Chapter Text
Sometimes, it happens so that you fall to the depths of slumber, dreaming of a very traumatic event and reliving it in the worst way possible. And then you’ll wake up with the fastest beating of your heart, breaths short and swift, and think, well, shit. I’m not coping with that as well as I thought I was.
And, sure. Technoblade is not one for weakness, not when his time awake is to be occupied by gathering wood, feeding his wonderful pets, finding resources and helping Philza with the farms. He’s a busy man, alright? He doesn’t have the time for brooding and thinking and discussion of his deepest traumas and memories. He’s got things to do.
And it just might be that, the way he’s had to adjust, push down the deepest of his emotions in favor of sharpening his sword and brewing more invisibility for Tommy, pouring his time into bending over the crafting table and crafting stacks of TNT, that causes this all to happen. Just maybe. He’s not quite sure, to be honest.
All he knows - remembers, from the… dream? Nightmare? - is the silence, silence that he recognises as not real, a fragment of his mind’s imagination, and the clear stage that acts as a cage before he tilts his head up, and all of a sudden, a shock to him, a fastly approaching anvil-
Technoblade opens his eyes, blinks up at the ceiling, and laughs.
“Shit.”