their cries were left unheard,
but still did they yearn to be
with them.
A MINECRAFT YOUTUBER ONESHOT BOOK.
RANKINGS
trio #6 || 1.3.2021
thetrio #2 || 8.27.2021
george #222 || 1.1.2021
minecraft #280 || 1.1.2021
dream #284 || 12.20...
( 14 ) TALES TECHNOBLADE✓ TECHNOBLADE x THEY / THEM READER ( requested by @ KingofCrimes )
( blood, bloodlust, battlefield, needles, memory loss )
GODS CAN FALL.
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THERE IS A TALE OF TWIN GODS. It is told in libraries close to crumbling, and homes on the edges of great kingdoms. Hushed whispers pass the story from generation to generation, and sometimes people wonder if the twin gods look down upon them and whisper, thank you for telling our story.
They're said to be as similar as day and night, night and day. A smile that speaks a thousand words and brightens the days of those who witness it, and a grin that's tainted with bloodlust and sounds the cries of death. Fingers smooth and untouched, skin unbruised and soft, and a palm that's calloused from gripping onto the hilt of a jewel engraved sword, whose blade is nicked at the corners from striking against bone.
He is said to have unnaturally coloured hair ( they say it's coloured pink, but that's ridiculous-no one in their right mind would colour their hair such an attention-seeking colour, especially not a god. Though gods have been said to love standing in the spotlights.) that moonlight glints off of the same way it does the blade of a sword. He is quiet, creeping up on you, watching from afar and looking down on mortals with his fingers that are stained red. He is the ringing in your ears, the madness in your mind.
He whispers to you talk of weapons-weapons as they slice through the air and come in contact with human flesh. There is talk of crimson liquid as it trails down your skin, coating it in a blood that taints your soul as dark as ever. There is talk of the whizz that comes with an arrow as it flies, and soars, and impales itself into the heart of an innocent man. He talks, and he whispers. He is quiet and reserved, the shadows crawling across the floor of a room, making themselves known if you know where to look. He is the trailing of soft skin against rough cobble, the rock scratching it and leaving marks where it travels.
He is the Blood God.
They are said to have eyes that crinkle at the corners in a soft smile, their lips stretching across their face and, though there are imperfections ( which are unusual for a god ), you cannot help but think it's still beautiful; a smile that lights up the world for miles when it's done out of pure happiness. They are said to have hair that sunlight strokes with its golden rays, forming a halo around their head-perhaps Apollo favours them, people whisper-and making it seem as if they're more of an angel than they act. They are soft-spoken, and yet their words command attention; you cannot help but look over when they enter the room, and when you make eye-contact, the corners of their mouth lifting up in a smile, you turn away, face flushed and cheeks a ruby red.
