Hello! The other day I created this piece of writing based off of Technoblade's canon voices in his head. Very cool :,D. But anyway, I don't really have anywhere to post it other than here... so yeah! Woo! Writing! I kinda gave up at the end though.
Anyway, !! T/W !! There are referrences to S//CIDE and mentions D//TH, so if you're uncomfortable with such topics, I suggest you don't read it lol.
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Blood. The voices demanded blood.
Every day, the voices cried for blood. Every day, he'd ignore them, blocking out the incessant cries and their yells for the letter E. Every day, he'd suffer silently, questioning his will to live.
He had tried many times, tried to die. Just… die.
Nothing had availed his dead desire. He craved for eternal rest, heart crumbling at the thoughts he had had. The only thing he truly cared for was his closest friend, Phil. His presence gave him ease and comfort, and he seemed to bring genuine feeling… to him.
But nothing lasts forever.
And back to the voices it was. The festering yearning for blood only grew, and all he could do was appease it.
Chaos seemed to be a part of his character. He conformed to the voices, inducing destruction and bringing despair. All he wanted to care for was his ideals, but all he resorted to was violence: the universal language of the lands.
These voices started out as mere whispers, encouraging and praising him for his deeds. The disarray that happened was simply accepted by him. He even began to listen and fulfilled their wishes of blood and disarray. But gradually, they got louder. Louder, louder and louder. There would be a cry for bloodshed, offerings of bloodstained coins, bones, and flesh. Holy swords were offered, the voices even seemed to genuinely care for him, giving him various foods from the world. However, at times, their anger could not be contained — soon enough it came to the point where he could not hold back his violent ways, where he had to search for blood to spill. However, he continued to try to hold back, staying in his cosy cottage, away from all civilisations.
Life was uneventful. As days blended into days, realisations were made. Times were peaceful — the voices even made him offerings of peace instead of their violent blood-stained coins. Suddenly, everything was… surprisingly okay — until that one sorrowful event.
When all fell down, nothing gained or returned.
And the voices retaliated with all their might.
For he was their blood god.