warfare (dwt x f!reader)

LXVIII

(yes i forgot my login info for wattpad. this has happened twice. now be quiet)

it had been only a day or so since the festival and you had been put on bedrest to recover and heal. you kept saying that you were fine despite your pounding headache that hasn't stopped, your wobbly legs, and your hands that stung whenever they came in contact with anything.

when you had woken up from your unconsciousness a couple hours after the festival dream had held you so tightly and for so long that you thought you would stop breathing. since then he had not left you alone despite wilbur and techno's protests.

it seemed like wilbur was avoiding or ignoring you. he refused to see you when you asked for him and had barely spoken a word to you since the festival. this frustrated you. you wanted to know why he hadn't pressed the button and why he had let everyone go through with the murder attempt while he was right there.

dream had told you that he had been distracted by tommy when you were trapped on the stage. tommy had snuck over to his hiding spot in a tree and had led him to the great manberg flag whilst trying to convince him to help him deface it.

you had gotten the worst from the attempted execution. tubbo had been protected by you standing in front of him and could walk perfectly fine, except one hand was completely scarred and still healing and he had a huge burn mark on his cheek. tommy had been taking care of him and had been terribly worried when he saw you and tubbo. he and techno then started beating each other up in a small hole in the ground.

you couldn't remember much from when you protected yourself from the blinding fireworks, but from the damage done you could just assume. the palms of your hands were burned, so you had protected your eyes with your palms facing the scorching explosions. you hadn't protected your ears, so the one ear that was turned towards the loud sound now had poor hearing. luckily, your face had been somewhat protected and it wouldn't be permanently scarred like tubbo.

on the rare occasion that dream left you alone, usually because wilbur, techno, and tommy dragging him away with force with an angry dream nearly stabbing them in the process, techno would sit and talk with you like he was now. he told you stories, like how he had won many tournaments for money, how he had gotten himself the reputation as the 'blood god,' even tales from his childhood like when wilbhr produced many songs. sometimes he would give you a mini history lesson. sometimes he would teach you about the potions he was making to help speed up your healing process. the reason they weren't helping right away like the healing arrow did that one time on tubbo is because the extend of the injury takes longer to heal.

you weren't too sure about techno, so you didn't say much when he was visiting you. he was your closest friend at the moment, but he nearly killed you. this wasn't very fair to dream and you felt terrible about ut. he kidnapped you, which is less worse than killing, but you hated him for a long time after that. why was this any different? you should be treating techno the same way you treated dream, maybe even worse. maybe it was harder to hate him because you were genuinely close friends before the festival and it had been easier to hate dream because you already hated him before and had a fake friendship with him.

"one time tommy and tubbo wanted to roast marshmallows. it didn't go very well." techno was sitting beside you on your bed, both your backs leaning against the wall of the cave. fall was starting and the ravine that pogtopia resided in was getting colder everyday. winter and fall weren't your favourite times of the year because of how cold you got sometimes. you really only liked the celebrations. techno knew you didn't like being cold, so he had his cloak draped around you and him.

"tommy kept trying to get tubbo to stick his foot in the fire. not that there was much of a fire. they could barely get one started on their own." techno continued, his hands moving as he talked. "phil had to yell at tommy to stop trying to get tubbo to burn himself. when they finally got a fire going, tommy nearly burned himself and then they both put their faces right over the fire like a bunch of losers."

"they would do that." you spoke the bare minimum. you didn't feel great today. not physically, you knew you were getting better and you could feel it, you were just exhausted and bored from being in this bed for hours and you were mentally drained. "how old were they?"

"eight. no, wait.. maybe nine." he corrected himself after pausing and thinking about it. after a minute of quietness, techno spoke up. "are you feelin' alright? you don't look to well, and it's not just because of the wounds."

you brought your knees to your chest and rubbed your eyes roughly until swirls of faded colours obstructed your vision for a minute. "no. feel like shit. maybe if you hadn't shot us i wouldn't feel like this." you had started teasing, but stopped right as you noticed techno wasn't going along and just stared at you with his normal bored, blank stare and slow, tired blinks. "i'm just trying to figure out why you tried to kill us. kill me. i thought we were friends." you rested your head on your knees and stared up at techno, gaze filled with confusion and the feeling that you had been betrayed. which you had been.

"uh, peer pressure. i don't handle it well."

"that's a terrible answer."

techno sighed, leaning his head back and letting it rest on the wall behind. "y/n, y'know how you're, like, one of the people i trust the most?" you didn't know so you just nodded.
"it was the voices. they made me do it." techno said. you really didn't get it.

"voices... what do you mean?" you asked, now intrigued and less confused. "are you talking about your thinking? doesn't everyone do that?well, maybe except tommy."

"no, no, not my thinking or my thoughts.." techno went on to explain these 'voices.'

what you got from it was there was an overwhelming amount of voices that lived inside techno's head. they weren't his thoughts, though. it was like a whole crowd of people talking to him that he couldn't control. they didn't seem very nice, usually screaming 'blood,' or telling techno to do something terrible. the voices were almost never quiet. this explains why techno would sometimes stare off into space like he was listening to some unheard conversation.

"sometimes they get so loud and all they're saying is 'e.'" techno had finished his explanation and had moved on to what the voices said a lot. he had also said that they sounded like a bunch of fourteen year olds who are obsessed with him.

"that sounds, uh, not good." to you, it wasn't a very good explanation as to why techno tried to kill you, but you'd let it slide for now. he was having a moment.

"eh, sometimes they're okay. they like music and it calms them, especially wilbur's music, and they find you okay." techno said. "just 'okay?'" you questioned.

"just okay. i'll let you get a bit of sleep. i have no idea what time it is, but you look exhausted." techno said after nodding. "you're not staying longer?" you asked. techno asked if you wanted him to, you saying he could stay if he wanted, which he did. not after saying that he would probably leave after you fell asleep.

well, the more you know.

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1340 words

ew this is gross

not my mom refusing to by me allergy pills