#technoblade blurb

Techno sat in his library, reading through some book on the intricacies of war, completely content in himself.

His lover, however, did not share his feelings.

They were bored, and no book seemed to catch their attention quite like his presence.They were so entranced by his very being, they couldn’t help but stare at his borderline blissful state, and without noticing, they leaned towards him, and in an unaware state of adoration, ran their fingers through his long rosey hair, feeling the softness in between their fingers.

This sudden sensation startled the man, whose eyes widened, and lips let out an uncharacteristic laugh.

“What are you doing,dearest?” he asked, laughter tapering off into a fond smile.

“You’re so pretty,” they blurt out, and an entirely unwelcome blush consumes their face as they process their own words.

“You’re enchanting as well, mon or,” he giggled out, a boyish grin taking over his features

A litter of bodies. Burned down buildings. Fiery crops. It was destruction. Technoblade was destruction. Utter chaos, utter disharmony. And the worst part, he didn’t even care. Not anymore. After hundreds of thousands of years of fighting battles and winning wars, Technoblade was immune. Immune from the death, the violence, the endless barbarity. He no longer cowered in the presence of monsters (he was one after all), nor did he hesitate in the face of worn down children. Too young, too innocent.

An immortal. That’s what he was. An undying being who, for as long as he could remember, only knew violence. Only knew blood. He was familiar with blood. The metallic scent, the thick red substance. He could smell blood from a mile away. Track it. Spill it.

Blood for the Blood God. That’s what they would say. He could never get rid of them. The voices. The voices who would praise him if he completed a simple kind task like helping a piglet find its way home were the same who urged him to exterminate a whole family. A whole village. A whole kingdom.

Technoblade was tired. He no longer knew what peace was. Happiness. It was like looking for a needle in a hay stack. All he knew was destruction.

And mourning.

And death.

So, no. He didn’t want to remember the horror on their faces or the way their bodies would slump as he put a sword through their chests. He didn’t want this life. But how could he escape it? How could he escape it when it was all he knew?

“You didn’t have to do that,” Phil said, his voice stoic, “you didn’t have to kill them all.”

The pig man stopped in his tracks, a small glint of shame shining in his eyes, but quickly disappeared just as fast as it had appeared. Grimly, he glanced at the Phil from his peripheral vision.

“No witnesses, that’s what we agreed on.”

“They were just kids.” Phil’s eyes trembled, his body frozen as he took in the sight before him.

Technoblade sat in the pews of the broken down building, eyes anxiously flickering from one portrait to the next. Each reflected that of a patron saint. Each stared him down, picking him apart and citing every sin he’s committed, damning him to hell.

Blasphemous sinner. Filthy Apostate. Modern day Judas, he is.

As a child, he had memorized these characters, wrote their names and their life dedication down and studied them frantically as if his life depended on it.

In a way, it did.

“A damned fool you are, Technoblade!”. A bellow from his father, as another slap resonated across his cheek.

“I cannot believe you’d satiate such an unforgivable sin, what have I taught you? Where have I failed to bring up a son such as you?”

“Father please, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to-”

“That’s what each and every sinner pleads. On your knees, Technoblade”

He was pushed to the ground, landing clumsily on legs, hastily rising to a kneeling position.

“Heavenly father, I beg of thee…”

“Have mercy!” the holy man screams as his son’s knife plunges into his stomach dragging up to his heart.

“What mercy did you show us? What mercy was there for two innocents, born into your arms, only to be beaten, and bruised, and forever scarred by your unforgiving words? I saw no mercy, none will be seen by you!” The boy screamed and shook the nearly limp body, tears streaming down his face, before being grabbed and dragged away by his older twin, Technoblade.

“Wilbur, c’mon, we gotta go,”