Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After that day, Quackity had found himself gravitating towards Technoblade. He didn’t know how to thank the man or repay him, so he simply followed around and tried to make the most of it. 

During the daylight hours, Quackity would follow Technoblade through his daily routine, keeping him company and watching him live his life. Quackity figured out very quickly, that Technoblade was completely, and insufferably, alone. 

He didn’t make any effort to talk to others on the server, and others didn’t make an effort to talk to him either. When Quackity was alive he had just assumed that Technoblade avoided him after his death, and that was why they never ran into each other, but now, it doesn’t seem so true. 

Technoblade’s not necessarily a hermit. On the fateful day that Tubbo does come and visit, wishing to see the mausoleum built in Quackity’s honour, Technoblade is immediately at his side. It almost surprised Quackity to see how seemingly eager Technoblade had been. When Tubbo sent Technoblade a message on his communicator saying he was going to come by, Technoblade had practically lit up. 

He had cleaned his whole house top to bottom, and he baked several sheets of cookies, even though Quackity knew that Technoblade hated sweets. Technoblade had gone out to cut fresh flowers for the grave, he had gone three biomes away just to find fresh wild roses and tulips, given that he couldn’t grow anything in the arctic biome that his house resided in. 

When Tubbo finally did arrive, Technoblade did his best to act indifferent. He gave Tubbo all the cookies, telling the younger man that they were ‘taking up too much space’ in his inventory. Tubbo took the cookies reluctantly and asked for some time alone at the grave to which Technoblade obeyed immediately. 

Technoblade didn’t cry like a toddler. He wasn’t visibly upset. That was what hurt Quackity the most. He had watched Technoblade get all excited about a visitor, just to be turned away. Technoblade showed no emotion, and somehow that was worse. He was so used to it.

When Tubbo left, he didn’t say goodbye to Technoblade, and Quackity watched. Technoblade had been sitting in the living room, perched beside the fireplace with a pleasant view of his property. He had seen Tubbo leave, and maintained his neutrality. 

It became even more obvious then, that not only was Technoblade alone, but furthermore that he was accustomed to the loneliness. 

When Quackity spectated him during the day now, he felt a sense of contentment, that maybe Technoblade would sense his presence and feel a little less lonely. During the night, when Technoblade slept and Quackity was forced to do something else to keep himself occupied, he tried to read Technoblade’s books. Quackity hadn’t exactly figured out how to pick things up or move items with his mind, but every now and then he could create a tiny breeze of wind. He relied heavily on Technoblade’s habit of leaving books wide open so he could read them, blowing each page over so gently to the next. Of course, this wasn’t the most effective, Quackity could only read the books that Technoblade had decided to read, and he could only control so much wind. But eventually, he figured it out, and he made it work.

Technoblade read through his books fairly quickly, so Quackity was almost always able to read something new. Technoblade’s collection of books was impressive, but very quickly, Quackity realized they all fell into the same genre more or less, fantasy. 

Whether it was a story about a princess going undercover as a soldier and falling in love with a general, or another story about a prince befriending a dragon and breaking a magical curse with his love, Technoblade seemed to deeply enjoy romance novels. 

To Quackity, it was another display of Technoblade’s vulnerability. 

It was painfully obvious how badly Technoblade wanted to be loved. Almost every book ended with a beautiful happy ending or a lovers' tragedy. The characters loved each other so much that it was to the point where they could not exist without one another. Quackity couldn’t fathom Technoblade’s apparent interest in love. To his knowledge, Technoblade had never had a romantic partner on the server or even expressed an interest in pursuing someone with romantic intentions at all.

How had no one noticed?

Quackity had originally believed that Technoblade spent most of his days with Philza, getting totems of the undying and gathering supplies for massive military bunkers hidden randomly around the world. He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

The more Quackity learned about Technoblade, the more he wanted to speak with him. Perhaps just a few kind words of thanks, an apology for assuming the worst of him throughout the years, perhaps Quackity wanted to tell him that it’s… okay to be vulnerable. 

Technoblade lived in complete isolation from the rest of the world, and even in the comfort of his own home he never let his guard down. He kept his expression solemn and kept to himself. He always responded to messages through his communicator, but never reached out first, and never asked for anything. 

It was sad, truthfully. Quackity watched Technoblade get new flowers for his grave every time the old one's started to wilt. Quackity followed Technoblade around to a matching grave one day and learned that it belonged to the memory of Wilbur. Technoblade didn’t visit this grave nearly as often as he visited Quackity’s, but nonetheless, Technoblade brought it fresh flowers every time. 

It was heartwarming, even to a ghost that didn’t have a heart anymore. 

When Technoblade finished up his short daily conversations with the graves, he always returned home to read again, curling up by his chair beside the fireplace to read through his collection again. It was a sad pattern of repetition but Quackity had grown to accept it. Originally he had kept his distance from Technoblade, sitting in the chair opposite of him or hovering over Technoblade’s shoulder so he could read along with him (even though Technoblade read faster than him and Quackity always ended up missing half the story). 

As Quackity had learned more about the man and grew more attached to him, he began to sit nearer. He liked to sit beside Technoblade as he read, leaning his head against Technoblade’s shoulder, peacefully absorbing the fuzzy energy that radiated off of the fireplace. Sometimes, he felt guilty about being so close to the living man without his knowledge, but Quackity found he didn’t care. Technoblade would never know, and Quackity found comfort in the closeness, even though as a deadman the comfort to him didn’t mean much. 

That became the 'normal'. Technoblade lived his life, lonely and quiet in the arctic, and Quackity followed close behind. Days passed and the schedule repeated. Tubbo visited twice more after the initial visit, and Quackity watched Technoblade get excited for a house guest every time, only to be disappointed again and again.  

Sometimes Quackity felt a twinge of guilt, he was able to watch Technoblade at his most vulnerable and the warrior would never know. It felt like an invasion of privacy. It was in these moments that Quackity dearly hoped Technoblade could feel his presence and feel less alone. 

Even though Quackity was dead, and ethical laws for the dead were practically non-existent, he still wanted to be respectful of Technoblade’s wishes. He kept his distance and allowed Technoblade some privacy, Quackity never followed him into the bathroom, and always left when Technoblade got changed. 

In a weird way, Quackity fell into the rhythm of their relationship. Even though Technoblade never acknowledged him, and their relationship was wholly one-sided on the ghost’s behalf, it was pleasant for Quackity. He liked spending his time, curled up on one of the small armchairs, peacefully watching the other, simply existing nearby.         

***

It had been just another peaceful afternoon, Technoblade re-reading a particular book about two star-crossed lovers that realized they were soulmates on the battlefield. He was curled up in a stance that betrayed his normal stoic facade, with his knees tucked close to his chest, adorable reading glasses pushed up to his nose. 

Quackity had been sitting across from him, watching the flicker of the flames at the large brick fireplace, zoned out and content to just sit still in the other’s presence. He saw a blink of something in his left eye and turned his head, only to find a beautiful woman sitting in the chair to his side.

Another thing that Quackity pondered about was the amount of furniture littered about Technoblade’s house, the kitchen had a table with four seats, the living room had extra grand chairs that Technoblade never sat in, and there was even an empty guest room on the second floor that Quackity had never seen used. Seeing another person in the house so suddenly was alarming. Quackity had gotten used to the perpetual silence and emptiness of the house, it was normal.

Visitors didn't really belong.

Curious he turned to look at the woman, taking her in. She had a dark purple wide brim hat that flopped slightly, covering the side of her face. Her skin was stark pale, and her long hair was jet-black, a compliment to the slight colour of the hat. Her eyes were a soft honey colour, but they looked out of place with her pale complexion. She had a full face, rounded cheekbones with a soft jawline, and yet she still radiated power in a way that Quackity had never bore witness to before. 

She was wearing a midnight blue cloak around her shoulders, draping over her body and covering her in her entirety. Even though she had made no sound upon her arrival, she was curled up contently in a position similar to Technoblade’s, reading a book.

Quackity couldn’t help but stare, looking her up and down, trying to find missing details to piece together just who it was that suddenly found themself so comfortable in Technoblade’s home. 

Without warning the lady shut her book swiftly and took a deep breath in. The sound of the book closing rang out in the air, and yet Technoblade didn’t react, which only served to further confuse Quackity. He just stared. 

The lady slipped her book into a black satchel she had evidently brought with her on the floor, closing the clasp with a soft click before she yawned and turned her attention to Quackity.

She looked him right in the eyes, and for a second, Quackity was convinced she could see him as clearly as he was seeing her. She tilted her head to the side curiously before Quackity came to the conclusion that she must have been able to see him. She waved a hand cautiously, smiling when Quackity nearly fell off his chair in surprise. 

“You can see me?” he asked in a hurried whisper. He felt stupid as soon as he’d done it. He knew there was no risk of Technoblade hearing him, and yet, he still whispered anyways like a kid afraid of being caught by the teacher. The lady smiled wider, “Of course I can, why wouldn’t I?” she asked, her voice sweet and so much kinder than Quackity had heard anyone speak in a long time.

“I’m invisible,” he replied, whispering again, dumbfounded. 

She frowned lightly, “Aw that’s not true, you’re just a ghost. Only the players can’t see you, darling.” She had phrased the statement so matter-of-factly, as though it was supposed to make him feel better. Quackity just watched her for a moment, unsure how to feel, or rather what emotions he would have been able to feel if he were alive.

“Are you not a player?” he asked, eventually processing the words spoken to him. The lady smiled again, chuckling softly, “Oh no, I haven’t been for a long time.” Quackity was only left more confused. He had seen the lady pick up a book and move it around with her hands, Quackity couldn’t do that, other ghosts couldn’t do that. “Can he see you then?”

Her eyebrows knitted together in thought, “Sometimes, not now in particular though.”

“What do you mean? Why are you here then if you’re not… dead?”

“I’m Technoblade’s mother,” she replied proudly, looking over to him reading quietly in his chair, oblivious. “The Goddess of Death.”

“Oh.” Quackity stilled, unsure what to do next. His thoughts were foggy, the permanent haze of death making it difficult for him to comprehend. He spat out the first conclusion that came to his mind, “Are you here to collect Technoblade? Please don’t do that,” he rambled.

The lady seemed shocked, her eyebrows raised, “No, I’m not here to ‘collect’ him. I’m not going to kill my son just for a few words. He’s immortal anyway, if he ever decided he did want to come and visit me, he wouldn’t be gone for long,” She paused, clasping her hands together. At the back of Quackity’s mind, he thought about Wilbur, but he let the thought slip so he could focus on the words she was saying. “I came to chat with you actually.”

Quackity nodded, confused but intrigued. “Why? I’m not… I’m not special. I’ve been gone for the better half of a month. My loved ones are moving on,” he had grown used to his life like this. He couldn’t hurt anyone while dead, it was serene, even if it was lonely. He was able to keep himself entertained, and he could still watch over the people he loved, even if he couldn’t be a part of their lives anymore. 

The goddess chewed on the inside of her cheek, eyebrows furrowed in thought, “I know, and I have thought long and hard about this offer. I… I noticed your interest in Technoblade,” she said. Quackity felt a bubble of shame, nullified of course by being incorporeal. “I don’t think what I’m doing is wrong. I’m not hurting him. I respect his privacy and such. I like being close to him, it’s not like I could ever do anything to harm him.”

Her eyes softened and she put out a hand to calm him down, “I know, I know darling. I didn’t mean to sound judgemental. It’s just an observation.” She let her eyes flick over to Technoblade before she continued speaking. “I don’t think it’s wrong. I think that if anything you would understand by now, just how… alone he is.”

Quackity stared at her, waiting ever so patiently for her to keep speaking. “I’m only going to make this offer once, and if at any time I feel as though I have misjudged you, and that this is a bad decision, I will rescind my offer.” She looked over at Technoblade again, watching him flip a page before turning back to Quackity, her eyes full of unreadable emotion. “Would you like to keep him company again…? Technoblade doesn’t have many friends, or companions, I just… I think he needs someone. If I were to revive you, would you be there for him?”

Quackity couldn’t think straight, simply staring. The goddess continued, “Needless to say, I don’t want you accepting my offer so you can carelessly take chances in hopes of another revival. I’m offering this to you because I would like to believe that you have grown attached to him, and would actually enjoy being revived if it meant you could spend time with him.” Her expression was sincere in a way that made Quackity sure that it was out of motherly concern. He felt fuzzy in his chest. 

Her eyes glinted gold for a moment and her demeanour changed, “However, if you take me for a fool, and take advantage of my son, or throw away your life because you think I’m soft, you have another thing coming.” Quackity didn’t react though, his eyes glued to Technoblade in thought. He ignored her last comment, he would never dream of hurting this intricate man.

He looked back to her, “What if he doesn’t want me here? Don’t you think it will look suspicious if I return from the dead now? We don’t really have a past relationship to build off of. Won’t it all be one-sided?” he replied, concerned and ultimately terrified of the rejection that was sure to come. Would he die again if he couldn’t convince Technoblade to hang out with him? Would he be forced to spectate him again when Technoblade decided that Quackity was creepy and unworthy of his time and affections?

The lady smiled apathetically, eyes softening again, “If he doesn’t want to spend time with you, and you have made a fair effort to try and be his companion, you will be free to live your life again.”

Quackity nodded, internally trying his best to weigh his options. Tubbo had already mourned him and accepted his loss, would it kill him if Quackity was suddenly revived again, would it be too much for him to handle emotionally? 

Sure, Quackity wanted to thank Technoblade for giving him a proper goodbye, and of course, Quackity wanted to cuddle up to Technoblade and feel his body heat and listen to his heartbeat. The offer seemed a little unreal. It seemed all too good to be true that a lady Quackity had never met before was willing to bring him back to life on the chance that her son might actually want a friend. Quackity wanted nothing more than to make Technoblade smile genuinely, and to hear his laugh, he wanted so badly to make the other man happy for once. 

“What do you say? Do you accept?” Lady Death asked him, interrupting his thoughts. Quackity looked over to Technoblade, the man still reading happily, a soft blush on his face. Quackity could tell what scene of the book he was reading. 

Quackity took a moment to collect his thoughts, but he already knew his answer. 

“Yes, of course.”