#techno art

This year’s Technoblade portrait redraw!

and Techno seizes him as the creeper explodes. Tommy yelps as he’s crushed, a vice snapping closed around him. “Ay, easy there big T, I need to breathe!”

But he doesn’t let up, pulverizing Tommy, fingers digging in like claws. Tommy doesn’t have a chance of escape. Twisting his head around to look reveals a ghastly expression on Techno’s face. He manages to squeeze a hand out and wave it in front of his eyes. They track his movement like a hawk, and Tommy lowers his hand, Techno’s gaze along with it, to focus on him. “It’s alright. Just a game. You can stop squeezing now.” Eyes widening, Techno eases his vice grip. “We can play on Peaceful.” He makes no acknowledgement, but Tommy changes the game mode anyway.

All his stuff is despawned by the time Tommy finds the cave half an hour later. A soft get good, nerd is muttered into his hair, shaking and faint. Tommy cranes his neck up to look at Techno and sticks out his tongue. “I was on half a heart! Leave me alone. You wouldn’t have done any better.” Techno shakes his head in disagreement. He does actually talk, if you pay attention, if you give him space. Not, like, physical space, obviously, since Tommy is basically in a Techno cocoon. It usually only happens when it’s just him and Tommy, which makes him feel super special. He’s pretty sure Dad and Wilbur just think he’s lying about it, even if they humor him. They'd tried to nudge Techno into conversation, and failing that, to communicate through writing. Techno seems disinterested in everything they try, though. 

“Whatever. I’m not the one who got jumpscared by a creeper. Ouch, by the way, if I didn’t make that clear.”

“Sorry,” Techno breathes a while later when Tommy finally runs out of torches. He had halfway forgotten they were still having a conversation at all, but after his weeks without contact, Tommy is used to gaps like that. 

Tommy shrugs. “I used to get freaked by them when I was little. But you don’t have to be scared of them since I’m super powerful and good at Minecraft.” A no is shaken into his hair. “OI! WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!” He catches the huff of a grin that shifts his curls. The conversation continues like that, listing to the side, swaths of silence. Happy, or as close as they can manage to that anymore.