RipplingCurrent

The writer who actually writes…and sometimes cosplays

[ripplingcurrent]

Hullo. Tis I. I don’t actually know what I’m doing here but I wanted to join the tumblr party. Hurrah I suppose? Anyhow yeah, I now exist here. Pardon any spelling mistakes. I may post art. Or plug my fic. Who knows. I sure don’t.

You can also find me in these places

Ao3: RipplingCurrent

Twitter: RipplingCurrent

TikTok: RipplingCurrent

In case you haven’t noticed, I like consistency.

[ripplingcurrent]

Okay consider the chosen one trope right? But fic idea

“I am not the chosen one”

Distinctly ordinary Tommy decides “you know what, I’m tired of this shitty ass country being ruled by a green tyrant. I’m gonna fix it.” Despite you know, not being the chosen one spoken of in the Prophecy. Wilbur is completely on board with this idea and decides to help him (knowing more about it than he lets on). He’s the reason Tommy knows of said prophecy.

Tommy does some research and finds out the chosen one is a guy called “The Blood God” but the last time anyone saw that guy, it was to farm potatoes…obsessively. For some reason everyone is afraid of the guy and multitools people take the time to warn Tommy about approaching the Blood God. Apparently several people who tried to get him to fulfil his destiny came back maimed? Or didn’t come back at all??? Even Wilbur warns him that trying to beseech the blood god to do his fucking job likely won’t work.

So Tommy with zero self preservation goes and turns to Wilbur.

“Wilbur! I got an idea. Let’s kidnap him! We only need him for the final part of the prophecy. Let’s bring him with us, and then all he has to do is touch the rock or whatever! It’s brilliant!”

Bemused, Wilbur agrees.

They go find the blood god in his residence - from a lead Wilbur knew of - and the closer they get, the colder feet Wilbur seems to get. Eventually its left to Tommy to knock at the door, with Wilbur sulking behind him like a moody teenager.

The door opens and it’s a hulking piglin of a man, holding a dagger and glaring even more. His nose twitches.

“What do you want?”

“Hi! We want you to fulfil your destiny-“

The door slams shut unceremoniously. Wilbur stifles a laugh.

They move onto plan b which is kidnapping the blood god. They sneak in the back door come night time and manage to catch him off guard using some potions Wilbur brought with him for the special occasion.

They’re in the middle of lugging out unconscious techno when they hear a katana unsheathe and suddenly there’s a guy in green robes and black wings darker than the night sky. Wilbur shrivels a little.

“What are you doing?” Says Philza, beloved of Death.

Tommy adjusts his grip on Technoblade’s arms. His mouth gapes.

“Hiiiii dad. We’re taking Techno to fulfil his destiny” Wilbur says hesitantly.

Tommy for once is silent. For all of two seconds.

“What do you mean dad???! You knew him this whole time?? And what do you mean “Techno”??”

Cue realization that Wilbur is the blood gods estranged brother, and has been casually sitting on this information since meeting Tommy years ago.

Philza cocks his head. Then he sighs.

“Go on then. Your brother has been putting it off long enough. Best of luck when he wakes up though.”

Techno gives hell when he wakes up, fights the entire time of the adventure, but eventually agrees yeah it’s time. The rest of the adventure happens. Haven’t thought about it much yet. During it Trchno sees the corruption he’s ignored for the past however many years and actually feels a bit of guilt.

Near the end techno ditches the party. Tommy decides in his anger, “screw that guy, we’ll kill Dream ourselves. They go and are getting their shit wiped. The end has the epic fight of dream about to kill Tommy.

“You were never going to succeed.”

Tommy sees a a shadow lurking behind Dream. A ragged smile and relief lights his face.

“I know.” he says, spitting out a mouthful of blood. But he will.”

Cue techno vs dream showdown cause techno couldn’t let this loser kill himself like an idiot. Prophecy is fulfilled but only because the ordinary took it upon themselves to make it happen.

But yeah. Fic idea I may write or not. If someone writes a version of it please tell me so I can enjoy.

[sircantus]

Thinking about twinsduo but techno specifically draping his weight over Wilbur’s back and doing exactly nothing as wilbur starts to fall over

[sircantus]

“You’re fucking heavy get up” wow thats crazy “i am not built to CARRY you techno” thats insane imagine being built like a stick “WE’RE BOTH GONNA HIT THE GROUND” truly, a terrible fate. Such a shame how there’s nothing techno can do about that tho. Oh and look at that wilbur is giving out-

[sircantus]

Techno still refuses to get up off him after they’ve both fallen down and then he decides to take a nap while wilbur is two seconds away from trying to strangle him. Wilbur also eventually falls asleep. Tommy comes across them both and wakes them up while yelling “why the FUCK are you both just sleeping on the floor”

[ripplingcurrent]

Techno going “huh this actually works pretty well” and just weaponizing this Strat anytime wilbur refuses to sleep. Got a project? Not anymore wilbur, you’re going to bed. Techno decided it’s bed time. Techno becomes the Worst Weighted Blanket

[akleni-does-stuff]

Thinking about enderwalk!Ranboo and c!Dream having a student-mentor dynamic

Ranboo first appearing on the dsmp with no memories of who they were before. Then something triggers their enderwalk state and they can't communicate with anyone anymore other than Dream because he happened to know enderian

He saw it as an opportunity and taught the young enderman the way to live. The lessons were so important to enderwalk!Ranboo that they remembered them even in their awake state

Dream planned to only use them but got attached anyway. But he can't get attached to anyone, it would be a weakness

So as he was running away from the prison he never once looked back at his student bleeding out onto the grass, not even knowing their life was the price of freedom for their mentor

[ripplingcurrent]

Why do you stab me like Sam stabbed Ranboo /pos

[ripplingcurrent]

Okay so fic im actively writing.

Philza is the Angel of Death, a famed vigilante who tiptoes the line between hero and villain. He’s untouchable with his katana and frankly a bit of a self assured dumbass. He’s used to heroes tuning a blind eye due to his skill, and the fact that the hero agency, run by schlatt, is mainly corrupt. There are a few exceptions, Captain Puffy, one of them, despite being sister to schlatt.

So we have Philza, vigilante who steals things for fun, and suddenly he gets challenged by Lady Death, a very quiet and relatively unknown hero. Cue a rivalry that develops into more. And oh did I mention this is a tragedy? Be warned it does contain death.

But yeah. Short-story, five chapters, it leads into “Not a hero but a good man”, another fic of mine.

Like. He’s such a little shit.

[ripplingcurrent]

I have another thing I’d like everyone to consider. Born out of an rp I’m part of.

Blood godling techno from the earlier post. What would happen if he was isolated, deprived of his needs and piglins instincts, and then molded into a weapon?

What if the person doing all that was Quackity?

[ripplingcurrent]

Consider: insecure Godling Techno.

Techno who was taken in by Phil because he is the next Blood Godling, and Mumza tasked Phil to raise Techno to prevent him from growing up like his predecessors (Sir Billiam). He is raised to follow duty, to be loyal, and fighting is seen as inevitable and a skill one must hone.

He was born a destined to be a soldier and one day when the universe decides he is ready, he will be a god. But he isn’t ready yet. He is over 200 years old now and still hasnt ascended and gained his secondary title. (God of Blood and Justice for example or in sir Billiam’s case, God of Blood and Wealth). He has honed his skills under Phil’s tutelage, been sharpened to a knifepoint in strategic thinking and war tactics. Fought wars, demolished nations, and yet he still isn’t a god. He still somehow isn’t ready.

Technoblade sitting there, looking at the ashes of all he’s destroyed and wondering “was it all for naught?” What if he never ascends?

He can’t afford to entertain those kind of thoughts.

So he sharpens his weapons. Tends to his animals. Makes tea with Phil but inside, he is but an anxious young adult waiting and trying to fulfil a duty and crown that has yet to fall on his head.

Blood for the blood god, and yet, there is no god. Not yet. Because Techno simply isn’t ready and worst of all, doesn’t understand why he isn’t enough.

What is he doing wrong?

[ripplingcurrent]

Now consider Wilbur. Son of the Angel of Death and Death herself. Phil has been tasked with raising the next blood god, and Wilbur comes along a bit accidentally mid way into Techno’s training. Phil has never been a parent before, and never anticipated he would be. But now he has both babe and Blade to raise.

So what does Phil do? He raises his son like he did Technoblade. Teaching him morality, justice, duty and loyalty. First steps walking leads into swinging a sword at practice dummies. Archery, daggers, every weapon that once was held in Techno’s young hands pass into Wilbur’s soft, child’s palm.

Wilbur, who’d much rather strum a guitar, draws back the string of a bow. Who’d rather write and sing poetry is praised when he picks up a book about politics and policy.

Wilbur who is so built for war, doesn’t know how to function without it when he leaves home early. He takes Tommy with him, and they end up in army camps. He starts at the bottom, quickly working his way up, because what fourteen year old can quote military tactics from 200 years ago?

Soon he is a General. And yet, not once, did anyone ask what Wilbur wanted. He is made in his brother’s image. Yet there is no crown for him to inherit. No grand title.

It haunts him.

[ripplingcurrent]

Tommy. Finally Tommy. He is sheltered from the burden of the crown his brothers bear. And yet he has his own struggles. He grows up in soldier camps and is spitfire because of it. Skinned palms and knees, dirty faces and hard tack rations. His food is unseasoned or over seasoned, as Wilbur can’t taste it all too well.

He grows up without the full stomach, and without assured safety that Phil could provide, but he grows up free of the burden the others carry. He is a wild child and responsibility is not a word he knows.

Wilbur wouldn’t have him know it. Not yet.

He shields Tommy as best he can but the boy grows a tongue of acid when it comes to swearing. He spits curses like a weathered soldier and while friendly, is slow to make friends. Not many children in the army camps, and two, if you make friends with a soldier, there’s a good chance they’re not coming back. So Tommy bonds with Wilbur and bonds hard. They’re inseparable.

So Tommy follows Wilbur into revolutions, into skirmishes, into battlefields and war. He follows Wilbur to the ends of the earth and finally to the end of Wilbur’s life.

For all Wilbur did, trying to raise Tommy away from duty and the burdens of purpose and being a weapon, he still raised a soldier.

[ripplingcurrent]

Consider: insecure Godling Techno.

Techno who was taken in by Phil because he is the next Blood Godling, and Mumza tasked Phil to raise Techno to prevent him from growing up like his predecessors (Sir Billiam). He is raised to follow duty, to be loyal, and fighting is seen as inevitable and a skill one must hone.

He was born a destined to be a soldier and one day when the universe decides he is ready, he will be a god. But he isn’t ready yet. He is over 200 years old now and still hasnt ascended and gained his secondary title. (God of Blood and Justice for example or in sir Billiam’s case, God of Blood and Wealth). He has honed his skills under Phil’s tutelage, been sharpened to a knifepoint in strategic thinking and war tactics. Fought wars, demolished nations, and yet he still isn’t a god. He still somehow isn’t ready.

Technoblade sitting there, looking at the ashes of all he’s destroyed and wondering “was it all for naught?” What if he never ascends?

He can’t afford to entertain those kind of thoughts.

So he sharpens his weapons. Tends to his animals. Makes tea with Phil but inside, he is but an anxious young adult waiting and trying to fulfil a duty and crown that has yet to fall on his head.

Blood for the blood god, and yet, there is no god. Not yet. Because Techno simply isn’t ready and worst of all, doesn’t understand why he isn’t enough.

What is he doing wrong?

[ripplingcurrent]

Now consider Wilbur. Son of the Angel of Death and Death herself. Phil has been tasked with raising the next blood god, and Wilbur comes along a bit accidentally mid way into Techno’s training. Phil has never been a parent before, and never anticipated he would be. But now he has both babe and Blade to raise.

So what does Phil do? He raises his son like he did Technoblade. Teaching him morality, justice, duty and loyalty. First steps walking leads into swinging a sword at practice dummies. Archery, daggers, every weapon that once was held in Techno’s young hands pass into Wilbur’s soft, child’s palm.

Wilbur, who’d much rather strum a guitar, draws back the string of a bow. Who’d rather write and sing poetry is praised when he picks up a book about politics and policy.

Wilbur who is so built for war, doesn’t know how to function without it when he leaves home early. He takes Tommy with him, and they end up in army camps. He starts at the bottom, quickly working his way up, because what fourteen year old can quote military tactics from 200 years ago?

Soon he is a General. And yet, not once, did anyone ask what Wilbur wanted. He is made in his brother’s image. Yet there is no crown for him to inherit. No grand title.

It haunts him.

[ripplingcurrent]

Consider: insecure Godling Techno.

Techno who was taken in by Phil because he is the next Blood Godling, and Mumza tasked Phil to raise Techno to prevent him from growing up like his predecessors (Sir Billiam). He is raised to follow duty, to be loyal, and fighting is seen as inevitable and a skill one must hone.

He was born a destined to be a soldier and one day when the universe decides he is ready, he will be a god. But he isn’t ready yet. He is over 200 years old now and still hasnt ascended and gained his secondary title. (God of Blood and Justice for example or in sir Billiam’s case, God of Blood and Wealth). He has honed his skills under Phil’s tutelage, been sharpened to a knifepoint in strategic thinking and war tactics. Fought wars, demolished nations, and yet he still isn’t a god. He still somehow isn’t ready.

Technoblade sitting there, looking at the ashes of all he’s destroyed and wondering “was it all for naught?” What if he never ascends?

He can’t afford to entertain those kind of thoughts.

So he sharpens his weapons. Tends to his animals. Makes tea with Phil but inside, he is but an anxious young adult waiting and trying to fulfil a duty and crown that has yet to fall on his head.

Blood for the blood god, and yet, there is no god. Not yet. Because Techno simply isn’t ready and worst of all, doesn’t understand why he isn’t enough.

What is he doing wrong?

[cuppahoney]

a few people said yeah so!!! here is the first batch :D i’m gonna do a bunch more later !!

[pl4yingcards]

@ripplingcurrent bisexual techno!!

[ripplingcurrent]

!!!!!! Yooooooo.

[possuminnit]

i never posted this but i did doodle a ctechno in the dont starve art style also

[boldlyawkward]

I made stew. It was awesome. I love potatoes.

[potato]

i luv u too

[potato]

wait what was in the stew

[null-of-hearts]

@ripplingcurrent

[ripplingcurrent]

Potatoes are good. I like potatoes

[ripplingcurrent]

e

E

[ripplingcurrent]

dude it's Tumblr, it's not censored, you can say "suicide" instead of "Unaliving"

The latter feels like a joke

Same with "rape" Vs "🍇/r@pe"

If you censor it, then people who have the actual serious term filtered also won't be able to block the post and avoid seeing anything they don't want to

Different sites = different etiquette

👍

Yeah I fixed that! Thank you! I’m still fairly new to Tumblr ^^

[ripplingcurrent]

This is related to my last post but imagine. (And be warned. This post deals in attempted suicide, murder, and graphic depictions of violence)

Phil goes in to talk Wilbur down, only to be met by hallow eyes and a sharp smile. He’s met not with open arms or quick charms, but a knife between the ribs. After all, Philza Minecraft had taught his sons to always carry a knife.

Phil’s body slides off Wilbur’s knife as the death message tears through dozens of communicators. A roar is heard from the battlefield, unmistakeable and terrifying in the shrill anger that can be heard from it.

Wilbur knows his brother. There’s surprise tainting that tone. He knows he just metaphorically tore off Technoblade’s right arm. He’s a traitor, tthe black sheep of the family, the Judas of the disciples. Technoblade should have seen that from miles away.

Though, no one had known Phil would come. No one had known Phil would draw his last breath in the button room. Not even Wilbur, as he holds the knife in now shaking palms.

In truth, he hadn’t thought Phil was real. He’d lunged, anger coiled hot in his chest of “why now? Why now of all times had he chosen to finally show up?”

And then flesh and bone had all met his knife and it had become startlingly real in mere seconds. He didn’t get to say goodbye to his father.

No one got to say goodbye, to Philza Minecraft.

Especially his son and best friend, Technoblade.

There’s a bitter ache in Wilbur’s chest as he breathes in the soot and ashes from the detonated room. A victory that tastes like bile in his throat. Tears run down his cheeks, though he’s unsure whether from joy or grief. All he knows is that his cheeks are wet, and there’s a lump in his throat.

He swallows it down. He steadies his hand on the blade. He aims it true.

He doesn’t get the satisfaction of feeling his own flesh cave to steel. Arms tackle him down, and red smothers his vision as a boar skull mask stares down at him.

He is not free of this world, nor is he free of his brother. He doubts his brother will let him slip so peacefully into their mother’s embrace.

[ripplingcurrent]

If something else had happened in that button room… happy November 16th.

[clearmillerart]

Mcyt stuff Dont take it as a ship art!