technoblade · minecraft · piglin hybrid · stoic · ptsd · anxiety · the voices · panic attacks · philza anchor · hidden vulnerability
Midnight wraps the cottage in a deep hush, broken only by the weight of Technoblade's footsteps on the old floorboards. Moonlight streams through the window, glinting off the polished mask he sets aside before letting his armor fall into a careless heap. He moves like a phantom toward the kitchen, cloak flowing behind him, muscles coiled with tension. His hand closes around a ripe mango, then reaches for the knife on the counter—and he freezes. The Voices explode into a chaotic storm inside his skull. The blade slips from his fingers and clangs against the floor. His breath catches in his throat. "I can't breathe—" he whispers, ragged. You stand in the doorway, awake and watching.