--------------From "Chapter Five" philza comparing bandana guy to techno
"You try to make it seem like nothing fazes you, and you're so good at it that sometimes, people can't tell when you're irked. You never put yourself first, as much as it can hurt sometimes. And under that sarcastic, cold demeanour, you care more than any person in the world."
--------------From "Chapter One" original story starter
I winced as I massaged my neck from where I had been hit last night. The bruise was already looking a lot worse after a day, which probably wasn't a good sign, but I was too lazy to do anything about it. It seemed like I was always in pain in some part of my body, so at that point, my body just decided to just stop caring.
Most people have normal lives. They have normal jobs, normal families, normal everything. Unfortunately, I'm not one of those normal people.
My name is Technoblade. If you want to laugh about how stupid that name is, go ahead, beacuse that's not the worst I've seen. In fact, I like it. But if you want anyone to blame, you can blame my dead parents. That's right, I'm an orphan. You can stop making pouty concerned faces now.
I'm a college student by day and a worker by night, which is equivalent to absolutely no sleep whatsoever. I also have a very difficult job, which is equivalent to negative sleep values.
People streamed past me as they sat down at their seats, chattering amongst themselves. Some gave me odd looks when they noticed the bruises on my exposed skin, but none of them stopped to ask. In a way, it worked out in my favor. However, it did not leave me with any hope for humanity.
--------------From "Chapter Seventeen" techno reverting scene
Usually I wore a simple t-shirt and my cloak, along with whatever pants just happened to be lying on my floor at the time. But this time I wore the white dress shirt, the hem of which was tucked into an actually decent pair of black pants.
It had been a long time since I had worn fancy clothing. I hadn't seen the need for it. When I first started my career as a bounty hunter, fancy clothing was all I wore. People called me a king. They treated me with utmost respect.
But even kings fall from their thrones.
The second they realized that I was unbeatable, they took it as a personal challenge. At one point, I had a bounty of my own over my head, weighting me down as I dealt with fellow hunters chasing me through the night with every intent to kill.
So much blood was spilled before I let Storm take my place as the "greatest of all time." I faded into the background, letting others bask in the limelight while I watched from the sidelines. Gone --- well, not really --- but not forgotten. But now, I was ready to take back my crown. Or at least, long enough to rid the city of Smiley.
--------------From "Chapter Twenty" smiley scene
"Where are you going?" Smiley asked in confusion as I stood up and started walking away without a word. "Hey --- I can hear you, you know. Techno!"
I didn't bother replying. Suddenly, I wasn't really feeling like being around him. My thoughts were too all over the place. I was scared that I might flip and kill him.
"Techno!" Smiley shouted. "I tried to befriend you! I tried to get close! You want to walk away from me?"
Yep, I thought, not pausing at all.
"Listen to me!"
There was real rage in his voice. I slowed down slightly, feeling a sense of dread. A premonition.
"I will kill Wilbur Soot, and I will do it right in front of your face!"
--------------From "Chapter Twenty-Three" tubbo cafeteria
Tubbo was humming quietly to himself as he rearranged his salad into the form of a bee, with little antennas and eyes and everything. I hadn't taken him for an artist, but the only way I could describe the bee was as the work of someone who had taken time to study one and replicate it perfectly.
He had been a bee a couple times before. It made sense.
"Buzz," I said, just to see if I could get a reaction out of him.
Tommy slapped my arm. "What are you doing?"
"Tubbo was a bee once," I whispered to him. "Do you think...?"
The boy considered me for a second, then quietly whispered, "Buzz."
"You guys are idiots," Tubbo said lightly. "Shut up and eat your food before I turn into a gorilla and force it down your throats."
For some reason, Tommy perked up. "You can go gorilla-mode?" he asked hopefully.
Tubbo squinted at him suspiciously. "If you ask me to pummel someone, I will pummel you."
Tommy deflated again, hunching over his lunch and poking at it half-heartedly with his fork. Tubbo's salad was a masterpiece. Tommy's resembled a pile of leaves --- which, if I was being honest, was what a salad was supposed to look like.
"So how come you guys get cool powers?" he asked suddenly, his fork still shuffling away.
I shrugged.
--------------Extra, written for prompt "ghost"
It was hard not to stare at the spirit next to him.
I was sure that Skeppy didn't even notice, but I sure did. I mean, imagine not staring at a semi-transparent figure hovering next to someone, following them through their everyday lives like a phantom stalker. Which was pretty accurate, if you thought about it.
I sure thought about it. As I glanced over at the spirit, who was busy cleaning his spirit glasses, I couldn't help but wonder why he'd go through the trouble to stay with Skeppy, even after death.
Skeppy had mentioned him before. The great bounty hunter who had saved their city from ruin, losing his life in the process. It was part of the reason why he disliked our plan to catch Smiley; he had watched his closest friend die in the exact same situation, rushing into a plan with no hopes of rushing out again.
The spirit looked up and caught my eye. Immediately, I looked down, feeling somewhat guilty for gawking at him.
"What's wrong, Techno?" Skeppy asked, noticing my weird behavior.
I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. "Oh, you know, just the usual. A couple near death experiences, the want to punch something really hard, the fact that my friend has a ghost floating beside him."
Skeppy laughed. "You are so strange."
"Uh... am I supposed to thank you for that?"
He simply shook his head and grinned. "So strange," he repeated with more vigor.
The spirit next to him smiled at me as well. Checkered bandanna, clunky faded black jacket and matching pants, soft, swooping hair that must've been brown. I recognized him. Of course I did. I saw his photo tucked away in Skeppy's jacket every day.
Phil said that spirits came back to haunt the living out of spite or anger. You'd see the ghosts of tyrants the most, dictator leaders that longed for their old power again. But as I turned my attention away from the spirit again, I knew that Bad had come back to follow his friend out of sincere care.
Sometimes, death served as a way to express that care.
extras!
this george one was a very early drawing xD