soft pink a few shades lighter than her hair.

Bun-niki would be a pretty good name for it, she decides, swimming up to the shore to watch it with her head resting on her arms.

It's nose twitches, every so often, and its ears flick at the chirping birds in the lakeside woods.

Niki only remembers to stop watching it when it twitches a few times at nothing. She's woken up some of her friends that way too; some things just know when they're being watched, apparently.

Rabbits, it seems, are no exception.

The rabbit's nose twitches and it sneezes, soft and quiet, before blinking its eyes awake.

Niki, of course, immediately feels terrible, like she's gone and flicked a guppy in the face with her tail.

She feels worse when a moment later the rabbit meets her gaze and lets out a startled noise, scrambling back so hard its legs get tangled under it and it falls onto its back.

She pulls up out of the water a bit, leaning on her forearms to peer closer in concern.

This does not go over well with the rabbit.

It rushes backwards, scrambling wildly until it runs into a rock, with its ears pressed back tightly against its skull.

She doesn't know a lot about rabbits, but that's a pretty universal signal of "fuck no."

The poor thing seems pretty scared, scared of Niki, so she leans back into the water again to give it some space.

"You're okay," she says, feeling awful for scaring it so much, "I'm not going to hurt you, little rabbit."

The rabbit seems pretty skeptical, making a funny noise that probably translates to some variation of "go away."

When she's scared, she likes to hold her stones. She wishes rabbits could hold stones, or she'd give him one in apology.

"Oh!" she says, making the rabbit stomp at the ground, "Sorry, sorry! But I know just the thing!"

She dives under the waves, reaching into one of her chests and zooming back to the surface.

The rabbit hasn't left yet, thank goodness. She still has time to make things right.

She holds out a handful of carrots and asks, "Would you like one?"

The rabbit's ears come untucked, flicking a bit.

Then, in a flash, there is no longer a rabbit on the shore.

---

"Carrots," the person demands with a hungry and almost desperate look.

Niki holds out the handful with a tentative smile and before she can blink the rabbit is holding them close to his chest, munching on one while glaring at her. He crunches at the carrots almost angrily, rabbit ears, pink hair, overalls, and all.

"Um...hi," she tries with a hesitant smile.

He stops munching just long enough to make a face and reply with a terse, "Hello."

---

If Niki could turn bigger, she definitely wouldn't stay small when she was scared of something that might eat her.

But, for some people, being surprised makes them stuck shifted.

She can't imagine being stuck so tiny! Everything would be terrifying if she were as small as Sneeg, or Techno sometimes. Especially if she didn't have any friends to keep her safe yet.

It's a good thing it was her that surprised Techno and not something like a snake.

---

---

---

Not Canon Bits:

[Techno-Tommy-reverse. Bird boi is big and bunny boi is itty]

"Fight me."

"No! You're two feet tall."

"Coward."

---

Niki's first impression with the new guy is...not the best.

In her defense, how was she supposed to know he could shift into a rabbit?

She thought rabbit hybrid just meant he had ears, or something!

So, when she saw a perfectly tasty-looking rabbit hopping awfully close to her favorite spot to swim, she pounced on the opportunity...literally.

---

"And to think something so small could still be so much better than you."

---

Niki is not going to eat the new guy.

Unfortunately, it does not seem that the new guy has been told as much.

[writing-oof]

I’m a Farmer, Not a Babysitter (oops)

Day Two: Potato Farmer Technoblade! He’s certainly a dude!

I ended up with two stories I couldn’t pick from in the thirty minutes, so here they are!

Farmer Techno (tw: Wilbur is dead)

"This is about Wilbur?" Technoblade asks.

"Yes," the social worker says, "We've tried to get in contact with your father, but we couldn't reach him."

"What's wrong?"

"We do our best to keep families together, Mr. Craft," the woman says, "We wanted to see if Philza has any interest in taking custody of Fundy, as his mother has denied it."

"Who?" Techno asks, and the phone is silent for a beat too long.

"Wilbur Soot's son?"

Techno bluescreens/

"Wilbur doesn't have a son," he says, but really he wouldn't know. Wilbur wasn't exactly showing up to the family reunions. Neither was Techno, for that matter.

"He did," the woman says, and that's that.

---

The farm isn't really suited for a kid.

There's dangerous experiment around every corner, and the chickens have already tried to peck Fundy to death, sniffing the fox under his skin. Fundy, still the weirdest kid Techno's ever met, decided he loved them almost immediately after that, and he hasn't stopped trying to break into the coop since.

Technoblade's lucky that Ranboo was looking to take more hours around the farm, milking the cows and mucking the stables and tending the crops more in that first week than he probably ever has in his life.

Fundy isn't old enough for him to leave unsupervised, especially since he's prone to turning into a fox and squirming through the hole under the baseboards in the kitchen like a snake.

Ranboo's a godsend those first few weeks, taking up the bulk of the labor around the farm and still making time to entertain Fundy for a few hours while Techno makes dinner and tries to figure out what the hell he's supposed to do now.

He's not a dad, and he never wanted to be one. There's a reason his only contact with kids was the schoolkids who came by to milk cows twice a month.

Fundy needs so much that Techno just doesn't know how to provide. He cries, sometimes, and Techno tries to comfort him as best as he can. He makes Fundy's room the safest space in the house and fills it with everything Fundy wants, from toys he saw on their four-channel-television, to photos of the parents he'll never see again.

It gets easier as the weeks draw on and Fundy talks to him more, tells him stories about his life with Wilbur before they lost everything. Techno listens, comforts when he needs to, and does his best to make his house a home.

But, as the month draws to a close, the summer slipping by in a blur of grief and fireworks, Techno's reminded that he's going to have to get back to the farm. Ranboo has school and, even if he didn't, Techno feels awful seeing how exhausted he is at the end of the day.

The farm's a big job, especially for a high schooler.

If Ranboo were any less worried about being alone with Fundy, he'd probably ask him to babysit instead.

As it is, Techno has to scour the area for anyone who would be willing to watch a hybrid kid on the outskirts of the city.

The first person he considers, a florist named Hannah, can't be away from the city for as long as he needs.

The next spends way too long comparing Fundy to the kind of foxes she shoots in the autumn for Techno to anything but throw her out of the house.

By the time he's met his fifteenth option, Technoblade has almost given up.

He asks Ranboo, just to see, if he knows anyone who'd be willing to watch a hybrid.

The next day, Technoblade has the most intense interview of his life.

…

Tommy hits it off with Fundy immediately.

In the thirty minutes he spends answering questions, Fundy's already declared him his uncle twice. It's an improvement, from the last sitter he tried to bite no less than four times.

…

Technoblade is pretty sure that Tommy isn't human.

He doesn't know how to bring it up, but his chickens have some sort of sixth sense for these things and they guard their eggs around Tommy like he's bound to snatch them up.

…

Tommy slots himself into their lives like he was always there.

Techno thinks that, if he were here, Wilbur would have called Tommy his little brother.

Instead, Technoblade calls him Theseus.

Instead, Technoblade sets up the third room for when Tommy doesn't want to bother heading back into the city.

Instead, Technoblade welcomes him home.

.

.

Fundy Thievery (tw: sad boi hours)

Two hours in and Fundy has to concede that it really *is* just a farm.

There's no secret room full of Wither skulls, or a chest full of weapons and totems.

There's a few hundred full of potatoes, though. Fundy grabs a few stacks to squirrel back to his den, the crow looking at him judgmentally.

Fundy flicks it off. It chortles, a mocking laugh, and settles into his hair.

When he reaches the treeline, the bird finally fucks off back to its nest, not following him home like he'd worried it might.

…

Fundy comes back the next day.

He doesn't want to. He wouldn't if he could avoid it, but he knows Techno has health pots somewhere and his arm still won't bend the way he needs it to.

He'd tried to shift only once, but he's pretty sure that only made it worse, a screaming pain from his elbow to his wrist.

So, stealing from his sort-of-uncle it is.

He's just lucky the dogs don't lunge for him, and that the crows seem content to keep their silence.

At least, no one's come tearing into his den with an axe, so he figures they haven't said anything, to Philza or to Techno.

[writing-oof]

gothic horror rlly is just. aw fuck look at what youve done. the house has inherited your inter-generational trauma and in response has transformed itself into a metaphorical device to track the decay of the family. we're never gonna pay off that mortgage now

[writing-oof]

I Don’t Care What the Voices Say; I Do Not Trust You

This is my submission for Day 1 of the First Try Technoblade Challenge! Because Tumblr formatting sucks, it’s taken like 20 mins to actually post, but I finished this at 11:59 PM, starting at 11:30 lol

It’s RivalsDuo (Dream and Technoblade)

This story has some blood and mostly implied gore. Don’t worry, though, cause it ends nice :]

Technoblade breathes into his hands, the air seeping out of his hands chilled into a fog in the mid-Winter freeze.

Something crunches, snapping sickly like sinew and bone, and Technoblade presses back against the wood of the barn.

Blood is thick in the air.

yes

Yes

YES

At least someone's happy, even if it's probably never going to be him.

The horses seem unbothered, barely sparing a glance to the massacre or to Technoblade's presence in their shared stall.

He's pretty sure horses are meant to have their own stalls, but he supposes that's only for normal horses and not whatever sorts of horses the fae keep.

They look like normal horses, but the four-legged fae now feasting together on Technoblade's Elders had looked normal at first too.

good idea

nom

ew gross

Technoblade scans the bit of barn he can see again, but like the first few times it's clear that there's nowhere for him to run.

Bootsteps squelch on bloodied mud, the four-legged fae sniffing as they creep deeper into the barn, all moving in the same direction like a pack of wild wolves descending on a lone deer. The claws on their hands drag on the wall, a soft scraping sound that sends shivers down Techno's spine.

He tightens his grip, nails biting into his cheek as he holds his own mouth closed.

His heart hammers in his chest.

dont be a baby

fight fight fight

monster pog

youre so annoying

He doesn't have time to be distracted. He can hear them closing in, the creatures passing by the stall with the sheep as if they can smell him cowering among the horses.

The doors to the stable stall creak on their hinges as something hisses and rasps, a thousand tongues flicking the air.

popsicle gone in one lick :(

i hate you guys

Be Quiet. We're about to die.

Something clangs from the entryway, metal on metal shaking the air. The fae hiss and, in an instant, whatever was coming to bother them is gone, swarmed with facefulls of teeth.

Chat laughs in time with the screaming, a sick sort of harmony to it.

die?

technoneverdies

you never die

you wont die

you cant die

technoblade never dies

They're going to eat us, Techno hisses, his eyes burning, What blood will you get then?

Chat stutters to a halt.

Then, all at once, they return.

no non no no blood?

blood? no more blood?

L

cringe

not very pog

blood need blood

It's whisper after whisper of the same sentiment, all equally unhelpful. Until--

sneak out the back

Technoblade moves before he can second-guess himself.

He can't fight the fae, they're twice his size at least and more than ten times him in numbers. So, running it is.

technosneak

technostealth

shhhhh

focus

The wood creaks quietly beneath him, but the swarm is distracted enough that they only twitch. Nothing sees him as he slinks out of the horse's stall and into the cows.

There, in the furthest corner of the stall, is a gap. It's nearly too small for him, and no one else in the village would have had a chance in hell at slipping through it.

Technoblade barely makes it through, pulling himself as small as he can.

He creeps away from the building and toward the treeline, step by careful step.

be careful

He is.

He's so careful that he barely realizes he's made it into the forest until trees are around him on all sides.

Techno lets out a breath. Still, the night isn't over.

And neither, it seems, is the hunt.

A fae howls, loud and dizzying, and Technoblade holds his breath.

Chat doesn't waste a second though, screaming in tandem.

RUN

Technoblade knows better than to wait and he doesn't hesitate. Before he can even get his bearings, he's off like a shot, following the directions of the choir of whispers deeper into the trees.

left

right

there

faster

He can hear the trees bending behind him, branches twice his width snapping as the swarm gains on him.

Trees rush past him in a blur until he stops, boots skidding in the dirt as he stares at a figure directly in his path.

"Run!" Technoblade shouts, trying to urge them on, "There's fae coming!"

wait

The figure, a boy about his size, blinks. He stammers for a second before shrugging helpless and turning to the creatures that have made their way back into Techno's sight. He narrows his eyes and demands, "Go away!"

Techno's heart drops, sure that this is how it ends, but miraculously--as if puppets pulled by strings--the fae turn around and thud back from whence they came.

what

Techno stops, eyes wide and lungs still heaving. "How the hell did you get them to go away?"

The boy just smiles and waves awkwardly. "Uh…hi?"

He glances down at Technoblade's feet.

Suddenly, all of the breath rushes out of Techno's lungs.

There, underneath his heel, a mushroom bends, one in a ring of dozens.

On the grass, just a few feet from the boy, is a smiling porcelain mask that shimmers even in the shade.

When he looks, rows of needle-point teeth glimmer behind the fae's lips.

fae friend?

ohh

pog

Technoblade, not exactly sharing the sentiment, scrambles back with a scream.

---

(So the idea here was like evil cannibal fae? but not all of them just the ones techno runs into and then dream buddy now bound by souls cause baby man stepped on a shroom its all good though theyre buddies)

[writing-oof]

There is a specific and terrifying difference between “never were” monsters and “are not anymore” monsters

“The thing that was not a deer” implies a creature which mimics a deer but imperfectly and the details which are wrong are what makes it terrifying

“The thing that was not a deer anymore” on the other hand implies a thing that USED to be a deer before it was somehow mutated, possessed, parasitically controlled or reanimated improperly and what makes THAT terrifying is the details that are still right and recognizable poking out of all the wrong and horrible malformations.

[writing-oof]

AU-gust 2023 prompt list is here! 🎉

What is AU-gust? It stands for Alternate Universe August, and it is a creative challenge for everyone. Writers, artists, fans; anyone can join! Be sure to check out our FAQ for more answers! Join us on Twitter, AO3, Discord and under the tags #au gust and #au gust 2023.

Special thanks to @yaoyorozoops for creating the wonderful graphics!

[writing-oof]

2023 Year of Whump

For everyone who can’t commit to or is intimidated by a daily writing/art challenge, I present a different take on the whump writing/art prompt challenge, reframed for those who create slowly, inconsistently, and on crip time.

In this yearlong writing/art prompt challenge, you choose monthly or weekly. You can go back and forth between monthly or weekly each month. If you choose monthly, you can pick prompts from any week during that month. You’ll end up with anywhere from 12-52 completed contributions at the end of it. The weeks begin on Sunday.

Tag contributions with “2023 Year of Whump” and then “2023 Year of Whump January” (or another month) for any prompt done during that month, so people can see all contributions. As requested, there is now an A03 collection where you may submit works for 2023 Year of Whump.

For each week’s available prompts, there are physical/sensory, emotional/psychological, environmental/situation, comfort/caregiving, and dialogue prompts (in that order). You are welcome to mix and match, use only one or a combination of any or all, and to interpret each liberally. You can interpret them creatively, and there are probably infinite possible ways to do so for each prompt. I suggest (but can’t really require) tagging descriptively to help people find content they’re interested in and/or filter out content in their squicks or triggers.

Choose your own adventure

January 1: caged / deceived / unemployed / whispered reassurances / “Who would ever believe you?”

January 8: restrained with belt buckles / abandoned / icy tundra / holding hands / “Save your tears”

January 15: experimental injection / threatening loved ones / warehouse / warm bubble bath / “I promise this won’t hurt”

January 22: grabbed in the dark / public humiliation / hospital emergency department / soft weighted blanket / “You must have imagined that, dear”

January 29: chained to a table / betrayal / end of a relationship / handwritten notes of encouragement / “I’m begging you; I’ll do anything”

February 5: impaled / death wish / jungle / home cooked meal / “Don’t leave me”

February 12: involuntary implant / feeling like a burden / museum / cat cuddles / “I don’t know who I am anymore”

February 19: lightheaded and faint / appeasing out of desperation / abandoned lighthouse / gentle wound care / “I’m your only choice now”

February 26: gunshot wound / trembling with fear / library with soaring shelves / leaving the lights on / “You’re home now”

March 5: emergency surgery / denial / palatial mansion / getting a private bedroom / “Don’t you know; I’ll always know where you are”

March 12: amputation / mockery / apocalyptic nuclear wasteland / firefighter carry / “Just keep looking at me”

March 19: severe fever / rejection / cocktail party / swaddled in blankets / “Do you have any idea what I’ve done for you?”

March 26: starvation / losing the last bit of hope / maximum security prison / getting pain medication for the first time / “Missed me yet?”

April 2: infected wound / resignation / forced to watch / tight hugs / “I promise I’ll be good”

April 9: tied to a pole in the sun / weakening resolve / bustling city square / standing up to threats and mockery / “There’s nothing to apologize for”

April 16: poisoned meals / death of loved one / cursed mountain / hot bowl of soup / “You’ll never get out alive”

April 23: branded / constant insults / forced labor camp / forced to participate / taking bullets in their place / “I’m doing this because I love you. One day you’ll understand.”

April 30: painful wound care / sarcastic defiance / psychiatric hospital / walking them home / “I don’t need help; I’m fine”

May 7: whipping / trying to hold back tears / airplane / offering a kind smile / “I wish it had been me instead”

May 14: tracking chip / hypervigilance / county jail / warm bread / “You don’t know who I really am”

May 21: drained of blood / violated / ancient ruins / soft slippers / “Not my face, please; I’m begging you”

May 28: shackled to a radiator / heartbroken / deconsecrated temple / back rub / “Be careful what you ask for”

June 4: gagged / ineffectual rage / soaring skyscraper in a glittering city / new, clean clothes / “I didn’t mean it; I’m sorry”

June 11: broken jaw / quiet despair / yawning canyon / going to appointments with them / “Oh you WILL be sorry now”

June 18: burned / rules with moving goalposts / arid steppes / whispered reassurance in public / “I don’t remember where that one came from”

June 25: drowning / losing grounding in reality / trash pit / offering a hand / “You’re hurting me; please”

July 2: kidnapped / ostracized / civil war / safe house / “I would say I’m sorry but then I’d be lying”

July 9: defenestration / stalking / shantytown / paying the ransom / “Don’t fool yourself; you LET this happen to you”

July 16: crushed hand / online harassment / courthouse building / cuddling / “You wanted this, didn’t you”

July 23: detonating bomb / existential dread / lakeside villa / getting a ride / “I know exactly what you need”

July 30: earthquake / homesick / horse barn / compliments / “Get up and walk.”

August 6: nausea / panic / dusty attic / human shield / “I don’t think I can stand up anymore”

August 13: collapsing building / exhaustion / mountain village / helping with food / “RUN.”

August 20: tied to another captive / desperation / public housing projects / new shoes / “You don’t have to pretend anymore”

August 27: strangled / overwhelmed and frozen in place / secret lab in basement / respecting boundaries / “You didn’t have to do this”

September 3: poison gas / screaming uncontrollably / left for dead / combing hair / “Everything I’ve done, I did it for you”

September 10: thrown against wall / painful involuntary spasms / mom’s house / rubbing shoulder / “Your life means nothing”

September 17: smashed kneecaps / dividing loyalties / seat of government / vigilante revenge / “I haven’t taken everything from you. Not yet.”

September 24: stomped on / lies / failed escape / watching TV together / “I promise I’m telling the truth; you have the wrong person!”

October 1: heavy shackles / separated from child / rapid-flowing river / getting a guard dog / “No matter what, you’ll always have me”

October 8: suspended by wrists / exiled / fortress / helping make good an escape / “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you”

October 15: coughing up blood / detested by peers / train tracks / holding them up to walk / “Looks like you forgot something”

October 22: forced drugging / gaslit into doubting reality / university / financial support / “Sorry, I can’t hear you over the screaming”

October 29: collapsing to the floor / waking up from nightmares / big box retail store / baking cupcakes / “You’ll stop crying if you know what’s good for you”

November 5: handcuffs so tight they’re bleeding / discrimination / small town diner / proper medical care / “No one should have to go through this alone”

November 12: brutal beatdown / helpless / history repeating itself / having choices / “You look so pretty like that”

November 19: suffocation / bystanders refusing to help / schoolhouse / protection in public / “Just one more time, I promise”

November 26: stabbed / flashbacks / castle / reminders of home / “I can’t remember the last time I did this”

December 3: tooth knocked out / panic attack / boat / photographs from before / “Stay still, or it’s going to hurt”

December 10: forced to eat something vile / forgotten by loved ones / homeless shelter / help with paperwork / “Do it if you know what’s good for you”

December 17: electric shock / shivering / boot camp / verbal reassurance / “It’s for your own good”

December 24: stress position / filth / recording studio / wiping away tears / “It’s not as bad as it looks”

December 31: left out in the cold / disgrace / conference / foot washing / “I didn’t mean it; you have to believe me”

[writing-oof]

narratives about doomed love that aren’t romantic in nature. the love between siblings who understand each other the most but are growing apart no matter how much they try to come back to one another. the love between friends whose life paths pull them apart and they never see each other again, only remembering the face of a once kind childhood. the love for a hometown that year by year becomes less and less the one that raised you until you are a foreigner in your own backyard. there was no stopping it. the love was there and it mattered and you can never come back again.

[writing-oof]

Your smut is always so good, I hope it's okay to ask for advice, but I've been struggling with writing smut in that my sex scenes always end up so short - I don't want to just pad them out for the sake of it, but when I read them back they always seem to be over so quickly and it's bothering me, but I can't figure out where I'm going wrong. do you have any tips for keeping up longer sex scenes?

So there are two elements that you might want to explore in detail writing a smut scene from any particular character's perspective, both of which will add depth and complexity - and duration - to a sex scene.

The first is the external, the second is the internal.

The external is the most obvious, right? What are they doing to one another, how are they doing it, where are they doing it?

They touch each other.

How do they touch each other? Tenderly? Roughly? With dominance in mind, or invitingly, seductively, touching their partner purely with a mind of inviting their partner to touch them back? Provocatively, perhaps, with little shoves here and there so that their partner won't just return the favour, but put them muscle into it?

How do you touch someone tenderly?

Is your touch featherlight and delicate, almost afraid to make contact, skin-to-skin? Do you cup their jaw or the underside of their tits, do you stroke them? Deliver kisses along their skin, or mouth over their flesh with your lips parted? Do you hold them, press your bodies tight together, nuzzle against their necks, breathe in the scent of their hair?

How are you rough, if you are rough? Do you smack them, enjoy the loud sound of skin as your palm makes contact with the meat of their thigh, the impact wet when you do it over a sheen of sweat or wetness? Do you grab them, position them, pin them down with your body weight? Do you grip them around the waist, around the neck, by the shoulders, and position them where you want them, bounce them on your cock or drag them to grind against your thigh?

Is your touch rough and impersonal, clinical, reserved, removed, or is it involved and possessive, proprietary? Do you desire to leave a mark, to show your ownership, or are you so focused on your own needs that it doesn't matter to you whether you leave a mark or not?

How do you dominant a partner? With your touch, with the shadow of your body, your personality, over theirs? With your words, talking constantly, or with a few short commands here and there, uttered in low tones?

Do you make them talk, maybe, to beg for your touch on theirs, or say how every touch makes them feel?

Do you continue your conversations you were having before you had sex? Do you laugh together, tease each other, tell jokes, keep on infodumping? Do you argue? Do you bicker and complain and kvetch about your day, or about how you told them those shoes were going to make them sore if they wore them for this long, and did they listen? Do they ever listen? Do they respond wryly with, "I listen to some things..." as they press down on the knot in your shoulder and draw a moan out of you?

What sensations are you describing, depicting, as you write people involved with one another?

Yes, touch, touch is good, the good feelings, not just skin on skin, not just the satisfaction of being filled or surrounded, sucked or bitten, but the thrum of heat that runs through them at the right touch or right word, the tingle up their spine at the right smack or well-delivered impact, the dizzying blur when they lose their breath for a moment.

Sight, too, of course - the arch of their back and the stiffening and then relaxing of their body, seeing the tendons in their wrists flex as they grip at the sheets, seeing the stretch marks and scars shift like constellations on their belly and chest and thighs as they move? Seeing their thighs and belly and arse wobble at the impact, the glorious motion of it? Seeing colour change in and under their skin, seeing the slight darkness to it at a blush, seeing the pink or red bloom underneath it as blood rushes to the area? Seeing the colours an old bruise is turning, or seeing the sheen of sweat on the skin?

Watching their hairs stand on end when you breathe on the back of their lip, or watching their lip quiver as they tell you what they want next?

What about sounds? The sounds of their noises, their moans, their gasps, the sound of flesh on flesh, the wet sound of penetration, of their kissing? The sound of the mattress springs and the headboard squeaking, of the music in the background, of one of them laughing because they hear a thump downstairs and they know it's the cat knocking things over in protest of being locked out while they fuck?

What about the tastes, the taste of sweat on their skin, their coffee clinging to their lips, the sweetness or saltiness or bitterness of their come? The smell of come and musk and sweat, of perfume and shampoo and the new laundry powder they've been using?

All of that is the external, right? The sensations and the two bodies in motion.

Then is the internal - how do the characters feel?

The sensations, yes, but... Have they done this before? With whom? Do they remember, are they remembering it now? The first time they touched each other, the first time they did this particular sexual act, the first time they discovered who they were, or what they liked?

What little things bring back a rush of memory, which sights, tastes, sounds, smells?

Are they comfortable right now? Happy? Pleased? Stressed, and hoping to work it out? Are they slow and already satisfied, but happy to sate themselves further?

Are they angry? Raging? Furious, and taking it out on each other? Are they miserable and desperate to feel a bit of happiness for a moment, to feel like they aren't alone?

How is their relationship changing through the course of the scene? Are they at the beginning of this relationship, still learning to communicate, still learning how and where to touch each other, still learning to learn each other's sweet spots, still learning to trust one another?

Or is this old hat by now? Are they as expert in the other's body as they are in their own, playing their partner as any virtuoso plays their favourite instrument, drawing out beautiful sounds?

Are they confident, or nervous? Are they adept, or still clumsy? Are they eager or reluctant, certain or uncertain?

How comfortable do they feel right now? Do they feel guilty? Why? What brings the guilt most into relief - a scent that reminds them of someone else? A certain word, a certain touch? Is the guilt a constant background hum, almost tuned out, or is it constant, raging, consuming their mind even as their body is focused on other things?

How do they feel at the beginning, in the middle, at the end, afterwards? Do they feel the same way about their partner throughout? Do they feel the same way about themselves? About life, about love, about sex, about everything else?

Do they even know how they're feeling? Are they in-touch with themselves enough to realise, or is it a mystery even to themselves - do their partners have a better idea than they do?

With all that taken into account... A long and protracted sex scene isn't necessarily better than a shorter one. Sometimes, they need to be more perfunctory, and one sex scene might be best kept short while another should be long.

It depends what the story and characters call for!

Hope this helps. :)

[writing-oof]

I would like to nominate "You promised" "I know" as one of the most heartbreaking exchanges in the english language