Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

‘Be back in a minute or 2’
With a swipe of his arm the black boxes dissipate and his inventory appears.

Two potions of fire resistance, one of slow falling and a bottle of dragon breath.
It’s one of Techno’s better sweeps for sure, he could’ve done a lot worse.

He shoves the two potions of fire resistance into his pocket and pushes his inventory down before climbing back onto the road to make his way back.
The fact this witch hasn’t found out he’s been stealing from her is a straight up miracle, but then again, villagers don’t seem to notice or care either, so it’s not entirely unexpected.

Walking along the mismatching wooden and obsidian blocks, Techno looks down at the boiling lava.
He’s always felt more at home in the nether, the warm and p-
Something which closely resembles the screeches of a bothered cat pierces through the realm, a warning too late for the explosion that followed.
The blast pushes him back a few blocks and suddenly, he’s falling.

‘HEH!!??!?’ Techno yelps loudly, frantically searching his pockets for an enderpearl.
His hands catch the potion of fire resistance and with too little time to think of something else he does what any sane person would do in his position.

The cold, dense liquid slides down his throat, leaving a feeling of plastic wherever the fluid touches.
It’s unpleasant, but at least the potion affects him immediately, indicated by the tight, containing feeling spreading through his veins.
He feels like a hecking Barbie doll.

The lava receives Techno with open arms and clings to him as he sinks a few blocks, pulling at him more and more until he finally struggles against it.
‘TECHNO NEVER DIES’ The voices exclaim gleefully as Techno breaches the surface and lets out a relieved sigh.
He wipes the lava from his face and coughs up the small bits he breathed in, lava diving is always an unpleasant experience, with or without a potion to protect him from the heat.

As he swims to the edge of the lava pool, he feels his exposed skin turn profusely colder, causing him to shiver slightly.
Concern starts to pool in his stomach, sure it’s a common side effect, just not one that’s affected him before.

Eventually he reaches the edge, his shoulder muscles locked up from the cold.
Is it supposed to be this bad? Surely not.
Eh, it’s probably nothing, Techno decides as he awkwardly pulls himself up with stiff arms, he’ll ask Phil about it when he gets back.

Taking a moment to get used to the freezing air Techno thinks of his home and his body starts to shiver again.
He’d left his heavy, woolen cape at the nether portal, unfortunately, but the promise of it’s warm weight around his body gives him the determination to get back up.

…or not?
Techno tries to stand, but his body simply refuses to move. Aside from the violent shivering.
Blinking up at the seemingly endless ceiling, Techno finally manages to raise his hand just enough to pull up the messaging system.
The duration was about 2 minutes and a bit so it should be wearing off soon, yet his uncontrollable movements only get worse.

He doesn’t get past Phil’s name when an agonizing pain bolts through his legs, his abdomen, and all the way up to the top of his head.
As soon as the pain came, it disappears, leaving Techno confused, sweaty and breathless on the red floor.
Whatever that sound he just made was, he hopes to never make, or hear it again.
Not many things scare the Blade, but the sound closely resembled that of… of something he doesn’t want to be reminded of.

The whole ‘having other people make ‘your’ potions for you’ doesn’t seem that appealing anymore, he’ll just settle on stealing the ingredients next time.

At least he isn’t cold anymore.

With a tired sigh he rolls over on his stomach, still a bit out of it.
‘Bruhhhh’ he breaths.
Or at least, tries to.
All that escapes his mouth is a low oinking sound.
What the-

-

‘Be back in a minute or 2’

Phil blinks down at the last message he’d received from Techno.
That had been a day ago, still no sign of him.

“I swear to god-“ If this is another one of those days where Technoblade conveniently ‘forgets’ it’s his turn to take the dogs for a walk, he can forget it.
Phil has done Techno’s chores for him way too many times already, but not today.
He simply refuses to let Techno wonder off without telling him again, not this time, not before he’s done his DAMN CHORES.

Snowflakes nestle on Phil’s shoulders as he leaves the house, pulling his cape on too late to keep his undershirt from getting wet, oh well.
He’ll be back in a flash, preferably earlier, and the nether’s climate will dry it anyway.

A few bees fly past him to get back to their hives where Ranboo is restocking the glass bottles and taking out the one’s filled with honey.
He waves at the other hybrid as he passes him and takes off, quickly typing ‘brb’ into their messaging system before giving the sky his full attention.
He doesn’t get a reply, doesn’t expect one.
It wouldn’t be the first time he flies out to gather Techno from a ‘wild adventure’ and knowing how cruel fate can be, it won’t be the last either.

Question is, will he beat his record of finding Techno within 25 minutes?
Timer’s started 30 seconds ago, he’d better hurry.

Chapter Text

“Techno! You in here, mate?”
This is the third nether fortress Phil has thoroughly searched and still no sign of his s- friend.
He’s long forgotten about setting a new ‘Find The Anarchist’ record, worry having overtaken him several hours ago.
No, it wouldn’t be the first time Techno’s out for multiple days, but when Phil calls for him he always replies.
Or at least, that’s what Phil thought forty-five messages ago.

“If I find a potato farm down here I’m burning it down! You hear me? To the last dirt patch!”
… nothing.

He’s alright, he’ll be okay.
Techno never dies, he never dies, never-
Phil looks out over one of the broken bridges over the boiling lava and hot stones, but sees nothing.
Maybe he fell? He has enderpearls though, he should be able to survive that.

Hell, he could’ve swam to any edge of the lava pool and his armor would’ve protected him from most of the damage, he should be fine.

So why does Phil have the feeling he isn’t?

Down below, a Hoglin looks up at him, too far away to actually see him, it’s not a threat.
Still, the way he keeps staring unnerves Phil slightly.

He sighs and takes a hand through his greasy hair, wiping the sweat off his forehead in the same motion.
The thing that has always annoyed him most about the nether is the thick, warm air.
From a blizzard to literal hell isn’t the gentlest’s shift in temperature…
He’ll have to manage.

Something rattles behind him and the few crows who dared follow him through the portal scream at Phil, urging him to turn around.
He does, sword in hand, just in time to keep a wither skeleton’s sword from piercing his abdomen.

-

Techno jumps up and down, trying to gain Philza’s attention.
He’s right above him, peaking out of a a severed hallway of the nether fortress, standing in the exact spot where he’d fallen from earlier today.
Or maybe it was yesterday, time moves strangely when you’re stuck in a spot.

A small group of crows fly by, cawing at him, mocking him.

He reaches for his crossbow only to be reminded of his stumped legs and hoofed hands.
He can’t even sit properly!
Sitting like a dog, yes, but Technoblade is no animal.

Suddenly Phil’s head disappears behind the nether bricks and Techno begins to panic.
‘Phil!’ He thinks ‘Come back! Turn around! I’m right here!”

The lava boils loudly beneath him, warning him of it’s painful heat.
Whatever that previous potion was, it did keep him from dying, which means the other would probably do so as well.
And while he does want to get out of this hellscape, the fact he doesn’t know for sure what the potion’s side effects would be keeps him from trying.

That, and he can’t physically reach for the bottle where it’s hidden underneath armor, cloth and the remainder of his items.

He’ll just have to live with being a Hoglin from now on.

Right as he comes to terms with that insignificant detail, a raiding party of piglins charges him.

Nope, not doing that, he refuses to give his first life to piglins.
A lot of people think he’s related to the brutes, but those people are all nerrrrds.
They’re more of a… distant relative.
That one cousin who you sometimes see at your grandma’s birthday but don’t really know the name of.

He won’t be killed by a weird cousin.

So he does what any respectable anarchist would do in his situation, and runs.

Arrows dig into the ground behind him, a few strays fly past and one even hitting him in the rear, but he presses on, charging at the thin passageway past the magma.

The pointy edge cuts through his fur and penetrates the flesh underneath but Techno heads it no mind. He’d rather survive with some cuts and bruises than survive with blood dripping from his tusks and arrows littering his skin.

One arrow after the other follows him over the ledge all the way to the other side of the pool, yet he keeps running. He has no way of defending himself against piglins, a ghast could maybe end his existence if the blast launches him into the orange liquid besides him. Or, a fireball in their case.

Eventually, after days of running (10 minutes at most) he collapses on the ground, growling at the arrow lodged into his left back limb.

He rolls on his back and reaches for the arrow with his tusk, managing to break the arrow in two and leave him in more pain than he originally was.
With a huff, Techno returns to a more natural position on his stomach and lays his head on the burning floor, ignoring the person sitting just a few meters away.
His head shoots up as he realizes that person is Phil, jolting the crow father slightly.

“Uhh…” Phil reaches for his sword but doesn’t pull it out of it’s scabbard, looking uncertainly at the large beast next to him.

Techno slowly stands up and makes a careful approach, Phil doesn’t look dreadfully distressed but that doesn’t mean anything, knowing him.

“Hi?” Phil tries tentatively.
“Oink.” Techno replies before biting down into his sleeve and pulling him with him to a more secure location.

Asides from a ‘Let go, you overgrown pig!’ Phil doesn’t struggle too much against being taken by him, so it’s fine.

“Fuck off piece of sh-“

Probably.