Another Redraw!! This Time With These Wintery Children ✨

Short Prompt #941

CW: murder mention.

The human sighed, collapsing onto their bed as the moon slowly rose over the horizon. They silently watched the sky change colors through their window before finally closing their eyes.

They lay on their back, resting their hands on their stomach, and ignored how the mattress dipped next to them. Sharp claws gently traced their cheek before the monster spoke.

"Can I kill them yet?"

💥

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ASKING YOURSELF?

A Breather

Previous

t h e m

Welcome to my Undertale AU, Frostbite

I hope you enjoy your stay :)

tw: kidnapping, non-con drugging

The boy skidded to a halt, almost crashing into a tall body lurking in the middle of the street. He fumbled to steady his footing from the brick wall of a man that blocked his way, brows furrowed instantly in annoyance.

The sun was setting beyond the horizon and the sky had gone a dark red, with ashy grey clouds filling the expanse. The mask sitting on the man’s face made the boy initially think this was Mercenary. But when his head tilted down, finally drawing his attention to the smaller boy, he realised it wasn’t.

The child instantly went sheepish and blushed in embarrassment, having made a fool out of himself in front of an odd stranger.

“Sorry, mister,” he grumbled out, staring up at him with unblinking eyes. He was dressed in a similar get up to Mercenary, with the mask and all. Skulking in the shadows until he found what he was looking for...

The child felt uneasy as the man chuckled under his breath, folding his arms across his chest.

“It’s real creepy lurking on the streets,” the boy sniffed as he imitated his stance, puffing out his chest. “Especially with a Halloween costume.”

The masked man cocked his head. “And don’t you think its a little irresponsible to be talking to strangers?”

The child pouted. “I can look after myself! I’m not a kid.”

“That so?” came the dryly amused response. The boy nodded his head firmly; he hated people thinking he was some weak brat. Mercenary did it all the time and it grated profusely on his nerves. Giving the man one final sweep, the child hummed and blinked up at him.

“Are you one of those contract killers?”

The masked man didn’t move. “Yes, I am.”

Oh. The boy wasn’t expecting such a blunt answer. Was he telling him because he thought he was harmless? He scrunched up his nose and narrowed his eyes at him.

“Then can you kill somebody for me?”

The killer shrugged his shoulders, as if in playful exasperation, and reached for his belt. “Sure. After I’ve done this job.”

Pinched between his two fingers was a rectangular card, flashing it towards the boy smoothly. He took it from him, all while giving him a perplexed, yet judgmental stare.

“Contract killers don’t have business cards.”

“This one does,” he responded with a light chuckle. “How else are people meant to find me?”

“But Merce–” The boy caught himself and stumbled to cover his tracks. “–the people on the television shows say it’s just through the right connections.”

The masked man hummed. “You’re old enough to tell fiction apart from reality, aren’t you?”

The child’s expression wrinkled in anger and he sent him a deadly glare. He flipped over the card and glanced at the front, making a note to ask Mercenary about this guy. He seemed illegitimate and wondered if he was any good at his job at all.

“Of course I am, I’m not...” His heart sank to his boots and his words fizzled out on his tongue. His eyes were wide as he stared at the name on the front of the card, a name Mercenary had warned him about, a name he was meant to stay away from.

Stupid.

It was Mercenary’s rival. The rival that was out to kill them both. Along the ground came a bright stream of light, and the sound of a car slowly rolling up the pavement. The boy swallowed the parched lump in his throat and subtly glanced behind him, watching the black car come to a stop.

He bit the inside of his cheek and turned his focus back on the killer, who was already staring at him. The child could almost feel the smirk.

“I have to go...” He whispered shakily. He couldn’t hide the fear in his voice or his body. “I have to go.”

He turned to run, but a strong force yanked him back by the collar of his shirt, sending him crashing onto the hard floor. He scraped his hands and hissed in pain.

“Stay a bit,” the masked man cooed, his haunting steps coming closer by the second. “After all, I did say I had a job to do.”

The child scrambled onto his feet, ready to break off in a run. But he felt huge arms grab him and yank him back into the hard body, pinning him there. He instantly began thrashing frantically, swinging his legs in the air as he was carried back.

“Help!” He screamed, shredding his vocal chords as tears welled in his eyes. “Mercenary, help! He–”

A gloved hand closed around his mouth and nose, cutting him off. His fingers dug into the man’s wrist as he squirmed uselessly, gasping in pain when he felt the smack of hard leather seats beneath his body.

He lashed out with his legs and kicked viciously as the killer climbed in afterwards, shutting the car door behind him. There was something in his hand and the child cried out in fear, hands scrambling at the locked door opposite.

“No–” He wailed, terror flashing in his eyes as a hand wound through his hair and tugged him back. Something sharp pricked at his neck, and the boy tried reaching lazily for the door handle. His vision started swirling and his arm slumped against the seats.

Voices became too hazy to hear, and in a daze, the small child fell deeply unconscious.

“I make trash look good, huh~?”

(This was drawn by @alfa-artz​ They did an excellent job drawing my dirty yet still handsome/cute boy.)

I've already seen some artists and writers saying they will stop drawing Technoblade and not write about him now to respect him.

Don't.

This is how you not forget people. We, the community, are Technoblade's legacy. We are here to make sure he is never forgotten and to show our love for him.

Of course you should take a break when it's too much right now. But please don't stop drawing fanart of him. Don't stop writing about C!Technoblade. Don't stop writing sbi stories like passerine. (Unless the other sbi-members say they will uncomfortable about this now)

I am sure Technoblade loved this about us, he liked the fanart you all drew of him, his characters, his friends. I am sure he loved knowing what awesome stories people wrote about the Blood God who never dies.

We are the voices and we are here to make sure this legend will be remembered.