I write, I simp, I'm filled with existential fear . they/she/he . I write for block people because what even is life enymore . requests open! I might take a hot sec but I'll try and write everything . fairy pog?
Hi :D i wrote something and i wanted to share it with you, i hope you have a great day and feel free to add on - 🪐
a kid?
DISCLAIMER; sapnap is portrayed at the age of a toddler (2-3)
The tall demon wandered aimlessly through the nether without having any specific direction as he tried to find a fortress to get nether wart, although he didn't exactly need it he thought it would be pretty cool to make something with later on.
What had been hours felt like years as he finally spotted the fortress, quickly the demon sped up, it only took a few seconds to reach the structure with his tall form and long legs. Morphing down smaller so he could fit through the short corridors of the fortress he began his search for nether wart. From the outside he could hear the wailing of nearby ghasts, the oinking of piglin, there was also the closer noise of clattering bones of wither skeletons as they patrolled the halls of the fortress looking to kill anything in sight.
Bad kept his guard up as he went down the stairs into the room where nether wart grew, sitting with his back to the wall he cautiously began plucking the plump nether wart from their stems, as he was about to replant some incase anyone wanted to come and get some on their own he heard a rustle, his eyes darted around the room for a moment before they trained on a glow of fire.
Confusion is all he really felt. Bad didn't feel threatened, and he surely didn't know why. He didn't understand why his body had stopped him from attacking the moment he saw a glowing yellow eye peek out from behind the stairs.
“RAH!” suddenly the fire had popped out, the form of a toddler. Bad stared in confusion, had this child been trying to scare a random demon he had come across? Did he know how much danger he could have put himself in if it were anyone else? Did he know the nether was no place for a child, even a demon like himself?
The toddler’s expression dampened as he noticed the demon in front of him had no reaction to his very terrifying moves, Sapnap glared ‘dangerously’ at him, his hair spiking up angrily into fire. Sapnap grumpily whined and began stomping away leaving marks of ash on his way down the hall.
Quickly Bad got up to his feet and followed the child feeling the need to protect him. He knew the kid probably wouldn't wind up talking to him from his obviously angered state but he followed only for the toddler to keep looking back to see him still following.
Sapnap frowned as he looked over his shoulder to find Bad following a little bit back, with every move Sapnap took Bad took as well, the cycle went on until Sapnap finally turned around to the demon with his arms crossed.
“whaddyou want!” Sapnap babbled angry at Bad for following him for more than ten minutes.
a look of shock appeared on Bads face, he was shocked that the child could even speak, but then again he had little experience with actual children not to mention toddlers.
A grin grew on Sapnap’s face as he noticed Bad’s shock. “Go away, BITCH!”
Bad’s eyes widened at this “LANGUAGE!”
Sapnap’s fiery hair went away quickly after Bad’s loud wording, his pointy ears drooped and he shuffled farther away from Bad, he didn’t understand the concept of swears he had heard it from passing people as they stole from the fortress. Bad realised what he had done and bent down closer to Sapnap’s height and began speaking to him in a softer voice “I’m sorry, please don’t cry.” As he finished his sentence tears brimmed in Sap’s eyes.
Sapnap curled into himself hiding away from the demon in front of him. “Bad silently waddled his way over to Sapnap to comfort him. Bad grew taller stopping as his head hit the ceiling gently he picked Sapnap up into his arms holding him close, The boy fought a little before Bad began petting his hair, the Blaze-like child calmed down and leaned into Bad’s body.
“Do you have a Mama, a Papa?” Bad asked softly, his voice being slightly deeper due to growing, it would wear off at some point. He felt the quick shake of Sapnap’s head against his chest. Bad sighed softly and nodded, then he had an idea. It was an impulsive idea, he didn't even know if Skeppy would approve of this, I mean if the two lived together he should talk to him about taking in a kid. The thought of Skeppy briefly crossed his mind but it was quickly taken over by the child who had begun tugging at his heartstrings after saying he didn't have a mother.
Holding onto the boy Bad stood bending slightly and he made his way out trying to not disturb the now snoring toddler. As soon as Bad was out of the fortress Bad grew to his full height and made a dash to the nearest nether portal to get home.
muffin monster
DISCLAIMER; sapnap is portrayed at the age of 7-8
Bad set a plate in front of Sapnap and he and Skeppy both intently watched as the young boy began gobbling the food “Can I have another one?” he questioned the two men in front of him. Bad nodded his mouth agape and he set another muffin on his plate.
Sapnap smiled and he picked up the muffin tearing the wrapper off before he scarfed it down. For a while Bad and Skeppy had only been feeding him things that were organic to the nether before finding the boy with his face stuffed in the fridge eating the baked goods.
From that point on Sapnap was fed as any other person would.
the talent, the pure fluff, 🪐 I adore you
I hc that Sapnap didn't rly like Skeppy when he met him, why would he? he's lived most of his life as an orphan and when Bad --an angel, well, demon, but let's not focus on the technicalities, the gentlest most caring being he's ever come across-- finds him and after he decides to take him in Sapnap finds out he has to share his new dad?? bullshit
Skeppy understands and hides the disappointment when Sapnap looks at him coldly across the table or discards the toys he gifts him, Bad however, wants nothing more than to see the two people he loves most get along.
maybe he forces them to go on a bonding trip to the nether, maybe he leaves them along at home for too long. sometime after Bad brought a little orphaned fire demon into him and his fiancee's life, he comes home and finds skeppy and sap curled up in the couch, the shiny man is reading a book to the half asleep child and only turns to look at bad for a moment before returning his gaze to the book, a smile printed on both men's faces.
Hello, this took me forever to build up enough confidence to ask this so here goes. I have recently found the foxhounds from the Quark mod and I was wondering, can I request a Fundy x blue foxhound reader? (Also can I be a 🐲 anon? If that anon is taken then a snake 🐍 anon will do.)
welcome 🐲!! I'm sorry it took me so long to answer, I was on vacation and couldn't rly write/check my blog, it's lovely to have you here and I will definitely writing that
PORCO ROSSO AU BUT IT’S TECHNOBLADE PORCO ROSSO AU BUT IT’S TECHNOBLADE PORCO ROSSO AU BUT IT’S TECHNOBLADE PORCO ROSSO AU BUT IT’S TECHNOBLADE PORCO ROSSO AU BUT IT’S TECHNOBLADE PORCO ROSSO AU BUT IT’S TECHNOBLADE
the fundamentals of baking (and the inconveniences of first loves)
requested? yes / no
r e q u e s t :
HELLO! um I have a request for c! Fundy with having his first kiss with the reader just it being wholesome and shy?
Also you have such beautiful eyes! ( Compliment of the day)
- @mooshchan
(I loved this request and the compliment made my day <3)
cw! mentions of food . baking . swearing . fundy being one awkward mf
a newcomer’s arrival makes Fundy’s trips to Niki’s bakery significantly more exciting and a hell of a lot more stressful
However embarrassing it is to have one of your only duties as the president’s son being a daily bread run, Fundy prides himself in resilience and only mopes for the better part of the fifteen minute long walk from the caravan.
“Niki! I am here on presidential duty!”
Fundy’s loud voice echoes through the empty establishment and the overwhelming scent of freshly baked pastries makes his mouth water, too preoccupied trying to distinguish between the smell of a danish and a strudel, the hybrid doesn’t realize the non-niki figure that emerges from the kitchen and walks up to the counter
“what an honor it is to play a part on a mission of such caliber”
You smile and lean against the wooden surface
“You’re not Niki”
Fundy’s bites his tongue, he doesn’t recognise you and you are definitely not who he expected to encounter at seven am in the fucking morning
“Observant, Niki’s not in”
Your voice is pretty, and Fundy’s blushing, just a little
Now, Fundy was never one to believe in love at first sight, having grown up listening to stories of the selfish mother who broke a hero’s heart and too busy putting on a military uniform colorful enough to distract everyone from the size.
A kid brought up in war and raised on the hopes of independence, at almost eighteen years of age he’d never experienced anything close to a crush, so it is only natural that he is having a full on breakdown at a pretty newcomer greeting him in what could be the most charming way ever, flour on their apron and hair messed up in all the best ways
“It’s Fudy right? She said you’d come by”
Fundy swallows as you reach behind the counter and grab a brown paper bag filled to the brim with the cabinet’s breakfast, a light blue note is stapled on the front of it
“Anything that sounds european for president Soot, anything chocolaty for the secretary of state, anything sweet enough to get cavities after a bite for our sixteen year old vice president and anything easy to chew for baby fundy… I assume that’s you”
Instead of fixating on the ridiculously offensive and, first of all, fucking false “baby fundy”, you look down to hide a smile and take notice of the concerning idea of Tommy
“Sixteen year old vice president, isn’t that considered child labor?”
“Sure”
So he’s not paying attention, it happens
The clock is almost striking 7:40 when Fundy arrives at the caravan, his father takes the bag from him and pats his back. Later, as the buttery crust of a danish melts into his mouth, he wonders when the blush finally faded away, and if you ever noticed it
You’re not behind the counter when Fundy returns the next day, Niki greets him and he doesn’t dare to ask for you; because he’s not twelve goddamnit, and there’s still a sliver of dignity hidden somewhere behind his ears, he takes the bag and pays and Niki’s never faltering smile only adds to the cotidianity.
It’sThursday when Fundy walks into the bakery and sees you once again behind the counter, he doesn’t take it all that well. The days he’s been rehearsing and coming up with smooth compliments and small talk topics disappear into nothingness when you reach to pull his hat down over his eyes.
“Why hello Fundy, it’s been a while”
He answers in a perfectly polite manner and raises his hand but he can’t decide whether to scratch his neck or rest it on the counter so it’s just sort of floating in mid air and fuck.
He stays like that for a second before breaking into an awkward smile, gods why does everything about him turn awkward when you’re around?
How Fundy manages to hold a conversation with you for more than fifteen minutes (was it really that long?) is beyond him, but he’s content when he returns to the caravan and when Tommy makes fun of him because “fuck’s sake Funds what’s got you all hot and bothered?” he smiles wildly as he takes the blond’s cronut out of the bag and licks it before handing it over.
There is an air of disarray to the bakery when Fundy walks in on saturday, there’s an air of disarray to you honestly; your apron is messier and your hair is violently sticking up in all directions, still, you greet him smiling and pull his hat over his eyes.
“Oh shit”
You look up from the depths of a paper bag apologetically
“Do you think Wilbur will deport me if he doesn’t get his croissant?”
“A hundred percent”
Your expression drops
“I’m kidding I’m kidding, he’ll sur-” there’s a loud clatter inside what appears to be the kitchen “-vive what the fuck is going on back there?”
You laugh and kinda look like you want to cry
“Niki left and I’m supposed to bake a huge batch of everything and there was an issue with the mixers so the kitchen is a mess and I’m a mess and I’m probably going to get fired and I’m definitely going insane”
You’re both silent for a second, then, Fundy takes off his heavy black jacket and pull up his sleeves
“I’ll help you, skipping breakfast hasn’t ever killed a cabinet”
you swing your arms around Fundy’s neck, beaming with the prospect of having a sous chef to boss around (and not getting fired, but let’s not get caught up with the technicalities)
“Holy shit thank you so much”
Fundy always thought “talking about anything and everything” was some bullshit made up by romcom writers, but time flies when you’re knee deep in batter, and while kneading mother dough is a stimulating task on its own, conversation only makes matters better.
The overwhelmingly buttery smell of the kitchen along with the heat coming from the ovens have an almost drauzing effect on the young hybrid, and maybe, some slow cooking was all his brain needed to turn brave and ask
“So, erm, do you have a boyfriend?”
“Huh?”
“Or a girlfriend”
“Nope”
“Partner?”
“Not that I’m aware of, no”
You crack and egg and beat it into the batter, the comfortable silence that had floated around the room barely a second ago is suddenly loud enough to make fundy’s ears ring
“Okay my turn”
“At what?”
“Asking an unnecessarily personal question”
Remorse builds up inside Fundy, why does he always have to act like such an idiot?
He turns to look at you and blushes bright red when you interrupt his apology before it’s had time to begin
“Ever kissed anyone?”
A complacent smile pulls at your lips when you witness Fundy’s blush, the hybrid makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like “erghm” before he looks down and answers
“nope”
“Frenched? Snogged? Made out?”
You drag out the words in the most mocking way and even the way you’re sifting the flour looks smug
“shut up”
Fundy chuckles and elbows your side like he’s not bothered by your teasing, the slump of his ever traitorous ears giving him away
“Hey I’m sorry, that was kind of mean”
“What? No no it’s fine”
It’s quiet for a while, only the shuffling of flour and fundy’s clumsy egg beating left to fill the kitchen
“I wouldn’t have guessed y’know”
“Guessed what?”
“That you’ve never kissed anyone, it’s not that big a deal or anything but...”
You motion with your hands, making white flour dust your already messy apron
“I don’t know…”
You giggle like you do when there’s something funny on your mind
“What?”
he can hear the smile in your voice before you look up
“Just thought being the president’s son would have some pull in a place like this”
(apparently Wilbur couldn’t have passed down his charming personality or “luscious chocolate brown locks” to his only son, the selfish bastard)
“oh fuck you!”
Your laugh is sweeter than sugar and if Fundy were capable of finding a more poetic way of saying it, he would
Conversation threads lightly and the sun is high on the sky when the last batch of croissants go into the oven, only a few first grade burns to carry their legacy. There’s a bowl of dough rising in the corner, almost ready to be turned into loaves and trays upon trays of cookies fill the kitchen with an intoxicating smell
“Would you like to?”
You ask as you take off your apron and walk across the room to wash your hands, it comes out of nowhere and Fundy can’t figure out what you mean for the life of him.
“Like to what?”
Fundy’s white shirt has almost entirely turned beige with batter and there’s a smudge of dough on his left ear.
Both of you sigh as you leave the oven heat that floods the kitchen and walk down to the counter, despite lacking the sharp nose of a fox, you can distinguish how the fresh scent of plants feels almost foreign after hours of only smelling thick butter and rich cinnamon
“Kiss”
He stumbles a little
“Yeah, I mean, to practise, that way you’ll be ready when the time comes to do it for real”
“With you?”
He signals the space between you with aggressively because holy shit this can’t be happening right now
“it was only a suggestion, gods”
“No no no no no, I don’t mean it like that! I mean I’d love to”
“not loved as in love! i would like it”
Time slows down when you pull him towards you and he’s freaking out because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands and what if he’s shutting his eyes too tightly and what if he’s bad at it? Can you be bad at kissing? People say it’s supposed to come naturally but Fundy’s always been an unlucky son of a bitch and what if-
Your lips touch and the thoughts quiet down a bit
It’s vanilla flavoured and short; maybe, Fundy’s not sure how many eternities a kiss is supposed to last, but your lips are soft and the way your hand is placed against his chest feels so right and this might just be his new favourite thing ever.
“See, no big deal”
You’re smiling when you pull apart and there’s no explanation for the courage that floods Fundy when he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you again.
It is kind of a big deal, and it feels kind of for real.
likes and reblogs are rewarded with a kith and I hope you have a lovely
this isnt really a request i just thought it was funny
i imagine the dream team just casually talking with Callahan and you know the head canon that everyone has comms (credit to bird-wells214) so basically someone says a joking insult to Callahan right and he just had this offended look on his face before he pulls out his comm and starts aggressively typing and when he's done he has a sassy look as he watches the shocked look on the other faces
okay kinda unrelated but the idea of Callahan talking is so wild to me, like, it feels easier to picture Dream's face than to imagine c!Callahan's voice lmao, I hc him to be mute (selectively or not).
also years are added to my lifespan every time I come across the comms hc so I just thought everyone should see this
i think the act of verbally asking for consent to physically touch someone (platonic or not) is very important and it can also be very cute in the different ways people would ask for consent to touch the other so perhaps headcanons on how dsmp characters would ask for consent to hug someone (maybe even asking for consent to use something of the persons)
have a wonderful day :] - 🪐
cw! pogtopia wilbur because I couldn't help myself
It’s common knowledge that physical affection doesn’t come particularly easy to the callused warrior
Techno rarely initiates contact
and whenever he does, he makes sure to ask you if it’s okay
“can I” he signals with his hands, he’s vague and awkward and blushing just a little
you don’t answer, mouth much too occupied in an enamoured smile to conceptualize a coherent sentence
“y’know… hug you?” deep voice gone low and red eyes drifting between snow tainted windows and his lover before him
“of course” you talk in that way you do when you’re in love and he can hear your smile
there’s barely a step between him and you and walking it to wrap himself around you comes naturally as breathing
your hugs are the kind that could last for hours without ever being awkward, be it when you let go or while you’re wrapped so tightly your edges become blurry, it’s organic
C! Sapnap:
Having skin as warm to the touch as a freshly lit match never posed much of an issue to Sapnap
sure he couldn’t bare wearing anything heavier than a white top without melting, and dolphins swam away from him when his friends and him went swimming --George has been sleeping for a while and Dream is rotting away in a blackstone prison cell, so that doesn’t even matter now.
It was never bothersome
That is
Until he met you
No that’s not right
It was fine for a while, it opened a door to many a “woah you’re hot” jokes (the punchline hereof was without fail “hehe, I know”)
and he could easily mask any faint blush with some bullshit about temperature
however, he is deeply terrified of hurting you, even if his skin has never gotten warm enough to burn, the very thought of leaving a single red mark, a single blister…
so he always asks, to hold your hand, to kiss you, to hug you or put his arm around your shoulders
a shy question with a tentative “are you sure?” following suit
and you say yes, because he’s sapnap, he’s warm and feels like home
C! Fundy /p
poor boy’s got issues
he holds onto stuff to dearly, he holds onto people for dear life because one two many have left him stranded
he likes to wear your jewellery
you're probably one of the only people he wouldn't steal from, and when he asks if he can keep a string bracelet or old copper ring there isn't a moment of hesitation before you say yes
he'll always come back with a ribbon or a flower, as a thanks
while his primary love language is gift giving (it might have to do with his fox half but that’s unimportant)
physical touch has a way of making him feel safe, specially if it comes from you
he’s startled easily and takes a while to open up to people, even longer to let them touch him in any way
so he’s slow and careful
“I really want to hold your hand right now but I want to know if that’s okay”
he likes to walk around holding hands, or with his arm around your shoulder if he’s feeling douchey
he likes it when you ask too
If you want to hug him, you’ll grab his wrist and whisper
“Is it okay?”
It always is
C! Wilbur (pogtopia era)
the ravine is cold, the rocks too grounded to each other for any light to scurry through
the ravine is cold and Wilbur is beautiful
the war hero clad in white, red and navy blue is long gone. Now, he wears brown, gray and stone
he’s beautiful in the way all dangerous things are
and still, maybe for the worst, under the maddening rebel he’s still… Wilbur
he still fucks around with tommy, albeit less frequently, and he banters with technoblade and he teaches weird stuff to tubbo
he no longer swoops you off your feet and spins you around like crazy
he’s careful
like he doesn’t want to scare you, like he’s scared he might hurt you
he wouldn’t, not in a million years, he’d rather cut off his hand than ever inflicting any pain in you
still, he’s scared
because war has a way of scaring one’s soul, so does solitude, and god knows he’s gotten enough of both to spare
so he asks
his voice a lot quieter, a lot sweeter
and sometimes you say no, when the fire in his eyes looks more risky than warm, or the cold of the cavern is at the tip of your fingers
but when you say yes and he wraps his arms around you; he smells like brimstone and leather and Wilbur
for a split second it’s like you’re home, in a country built on friendship and shielded by blackstone.
Home is a curious word, hopefully one day you’ll mold it to mean a cold cavern inhabited by two young souls too excited by not having to hold onto the railings, a warrior with a history coated in blood and a man whose brown curls have lost most of their shine and who always asks before he holds your hand
🪐 my dearest, I hope this is what you were expecting and you (all) enjoy it, it was a lot of fun writing it :^)
I pray you excuse any typos I speedran this in like an hour
likes and reblogs are rewarded with a kith and I hope you have a lovely morning/afternoon/evening/night
the mishaps of Technoblade and his definitely, totally, incredibly intimidating dog
requested? yes / no
pronouns used: they / them
modern au
technoblade x reader
cw! swearing . mentions of dogs? . mentions of food
The dog wasn’t even for him. Phil had gotten it for Tommy’s birthday; the toddler had grown out of his fixation after a week and began begging for a pet snake after two (but who could have predicted that, right?). Now, as Techno walks the small animal around the block on what must be the coldest morning of the century, he catches the attention of a stranger with a much more threatening pet and finds that Floof might not be so much of a burden after all
It’s early, too early, sunlight just barely peeks through the distant mountains and the fog of autumn cold murking the window doesn’t appear to be going away anytime soon
Technoblade curses Wilbur under his breath as he slips on the thickest sweater he can find, the knitted material is unfairly cold against his chest and it raises goosebumps along his arms.
“oi have a weak immune system and moornings are too cold beh beh beh”
Techno mimics his brother’s accent to perfection if he does say so himself... and he doesn’t almost fall down the stairs in a futile attempt to avoid waking up his family, definitely.
Fuck it, he’ll turn the lights on next time, sleep schedules be damned
“Floof!” (he still doesn’t raise his voice, because Phil had a very stressful week and Technoblade is a good son. the small shouted whisper will do)
It doesn’t take longer than a second for Floof to start running around the boy’s legs and barking it’s little lungs off (it’s barely a puppy, it should not have this much energy, specially at this ungodly time), Technoblade hooks a leash onto the collar peeking from the soft fur, his own hair is tousled and he has no patience to braid it. He lazily gathers the pink strands into a low ponytail and walks out the door and into the chilly morning of october.
-
“You like me right?”
Floof’s ears perk up and he looks up at the teenager as if to say I’m a dog? What do you want from me?
“Of course you like me, I endure hardship for you, y’know? You don’t feel it because you’re covered in fur, but it’s really damn cold out here”
The dog doesn’t answer, Technoblade wasn’t expecting it to but he’s disappointed nonetheless.
“You really are small”
Maybe Techno’s salty about having to walk the dog at six am in the morning, maybe not.
“you couldn’t be a watchdog, I’d have to protect you”
he’s still taking it out on Floof, because it is tiny and universally adorable, it needs to learn that life is hard, and who else is going to teach it?
“You’re cute, there’s no denying that bu-”
And then Technoblade looks up from the dog and thinks really, poking fun at a puppy? Really? I’m gonna go to hell for that?
Because there is a huge dog sprinting at him and maybe this is where it all ends: meters away from his house, at six am on what must be the coldest morning ever and he doesn’t even have time to laugh at his situation, ‘cause he is being tackled to the ground and Floof is barking next to his ear in a deemed-to-fail mission to defend him.
“Hound!”
Goddamnit, why is this his life?
“Shit, I am so sorry, Hound! Get off him!”
A voice, not a god perhaps, but a voice willing to help nonetheless; and Techno is in no place to be picky
“Sit!”
The stranger (Hound’s owner, apparently) reaches a hand to help the boy to his feet, and after reaching for Floof's leash, Technoblade looks up.
They are... pretty
A self conscious blush taints Technoblade’s already pinkish face, because he’s wearing red and pink plaid flannel pyjama bottoms, a sweater that must have been white eons ago, his hair is a tangled, ponytailed mess and this incredibly pretty stranger just saved him from being devoured by their dog.
“Hi”
He doesn’t have time to stare or sulk.
“Hullo”
They smile and scratch their neck
“I’m sorry about...” they signal the humongous dog now sitting besides them “he gets a bit excited”
“Uh, it’s fine, woke me up I guess”
They smile wider and that’s enough to make Techno forget about the sore spot on his elbow
“y/n”
You stretch your hand out and how can someone look this not-on-the-brink-of-death at six a fucking m, god
“Techno… Blade, Techno’s fine” he stammers more than he should and maybe it’s the fact that your hands are touching but he stills wants to kick himself. you don’t notice, too preoccupied kneeling down on the sidewalk and talking to Floof in that baby voice people always talk to animals in
Floof rolls onto its back and Techno is almost too busy trying --and failing-- to smooth his hair down to notice you asking for the dog’s name
“Name’s Floof, awful, awful decision”
You look up with a grin tugging at your lips
“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say it wasn’t your choice”
Techno chuckles, “I wanted to name him steve”
“Oh because that’s better”
And smoothly, like a choreography, or a habit, you stand up and suddenly you’re walking together along the sidewalk, it’s still cold, but it doesn’t really matter.
The pair of dogs get along better, and quicker, than one would have expected, Floof is tiny enough that he can run through hound’s legs and the latter doesn’t seem keen on the idea of eating his new acquaintance, so good enough
-
Techno learns five things about you in the span of what feels like seconds
Your dog’s name is indeed Hound and he doesn’t need a leash, he gets anxious when he has to wear one and he’s actually really tame (you really are sorry about Hound tackling him)
You live in house behind his (he asks if it’s the one with the plants on the windows and the cornflowers by the doorway, it is) (you ask if his house is the loud one with the colorful doors and huge oak tree in the backyard, he tells you his brothers are the loud ones. You tell him to congratulate on your behalf the “one with the lovely voice and the pretty songs”, he makes a mental note to kick Wilbur later… and to work through his jealousy issues in therapy)
You too think that having to wake up at 6am should be considered a crime
You’ve read (and liked) most of his favourite books
you like his hair
So he’s basically in love with you by the time you make your way around the block, wordlessly, you decide to walk for just a little bit longer.
The sunlight doesn’t do much to warm you up, so the prospect of a hot beverage from that small cafe that always opens at five and smells a lot like vanilla is just about a godsend of an idea
Technoblade only realises he doesn’t have his wallet when the earthy flavour of warm cappuccino begins to flood his mouth
“We can just go by my house and I’ll pay you”
“I mean it, it’s no problem”
Behind the counter, the normally chirpy pink-haired barista is looking incredibly disinterested on the outcome of the quarrel and Techno might be a big fan of paying for his shit, but his crippling social anxiety wins the round and he gives up.
“you’ll pay next time”
You take a treat out of the pocket on your hoodie and snap it in half, feeding it to the dogs like you didn’t just make Techno’s heart do acrobatics.
He tries not to stutter much when he asks “next time?”
“Well they seem to like each other, so I thought it’d be nice”
the morning sun shines on your skin, you’re smiling like you know what you’re doing and it’s like you get more lovely every passing second
“Go to a park some time, something like that”
So Techno plays along, to the best of his abilities
“For the dogs?”
He lifts the papery cup to his lips and looks at you sideways, trying to be aloof maybe
“Oh of course, I can barely stand you, but he’s okay”
You signal to floof with a tip of your head and you dissolve laughing as Techno’s face contorts into a look of utter indignation.
The friendly bicker continues until the wide green door of Techno’s house is mere meters from where you stand.
“Want me to walk you home?”
You smile, it occurs to Techno that you actually haven’t stopped smiling for a while
“I’ll manage”
“O’kay, I’ll see you?”
“See you Techno”
You reach your arm and it sorta floats in mid air for a second before colliding with techno’s bicep in a friendly, incredibly awkward, light punch
“Alrighty, that’s my que to leave”
You reach down to pet floof’s head one last time and walk away, the dog whines and looks up at the boy with those big sad puppy eyes that are actually rather endearing from this angle
Maybe Techno had never payed close enough attention or maybe floof has become incredibly expressive over night but it’s almost like he’s asking why you’re going
“I know, I know”
He unlocks the door
“C’mon, let’s get you some breakfast dude”
Unbeknown to Techno, Tommy is balancing on top of a stack of books and what looks to be a microwave trying to reach the biscuit cupboard and he damn near kills his older brother when he talks from the still semi shadowy corner of the kitchen
“Grown to love the thing ‘ave ya?”
“Son of a- what do you think you’re doing?”
The seven year old sits down on the counter and nonchalantly munches on a jammie dodger
“Was hungry, why so late?”
“Stopped for a coffee”
He dangles the now empty cup in Tommy’s face before chucking it in the bin
“You look all happy and flustered”
Tommy jumps down from the counter and walks toward the stairs, his dinosaur pyjamas dusted with crumbs
“It’s weird”
-
Later that morning, over the breakfast table with a half eaten spoonful of oatmeal still in his mouth, Techno tells Phil he’ll walk Floof the next day, and he needn't worry
“Why?”
“Floof likes me, you get to sleep in a bit later”
He may or may not slip the dog a slice of bacon under the table
“Win win situation”
“you’re much too eager beginning to spend time with a dog you didn’t even like a day ago, we oughta get you a girlfriend Techno”
“Wil”
Techno doesn’t blush, he’s looking down because the tea is intriguing today and he likes the mug
“Or a boyfriend, that would work too”
Phil opens his mouth to “Wil” his son again and shuts it when tommy interrupts
“He already has one”
Silence falls over the room
“Care to elaborate, Tommy?”
He ignores Wilbur, shrugs and stabs a sausage with his plastic fork (he cannot be trusted with metal ones, they all learned that the hard)
“Techno?”
“Don’t look at me, I dunno what he’s talking about”
He’s playing it cool, everything’s cool, he can easily avoid a family freak out and hopefully leave the table alive and well-
“Like shit you don’t!” Phil tries to reprimand his son’s language, it’s pointless “you came back from your ‘walk’” he air quotes the word walk and he’s going a bit red “all blushy and chirpy with an empty cup of coffee, all evidence points to romance!”
Wilbur burst out laughing and slams a hand on the table, unable to catch his breath, Phil is trying to stifle down his own fit of laughter because this is just too perfect, detective Tommy is on the case of Techno’s mystery lover and the latter looks like he’s waiting for the earth to swallow him whole
“Yeah well Tommy was stealing biscuits”
Phil calms himself long enough to choke out a half assed “Tommy!”
“You traitor!”
-
Across the garden, in the house with plants on the windowsills and cornflowers by the doorway, you chuckle at the laughter and yelling coming from the house behind yours, unwilling to acknowledge how most of your good mood is attributed to the pink haired, awkward and, truth be told, adorable neighbour.
The empty coffee cup now sits on the kitchen counter and this feels like a beginning
it's still June first in like.... yesterday... somewhere
happy (late) birthday to the funkiest anarchist pigman out there
likes and weblogs are treasured and as always, have a lovely morning/day/afternoon/evening/night <3
ive been having a lot of technoblade ideas recently so why not continue
what if there was a physical embodiment of the voices that only technoblade can see.
i think that which ever voice is more dominant at the time (donators) get to choose the appearance they take on and often change depending on dominance (highest donations made)
also different accents in the voices, i like the idea of a russian lady yelling BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD at the top of her lungs.
the embodiment could be almost anything, the voices could look like a literal cat to technoblade and the only way he would know its the voices is by the one thing thats always there in the appearance the voices take on no matter how hard they try to trick him into thinking its not them
have a lovely day -🪐
🪐 you are my most favourite planet ever, I'm working on a fundy request rn but you bet your ass I'm writing every single thing your galaxy brain has come up with <3
you can go where ever you'd like to with this or i have a tiny suggestion
CW: possible spoilers
when Wilbur was killed by Phil, perhaps the feeling of his body and mind transitioning into something of a different person all memorys washing away even if he tries his hardest to grasp onto them to keep them before he was truly gone and stuck in hell while ghostbur took over
or
Ghostbur's fear of dream possibly reviving him and his fears actually coming true, for example the feeling of terror as the person he never wanted to be again came back and the feeling of happiness Wilbur feels at the sight of L'manburg blown up from the aftermath of Technoblade, Dream and Phil blowing it up though he thinks it was his doing and the feeling of relief that he has but also Tommy's despair as he listens to Wilbur talk about how the one man who made his life basically hell is his hero and how he was saved from actual hell.
have a lovely day, dont fee any pressure to do this :D - 🪐
🪐 my love, you really do live to hurt my soul don't you?
believe me when I say I'm going to write everything your brilliant planet mind has blessed my asks with, in time
only answering this as an incentive because I don't work otherwise apparently :'^)
