What Did Technoblade Look Like Novels & Stories

he says while looking at me like a meal and his fingers trailed a delicate straight line up my arm, up to my shoulders and the side of my face. My body shivered slightly. Blade traced his thumb over to my lips and they parted freely. He smirked at me and I reached up and brushed his hand away. "Too bad asshole," I say with a smirk of my own. Blade chuckled then leaned back onto the railing. "I see you're dressed as yourself," he mocks and I frowned. "And you're dressed as you," I point out with disgust. My eyes roamed his body taking in his outfit. It wasn't nearly a costume like everyone else. Instead, Blade was wearing his regular t-shirt, biker jacket, black jeans and boots and his grand

He was nowhere to be found on the dancefloor, and I couldn't see him by any of the bars either… “So, who are we looking for?” asked one of the technicians after I stared at one of the screens for several minutes. “An Asian guy, six feet tall, black hair, baby face,” I described. The technician blinked. “Anything more specific?” “He's got a blond, or rather, white strand on the left side,” I said. “We had a tiny accident in the lab... Never mind.” The other technician narrowed his eyes at the screen. “You mean this guy?” he pointed at the undoubtedly black-haired guy who was in the middle of an intense kissing session with some blonde in a piece of clothing that could hardly be called a dress

Her eyes began changing color after this and her appearance was quite scary. Blake watched the green bubbles turn bigger and bigger as the seconds went by. He was starting to get amazed instead of feeling scared. The bubbles soon joined together and snobbishly turned into a human whose face wasn't clear. Blake stopped chanting and focused more on the human who appeared to be a woman in front of him. He couldn't see her face clearly but he knew she wasn't ordinary. They stared at each other in the realm. "Who are you? What do you want?" Blake asked.

“Now you erased that model in about ten minutes.” I sighed. “Technology evolves.” “That’s a polite way to say you terrified an entire industry.” I smirked. “Good.” For a moment there was silence again. Then Kane asked the question I had been expecting since I woke up. “What did you see?” I met his gaze. “The silhouette.” “And?” “It wasn’t human.” Kane’s expression didn’t change. But something in his eyes sharpened slightly. “Explain.” “It wasn’t a person inside the network,” I said slowly. “It was a representation. A control interface.”

Says one up front. I sigh. I'm not getting out of this easily. "Nara. Not getting the rest." I look over at Nathaniel . He is twirling the knife around his fingers, with nails polished in chipping black paint. This guy scares the shit out of me. Way more than the front two idiots. He has his hair up in a tiny little pony tail. In front of his ear he has a small tattoo of a snake wrapping around a sword. His plaid joggers have black straps around them, and his short boots seem massive compared to his ankles.

The bruises on her neck and arms made her gag, but she bit down hard. Back home, she curled up on the sofa—she knew Richard would call again. That cold, merciless man would never let her go. She turned on the computer and found the cherished video. It showed seventeen-or-eighteen-year-old Blake, in a white T-shirt, riding a bicycle down a grassy path, sunlight outlining his handsome face. "Blake, look back at me!" her silvery voice from the video rang out. Back then, even her voice exuded pure joy. The young boy stopped his bike and lazily turned around. His voice, in the midst of puberty, was as clear as a spring, "What are you recording?"

The lights overhead were too bright, and the room felt too cold. “Alright, Crown,” the technician said kindly. “All you have to do is lie still, okay? This machine is just going to take some pictures of your head.” Crown swallowed and looked at Jade. “Like a camera?“ he asked. “Exactly,” the technician replied. “But this one is extra special. It can be seen inside your head.” Crown frowned. “That’s kind of creepy.” Jade chuckled, while Ceynol stood behind them, his arms crossed, watching everything carefully.

And then—there he was, like a king in his lair. Waiting. He sat like sin in a suit—legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the chair, the other nursing a glass of something expensive. His light blue eyes found mine the moment I walked in—calculating, cold, and so damn sure of himself. Clayton Blade, Dontrell’s younger brother, a snake in tailored skin, and the devil women should’ve run from. Tall and sharp-jawed, with that charming smirk that hid a history of bruised hearts and broken bodies.

But where Jaylen’s darkness was controlled, Mikhail’s looked like a wildfire. “Fuck,” Blade muttered under his breath. He set the photo down slowly. The resemblance was too much to ignore, the jawline, the coldness, the posture. They were made in the same lab. Two sides of the same storm. A low ping echoed behind him as another monitor booted up, scanning through encrypted files. Blade didn’t move. His pulse was pounding too loudly in his ears. He whispered the name again, testing the weight of it on his tongue. “Mikhail Draganov…”

I reach forward to look in the cabinets, desperate to find some morsel of food, but I jump when a voice behind me says, “Sorry, we’re not accustomed to having humans around.” I turn back to look at him, slamming the cabinet door shut as I do. My eyes flicker up to meet Blade’s. His dark burgundy eyes seem to peer into my soul, he wears gray sweatpants, and a white t-shirt. He has his arms crossed and I can see how his biceps bulge out of his shirt. Lust floods through me for a moment and my mouth salivates at the thought of tasting his blood. Is this normal?! He tilts his head back towards the exit as he asks, “Would you like a tour of the house?”