Requested by Zinnia_Mom: The blood god punishes Technoblade

They were angry with him.

That's why they were doing this, clawing at the inside of his skull. A physical entity trying to squirm its way out and in at the same time when they were already there enclosed. That's why when Technoblade clasped his hands against his ears the screaming didn't stop.

Their constant rambles he could handle. The voices came and left, grew in volume like the enraptured audience of the arena cheering for their favorite fighter or dimmed down to a near whisper carried away on the wind. He didn't think they slept, just grew absent in quietude. Their presence was a constant, living within him with the same regularity as his heartbeat. A secondary train of thought running alongside his own, chaotically intertwined with it in a way that sometimes made it hard to know where they stopped and he began.

But in what had to be years of practice and habit both, he could untangle them. Whether they were loud or hushed, clamoring for his attention or supplying snide remarks, offering platitudes of advice pressed into his skin, Technoblade knew how to listen and how to tune them out when needed.

This was not like that.

He couldn't escape the noise no matter how hard he tried. His mind was full of it, compressing the limits of his thoughts, swallowing up all else. It was the rupturing tide of the ocean pulling him under and Technoblade was drowning in it, completely overwhelmed and helpless to do anything but gasp for shallow breathes that didn't feel like they were reaching his lungs. There was no space in his head for anything else.

And it hurt.

If somebody had taken a pickaxe and used it to split his skull in two it would probably have hurt less than this. Any moment now his mind would simply implode, Technoblade was sure of it. He didn't want to believe it could last much longer. They would have to forgive him for being bad, wouldn't they?

Technoblade didn't know what he had done to vex them, to begin with.

What did he do, what did he do, what did he do-

He hadn't realized he was saying it out loud until his throat started to feel raw from screaming. The voices grew in their frantic assault but didn't answer. Not properly anyway.

They only made more demands. Be the conduit. Blood of the covenant. Urgent. Hurry.

When a hand grabbed his shoulder Technoblade physically jolted, pulling away from that touch as if it had burned him, pressing himself into the nearest solid surface he could find. It was too much - all too much - and even the well-intended brush of fingers felt like it could tear him to dust. He couldn't see or move or even think, all effort expended on simply existing.

It was going to break him.

Bringing his hand up to his mouth, Technoblade was barely aware of the person with him pulling his wrists and trying to stop him before his teeth were already digging into his own flesh. His sharp incisors broke through his skin smoothly, blood flooding his tastebuds and the voices exploded again, Techno's pained whine stifled by him clamping his jaw closed and digging deeper. A moment of intense, blinding pain and then they were pacified, dwindling down to a mere murmur.

They were pleased with his offering, a sacrifice of self-punishment. They were confident he had learned his lesson and wouldn't disobey them next time.

Another pull on his wrist and this time Technoblade allowed it, too exhausted to resist. Phil fussed over his hand, speaking in calm, soothing tones, words that Techno couldn't hope to comprehend. His mind was much too empty all of the sudden, a plain of unending nothingness that only had shadows of their touch and while he knew they would be back soon enough, Technoblade could find no comfort in that hollow.

It only made him feel numb.

"Can you stand?" Phil asked, worry laced in his voice and Technoblade hated this more than the screaming. There lived disdain in him for these moments, how useless they made him feel and the need he had to rely on others in them. He shook his head.

Seconds later Phil was tugging a blanket over his shoulders, sitting next to him on the floor and Technoblade hated that too. Resented the vulnerability of wanting this. Phil put one arm around him, rested his head on Techno's shoulder and just stayed like that, content in the silence. He was too tired to complain about it.

Meanwhile, the taste of his own blood lingered on Technoblade's tongue and the voices purred their approval.