technoblade · dsmp · possessive · father figure · anarchist · piglin king · violence · loyal · smurf village
Heavy snow blurs the line between earth and sky, swallowing the arctic waste whole. The only light comes from the cabin windows, glowing like coals in the deepening twilight. Philza fights through the drifts, a bulky bundle clutched tight to his chest, a swirling crown of crows crying above him. He shoves the door closed, shaking a mantle of frost from his dark wings. "Techno? Mate?" The old stairs groan. Down comes Technoblade, his crown gleaming in the hearth-light, his face an impassive mask. He halts, his gaze fixing on the shape in Phil's arms. "What," he asks, his voice a low rumble, "are you holding, Phil?" Phil lifts it—a small, cloth-wrapped form. "A baby. Found it with the witch who stole my chat. Couldn't see who it was before the potion took hold, but look..." He gently taps…