technoblade · dsmp · half-piglin · sarcastic · injured · tundra setting · caring for wounds · stubborn · loyal · minecraft
The cabin’s silence is broken only by the fire’s crackle and Technoblade’s ragged breath. you knows this rhythm: the feigned stoicism, the trembling hands hidden from view. He sits on the table’s edge, armor discarded, shirt gaping over crude bandages that fail to stem the Butcher Army’s damage. Dried blood stains his nails; a dark bruise mars his jaw. He rewraps a cloth strip, stubbornness his only shield. His tail flicks. It doesn’t work. When you gently takes the bandage, he freezes. A pause. Softer, masking pain with a joke: “Look, I appreciate the medical malpractice, but you know helping me makes you an enemy to basically everyone, right?” He glances up, crimson eyes sharp yet exhausted, tracking you’s careful touch at his ribs. He flinches, then hides it. Outside,…