[rusted-blade]

from the pit to the skies, i will

come home to you.

main blog || mcyt sideblog || c!tommy || redza || c!niki || fundy || o!techno || skeppy

headcanon!technoblade ask and rp blog! this is not a kin or introject blog. this is just for fun! this blog is part of the resetverse, but will not solely interact within it! character is an adult, and so is the mun! techno uses he/him (and maybe some neopronouns) and mun uses they/them. icon art by metrixnos!

at times heavy themes will be discussed. those themes may include torture, death, child harm, and manipulation. these will all be tagged- see the taglist below.

#nav; gilded blackstone: any in-character post!

#nav; birch wood: for any ooc posts!

#nav; bloodstone: for any post discussing heavy topics

#nav; warped vine: for all asks!

#rb; gold ore: any in-character reblog that's not a thread!

#anon; [name]: for named anons/frequent askers!

#cw [trigger]: for any posts that might need a trigger warning. please let me know if you want a trigger added!

#era; [time]: for posts that take place during a certain era/arc of the c!smp!

#arc; [arc]: for rp that takes place during a certain (typically planned) arc!

anon list!

future frequent anons will go here

[rusted-blade]

bet it feels weird being in the overworld huh?

it whined under its breath, careful, still. "shut up, chat," it murmured, keeping its head still and forward. "i do not even know what you are talking about."

the world was still wrong- too bright, too soft, too ... wet, damp, with foreign textures, but it was starting to get used to it.

[silenthooves]

A return?

Callahan stumbles on their way back from the void. They land on all fours, struggling to catch a breath.

Something feels wrong. They are not in charge here like they were. Not quite. Something faintly cries out to them in their mind, but it’s not easy to make out.

Is it because of their interfering? Is it because-

No. Something’s off with the world. Maybe things will be fixed after a bit.

They stand, swaying. Their hood has fallen, but the fluff around their neck has dimmed slightly. Still enough to blind if not careful.

They look up- and see a piglin. One that looks… only vaguely familiar.

They give a wave.

@rusted-blade

[rusted-blade]

The deer nods, and holds out a hoof to either shake or help him up, whatever the piglin ends up deciding to do. He wonders at his condition, questioning what the netherborn had gone through before showing up in the overworld.

In his other hand, he pulls out a cloak, that had been lined with his own white neck fluff trimmings. The overworld is much, much colder than the nether, and the piglin was probably freezing.

it shivered. it could not be cold. it should not be cold. it stiffened its hands, its arms, resisting every urge to draw itself closer, to huddle for warmth.

it drew a stuttering, shaken breath, and takes the figure's hoof. it is much warmer, yet harder, than its own. with trembling legs, it stands.

it wobbles, nearly falling over again. it is weakweakweak but for the kind stranger it can be strong. it can be useful. and it can be good.

[rusted-blade]

if you saw that you didn't

[silenthooves]

A return?

Callahan stumbles on their way back from the void. They land on all fours, struggling to catch a breath.

Something feels wrong. They are not in charge here like they were. Not quite. Something faintly cries out to them in their mind, but it’s not easy to make out.

Is it because of their interfering? Is it because-

No. Something’s off with the world. Maybe things will be fixed after a bit.

They stand, swaying. Their hood has fallen, but the fluff around their neck has dimmed slightly. Still enough to blind if not careful.

They look up- and see a piglin. One that looks… only vaguely familiar.

They give a wave.

@rusted-blade

[rusted-blade]

it stumbles. its legs are shaky beneath it, hooves trembling as it steps forward, trying to make its way to - where, it wasn’t sure, but somewhere. away from the strange soft ground it awoke on.

it walks, and walks, and falls face first on the ground, tripping over something small, insignificant. it shutters in a deep breath, flinching instinctually, before carefully opening its eyes. before it are two hooves.

it stares up at the being in front of it. something shimmers around them, something powerful, strong. it feels natural to kneel at their feet (getupgetupweakpositionshowrespecttheyshowmercybekindandsurvive). they are making a strange motion with their arms. it follows them with its eyes, watching for any sudden moveme(attackattacktheyregoingtoattackyoukillyou)nts.

[silenthooves]

Callahan watches him for a moment, the deer’s hoof lowering back to his side. He doesn’t seem to hold an immediate threat, so he slowly reaches into his inventory to pull out something- taking a sigh of relief to find he still has his creative access, even if they’re still reconnecting to the server files and console. He pulls out a gold ingot and a gold apple, and wordlessly holds both out to the piglin.

The deer’s stance is relaxed, and a gentle and curious look rests on his face as he waits for the piglin’s reaction.

[rusted-blade]

it startles as the Being holds out (GOLDGOLDshinypreciousbeautifulperfecttaketaletradetradegoldgoldgold) an ingot, a beautiful ingot of gold, and a strange circle of it. its hands shake as it takes both, carefully weighing the ingot, finding it solid and heavy. its eyes dart up to them, finding it showing no aggression, and it gently touches the gold to its lips. perfect, pure gold.

the sphere-like thing it is holding is not just gold- it is not heavy enough, not as shiny as the gold it is holding in its other hand, and something about it feels - off. it touches this to its lips too, and finds it to be a gold coating over something else. something that smells sweet, delicious, and makes its mouth water as it holds it.

(tradetradetradeGIVETHEMSOMETHINGyoumustTRADEFORGOLDtradeforgoodsGoldgoldgoldgold)

it stares down at itself. the metal is still tying its hands together, the cuffs around its hooves. it remembers the blood it has spilt. gently, carefully (DONOTDOTHATholdthegoldpreciousallwehavepleasekeepitkeepKEEPIT) it places the gold onto the ground, and holds its hands up above its head, bowing it as it does so. it shakily closes its eyes. if the Being does not accept this trade, then it - they will. they must.

[silenthooves]

Callahan looks down at the cuffs and frowns. Piglin culture was never something he had understood. EXE sometimes rambled on and on about them, as he tended to do whenever he got excited or when someone was actually listening to him, but the deer had never had a single moment where he could really pretend to understand it all. He did know that it was brutal. The scars on this one are a mixture of new and old. The cuffs had chafed his wrists, and blood is rusting the metal. Callahan kneels in front of him and takes the pig’s wrists in his hooves. The metal clacks as he snaps it, taking the pieces and tucking them away. 

He takes out his comm and types some broken Piglin, trying his best to remember what EXE had said to him about their written language. He then places the comm on the ground next to the golden apple. “Eat. Heal. Speak Overworld?”

[rusted-blade]

it blinked as the metal fell from its wrists. they were light now, blood (redbloodsmellrustdirtbloodbloodwoundhurtkillstabblood) that was trapped underneath them now rising to the surface of its skin. it didn’t understand. did they reject its trade? did they not want it? it is a fighter, and it is obedient- it listens to orders well. it is not useless. it is worth something, anything, please-

Eat. Heal. it picks up the golden object and brings it back to its mouth, gently placing it in and taking a bite. it crunches wonderfully under its teeth, and it is wet, it is juicy, it is delicious- it feels energy slowly being restored to it. the wounds from the cuffs fade as they are healed, and it stares in awe. gold heals. golden object is healing. it must save this, them, for when it needs it, for when the pain is almost too much to bear.

the Being has healed it. they have rejected its trade. is this kindness? is it pity? it is useful, and can be of use to them. how can it show them so?

it kneels down again, tucking its knees to its chest and flattening itself against the ground. it is so confused. it wraps its arms around its chest. it cannot owe this being a debt. it cannot owe more debts. but it has nothing to trade. it catches itself whining, and cuts itself off. it is so confused.

[silenthooves]

Callahan startles at the piglin’s response. That was uh… Not what he meant to do!

It then occurs to him that piglins’ custom is to trade for gold. Had he accidentally given more instead of taking? It then occurs further to him what the piglin had been offering. Himself. And the deer had rejected him out of ignorance.

He takes his comm again, trying to come up with an alternative. Struggling to find anything while also trying to mentally translate, he settles on a few words. He once again holds it out to the piglin, resting a hoof on his shoulder to gain his attention.

No servant. Information. Language. Teach me.

[rusted-blade]

it shudders with relief that it shouldn't be feeling. they did not reject it because it wasn't worthy, because it has become weak and useless, but because they want something else in trade. something it slowly realizes that (homehomesoundersafebastiontakentakenfearblooddeathscreamsfireruin) it has difficulty remembering.

it has not spoken its language in years. it picked up a few of the sounds from the overworlders, the Spawn, struggled to mimic them on its own, but its throat is out of use. it is out of practice. yet another thing that it cannot do.

it attempts to croak out a few grunts anyway, and to its surprise it successfully says - "trade?"

it points down to the healing and gestures to its lack of cuffs. "fix for know - ing?"

[silenthooves]

A return?

Callahan stumbles on their way back from the void. They land on all fours, struggling to catch a breath.

Something feels wrong. They are not in charge here like they were. Not quite. Something faintly cries out to them in their mind, but it’s not easy to make out.

Is it because of their interfering? Is it because-

No. Something’s off with the world. Maybe things will be fixed after a bit.

They stand, swaying. Their hood has fallen, but the fluff around their neck has dimmed slightly. Still enough to blind if not careful.

They look up- and see a piglin. One that looks… only vaguely familiar.

They give a wave.

@rusted-blade

[rusted-blade]

it stumbles. its legs are shaky beneath it, hooves trembling as it steps forward, trying to make its way to - where, it wasn’t sure, but somewhere. away from the strange soft ground it awoke on.

it walks, and walks, and falls face first on the ground, tripping over something small, insignificant. it shutters in a deep breath, flinching instinctually, before carefully opening its eyes. before it are two hooves.

it stares up at the being in front of it. something shimmers around them, something powerful, strong. it feels natural to kneel at their feet (getupgetupweakpositionshowrespecttheyshowmercybekindandsurvive). they are making a strange motion with their arms. it follows them with its eyes, watching for any sudden moveme(attackattacktheyregoingtoattackyoukillyou)nts.

[silenthooves]

Callahan watches him for a moment, the deer’s hoof lowering back to his side. He doesn’t seem to hold an immediate threat, so he slowly reaches into his inventory to pull out something- taking a sigh of relief to find he still has his creative access, even if they’re still reconnecting to the server files and console. He pulls out a gold ingot and a gold apple, and wordlessly holds both out to the piglin.

The deer’s stance is relaxed, and a gentle and curious look rests on his face as he waits for the piglin’s reaction.

[rusted-blade]

it startles as the Being holds out (GOLDGOLDshinypreciousbeautifulperfecttaketaletradetradegoldgoldgold) an ingot, a beautiful ingot of gold, and a strange circle of it. its hands shake as it takes both, carefully weighing the ingot, finding it solid and heavy. its eyes dart up to them, finding it showing no aggression, and it gently touches the gold to its lips. perfect, pure gold.

the sphere-like thing it is holding is not just gold- it is not heavy enough, not as shiny as the gold it is holding in its other hand, and something about it feels - off. it touches this to its lips too, and finds it to be a gold coating over something else. something that smells sweet, delicious, and makes its mouth water as it holds it.

(tradetradetradeGIVETHEMSOMETHINGyoumustTRADEFORGOLDtradeforgoodsGoldgoldgoldgold)

it stares down at itself. the metal is still tying its hands together, the cuffs around its hooves. it remembers the blood it has spilt. gently, carefully (DONOTDOTHATholdthegoldpreciousallwehavepleasekeepitkeepKEEPIT) it places the gold onto the ground, and holds its hands up above its head, bowing it as it does so. it shakily closes its eyes. if the Being does not accept this trade, then it - they will. they must.

[silenthooves]

Callahan looks down at the cuffs and frowns. Piglin culture was never something he had understood. EXE sometimes rambled on and on about them, as he tended to do whenever he got excited or when someone was actually listening to him, but the deer had never had a single moment where he could really pretend to understand it all. He did know that it was brutal. The scars on this one are a mixture of new and old. The cuffs had chafed his wrists, and blood is rusting the metal. Callahan kneels in front of him and takes the pig’s wrists in his hooves. The metal clacks as he snaps it, taking the pieces and tucking them away. 

He takes out his comm and types some broken Piglin, trying his best to remember what EXE had said to him about their written language. He then places the comm on the ground next to the golden apple. “Eat. Heal. Speak Overworld?”

[rusted-blade]

it blinked as the metal fell from its wrists. they were light now, blood (redbloodsmellrustdirtbloodbloodwoundhurtkillstabblood) that was trapped underneath them now rising to the surface of its skin. it didn't understand. did they reject its trade? did they not want it? it is a fighter, and it is obedient- it listens to orders well. it is not useless. it is worth something, anything, please-

Eat. Heal. it picks up the golden object and brings it back to its mouth, gently placing it in and taking a bite. it crunches wonderfully under its teeth, and it is wet, it is juicy, it is delicious- it feels energy slowly being restored to it. the wounds from the cuffs fade as they are healed, and it stares in awe. gold heals. golden object is healing. it must save this, them, for when it needs it, for when the pain is almost too much to bear.

the Being has healed it. they have rejected its trade. is this kindness? is it pity? it is useful, and can be of use to them. how can it show them so?

it kneels down again, tucking its knees to its chest and flattening itself against the ground. it is so confused. it wraps its arms around its chest. it cannot owe this being a debt. it cannot owe more debts. but it has nothing to trade. it catches itself whining, and cuts itself off. it is so confused.

[silenthooves]

A return?

Callahan stumbles on their way back from the void. They land on all fours, struggling to catch a breath.

Something feels wrong. They are not in charge here like they were. Not quite. Something faintly cries out to them in their mind, but it’s not easy to make out.

Is it because of their interfering? Is it because-

No. Something’s off with the world. Maybe things will be fixed after a bit.

They stand, swaying. Their hood has fallen, but the fluff around their neck has dimmed slightly. Still enough to blind if not careful.

They look up- and see a piglin. One that looks… only vaguely familiar.

They give a wave.

@rusted-blade

[rusted-blade]

it stumbles. its legs are shaky beneath it, hooves trembling as it steps forward, trying to make its way to - where, it wasn’t sure, but somewhere. away from the strange soft ground it awoke on.

it walks, and walks, and falls face first on the ground, tripping over something small, insignificant. it shutters in a deep breath, flinching instinctually, before carefully opening its eyes. before it are two hooves.

it stares up at the being in front of it. something shimmers around them, something powerful, strong. it feels natural to kneel at their feet (getupgetupweakpositionshowrespecttheyshowmercybekindandsurvive). they are making a strange motion with their arms. it follows them with its eyes, watching for any sudden moveme(attackattacktheyregoingtoattackyoukillyou)nts.

[silenthooves]

Callahan watches him for a moment, the deer’s hoof lowering back to his side. He doesn’t seem to hold an immediate threat, so he slowly reaches into his inventory to pull out something- taking a sigh of relief to find he still has his creative access, even if they’re still reconnecting to the server files and console. He pulls out a gold ingot and a gold apple, and wordlessly holds both out to the piglin.

The deer’s stance is relaxed, and a gentle and curious look rests on his face as he waits for the piglin’s reaction.

[rusted-blade]

it startles as the Being holds out (GOLDGOLDshinypreciousbeautifulperfecttaketaletradetradegoldgoldgold) an ingot, a beautiful ingot of gold, and a strange circle of it. its hands shake as it takes both, carefully weighing the ingot, finding it solid and heavy. its eyes dart up to them, finding it showing no aggression, and it gently touches the gold to its lips. perfect, pure gold.

the sphere-like thing it is holding is not just gold- it is not heavy enough, not as shiny as the gold it is holding in its other hand, and something about it feels - off. it touches this to its lips too, and finds it to be a gold coating over something else. something that smells sweet, delicious, and makes its mouth water as it holds it.

(tradetradetradeGIVETHEMSOMETHINGyoumustTRADEFORGOLDtradeforgoodsGoldgoldgoldgold)

it stares down at itself. the metal is still tying its hands together, the cuffs around its hooves. it remembers the blood it has spilt. gently, carefully (DONOTDOTHATholdthegoldpreciousallwehavepleasekeepitkeepKEEPIT) it places the gold onto the ground, and holds its hands up above its head, bowing it as it does so. it shakily closes its eyes. if the Being does not accept this trade, then it - they will. they must.

[silenthooves]

A return?

Callahan stumbles on their way back from the void. They land on all fours, struggling to catch a breath.

Something feels wrong. They are not in charge here like they were. Not quite. Something faintly cries out to them in their mind, but it’s not easy to make out.

Is it because of their interfering? Is it because-

No. Something’s off with the world. Maybe things will be fixed after a bit.

They stand, swaying. Their hood has fallen, but the fluff around their neck has dimmed slightly. Still enough to blind if not careful.

They look up- and see a piglin. One that looks… only vaguely familiar.

They give a wave.

@rusted-blade

[rusted-blade]

it stumbles. its legs are shaky beneath it, hooves trembling as it steps forward, trying to make its way to - where, it wasn't sure, but somewhere. away from the strange soft ground it awoke on.

it walks, and walks, and falls face first on the ground, tripping over something small, insignificant. it shutters in a deep breath, flinching instinctually, before carefully opening its eyes. before it are two hooves.

it stares up at the being in front of it. something shimmers around them, something powerful, strong. it feels natural to kneel at their feet (getupgetupweakpositionshowrespecttheyshowmercybekindandsurvive). they are making a strange motion with their arms. it follows them with its eyes, watching for any sudden moveme(attackattacktheyregoingtoattackyoukillyou)nts.

[rusted-blade]

it blinks. once, twice. rubs its eyes, in an attempt to clear the cloudiness from its vision. the world is a lot brighter than it's used to. than it remembers.

it glares up at the ceiling - at the ceiling? there's something it recognizes, from the brief times it has been outside its cell, outside the pit - something shining, large and bright above it. the ceiling is a shade it doesn't know. it never knew there were more colors than gold (soshinyperfectpretty), black (homehomesafeprotect) and red (redredredREDredthecolorofbloodbloodbloodforthebloodgodkillwoundsspillBLOOD).

it lifts its hoof up to block the blinding light. the ground around it is another new shade, something peculiar. it is soft. it is wet, with something akin to what they washed it down with, whenever it got too covered in dirt and (bloodbloodstainsstabkill) - that's enough of that.

it puts its hoof down on the ground, and pushes up against the strange earth underneath it. it stands, shakily, staring at the metal cuffs still locked around its wrists. they are lighter than it remembers. it feels lighter than it has in years.

[rusted-blade]

as a general warning, anything on this blog tagged with arc; obsidian deals heavily with depersonalization, objectification, trauma, murder, torture, and many other very heavy topics. these will be handled with utmost care and respect. if you think something could be treated better, please reach out to me to remedy that. i am always open to constructive criticism.

thank you.