DSMP AGERE ONESHOTS

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Techno sat in his room, the dim candlelight flickering against the walls. The house was quiet, but his mind was anything but. The voices were restless tonight, their demands sharp and insistent.

"Blood for the Blood God."
"Another fight. Another battle. You were made for this."

He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. But the fuzziness was there, creeping in at the edges of his mind like an unwanted guest overstaying its welcome.

Then, the front door creaked open.

“Tech? I’m home, mate,” Phil called from downstairs, his voice light and unaware. The sound of boots being kicked off, of wings rustling, was painfully normal.

Techno exhaled sharply. He should respond. Should get up and act like everything was fine. But the voices—it was always harder when he was alone. Harder to fight when there was nothing grounding him.

"Let go."
"Just one more fight."
"No one will know."

His breath hitched as he rubbed his temple. The sword leaning against the wall suddenly felt too close.

Footsteps. Closer now.

The door creaked open slightly. “Hey, Tech. You good?”

Phil’s voice cut through the haze, an anchor in the storm. Techno forced himself to lift his head, meeting Phil’s gaze. The man’s blue eyes flicked over him, scanning, reading every little shift.

Philza Minecraft had seen a lot of things. And Techno knew—he knew—that Phil could see something was wrong.

“Voices bad tonight?” Phil asked, softer now.

Techno swallowed. Nodded once. It felt like admitting it out loud would make it worse, but at the same time, the weight on his chest loosened just a little.

Phil sighed, stepping inside. He didn’t press, didn’t force words where there didn’t need to be any. He just sat down beside Techno on the bed, careful but steady, his presence warm in the cold room.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the faint crackling of the candle. And, slowly—so slowly—the voices quieted.

Phil felt the tension in Techno’s shoulders slowly ease, but something was… off. Usually, when the voices got bad, Techno got quieter, more distant—but now, he just stared, wide-eyed, at the golden brooch fastening Phil’s sage-green cloak.

Phil frowned. “Tech?”

Techno didn’t respond with words. Instead, he let out a quiet, almost awed hum, reaching out with slow, hesitant fingers to brush against the brooch. His crimson eyes were unfocused, hazy—but not in the way Phil was used to. This wasn’t battle rage.

This was something softer. Smaller.

Phil stayed still, letting Techno explore at his own pace. His fingertips traced over the intricate engravings, his ears twitching slightly in fascination.

Then, in the smallest, most delicate voice Phil had ever heard from him, Techno mumbled, “Shiny.”

Phil froze.

The voice was too soft, too high. It didn’t match the deep, commanding tone he was used to. Techno barely spoke in full sentences at the best of times, but this—this was something different.

The warrior before him, the Blood God, was gone. And in his place was someone younger.

Phil’s heart clenched.

Techno let out a tiny, delighted giggle, the kind Phil had never heard before, and poked the brooch again. “Pwetty,” he babbled.

Phil let out a slow breath, mind racing. 'What the hell is going on?'

He’d seen Techno in a lot of states—angry, exhausted, barely holding it together—but this? This was new. It was like…

Like he was three years old.

Phil’s protective instincts flared, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Yeah, mate, it’s pretty, huh?” he murmured, keeping his voice soft, reassuring. He didn’t want to startle Techno out of—whatever this was.

Techno made a happy noise and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Phil’s shoulder, his arms curling slightly around himself. It was so trusting, so small. Phil felt something in his chest crack.

Carefully, he reached up and ran a hand through Techno’s hair, ruffling it the way he had when Techno was younger—not that he’d ever been this young, not since Phil met him.

But Techno just melted into it, letting out another contented hum.

Phil swallowed.

This wasn’t normal. But right now, Techno was safe. And if his mind needed to be small for a while, if it was the only way he could escape the voices—then Phil would stay.

He pulled the cloak around Techno’s shoulders and held him close.

“Gotcha, mate,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

Techno didn’t answer. He just curled up against him, small and warm.

And for the first time in a long time, Phil thought maybe the voices wouldn’t win.

Techno shifted against Phil, letting out a soft whine, rubbing his face into the sage-green cloak like a sleepy child. His fingers curled and uncurled against the fabric, like he was searching for something.

Phil stayed still, letting Techno move at his own pace, but his heart ached at how small he looked. His usual sharp edges, the warrior’s weight in his shoulders, were gone. In its place was something fragile.

Then Techno made a soft, desperate sound—frustrated, searching. His breath hitched, and he tugged at Phil’s sleeve, babbling something Phil barely caught.

“Steve,” Techno mumbled, voice thick with exhaustion. “Wan’ Steve.”

Phil blinked. Steve? Then it clicked—Techno’s old plushie, a little polar bear he’d had for years. The thing was worn-down but well-loved, always tucked somewhere in his room.

Phil exhaled slowly. “Alright, mate. I’ll get him, yeah? Just sit tight.”

Techno whined at that, clinging tighter, his fingers gripping at Phil’s cloak. His ears twitched, and his lower lip wobbled slightly, frustration evident in his expression. “No go…”

Phil’s heart clenched. Techno didn’t want to be left alone.

“…Alright, alright,” Phil soothed, rubbing slow circles on Techno’s back. “I won’t go far, promise. Just gonna grab Steve for you.”

Techno hesitated, then nodded sleepily, allowing Phil to gently shift him so he was resting against the pillows. The second Phil moved away, though, Techno reached out, making a grabby motion with his hands.

Phil huffed softly, his heart aching at the sight. “I’m literally right here, Tech.” But he still squeezed Techno’s hand before moving to the small wooden chest at the foot of the bed.

Inside, tucked under a folded pig-patterned blanket, was Steve. The plushie was old, fur matted from years of being hugged, but it was unmistakably well-loved.

Phil turned back to see Techno staring at him, eyes hazy but locked onto the plush like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Here ya go, big man,” Phil said gently, placing Steve into Techno’s waiting arms.

The effect was immediate. Techno curled around the plush, hugging it close, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric. His whole body relaxed, his breathing slowing.

Phil smiled faintly, then unfolded the pig blanket, draping it over Techno’s shoulders. The younger man let out a tiny, content sigh, burrowing into the warmth.

Then, with clumsy, sleepy fingers, Techno reached under his pillow and pulled out something small—a well-worn pacifier. Without hesitation, he popped it into his mouth and suckled softly, letting out another pleased hum.

Phil stared, feeling something warm settle in his chest.

Techno looked… peaceful. Small, but safe.

Phil sat down beside him again, carding a hand through Techno’s soft pink hair. “That better, mate?” he asked quietly.

Techno didn’t answer with words, just made a happy little noise around the pacifier, curling up even tighter around Steve. His tail twitched once, then stilled.

Phil stayed, letting the candle burn low, keeping watch.

Phil stayed beside Techno, watching as the younger man—no, the *small* in front of him—breathed softly around his pacifier, arms securely wrapped around Steve. His tail occasionally twitched under the pig blanket, but otherwise, he looked completely at peace.

Phil exhaled slowly, adjusting his cloak to sit more comfortably as he settled in. Alright, so this is a thing now.

He’d never seen Techno like this before—not even when he was younger. Techno had always been old, no matter his actual age, always carrying the weight of something heavier on his shoulders. But now?

Now, he looked like a child who just needed to be cared for.

Phil ran a gentle hand through Techno’s soft pink hair, marveling at how quickly he melted into the touch, humming softly in contentment. His ears twitched slightly, his body curling deeper under the pig blanket.

Phil had no idea how long this would last, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t going to leave Techno alone in this.

After a while, Techno stirred, blinking sleepily up at Phil. His crimson eyes were unfocused, still lost in the haze of babyspace. He stretched his arms out with a soft whimper, making a grabby motion.

Phil’s heart melted.

“Hey, big man,” Phil murmured, shifting closer. “You need somethin’?”

Techno suckled his pacifier a little harder before mumbling around it, “Up.”

Phil blinked. “Up?”

Techno whined softly, tugging at Phil’s sleeve.

Oh. Oh.

He wanted to be held.

Phil barely hesitated before scooping Techno up, shifting so the younger man was nestled securely in his lap. Techno immediately buried his face in Phil’s chest, arms still wrapped around Steve. His whole body relaxed as Phil rocked him slightly, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“There ya go, mate,” Phil whispered. “Gotcha.”

Techno let out a soft, content sigh, his grip on Steve loosening slightly but never fully letting go. He shifted a little, nuzzling against Phil’s shirt before going completely still, only the rhythmic suckling of his pacifier proving he was still awake.

Phil chuckled quietly. “You’re real cuddly like this, huh?”

Techno only hummed in response, his tail flicking lazily under the blanket.

Phil stayed like that