Requested by Pumpkin6: The voices lead Techno to do something dangerous and revelations are had.

Technoblade was not a gambling man.

There were a few reasons that he could name for why he wasn't. Mainly to do with the fickle attitude of lady luck and her fondness for taking advantage of fools. The classics would tell you not to mess with fate either, the thread of which is spun by not one person but three, sitting high above humanity as they cut the strings that hold destiny together. And in tragedies, misfortune would surely befall those who try to outrun theirs.

Also, he worked hard for his emeralds and he wasn't about to let somebody nab them from him by sheer happenstance, gambling on a game that relied on neither skill nor wits.

The voices on the other hand had a different opinion.

Do it, came the simplest of instructions. Take the chance.

Technoblade had been hibernating. Not an unusual occurrence but it always made them especially antsy when he woke up. He supposed he couldn't blame them. Being stuck in a person's mind with little to no influence over the physical world and nowhere to go must be lame. Even more so if that person was sleeping.

From what Technoblade understood it left them aimless, without sight or sound. Confined to the darkness of his slumbering mind with no input to process and no output to cope. Figuring this out had been a chore. Chat hardly ever managed to become coherent enough to keep up a sensical conversation and answer his questions for long. They needed to harmonize for that, forming one solid chorus of desire instead of the discord of different opinions they usually were. When they did manage, it was always in accord with their ultimate purpose.

Crying out for Technoblade's offerings to the blood god they served.

The problem was solved easily enough. He would wake up from hibernation to their agitated fuss over being denied too long. And then he'd go out and hunt or fight or do whatever was needed to placate them. As much as he abhorred the idea of giving in to them not of his own volition – because despite it all Technoblade didn't mind being the conduit for a deity of bloodshed so long as he could fulfill that role on his own terms – it was a necessity. He could hardly think straight until they had been dealt with.

This time had started out no different, but there had been a few coincidental hiccups along the way and Technoblade had not foreseen how bad it would make things. Phil and Ranboo had both been around when he awoke, preparing to set off for a woodland mansion they had discovered from a distance but not yet gone to. Techno had hesitated in agreeing to come and disturb his post-hibernation routine, but the allure of more totems was a constant and it wasn't like he wouldn't get to kill things along the way.

On the contrary, killing things would be the point.

The main problem arose as thus. Sometimes you don't even notice you're thirsty until you get that first trickle of water down your throat. That's when suddenly you become aware of the dryness of your lips and the parched feeling in your stomach, where neither had seemed an issue before. It isn't until you've had that drop, that your craving for the flood worsens.

Technoblade had only spilled the drop.

And then he had stopped since Phil and Ranboo were right there. Everything was already dead because between the three of them the mansion was hardly a challenge, hardly a fight even. And Technoblade was so accustomed at pushing through his own boundaries. At searching for everything with the running of blood in their veins or the beat of a heart that he could bury his sword into. The voices had changed from a slightly tumultuous crowd to the riot itself, and he hadn't even meant them to.

"Later," he told them. "I'll take care of it later." He was really trying to concentrate at the moment. They were walking through the forest on their way home, cutting the undergrowth in their path. Phil was talking – telling him about something important that had happened while he slept. And really Techno wanted to pay attention but couldn't.

The drop had already fallen and he was busy building the mental equivalent of a dam.

He was using his sword to slash the plants growing under their feet apart, ears perked and concentrating on the hopeful approach of mobs. Something to kill that would make the voices calm down. But it was day and no such mercy was forthcoming. Tracking the movement of the blade was mesmerizing, all sharp edges and lethal beauty. Technoblade could imagine ever so clearly the blood on the hilt, staining his hands. The joy it would bring him.

He blinked out of it in time to notice Phil had stopped talking, presumably waiting on his answer.

"Uh, I think that's a great idea?" he tried stupidly. Because it had at least a slim chance of being the correct answer, as opposed to the absolute chance that no answer would be the wrong move. Phil's eyebrows drew together in that way Techno hated. That way which indicated he was connecting some dots. Techno waved his hand, dismissing the concern. "Yeah, I wasn't listening."

"Oh, good. For a moment I was concerned you were actually suggesting moving the entire farm is a good idea." Phil exhaled through his nose, amusement and surprise both.

Techno would be embarrassed at being caught spacing out if that wasn't an ongoing problem. He hummed to the voices' tune as they roared for murder. "Calm down," he huffed under his breath as they resumed walking, hoping it was subtle enough for the others not to hear. "There's nothing even here for me to kill."

Liar

Its resonance surprised him, under-layers of hunger and wrath. It reverberated deeper and louder than the rest, sinking more thoroughly through his brain. The god itself had spoken. Its loyal refrain joined in the imputation, increasing in volume as they accused him of lying over and over again. As the pitch grew so did Technoblade's headache.

Liar Liar Liar

Kill them

Blood for the blood god

Wait no

Lmao are we actually going to do this?

Not like it'd be hard

E

E

E

Blood for the blood god

I wanna see this

No

Do it! take the chance!

The dissonance was striking, the outcry for violence and the plea not to hurt these two in particular. The voices liked Ranboo. They liked Phil even more. They fell into havoc, a pandemonium shifted by their contradicting demands for blood and their need not to hurt the few they cared for. It was overwhelming.

The result for Techno was an intensely dizzying pain, a shaking of his hand on the hilt. He breathed and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. But restraint would only last him so long. Rushing was filling his ears, making it hard to hear anything aside from the screaming. A red haze crept into his vision, focus lost to color and it hadn't been this bad in a long, long time - maybe ever.

Self-control slipping, he stopped. Frozen in the spot with dwindling resolve. Phil looked at him over his shoulder, started to approach.

Kill them both

The blood god could make demands, but it could not stray his hand. If it could, it would not have needed him in the first place. Technoblade raised the sword in his fist. Phil's eyes widened.

Driving it in as deep as he could manage, he sunk the sword into his own abdomen.

Pain didn't register right away, only the cold of the netherite. Blood burst out along the cut, only increasing when Technoblade pulled the sword out again, splattering droplets over the forest floor with the blade's motion. He stumbled forward and Phil was there to catch him before he could hit the ground.

"Techno, what the fuck?!"

The yelling was too loud in his ear but Techno knew he probably deserved that. He put his weight onto one foot, using Phil as a semblance of balance as he tried to reach for his potions. "Chat," he mumbled by way of explanation. Knowing Phil would understand. "Can you-"

The pain definitely caught up to him at this point, making it hard to move. Phil helped him by uncorking the potion without him needing to finish the question and then Techno was tipping it back, drinking the entire thing in one go. A sharp sting of where his flesh was starting to mend itself back together was his only indication it had worked. The wound was too serious to heal that quickly.

But the voices were silent. Retreated into their alcoves of misery. Red stained all around Techno made almost-euphoria settle on his clouded mind.

They weren't demanding he kills them anymore.

A nervous whimper alerted them to their audience and Phil looked up, hand tightening around Techno's shoulder. Ranboo was trembling, straight up shaking. His own weapon was clutched in both hands, held across his chest and his tail flicked from side to side anxiously. He didn't seem able to tear his gaze away from all the blood.

With unforeseen guilt brewing in his chest, Technoblade realized he had forgotten it wasn't just him and Phil here.

"Sit," Phil commanded, pushing him down against the nearest tree and Techno couldn't put up much of a fight even if he wanted to. While the potion would keep him from bleeding out, he still felt too dizzy to keep standing or complain. He watched as Phil approached Ranboo carefully, hands raised and talking in a low volume Techno couldn't catch.

After a few seconds, Ranboo's shoulders dropped, tension draining out of him. Phil came back to Techno's side, already pulling out the bandages. "How bad?"

"Eh." Technoblade tried to shrug, but it wasn't half as convincing when he couldn't do it without wincing. "I'll live."

"That's not what I asked."

Ranboo approached them hesitantly after a few seconds more and Technoblade looked at him. He pretended it didn't hurt when Ranboo flinched under his gaze.

"I'm uh, sorry for frightening you. I'll give a warning next time I'm about to gut myself." Phil glared at him for the tasteless joke, but Techno was more focussed on the way Ranboo's head perked up.

"N-no, you didn't scare me, I just-" Ranboo stumbled through his words and Techno was just about to tell him to drop it, that Ranboo didn't need to lie on his behalf, or to spare his feelings or whatever, when he followed it up with, "Was it your voices telling you to hurt yourself?"

Technoblade turned his head, a sardonic grin pulling on his lips. "Nah. They tell me to hurt others. They told me to hurt you this time."

And that would be it, right? Now Ranboo would definitely have a reason to fear him like so many others already did. Because there was a huge leap between the simple 'I hear voices in my head' and the much more grave 'these voices make me actively dangerous to be around sometimes', and it was a leap only few people were willing to confront.

Technoblade could probably count them on one hand.

"But you didn't," Ranboo said.

"What?"

"You didn't. Hurt us, I mean."

Phil was smiling as he nudged Techno to sit forward so he could wrap the bandage around his back.

"I didn't," Technoblade confirmed. "They can't make me do anything I don't actually agree to."

"Then I see no reason to be scared."

Ranboo said it so plainly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Technoblade would have to blame the spinning of his head on the blood loss.

"As glad as I am with you not killing us, I'm not exactly happy about this either," Philza cut in. "Use your words next time."

"But this looked so much more badass," Techno answered sarcastically. Phil pulled the bandage a little tighter than needed to drive home his point, making Technoblade grimace in pain. "Fine, fine, I'll try."

And if the smile on Phil's face was anything to go by, trying had to be enough.