Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I’m not sure why there’s a content warning, there shouldn’t be any in here (unless I tagged the story wrong, I shouldn’t have)

DNB but with a Shrek-like storyline. Techno was outcasted and feared for being a piglin hybrid and therefore lived on his own for most of his life. However, a tyrant (you can choose, I picked George for the exact same reason I’m still alive: out of spite) decides to force a bunch of people out of their kingdom and drops them off on Techno’s land. Tech gets pissed and goes to get his privacy back but then George is like “you must rescue this ‘princess’ so I can marry ‘her’ and become king” and Techno just says “Alright bet.”
The WasTakens were famous for their good looks. In fact, they were so physically attractive that they got away with a lot of things they should not have as a family/dynasty/whatever the hell you wanna call it. So a witch decided that, instead of making one of the adult family members pay for their crimes, that the child son of Schlatt and whoever tf you decide the other parent is doesn’t need a fucking face and replaces it with a black void thing (just look up “faceless Dream AU” and you’ll find the fanart no problemo) until someone learns to love him without his looks. The alcoholic ram doesn’t like this and throws a fucking hissy fit, and he hands his son a mask and locks him away in a tower far away just to be rescued by some idiot. That’s how these things work right? You just leave a member of a royal family in a tower and some 20 years later a knight in shining armor rescues them! This definitely won’t leave Dream with severe touch-starvation, PTSD-rooted claustrophobia and abandonment issues! Pro parenting, Schlatt!
So yeah, just kinda write using the storyline of Shrek as a baseline. Change things where you please, swap out characters. Do your thing!
Idk man, it’s 1 am and I just spent the last two hours watching Shrek the Musical. I’m probably gonna send this to my friend Matthew tomorrow. He’d enjoy this.
The original idea for this prompt is not mine. I saw it on the internet a while back and it’s been on my mind for a while. So if anyone knows what I’m talking about could you please comment the person’s user and the site that they’re on so I can give proper credit?
I would also like to point out that I can reclaim the T slur, as I am myself am a trans man. Both will be used in this story, because humans are assholes.

All chapters will have any trigger warnings posted in the notes so please read them!

TW for mention of cc death EDIT: I am currently unsure of whether I should continue this story so if you don’t like getting into a new story only for it to be discontinued, don’t read this.
Techno was literally like a hero to me. I guess that after I saw that he had gotten that surgery on his arm that that was it and he would be fine for some reason. His death came as a huge shock to me. Obviously I am not a doctor. I’m still struggling to find a healthy coping mechanism. Even if I feel selfish for crying this much because I never really knew him. I might use this idea for a dreamnap fic or something, but I don’t know whether I’m going to continue this or not. On a different note, everyone who has commented has been so nice. Some of them have even complimented my writing and I’m just sitting here trying not to cry for the third time today thinking “it’s two chapters! It’s literally just two chapters! It’s not even the main story why are you all so nice?!”
I don’t know. It seems we’ve all put ourselves into one of two groups: “I will stop out of respect” and “I will continue in his honor”
As of now I am unsure of which group I am in.

Chapter Text

“Life’s lottery was fair to most. Most people were raised with rooves over their heads, food in their stomachs, and clothes on their backs, all supplied by loving families. They had friends growing up, and learned young how to develop healthy relationships at a young age in a safe environment. They grew up having okay childhoods. 

But there’s a reason it’s called a lottery. It’s fair to most, yes, but not to all.

If you were unlucky enough to be given a body and life while before the universe had had it’s morning coffee, then you were screwed. Absolutely fucked. And there was nothing you could do about it.

Some ended up in abusive homes. Being hit, or screamed at, or told they were worthless. Sometimes even a mix of all three. 

Some were left to neglectful homes. Never having enough clothes or food, never given love or even the time of day. Sometimes, not even having a bed to sleep in at night. Or maybe even not having a home at all.

However, both of those were considdered luckier than bieng a piglin hybrid. Foul creatures, really. Too human to be considdered animals, but to animal to be considdered humans. They were all vile, hostile freaks of nature. Mistakes. Glitches in the universe’s code, if you will. Or, so the stories said, at least.

So you can imagine the problems that would occur if one were to leave it’s home at the young age of seven. Yes, you heard me correct. Seven years old and already causing havoc. It was horrible.

Countless villages faced it’s wrath on a weekly basis. No matter how many towns it had terrorized, no matter how many citizens it devoured, no matter how many mothers begged for it to have mercy as it devoured our children, the beast never had enough. And now, the hybrids are asking for us, proud humans such as you and I, for our mercy? When they are the ones that terrorized our villages and tore down city after city?

And to think, that they’ve managed to brainwash some of our own into helping them! This must end, my dear readers, and it must end now! We must show the wreatched creatures that there is no place for them among civilized people! We must not-”

And that’s enough news for today, Techno thought, tearing the page out of the paper packet and throwing it into the bin beside him to be with it’s brethren. He didn’t know why he still bothered to read the contents of the pages before prepairing them for repurposing them. It’s not like they ever had anything interesting on them to read. All humans ever talked about was politics and how to raise your kids, which somehow became the same thing after a while into the conversation.

Besides, it’s not like anyone even reads the paper anymore, unless you’re someone’s grandmother. Techno’s doing the planet a favor by collecting and reusing what otherwise would’ve been considdered trash. It’s not like any humans were out doing it.

He absentmindedly ran a sharp claw down the center of the paper, tearing out a page on sports and neatly putting it in the bin as well. He continued to do this with every single page in the bundle of mass-produced sheets until only the front and back pages remained. Those, he had found out rahter quickly into begining this project, couldn’t be used. Only the inside pages could be bleached and cleaned.

He threw the unused pages into a sepparate bin to be used later in the compost pile after he took the staples out. He then brought the bin he had been filling into another room with a large table in the center. On top of the table were a pair of extremely sharp scissors and a white piece of cardboard with measurements marked on all sides. 

Techno sat the bin down and picked up the stack of neatly placed papers, only to put them back down on the table. He unfolded them at the crease, picked up the scissors, and sliced along it, effectively giving him twice as much paper to work with. He laid one stack on top of the other, grabbed the cardboard, and then started cutting to the measurements he wanted.

He continued this slow process until he was satisfied with his work. By the end of it, he had roughly four stacks of 8 x 5 inch papers to work with, but he wasn’t done yet. He still had to bleach the words off of them, and that required one more step.

He gathered all the papers and carefully walked into another room, one that was almost completely dark bar a few dim, red-colored lights. In the center of the dark room was a large rectangular container that was filled to the brim with a cyan-tinted liquid. Several sheets of paper were already resting within it, and Techno knew he would have to take them out before putting the new papers in.

He let out a groan. This was his least favorite part of the process. But an essential one, at that, so he sat the papers in his hands down and reached for his leather gloves, checking for any signs of damage before slipping them on.

The rest was quite simple. He reached in and revoved each individual sheet of paper and hung them up by clips to dry like one would laundry, he put each dry paper into the vat, making sure that none overlapped before taking off his gloves and hanging them up in their place when he exited the room.

He pulled out another sheet of paper from his pocket, this one neatly folded into fours and marked in handwriting “Monday.” He unfolded it and used his index claw to punch a small but noticable hole in the box marked “Prepair book paper.” His eyes wandered down to the writing beneath it. “Make breakfast if not already.”

He folded the paper back up into his pocket and headed towards the kitchen.

The rest of the day went swimmingly. Techno organized the last few books he needed to put on the shelf, got some cleaning done, did some garden work, and even had time to start designing the leather cover of his newest book. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt like this one would be the one to get him somewhere.

His other books were expertly written, and he couldn’t deny that they were selling. But none of them flying off the shelves like he hoped they would be. He couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong. People liked his books, even he did, and an any kind of creative person liking their creation was rare on its own. But there was something missing…

What did people even want to read about these days, other than what was spoon-fed to them every week in mass-produced texts? Techno wasn’t sure… Maybe it was because all of his books were non-fiction. Bookstores sold out of fantasy novels faster than he could blink, after all, though he couldn’t understand why. Why in the name of prime would people want to read a bunch of lies?

The only other popular book genre he could think of was romance, and to say he was SOL with that one would be an understatement. 

Technoblade was a piglin hybrid, hiding out in an abandoned library in the woods alone, basically doing the equivelant of publishing his diary to the public for money. He had never been able to settle down in one place for this long, how would he know anything about romance? And besides. Love was just an overrated, over-romanticized concept that people could live without.

Did it get lonely with no visitors? Occasionally. But it’s not like he could go out and search for any of his family. They all lived far apart for a reason. To keep them safe in a world that hates them.

Techno sighed. He’d just have to figure it out tomorrow.

As he got ready for bed that night, he silently congradualted himself on being able to accomplish so much in one day. As he laid down on the soft homemade mattress and bedframe, he thanked Prime for letting him survive this long without being caught. 

It’s a big bright beautiful world out there, but as far as Techno’s concerned, he doesn’t need it.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean she doesn’t have a face anymore?!” the man yelled at the top of his lungs. He looked at his daughter, who was hiding behind a maid. “What in the hell did you do, Charolette?!”

The seven-year-old girl was trembling from fear. She had seen her father angry before, but never this angry. He looked like he was about to hit someone. 

“I-I’m not sure, sir,” the maid stuttered out.

The man groaned, rubbing his temples. “Fucking hell, you people are useless. What do I even pay you for?” he muttered.

“Charolette,” he said to his daughter, who immediately snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of his harsh tone. “Come here, now.”

The girl looked down as far as she could and started walking towards her father, her arms crossed her chest and her finger nails digging into the opposite forearm. She stopped once she reached the bottom step leading up to his throne. She could feel his angry gaze burning into her head.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

She hesitantly looked up towards her father, watching his eyes widen in horror and disgust as their gazes met. Or, would’ve met. It was just like the maid had said. Her face was gone.

It had been replaced by a black void. Yet she could still see and smell and talk just fine. And her little heart broke when she saw her own father look at her like that, like she was a monster.

The man looked at the maid. “Find who did this,” he told her. “Find who FUCKING DID THIS, and BRING THEM TO ME!”

The maid nodded frantically before running off to find one of the guards. When she was gone, the man looked back at his daughter. But his expression didn’t soften. In fact, he looked even more disgusted than he did before.

“This better not be your fault,” he warned.

-

There was the sound of locks coming undone on the other side of the door to the girl’s bedroom, where she had been imprisoned for the last week or so. The girl’s father opened the door, looking tired and angry. It scared her.

“Pack a bag,” he said simply.

“What?” the girl asked. “Where are we going?”

“You, Charolette,” he corrected. “Not we. You. You’re going away.”

“For how long?” she asked him, and he just groaned.

“A long time. So quit sitting there and pack a fucking bag,” he told her again. He reached for something in his coat. “And put this on,” he said, throwing a white circular object towards her. “Don’t let anyone see your fucking face. You hear me?”

She nodded, and he left the room. The girl reached out for the thing her father had given to her. It was cool white porcelain, curving inward on one side with two leather straps on the outsides with a buckle on one, as if to wrap around someone’s head with. She pressed the inside of it to the void where her face should be, and was surprised to find that the mask appeared completely clear to her. She went over to the mirror, something she hadn’t done in weeks, and saw her reflection with the mask covering almost the entire front side of her head. It was weird.

However, if it kept her father happy, then she’d gladly wear it whenever he pleased.

She packed a bag full of things she usually took on long trips, such as clothes, some snacks (any food she ate was simply absorbed into the void) and a single stuffed animal: a white blob plush that her mother had given her. She hoped that wherever she was gonig, it was to get her face back. The void was cold, like a sheet of ice, no matter how warm her outside environment was. While it didn’t hurt her, it did bother her quite a bit.

By the time a maid came to get her, she was ready to go. She had already fastened the straps of the mask around her head so it wouldn’t fall off. The maid didn’t say anything, she simply took the girl’s bag from her and led her out to the carriage.

She saw her father watching from the window and tried to wave goodbye to him, but the maid forced her hand down and her father just walked away. He didn’t even wave back…

She hoped she would come home soon.

-

“Day 4,999,” Dream mumbled to himself as he scratched yet another tally into the wall. “You know what?” he asked the stuffed blob sitting on his bed, as if he actually expected it to answer. Of course, he knew it wouldn’t, but two decades of complete isolation had made him wish that it would.

“I’ve got a good feeling about today,” he continued. “I can already see it: Just before sunset, a handsome prince riding into view after travelling miles, climbed the tallest peaks and crossed the largest desserts just to take us out of this place!”

“But Dream, you’ve said that for years now!” he said, but in a higher-pitched voice, as if he were pretending that the blob was capable of holding an actual conversation with him. “You always say that it’s going to be today, but it never is!”

Dream laughed. “That’s the thing with you. You’re too pessimistic! If I say it’s going to be today, then god damn it, it’s going to be today!” he told the blob. “Besides, if I can’t hope for our prince to come, then what am I even alive for?”

“But what if we never get out of here?” the “blob” asked him.

“We will, I promise,” Dream responded. “You’ll see. By tomorrow, we’ll be back with dad in the castle, talking about wedding cerimones and he’ll thank the prince and he’ll hug us…”

“If you say so,” the “blob” said.

For the rest of the day, Dream sat by his window, looking off into the distance. The lush green forest surrounding his prison was one of his main sources of annoyance. He envied the animals who lived there, having the feedom to explore wherever they wanted. He envied the birds, who were gifted with the abiltiy of flight, who could soar above everyone else without a care in the world. He envied the bugs who dug holes in the ground and trees and had homes with families that welcomed them back every night.

He sat there in silence the entire time, watching and listening carefully for the sound of hooves pounding against the pathway in the woods. Dream sat patiently, waiting, hoping, praying, for any sign of rescue. He didn’t even realize how long it had been until the clock on his wall struck midnight.

He stared at it as it chimed the begining of a new day. He reached into his pocket for a specific piece of paper. He unfolded it, rereading the contents for what felt like the millionth time.

“Until one can learn to love you true, you’ll pay this mask your family’s due.”

He felt frustration bubble up in his chest. He wanted to be able to cry. But he pushed it down and simply walked over to the talley wall, grabbed his pocket knife, and slashed across the last row of four, making five.

“Day… 5,000…” he whispered. “I know it’s today.”

Chapter Text

So I’m pretty sure that we’ve all heard by now that Techno has passed away. I don’t really know how to respond to death in general, let alone someone I’ve looked up to for years.
I don’t know if I should continue this or not, but more than likely it will be discontinued and/or taken down. I just don’t feel comfortable writing about the character that belonged to one of my heroes when they’re dead.
Just… out of respect for one of the few people who still have mine.
I don’t know…

Chapter Text

I have decided to discontinue this work. I may use this prompt for something else, and I am planning on writing another story, I just don’t know what. I’ll keep this one up for now, but I might change my mind later. Even then I’ll probably just orphan it.

Thank you for all the nice comments, I really appreciate them.

Like I said, I do want to write another story but I’m unsure of what. I have some ideas, but I don’t know how to execute them properly at the moment (by that I mean I tried to write another story before this but completely forgot about it and it never got published). So yeah.

I am sorry, and hopefully I’ll see some of you later.