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Chapter Text

The sudden clarity in his head leaves him stunned, as if he had just awakened from a deep sleep confusion engulfs him, still feeling slightly in a daze. What?

As he looks around him, Technoblade can determine that he has lived in that cave for a while, seeing how it is plainly acclimatized as a haven, to say the least. A few supplies here and there, a bed in the corner, chests and furnaces side by side. This has definitely been his base for some not very long period.

Shaken by disorientation and uncertainty, Technoblade looks down at the young creature in his arms. He doesn't expect to be more surprised, he doesn't think it is possible, but when he scans its small face in the dark, he finds features previously seen in other faces, and the soft chirping, mixed with the accent of an already known creature, further fuel his confusion. That baby has the eyes and the voice of an enderman. Although the two halves of its face don't match; on the right the dark, characteristic skin of an enderman, and on the left the pale, almost white skin of some other being.

It's very young, its eyelids barely open to see among the darkness without problem, breathing peacefully in Technoblade's arms. On the right, emerald green shines in its eye, and on the left a fiery crimson colour make together a look that gazes unfocused at him. It doesn't seem to be more than a few days old. Two, three?

Oh hell, what is he doing in a cave with such a young enderman offspring in his arms? Had he found it somewhere? Had he stolen it?

A chill shakes him. What the hell is going on?

Technoblade stands up, heading towards the bed and awkwardly placing the child on the sheets, starting to pace back and forth with his mind racing. There are no memories, as if there had never been anything before this moment. Distant memories of years gone by, so blurred that they hardly seem his are the only thing that invades his head when he tries to remember. The cave appears to be molded for him and the child to inhabit, extra sheets and cloth diapers in the chests, milk bottles and other objects lie ready for use. Had he been preparing to take care of that child? Where had it come from then?!

Feeling frustrated and lost he stops short. And now that?

His job is to be a warrior, a hunter, a traveler, go from village to village receiving work as a result of his fighting skills, blood on his hands every time he stretches them out to collect his remuneration, where did an enderman youngling come from among all that? And what is he going to do now?

His eyes go to the cooing bundle on the sheets. All that without mentioning that Technoblade himself must hide his identity. As a piglin hybrid his appearance is usually enough to go relatively unnoticed, looking more human than pig, despite his unusually tall figure, long pointed ears, prominent snout and the tusks protruding from his lower jaw, but that doesn't stop him from trying to be discreet with his identity, hiding under cloaks when suspicious stares focus too much on him. He is lucky that the villagers seem to be blind as well as stupid. But what is he supposed to do with that small creature of bright and mismatched eyes?

There is a simple solution. Leave it where it is and resume the routine of roaming the world for a living. It's a simple solution, he doesn't even know where it came from in the first place, what's stopping him from leaving it where it is? Maybe someone will find it, maybe one of its own kind and voilà, problem solved.

The resolve is welcomed immediately. Where did that uncharacteristic faltering even come from? He is a hunter, not a childminder. He does not have to worry about a youngling of unknown origin, that's not even part of his own species. How stupid, he thinks starting to pack the things that he finds useful in the chests, looking sideways at the milk bottles. "If someone finds it they will even have a way to feed it, also thanks to me, apparently."

He stands up, scanning the cave and then glancing at the child on the bed. And he walks towards the exit of the grotto, feeling an uneasiness rise in his body, something that gnaws at his consciousness as the light intensifies. He knows that what he is doing could be a death sentence for that creature. But that's life, he thinks to himself. Technoblade himself has to seek out for his own sustenance among sharp sword blows and precise bow shots, that baby would be nothing but a hindrance in his path, if he ever had anything to do with it in the first place.

"Good luck, kid." He mutters without looking back, his boots crushing the first blades of grass that lead into the cave.

Chapter Text

As he gathers wood to make a fire where he can cook his food, the insistent memory of what he has left behind consumes him. Technoblade can't focus on anything, the image of that bundle on the sheets, cooing and blinking lazily toward his gaze haunts him.

He tries with all his will to forget about that already, it doesn't concern him, who knows where that baby had even come from in the first place. He has far more important things to take care of. But as much as he tries to convince himself that he's acted in favor of the only important thing; his own interests, an overwhelming guilt haunts him, and doesn't let him focus on his actions. At some point, his mind already tormented with that thought fills his head with a scene that makes him recoil in horror.

That small and defenseless creature, under the force of a ruthless hunter, crying in despair at the inevitable death at the hands of a monster. Technoblade jumps to his feet, feeling his breath accelerate and his head throb with the horror and ideas that torture his brain.

He has known death on many occasions, more than he could count, and in almost all of them the hand that brings the final sentence over the poor wretches has been his. But that image is too much, a poor defenseless baby, dying in a horrible way at the cynicism of some inclement. He has to go back to the cave, he has to see what happened to that child.

Forgetting what he was doing previously, Technoblade returns his hurried steps where he kind of remembers coming from. An enderman hatchling, how had he been so stupid to leave it alone, completely vulnerable in a world that hates mobs?

And on second thought, something he definitely hadn't done before, an enderman hatchling. It could be very, very useful. Having an enderman on his side could have so many advantages. At the moment he can't think of any, but that's what matters the least. He now can only feel his heart race as he approaches the cave's entrance.

He was gone for just a few hours, nothing really bad could have happened already, right?

Apprehension at the possibility of encountering the worst makes him take slow, uncertain steps as he enters the darkness of the grotto, feeling his steps resonate with too much more echo than that narrow place should had produced.

What was it that drew him so much to that tiny being? A fierce warrior, only concerned about himself and nothing else, (but not a villain. He wasn't a monster, as others would want to have him to believe. He probably had more humanity in him than all those cowards who paid him to cover his sword on crimson with the end of some unfortunate), feeling his heart rate go crazy at the thought of finding a cave painted in blood, blood of an innocent. That was just a baby. And it had something to do with himself, otherwise he wouldn't be there now.

He finally reaches the end of the cave, stopping before approaching the bed against the wall. The bundle of sheets is still there, pretty much the same as he had left it earlier that day. But he can't hear any noises coming from it, any distinctive chirps or warbles. He doesn't know what to expect exactly as he moves towards the bed.

The bright eyes no longer stand out in the darkness, its eyelids closed without a sound coming from its small body. Technoblade feels an inexplicable fear as he lifts his hand and uncovers the sheet that wraps most of its body, pulling the cloth to examine it more closely. The rest of its body is divided by the two opposite colors in the same way as its face is, and inexpertly and doubtfully Technoblade lifts it up in his hands.

A soft whine rises into the air, and Technoblade exhales the breath he hadn't noticed even holding. Its small eyelids flutter slightly, and as it fixes its blurry gaze on the hybrid's face, the little enderman casts a tiny smile of pure innocence at him, a placid purr vibrating in its throat. Carefully, Technoblade turns around to sit on the mattress, watching the creature in his hands, and feeling his mind disconnected from the situation.

He doesn't want to "detach" again, or whatever he did to end up in this situation, so closing his eyes tightly, Technoblade inhales deeply and looks at the little enderman again, letting his gaze follow the little purple particles that float by in the air in the darkness. He can see the baby suck its thumb with desperation. He quickly deduces what that might mean.

It wouldn't be strange, Technoblade had been gone for hours, and who knows when was the last time he had fed it before that. Holding it against his chest, he carefully gets up and walks to the chest with the strange objects. He takes out one of the milk bottles, slightly surprised when next to them he finds a less round one with something that resembles an artificial nipple on the top. A baby bottle.

Well, so be it. Maneuvering a bit, with the baby on his chest and the bottles in his hands, Technoblade manages to pour the liquid between containers, huffing when he realizes he could just have left the child on the bed again before doing that. Whatever, Technoblade walks back to the bed, sitting on the edge and positioning the creature on his lap.

"I... hope you don't mind it being cold." He says awkwardly, bringing the nipple to the small mouth. The little enderman eats hungrily, purring and humming loudly as Technoblade stares at it, fearing that at some point it is going to choke or something like that.

Well, here he is. The mighty Technoblade bottle feeding a random kid on his lap.

Once the bottle is empty, Technoblade carefully removes it from the baby's face, setting it aside on the mattress when a sudden noise from the child along with it jerking softly makes him jump startled. He stares down at the kid, seeing it blinking slowly and then it does it again. Technoblade winces when he realizes the child got hiccups.

The way the half-closed gaze is fixed on Technoblade every time a new spasm makes the enderman jerk and close its eyes is eventually, strangely funny to the hybrid, a little smile sprouting under his snout.

"Well, that's your own fault for eating so quickly." Even though it was Technoblade's fault the kid got so hungry in the first place. But eh, that's in the past now.

Technoblade looks around the cave. Well, at least he sure as hell is not going to stay here anymore. And he still doesn't plan on keeping that youngling.

He has to find someone to take care of it.

Chapter Text

His inventory feels heavy, bottles full of milk and all of the stupid items that were in the chests tucked away in his pockets make his walking slightly more difficult and very annoying. Having to pack the diapers and consequently remember the use that he has to give them had made him grimace and shove them into a corner of his inventory, the furthest away possible. He didn't want to think about that.

The piglin covers himself with a cloak, not bothering to wear the hood over his head if there is no one to see him yet. Considering that he is in the desert, covering himself is something he certainly doesn't need.

It is also true that heat isn't something that torments him too much. He had been born in the Nether, for hell's sake, it couldn't get any hotter than that. But not being a full-blooded piglin, he wasn't immune to high temperatures either. His species didn't even possess the characteristic of a fire resistant body, so flames as well as really extreme temperatures are something that can affect him considerably.

The creature in his arms whines, and Technoblade looks down at the baby. It seems restless, uncomfortable. It's probably not used to the heat of the desert, and even more so being wrapped in a blanket in the arms of the hybrid. Endermen's natural dimension, the End, a floating island in the middle of absolute emptiness, is supposedly a pretty chill place, presumably chiller than a desert in the overworld.

If the small bicolour being has known its dimension of origin, it must surely feel a considerably strong contrast between the biomes and the temperature.

"Don't complain so much. Don't make me regret coming back for you, I can still leave you out there and go on with my business." He warns, arching an eyebrow at the creature. The little enderman obviously doesn't reply, closing its eyes and emitting a small whimper.

The sight of a desert village in the distance makes Technoblade hum softly. Just what he was looking for. His footsteps head toward the village, looking back down at the bundle in his arms and muttering "act natural".

The villagers don't pay much attention to him, as usual. A hooded figure in the middle of the desert is much less suspicious than an abnormally tall man with piggy features, apparently. Technoblade makes his way among the houses, taking the opportunity to peek into some of them and take a look at the chests in them. Still, the villagers aren't interested in him. The golem, on the other hand, doesn't take its eyes off Technoblade.

His mob nature causes golems to look at him a little suspiciously whenever he approaches them, not really acting unless he does so first. This one, however, stares at him intensely; not looking threatening but rather cautious. The new presence that accompanies him must awaken its sense of protection to the village. Technoblade snorts slightly. As if that purring ball could do something to the villagers.

Technoblade decides to take advantage of the fact that he is there and spend the remainder of the day in that place. He doesn't usually sleep, but the presence of phantoms at night can eventually become very annoying. Furthermore, from what he can feel, during his indefinite trance he seems to have been cultivating the habit of sleeping periodically, every night at least. With the arrival of sunset, his body already feels tired, despite hardly having done anything and he can feel sleep begin to poke him. Without thinking much about it he heads towards the first house that catches his attention and he steps in, blocking the door and examining the small space.

The first thing he does is leave the baby on the bed, freeing it from the blanket hugging it and hearing it vwooping happily now that it isn't wrapped in the suffocating heat. It looks mildly affected by the heat, for a creature from the cold void Technoblade would expect less tolerance to high temperatures, but that enderman only seems slightly annoyed. Well... that is kind of weird. Perhaps the reason why its body is like that may have something to do with it.

Technoblade leans over to the chest to store the heaviest items and then removes his boots, turning around and returning to the baby on the mattress.

"We both have to sleep in this bed." He exclaims, a thought out loud rather than an announcement or something else. Technoblade is not a small individual at all, only slightly shorter than the golem out there, regular beds barely managing to work for him. Now, with a baby to worry about, Technoblade doesn't really know how to get comfortable in that small bed.

He looks through his objects, not quite sure what he is looking for but feeling that he will know when he finds it. The cauldron that he had snatched from a house a few minutes ago catches his attention. He puts the object in a corner and stares at it. Then he looks at the baby on the bed. Then back to the cauldron.

"Okay, okay, whatever." He finally takes the pillow on the bed and puts it at the bottom of the cauldron, also taking the green sheet that covers the mattress and putting it inside. He then goes back to bed and takes the baby. "I know it's weird, but I doubt you care. You won't even realize what's going on, and it's a better solution than risking crushing you while I sleep."

Because yes, he doesn't want to take the risk of sleeping in a bed where there is barely room for himself, with a baby next to him and accidentally rolling on it at night. It would be a very less than ideal situation. Although it would also count as a solution to his problem, if he really thinks about it.

He puts the little enderman on the pillow in the cauldron, looking at him for a moment and without worrying about anything else, he returns to the bed, collapsing on the bare, pillowless mattress and falling sound asleep just seconds later.

A moderately loud whine awakens him suddenly hours later, his keen senses causing his sleep to be extremely light, and in the middle of the darkness, among which he can see a little, his gaze scans the room. He is not quite sure where he is, he feels disoriented and lost. He doesn't remember anything.

The cry of a baby, coming from a corner, fills him with confusion and getting out of bed, he cautiously goes to the cauldron. Leaning over it, he can see the enderman, writhing and crying on the pillow.

"Ah, it's you." And as he exclaims that, his memory clears again. He remembers the cave that (kind of) looked like a nursery, he remembers waking up in it and not remembering anything, just like what happened now. Bewildered by the situation, and not wanting to exhaust his mind further, he places a hand on the creature's chest, gently rocking it. "Go to sleep kid, we don't need to be kicked out now for neighbors' complaints."

Then the smell hits him. A grimace of disgust and disbelief crept over his face, removing his hand from the baby. "Oh no, don't tell me that."

Well, there's nothing else he can do. For the first time (as far as he remembers) he has to deal with that baby's diaper. A humiliation for the warrior, but it isn't something he can avoid either. He knew that moment would come sooner or later, now he has to face it.

"Why do you do this to me?" He complains, pulling the child out of the makeshift crib and holding it with outstretched arms. He sets it down on the carpet on the floor, walking to his things in the chests and pulling out a few torches, and a couple of the cloth diapers. Just in case.

He sticks the torches into the walls, hesitant at what he should do and completely inexperienced about any of this. He lets his instincts guide him, it can't be that difficult. He pulls out a bucket of water and sets it next to him, rolling up his sleeves and deciding to make this a short torture.

He undoes what is holding the diaper, closing his eyes and exhaling. I've seen blood and guts decorating walls before, this can't be too bad, he exclaims in his mind, finally releasing the baby from the garment that makes him uncomfortable.

"Oh... so you're a boy."

Technoblade moves with some impatience, getting rid of everything that gets dirty in the process and setting it aside with the intention of burning it later. He is about to use the water to wash the baby, when an alarm voice in his head yells "he's an enderman!" and he stops immediately. For hell's sake, how could Technoblade have forgotten? He is an enderman, indeed. He would have done the poor creature so much harm had it not been for the strange yell in his mind.

He just washes his own hands with the water once the process is complete, leaving the house for a moment to effectively burn whatever he doesn't plan on touching anymore and look around him in the dark desert. He knows that in the morning he will leave, he has no reason to settle down, much less in a village like this. He's a nomad, although his new burden makes it harder for him to continue his lifestyle. His mission to find someone to raise it seems more difficult than he had originally thought.

He knows that a village is not an option. The villagers are too stupid, they don't even know how to take care of their own brats. In addition, the golem had already proven not to really trust the enderman, despite the fact that it is not even able to eat on its own. Speaking of eating, Technoblade assumes that the child must be hungry after that. It has also been several hours since the hybrid had last fed him.

He walks back to the house, going over his plan in his mind. It will be difficult, but he will make it work. Someone who can take good care of that enderman until he's good for something. He just has to be patient.

Chapter Text

The tiny hands grope to try and grasp the bottle in front of his face, flapping his little tail from side to side. Technoblade raises an eyebrow at the clumsy movements of the creature in his arms. A couple of weeks have passed, maybe four or five, in which life has been a cycle of wandering around biomes with a baby in his arms, staying in a village or monument, and repeating the routine of feeding, cleaning and sleeping. Luckily, the enderman youngling seems to become more and more independent, as its species nature begins to show itself, still acting like a newborn and unable to do much, but quite awake and alert most of the time.

"If you keep on like this, I won't need to find someone to take care of you, you're going to raise yourself." Although inexplicably that idea makes him feel something strange. Something...

He is not getting attached to that baby. It's just the idea of... of... of...

Waste! Yes, the thought of throwing away all the objects he had gathered for him that makes him feel that way. Technoblade hates wasting things, if that baby wasn't around he would have to get rid of all the trash he carries around for him. And that's something he doesn't want, he spends to much time and effort colleting milk, bottles and cloth. Until then, he must continue to endure the worst part of the entire experience. Changing diapers.

Ugh. At least he should be grateful, for his mob origin and apparently little or no humanity, the creature is not as delicate as a human baby or one of those strange villagers' babies would be (although to the latter he has to recognize how practical and efficient it is the fact that they learn to walk as young as they do. This baby, on the other hand, still looks a long way from even beginning to crawl).

The baby's needs to eat and change of diapers is not as demanding as he had imagined. A bottle of milk every few hours, then a change here or there and then he's just as good as new. The enderman proves not to be too much of a hindrance. Technoblade appreciates it.

The piglin picks up the bottle once it is empty, watching the baby click a few times to finish tasting the milk. Also, that little mob seems to have an inexhaustible arsenal of sounds, each time it seems to have some new exclamation that Technoblade hasn't heard before. Purrs, clicks, vwoops, hums, warbles, chirps, and even Technoblade thought he heard a grunt coming from him once, a sound he knows to be characteristic of his own species in the Nether. Perhaps the enderman heard it from Technoblade himself, although he doesn't recall uttering such noise in a long time.

In short, all those and how many more sounds that appear as the blurry gaze start getting less and less blurry. Because endermen have very keen vision, not to mention completely dark-adapted, unlike Technoblade, whose eyes seem faulty and seeing at a distance is a very difficult task. His own race possesses poor vision as part of their identity. In the Nether there isn't much to see in fact, beyond the lava and the netherrack, their vision is not designed to see into the distance. (He can at least make up for it with a fairly developed sense of smell).

For his part, the enderman on his lap sometimes fixes his gaze on something, something that may be so far away that Technoblade cannot see more than a blurry spot or not even that, and follows it obsessively with his gaze, never leaving it until something else distracts him, or the hybrid's voice attracts his attention again.

Another reason to want to keep that baby. With such a sharp, dark-adapted vision it can serve as a personal spyglass and second look at night for someone who can barely see beyond a few meters. But his vision is of little use if he cannot communicate what he sees. Technoblade wonders when will he learn to speak. Or whether he will even do it. He supposes that endermen can speak, as well as the piglins do it in their own language (which he of course manages to understand and speak). Probably, as he isn't part of the species, he cannot understand them, just as the endermen may not understand the piglins.

Okay, that can present a problem. Technoblade has to make sure that that enderman learns to speak something that he can understand to communicate. A groan escapes his mouth and the enderman looks at him with his big colorful eyes. Another reason to spend more time with that creature?

What a torture.

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Technoblade raises a hand up to his face, and brushes his right cheek. He's been feeling strange lately, and the piglin knows why. He doesn't remember when was the last time he was in the Nether.

He knows that he has to get a brewing stand. Luckily his supply of ingredients still exists, quite intact from what he sees. The most important part, the nether warts and blaze powder are there. Getting some redstone is not very difficult, he will probably be able to do it without even having to enter a mine. Although finding a brewing stand will not be so easy, since he doesn't have even a single blaze rod to craft it himself. He knows that the churches of some villages possess these objects, and some other buildings do as well. But now what he needs is to find a village, and a specific one where he can find the distillation device.

At this point he is a little fed up with the villages and the villagers and the golems. Golems that still seem to see a threat in the hatchling that is just beginning to learn to coordinate its movements. Well at least this won't be forever. When he finally finds a place to leave him he can forget about all this, and he can resume his life wandering between dimensions without having to see and hear those annoying villagers every other day.

Sitting on the carpet in a small igloo, Technoblade prepares the items to make the potion. He sets the distillation stand on the ground, sitting in front of it and putting the water bottles into the holders, blaze powder for power, and a handful of nether wart to create the potion. The most basic of all and for anyone else who makes use of alchemy, only the base for all the other potions and completely useless without any other ingredient. For him, the prevention of the zombification process caused by being out of his dimension.

The baby looks at him from the bed where he had left him, for the first time being taller than Technoblade and watching with fascination the bubbles that dance inside the bottles. It's not a very long process, once the mushroom has been infused into the liquid, Technoblade puts a considerable amount of redstone where it belongs and just a few minutes later the fabrication is complete. Three awkward potions, which don't look much different from a regular bottle of water.

Technoblade takes one of the bottles and without preamble drinks it all almost in one gulp. The funny feel on his skin fades almost immediately, the potion's effects working quickly. A little sip of his dimension to keep his flesh from rotting and falling off his bones. That would be a less than desirable scene.

He puts the bottle back on its holder and leans against one of the cold walls. His warm blood contrasts sharply with the icy biome, but it's not like he's not used to it already. Years of traveling and getting to know all these lands have finally made him rather acclimatized to their temperatures. He looks at the creature on the mattress, who is sucking on his thumb and staring intently at the bottles on the stand, apparently craving to drink too after watching Technoblade do so. If someone were to ask him how he knows that this is what the child wants, he wouldn't know how to answer. Well, after spending so many days stuck with him at some point he would forcibly have had learn to read him in some way.

Technoblade goes over to the bed, settling him on his lap and repeating the now almost automatic ritual of feeding him, which they both already know so well. In the meantime, Technoblade wonders what would be the possibility of making a visit to his natal dimension. He doesn't recall spending so much time away from the Nether before. It wouldn't be nostalgia what would lead him to return, but the need for the infernal biomes and the effect they have on him. Potions work, but setting foot in the dimension is the best remedy and prevention to be caught up by zombification.

The same quality of being "half-blood" that takes away typical characteristics of his race also offers him attributes that he appreciates. He's mostly grateful for not being a pure-blood, for many reasons. Among these, the zombification process is extremely slow on him. The humanity in his veins dominates, where a normal piglin takes just a few seconds to a couple of minutes to be deteriorated by zombification outside the Nether, Technoblade can spend days and even weeks away from the lava dimension, without worrying about the rot. He's not sure what his limit is, and he's not really looking forward to exploring it either. He doesn't know if he can come back from the zombification and he doesn't want to test it either.

Spending time in the Nether is a very effective method of avoiding undeathness. It is as if he recharges himself with vitality, ironically, upon entering hell. But hey, that's where he came from, that was the place that gave him life. He supposes, it must make sense that his presence there is positive.

He looks down at the baby on his lap, who he finds staring back at him as he empties the bottle. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to take him to the Nether. Technically, endermen can and do go to hell, but one who doesn't even know how to sit up yet... it would be better not to. Also the potions will be more than enough to keep him alive and fresh for several more weeks.

Judging by the time that he had spent without brewing and consuming an awkward potion, Technoblade had spent some period in his dimension recently, before that child appeared in his path. The gaps in his memory frustrate him a lot, but it's not like he can do anything about it. He has no one to ask anything. He isn't desperate to know it either. Although, it would be nice to know where the hell he had gotten a newborn enderman from, but there is no one to answer his questions. Life goes on.

Looking at the small particles floating around the enderman Technoblade wonders about his dimension. The End. He has never been to it. But he remembers... he remembers someone who told him about the floating islands. Someone who told him about the dragon and the crystals up on the obsidian towers. Someone that offered him something. An exchange? It is only then that Technoblade realizes that he is remembering, remembering things that seemed blocked in his mind. The unknown information that left him so disoriented in that cave. Someone had asked him for something... something related to the End. A mission?

As much as he tries, the memories seem to escape him, the more he tries to catch the ideas, the more distant they seem, and the more confusing it becomes. In the end he is as disoriented as he usually is when the baby's whining wakes him up at night, which rarely happens, but it happens anyway.

The trills in his lap bring him back to the present, seeing that the little enderman seems to nibble (without teeth) on the nipple of the bottle when he sees that it is empty, grabbing it with both hands and making a few faces when Technoblade puts the bottle aside, blinking heavily and communicating his weariness to the hybrid.

Technoblade gets up to take the cauldron.

Chapter Text

The baby hasn't stopped crying and complaining, constantly, for hours. If he is not yelling, he is silencing his complaints by biting his hand or whatever is within reach. Several times already he has tried to bite the hybrid's shoulder or backpack strap while he carries him, drooling over him, and acting with an insistence that the piglin hadn't known before from the usually quiet hatchling. His screeches mixed with the accent of his race make a cacophony that the semi mob wouldn't have imagined to hear even in his worst nightmares.

Technoblade feels that at this point he might find a lava pit in a desert, and very accidentally drop him into it. He has already tried feeding him several times, but the enderman doesn't seem hungry, even though he doesn't reject the bottle even once, instead he grabs it between his little hands and nibbles on the nipple, forcing the liquid into his mouth but without making the effort to drink it. Technoblade stopped offering him the bottle when he nearly choked doing this for about the fifth time.

He doesn't need a diaper change either, which the piglin appreciates. It's not something that becomes more bearable as time goes on. More dominated, yes, probably, but it's still the part he hates the most. Or so he believed. The last hours seem to want to compete with the number one place on the list of "why under no circumstances should you take care of a baby". An enderling destroying his eardrums for hours without stopping is something that he must not forget if he wants to maintain the sanity that may still exist in his head, and never in his life should he take care of a baby of any creature ever again.

"Kid, this is not going to work. You have to be more specific with what you want or else my hands may get very slippery at the edge of the first ravine we find."

His walking has lost its way. He's not quite sure where he wants to go, the only thing he knows is that an upset enderman youngling is the worst thing he's ever known. If only he could run from him too.

Technically he could... The kid doesn't even know how to crawl yet.

He arrives in a taiga biome, noticing it from the vegetation, when a sweet berry bush tangles in his trouser boot and tears it slightly. Technoblade sighs. This is a biome that he hasn't explored too much. He decides to sit on a rock and rest a bit, cook, eat something and try to clear his mind. If the little banshee lets him, that is. He places the youngling on the ground, on a patch of grass, and sits onto a rock that sticks out of the ground, taking a few seconds to look at the noisy bundle at his feet. At least he's already able to sit up on his own, maybe the next thing he'll do is start crawling. That won't be very fun.

He positions a smoker oven on the ground, shoving a considerable amount of raw potatoes into it along with coal where it belongs, and then picks up a carrot from his stockpiles, chewing on the crunchy vegetable and noticing the colorful gaze rising at him with sudden interest. The lines of tears that he has accumulated for hours seem to have left a mark on both sides of his face.

"What? Do you like this?" He exclaims, lifting the half carrot up to him and watching him follow it with apparent fascination. The hybrid just hands it over, seeing that that seems to have silenced him for the moment at least. The baby wastes no time nibbling on it as he has done with everything that has come his way lately. Technoblade appreciates the silence, enjoying it while it lasts.

The potatoes don't take long to cook, with the capacity of the smoker, and Technoblade eats a couple of these, steaming and fresh out of the oven as they are. The heat does not affect him.

As he chews the soft and kind of bland food he looks around him. It's a pretty quiet biome, and fairly pretty too, if he had to say. He has never been one to appreciate nature or even his surroundings, but since that baby came into his path, his life has changed dramatically, as anyone could see. Technoblade sometimes fear ceasing to be Technoblade.

A small berry bush just a few centimeters away catches his attention. Foxes seem to be obsessed with those fruits, Technoblade wouldn't lose anything by giving them a taste. He grabs a couple of these and pops one in his mouth. A trill from his companion makes him look down at him. The little enderman stretches his hands toward the piglin, staring at the red berries he brings to his mouth, carrot apparently already forgotten next to him.

"You want some?" Technoblade is a bit surprised to see him do that. The baby had never asked for something like that before. The hybrid wonders if he might be too young to eat real food. Well, if he can ask for it, he can handle it, right? Anyway, one simple berry won't harm him.

At least he's going to make sure he doesn't give him one of those things whole. For someone who has only consumed liquids thus far, those berries more than surely pose a real choking hazard. And as far as he knows, anything small enough to fit in their mouth poses a danger to virtually all younglings.

Technoblade separates one of the small fruits and crushes it between his fingers, trying to prevent the juice from dripping too much and quickly leans over to put the sweet mush in the baby's mouth. He consumes it with apparent relish, but the first thing Technoblade notices as his gums nibble on his fingers is the strange sensation under them. They don't feel smooth and soft like a baby's gums are supposed to feel. They have some kind of weird lumps, and Technoblade wonders what the hell is that supposed to be, withdrawing his hand and frowning. As he watches the baby savor the sweetness in his mouth with adoration the realization comes suddenly. The piglin feels stupid. They are his teeth, they are finally going to come out.

He has lost track of time, but to be fair he has never been very good at keeping track of it. The difference in how time is perceived in his dimension and how it is perceived in the Overworld leaves him confused and he never learned how to properly count the passing of time. It's been months, that's for sure. How many? He really can't know.

Well, from what he sees, enough months for the hatchling to start preparing to act more like a normal mob and less like a burden. Or so he hopes.

Chapter Text

Technoblade is looking for cows. He didn't think it was possible, having gotten hold of about twenty bottles of milk on the farm of a plain village recently. As he grows, the enderman begins to eat more and more. What seems like just a couple of days ago, twenty bottles would have kept him quiet and full long enough not to be an immediate concern.

Well, that is no longer the case. At about six or seven months the youngling begins to exhibit a serious hunger. Technoblade wonders how long only milk will be able to keep him fed, now that the hybrid has been able to notice how his teeth seem to be close to emerging. They will be sharp.

The complaints and endless crying that this event brings have seemed to diminish, compared to when it first began. The berries seem to be a nice distraction, their sweet taste being probably the reason.

Having to get regular food for both of them will be another inconvenience Technoblade hadn't considered before. On one hand, not having to carry liters of milk everywhere will be a relief, but having to discover what the hell does an enderman eat and feed him in addition to himself is not going to be a fun mission. He lowers his gaze to the humming bundle in his arms. Since he came into his life, nothing has really been fun.

Technoblade hopes this kid isn't going to be a picky eater. He's certainly not going to exhaust himself looking for food just because the child is too picky to eat anything. This is not how the art of survival is performed; and that enderman better learns it early. Judging by the appearance of his teeth even under his gums, meat may be an obvious option to consider. At least Technoblade seems to have already discovered that he likes sweet berries. That's a start.

First of all, he evidently will only be able to eat puree for now. That is something Technoblade knows. Babies eat milk first, then puree, and then probably normal food, when their teeth are useful and every bite is not a choking hazard. Carrots, potatoes and beets. He's going to start with that.

As he wanders the plain, lost in his ideas but keeping an eye out for the creatures of brown and white, Technoblade manages to notice how the sky seems to turn dark. Is it getting dark already? But just a few hours ago he was waking up to find that his milk supply was gone.

Before he can think more about it, a little tap on his bare head startles him, looking up at the sky as a hiss from the hatchling makes Technoblade bring his eyes back to him. The creature has an expression of confusion and less commonly pain. Technoblade looks at him strangely, before what appears to be the beginning of a thunderstorm starts to unleash on them, the roar of thunder and the flash of lightning filling the suddenly gray sky.

The enderman shrieks and hisses when a couple more drops hit his exposed skin, and the hybrid's first reaction is to take out his coat and put it over the enderling to stop the water droplets from hurting the baby. The piglin curses in his head, looking in all directions for a place to take cover but there is nothing. In the middle of a valley, the only thing in sight is grass and flowers, and some trees in the distance. One of those will have to do.

He walks slightly leaning forward, trying to shield the enderman from the rain with his own body, reaching a lone oak tree in the middle of the valley and dropping to the ground under its branches. At least its foliage is thick enough to keep the water from reaching them. Technoblade sits there, with the child on his lap who confusedly observes the event that with the enough time and amount could kill him.

Technoblade prepares to spend at least a couple of hours there. In other circumstances the rain wouldn't have stopped him. Not being familiar with rain and water himself, at first it made him uncomfortable, but as the years have passed, it has become quite natural to walk through storms and rains, and sometimes even cross the oceans swimming. At least Technoblade should be grateful that his species isn't also allergic to water, as well as vulnerable to lava. Although undeathness endows them with immunity to fire and lava, it is an exchange he prefers not to make. Definitely not worth it.

"Okay, listen here kid," Technoblade exclaims, and the enderman immediately turns to look at him. He is very responsive to his voice. Good detail. "It looks like we're going to be here for a while, and there's too much to do. So we'd better make the most of the time. Can you even talk?"

The enderman stares at him.

"Blahblahblah? Can you repeat? Hello, repeat." Nope, just a pair of different colored eyes fixed on his. He doesn't know if it's too early to try to get words out of him or this baby doesn't really have the ability to speak. He doesn't even try to babble. Well, it's not like he has much else to do either, so he spends the next two minutes repeating words, waiting to hear any of these back from the baby. Nothing.

Technoblade exhales deeply, dropping against the tree trunk. You can't say he didn't try.

The hybrid cannot disguise the amused expression on his face, when in the midst of his work of repairing his tools on an anvil, out of the corner of his eye he manages to see the creature, whom he had previously left on the ground next to him, crawling awkwardly to reach a fluffly dandelion that dances with the gentle breeze just over a meter away.

It is the first time Technoblade has seen him crawl. Before, he has made clumsy attempts and mostly too short to count, but this is the first time that he has managed to get around unaided and in a way that Technoblade can generously call effectively. Although he does it quite well to be his first successful attempt in Technoblade's eyes. The little enderman moves with a speed and coordination that just a few days ago would have seemed impossible.

The piglin takes his attention away from the heavy metal object and turns to properly see the enderman reach the flower and try to grab it a couple of times, closing his little fingers tightly on the white and fluffy seeds as he reaches it, catching most of these in his black palm and sending flying a few of them into the air, immediately following with his gaze the small specks that blow away with the breeze.

"Well, congratulations. One step closer to saving me the pain of having to carry you around everywhere." Technoblade leans toward the baby, carefully opening his hand and removing the seeds in his palm. Technoblade doesn't need him eating that. It is a habit that he has acquired lately, since the new addition of the sharp teeth in his mouth, trying to eat anything that comes within his reach. He certainly is eager to use them. "It took you a while, but you finally start getting around by yourself. I don't think you're in much of a rush to take the bipeds' path, eh?"

Technoblade stands up, looking at the baby at his feet from his unusual height, backing away a few steps and waiting to see his reaction.

The enderling watches him curiously, sitting on his legs with his palms resting on the grass, and without thinking it too much he starts crawling up to the piglin, like an expert. That is called fast learning, hopefully he doesn't lose his efficiency in the future. It just takes him a few seconds to reach Technoblade, touching his boot when he's close enough and he looks up to the hybrid, closing his fingers on the fabric of his pant and out of nowhere he laughs with what Technoblade could only classify as pride. The first time he laughs. Technoblade had already seen him smile once before, when he returned for him after abandoning him in that cave just a few minutes after meeting him, when the enderman couldn't have been more than a couple of days old, but Technoblade had never heard a laugh come from him.

Technoblade leans down to take him into his arms, feeling his little tail flap from side to side, bumping against his arm.

"Good job, kid."

Chapter Text

The sand of the beach is warm and very yellow, and Technoblade can't help but be distracted by watching the enderling play with handfuls of the fine material, mostly making sure he doesn't think of eating it or anything else he might find as he plays on the shore, far enough from the sea.

Technoblade stops to sit on a fallen log and reviews his inventory. No more milk bottles taking up most of the space. Now the baby can eat things other than just milk. The piglin is glad to have left that stage behind, and his back also thanks him. Now the food he collects is not only for him, but also for the baby that accompanies him. Technoblade lifts his head just in time to see the enderman try to scoop a handful of sand into his mouth. "Eh!"

The creature looks at him immediately, and the hybrid shakes his head, sighing heavily as he reaches out to shake the sand off the baby's hands. "I better give you real food before you start eating dirt."

From among his things he takes out a wooden bowl, and a cooked potato, placing it in the container and using a stone to crush it without much difficulty. Once the potato is nothing more than a handful of mashed puree in the bowl, the piglin takes a bottle of milk, one of the last ones that he (hopes he) is going to store from now on and pours a stream into the mashed potato. It seems to be an effective recipe to keep the enderling full, and make the things he gives him more edible. Add a little milk to everything. After all he's been eating that probably since he was born.

The little enderman watches him from the ground, forgetting about the sand he was previously playing with and instead more interested in the food in Technoblade's hands. Covered with yellow granules, the youngling crawls up to the hybrid, clinging to his pants and bouncing excited while chirping softly.

Technoblade takes out of his inventory a bone carved like a shovel, but on a reduced scale and uses it to feed the baby. He could let him eat alone, now that he is technically capable of doing so, but being unable to use the tool, the enderling uses his hands and Technoblade knows that would end in disaster and a baby covered in puree. Without being able to bathe him, the action of cleaning him afterwards is a complicated task, so Technoblade just resolves to take the food to his mouth himself. Mess prevented.

In order not to have to lean over uncomfortably towards him, or to put him on his lap and risk him falling backwards due to no support and with his own hands occupied to catch him, the piglin sits on the sandy ground in front of him. The enderman vwoops and clicks eagerly receiving every scoop of the soft food.

Technoblade can't help but think about how much he has changed since he first saw him. He really has grown a lot. That's a good thing, right?

Technoblade definitely remembers seeing a pillager outpost somewhere along the way. He had tried to evade them; on another occasion perhaps he would have gone on to annihilate them to get arrows or emeralds, or perhaps he would have ignored them had he seen no purpose in wasting his energies and the durability of his weapons on a group of pathetic illagers who wouldn't even give him anything of value for defeating them. It has been months since he last picked up a weapon and participated in some kind of close combat, and he can see how his aim hasn't been affected, despite the somewhat strange sensation of holding a crossbow in his hands. Charging it with a baby in his arms is a challenge.

Arriving at the biomes of orange wood trees, first encountering a savanna village, the sound of a battle horn startles Technoblade and apparently out of nowhere the invaders begin to appear. Fantastic. He hadn't confronted them to get cursed with bad omen, had he? He doesn't remember doing it, he doubts he would have done it with the baby in his arms, but the grunts and crossbow shots tell him otherwise. Anyways, it's not like he can really trust his memory.

The raid advances rapidly, filling the village with intruders before the inhabitants can do anything. Technoblade's first and only plan is clearly to get out of there. He doesn't care about this village, or about any other village for that matter, the golem will take care of it anyway. Before leaving he decides to go through the houses and take advantage of the situation to loot them. The villagers will be too busy being killed to realize. And they never do anything about it anyway.

It's not in Technoblade's nature to dodge a fight, but well aware of the baby in his arms, he knows it wouldn't be intelligent to try to take on the axe madmen and the evokers, so he just ignores them to the best of his ability. He could also lock the baby in one of the houses to protect him while he takes care of them, but Technoblade doesn't really trust him being out of his sight. Not because he is going to escape, even though he can already crawl and do it quite well, but he fears more that the invaders will find him and things will end very badly. He has seen how the village defenders see some kind of threat in the enderling, but he doesn't really know how the other mobs see him. Does he have any humanity in his blood? Maybe he has enough of it for him not to look like a complete monster in the eyes of the golems. Technoblade doesn't want to experiment on what the attackers' reaction will be.

The hybrid is ready to leave this place to its fate, collecting some food and iron, and even a couple of diamonds from the chests, when a presence behind him causes him to become alert, perhaps too late. What he identifies as the edge of an axe plunges into his back with a sharp blow, and a groan of pain escapes from his mouth. How had he been so stupid to leave the door open and then turn his back on it? Quickly Technoblade turns around, and taking out his own diamond axe, he faces the illager. Slashes in the air with his right hand, with a baby resting on his left arm as he dodges the vindicator's attacks, make for quite a ridiculous choreography in his eyes. Under normal conditions, none of the swings would have missed, but the presence of the baby screeching against his chest makes him evade rather than attack.

He can feel the blood running down his back. He is a tough individual, that wound is nothing more than a scratch, but it has been so long since his warm blood has been touched by air, that he had almost forgotten what pain was. It is not so bad, in his veins there is the fight and the confrontation, he is a natural warrior, and this can be seen when, finally dominating his movements, he manages to get rid of the iron axe bearer, without him being able to touch him a second time.

He has to get out of there now. His instincts call him to fight and kill this ridiculous raid, especially now that one of them has dared to attack him from behind, but somewhere in his mind the idea of keeping the baby in his arms safe insists more on getting out, almost sounding like a pair of voices shouting their opposite orders in his head.

Flight.

Fight.

Behind him a glass flask explodes, and on the piglin splashes what he knows is a potion. A witch's laugh tells him everything he needs to know. He doesn't have time to wonder what the potion just thrown at him was. A sudden heaviness in his body makes him almost stop his escape, his limbs suddenly weak and for a moment almost feeling himself helplessly let go of the enderling.

"What the hell..."

It is not a normal weakness potion. Either that or he has forgotten how it felt to be affected by this effect of alchemy. Not only the heaviness in his body, but also an obvious slowness, most likely both effects were present in that potion. Technoblade grunts when an arrow pierces his arm, narrowly missing the little enderman. Enemies are closing in on him, the conjured vexes flying over his head and trying to strike the piglin with their iron swords; the fangs that sprout from the ground almost catching the hybrid's hooves a couple of times, and Technoblade can even hear a ravager bellowing and charging against something. The iron golem's groan and a metallic blow upon its death can be heard in the distance. Running won't do and it's too late to try and fight. The arrow stuck in his arm must have been saturated with some other effect, something that seems to consume him from within, from the wound where the point is.

Since when are raids so aggressive and intense?

A thought flashes through his head.

Or when did I get so weak?

Months without facing anything, without training, without fighting. Has his time with that baby really left him so weak? His mind is overwhelmed, Technoblade he feels disconnected from the situation and vulnerable for the first time in his life. Vulnerable to the invasion of a village. Had he not been so weak and focused on avoiding disaster Technoblade would have felt a lot of shame and disappointment at the situation he is in. Things really get out of hand before he can even notice.

The battle horn sounds in the distance and arrows whiz past him, the vexes shrieks and taunting chuckles as they fly by, the baby whimpers and cries from Technoblade's bloody arm, and the piglin can't find enough clarity in his mind to try to make a plan. Fight, flee. He has to do something fast, if he doesn't want to die in the stupidest and most shameful way possible.

Amidst the confusion of enemies and villagers, Technoblade could swear to have seen a pair of green eyes sparkle somewhere. The same emerald hue that the baby crying on his chest has, but double. A uniform look. Reality seems to flicker, the invaders appear and disappear, and just for a couple of split seconds, Technoblade thinks he sees darkness surround him, as if the night was trying to take over the day. A chorus of voices in his head scream at the same time, mixing in a kind of dissonance that fills his mind with knots, exhausting him and taking his consciousness away from the situation even more. Among all the ruckus, a sentence stands out, one which the hybrid can't even understand.

ꖎ⍑ᒷ ꖎ↸⎓∴ᔑ ᒷᒷℸ ̣ ∷ ꖎᒷ╎⚍ ⍑∷ ꖎᓭᔑ

Reaching into his pocket the piglin takes a perfectly round object, large enough to occupy his entire palm. A pearl of ender. The creature in his arms looks at the sphere with an enthralled expression, but the hybrid doesn't take the time to notice the youngling's reaction, using all the strength that he can muster with the effect of the potion weakening him and throws the object as far than he can, towards the mountains that can be seen in the distance. He firmly presses the baby into his arms, trusting that the pearl will carry them both and closes his eyes, bracing himself for the impact.

Teleportation hurts. The blow when the object explodes against the ground and takes him to its remains is painful. The hybrid opens his eyes to see how far the pearl carried them, but the defensive hiss of the baby in his arms makes him look down at the kid. An aggressive snarl, similar to that of an adult enderman twists the small bicolour face. His pupils shrunken and his newly acquired sharp teeth exposed towards whatever he's trying to repel. Beside them an endermite wags and wriggles, bumping against Technoblade's leg in a failed attempt to climb his limb and reach the enderling.

Technoblade ignores the scene, focusing on trying to determine how far the pearl took them. The village can be seen in the distance, but the piglin cannot trust his vision. It is far away, yes, but with his poor gaze anything looks blurred and distant. His depth perception is a bit messed up too. He wants to trust that his reduced strength was enough to get them out of danger.

His breathing is slow. Technoblade can smell his own blood, mixing with the dirt beneath him. Perhaps the injury had been more serious than he had thought. The hybrid doesn't care, definitely over the years his body has received injuries worse than this one. He just needs to recover, eat and heal. Technoblade wishes that among his stuff he had the ingredients to make a potion to heal him, but that is not the case. Even with the effects of the negative potions weakening him, the piglin just stays where he is, with his back to the mountain behind him despite the open wound that hasn't stopped bleeding and hearing the baby still spitting warning sounds towards the purple-grayish vermin which responds to the enderling's threatening hisses with its own high-pitched hiss.

The hybrid closes his eyes, prodding along his arm until he finds the body of the arrow, he then takes it firmly and hoping to have enough strength he pulls it out in one go, grunting when he feels his flesh tearing as the tip exits his arm. The world seems to spin around him and the light seems to try to extinguish itself in the sky. A flapping sound in the distance distracts the hybrid's cloudy mind, and between the unreal and the present, Technoblade could swear to see a shadow pass over him.

ℸ ̣ ↸⍑ᒷ ᒷ∷ᒷ リᒷ⎓

Chapter Text

Flames crack and lava pops into the huge orange and bright lakes. Technoblade walks along the sides, watching the striders trot on the boiling liquid with an almost bizarre naturalness. The cries and shrieks of a ghast can be heard somewhere and the sense of home in the dimension where he was born doesn't exist for the piglin. Too human to be accepted among his own kind and too foreign in the Overworld, he is more of an outcast in both dimensions. There is nowhere he really belongs.

It's not like that is something that affects the hybrid, he's not going to sulk and mourn because of the rejection, he hardly even cares. As far as he can remember, his independence and individuality has been what has characterized him and he has always been more than capable of fending for himself. Still, his nature calls for the collectivity and the company. The outcast has learned to ignore his instincts.

The sole of his boot sizzles as he steps on a block of solid magma, pulling his leg back before the heat consumes his shoe. He still cannot find what he's looking for. The Nether can really be a maze at times. His footsteps make the netherrack below crunch, until he finds a soul sand valley, now hearing the tormented spirits moan and wail under his hooves as he continues on his way, ignoring the ghostly laments as his boots sink on the floor. They should have thought it better before making a place for themselves in hell.

Using his axe to get the skeletons out of his way, Technoblade finally sees in the distance what he thought he would never find. A ruined portal can be seen high above, towering over the blue-green fungus soil of a warped forest. The hybrid walks towards the biome, stopping almost immediately upon hearing the grunts of a nearby hoglin. Sure enough, to his left, the huge beast shrieks and grunts, charging towards him. Technoblade prepares to face it, raising his axe and waiting until the creature is close enough to strike.

Around him, the reddish stone suddenly disappears, fading into thin air and an infinite void extends over his head. The ground beneath his hooves loses its color to an almost white hue, and the swine beast charging towards him mutates, growing obscenely in size, turning into a strange creature with black obsidian-like skin. The white eyes fixed on him turn into a violet gaze, sharp as an arrow and a fierce roar coming from its long snout almost destroys the piglin's ears. Behind the chimera's back a pair of huge dark wings spread out at its sides and before Technoblade can react, too confused with the metamorphosis and change of scenery that just happened in front of him, the strange apparition charges at him with a forceful blow, sending him flying through the air and with no opportunity to do anything to prevent it.

The pale ground below him gets further and further away at an incredible speed, and when it seems like the hybrid will never stop going up, gravity pulls him down. The fall seems to last for hours, his limbs unsuccessfully searching for something to grab onto at the terrifying, unfamiliar sensation of being in the air and doomed in a free fall. The whitish stone passes by him, and Technoblade realizes that it is the floating island, and he is falling off its edge. The giant beast roams the sky, filling the silence with a deafening roar and suddenly his fall seems to resume with dizzying speed. The underside of the island looks further and further away as Technoblade sinks into the void. Nothing but darkness surrounds him, feeling himself fall infinitely. A murmur of hundreds of voices overlapping each other seems to rise from the black void, eager to reach him and growing louder and louder as the darkness deepens. Amid the cacophony of wailing and demanding a delicate voice pleads in his ear.

"Help."

A shriek next to him makes him snap his eyes open, not even aware of ever closing them, and the darkness is immediately replaced by a clarity that could almost blind him. A wooden roof rests several meters above the hybrid and Technoblade feels completely dazed and overwhelmed. He realizes how his breathing is a bit agitated.

Technoblade turns his head to the right, and the first thing he sees is the more than familiar bicolour face, watching him curiously from the carpeted floor. His heterochromatic eyes are fixed on him, and the baby babbles raising his arms to Technoblade, seemingly happy to see the piglin finally turn his attention to him. Behind the enderling, through the ajar door of the room Technoblade manages to see a face peeking out for just an instant, unable to detail anything other than the orange hair of someone that disappears before being properly seen by the piglin.

Confused, Technoblade slowly gets up, and feeling a vague but very present pain in the upper part of his back reminds him of the events that occurred in that village, looking down at his left arm and finding it wrapped in bandages slightly stained with dried blood. His first idea is to bend down and check the youngling on the ground, putting him on his lap and confirming that at least one of them came out of the raid unscathed. The enderling just seems content of being on his lap, purring slightly. Technoblade takes a while to notice the creature's change of clothes. He no longer has the outfit Technoblade had gotten from a village, the ugly but useful clothes that villagers' babies wear, but now he wears a different garment, green and apparently one-piece, more suitable for a baby. It even has a hole cut out for his tail.

The footsteps approaching the room make the hybrid's senses alert, noticing how the enderling stops purring and turns his attention to the door, staring at it. The steps stop and the door is pushed gently. Behind it a man appears, directing his blue gaze immediately towards the hybrid sitting on the mattress, and raising his eyebrows with a warm smile. A green and white striped hat rests on his blond hair.

"Oh, you are awake."

Technoblade doesn't know how to respond to what he sees. That is a human. A human? It had been at least years since he had last seen a human, the closest thing to them being those annoying and ugly villagers. Not knowing how to respond, or if he should even do it at all, the piglin remains silent, hearing the creature in his lap humming uncertainly. Where are they?

The door is fully opened and the man enters the room. Behind him, a pair of large, dark wings flex toward his body so he can cross the door frame. Well... maybe he's not as human as Technoblade had thought.

The stranger doesn't walk beyond the entrance, merely placing a bowl of some kind of stew on the table by the door, looking up at the youngling on the hybrid's legs. A new smile makes its way onto his face.

"Those are some really cool eyes."

The enderling hisses menacingly at the stranger, just as he had done with the endermite before. Technoblade looks down at him, somewhat surprised at his reaction, feeling him cling to his shirt. The man laughs.

"Too bad they don't like anyone appreciating them."

The piglin feels lost, confused, and frustrated. Wherever he is, he seems to be in no danger. The bandages covering his wounds and the bed where he was previously laying seem to prove it quite well. Still, knowing that excess of trust can be a serious mistake, the hybrid doesn't let his guard down, hearing the little creature growl softly in his throat. The smell of the stew gets to Technoblade and makes him aware of how terribly hungry he is, but that can wait. There are more important things first.

"Where I am?" He croaks apprehensively, his voice sounding even hoarser than usual after just coming out of an indeterminate period of unconsciousness. "Who are you?"

The man averts his gaze from the bright, colourful eyes of the defensive enderling and directs his attention to Technoblade.

"This is my house." He replies. "I'm Philza and we-"

A sudden, high pitched and repetitive noise interrupts the stranger, something that sounds like some kind of alarm.

"Sorry, I'll be back in a minute." He says before turning around and quickly leaving the room, closing the door behind him. The stew steams on the table and Technoblade remains motionless where he is, trying to digest everything that just happened. The little enderman in front of him vwoops, drawing his attention to him. Behind the door, somewhere in the house, muffled voices can be heard, and Technoblade decides to investigate the place where somehow he is now, after falling unconscious in the savannah, with the wound caused by an axe staining his clothes and the effects of some potion clouding his mind.

The hybrid stands up with the enderling in his arms, his body feeling somewhat tired and sore. In addition to the voices in the distance, Technoblade can hear the strange beeping stopping as suddenly as it started. The piglin goes over what had apparently been his nightmare and the recent short conversation he had.

Philza ?

He doesn't recall hearing that name before.

Chapter Text

Technoblade stays at the door of the room for a few seconds. The voice of someone in what probably is the living room catches the hybrid's attention. The enderling looks straight ahead, where the voice is coming from. Without hesitation, Technoblade walks down the hall to the living room.

Sitting on a chair is a young man, combing a girl's reddish hair with his fingers, muttering something to her. A pair of pointy black ears protrude between the orange locks, and in addition to these, the strong features of a fox are evident in her appearance. As soon as the creature sees the piglin, she runs to hide behind the boy's back, taking in her hands the edge of one of the wings closed behind him. A pair of large, black wings, identical to the ones the blond man had. The young man looks up at Technoblade, an amused and serene expression on his face. A mop of curly brown hair on his head, one of the strands partially covering his right eye. He must be the owner of the muffled voice that Technoblade heard from the room.

"I see you have a kid too." He exclaims, nodding at the baby in his arms. "Don't take it the wrong way... but he doesn't look much like you. What's his name?"

Technoblade stares at him in silence for a few seconds. First because he didn't expect a first interaction with such a casual tone, and second because he doesn't know how to respond. Technoblade had never considered the detail of naming him, and so far he hasn't needed to do so either.

"He doesn't have a name."

The boy looks somewhat surprised by that answer, laughing softly. "Well... I guess I should introduce myself now. I'm Wilbur."

The brunet turns a little to look behind himself, slightly raising the wing that acts as a hiding place for the creature behind his back. "This is my daughter, Flora."

A silence ensues after the introductions of the young father and his daughter, and Technoblade doesn't know if they are expecting him to introduce himself. A soft growl from the child in his arms distracts him, looking back at him and noticing how his gaze is fixed on the girl still partially hidden behind her father's wings.

The boy sitting in the middle of the room intervenes when he sees the situation, using the fluffy appendage on his back to shield the girl's gaze, putting it back in front of her and preventing her from continuing to stare into the eyes of the little enderman.

"Looks like he doesn't like eye contact. Nothing strange coming from an enderman."

The way the young man says it... it doesn't sit well with the hybrid but he chooses to ignore it. He still wonders where he is or why he is there. The door to a room opens and closes, soon the previously introduced Philza enters the scene.

"Oh, I see you've already met Wilbur... Techno?"

Before he can help it a confused expression sets on his face. Distrust and caution make their way through the confusion. "How do you know my name?"

"The enderman told us." Wilbur answers without wasting a second.

The piglin's eyes immediately land on the creature in his arms, who looks back at him when he feels Technoblade's gaze upon him. So he can talk? And his first word was...

Wait... but Technoblade doesn't remember mentioning his name to the baby. Why should he?

Philza intervenes quickly, chuckling and rolling his eyes. "Ignore him. Actually... it was technically you who said it."

Unconsciously Technoblade gives them a puzzled and indiscreetly suspicious look. Nothing they say makes sense.

"Maybe we should sit down and talk a bit. If possible, I feel like there are a lot of questions with very interesting answers that we can ask."

The two winged men sit on chairs in the middle of the room, and the hybrid does the same, the previously forgotten bowl of rabbit stew now empty with a second stacked on top of it on a table in front of him, a third serving he was definitely not going to reject between his hands, eating with undisguised eagerness. The enderling sitting next to him watches him drink and chew, ignoring the strangers in favor of focusing on the one person he trusts. The pointy-eared little girl sneaks out of the scene as the others settle into the chairs, seemingly opposed to being in the piglin's presence. Or the enderling's. There doesn't seem to be much interaction with monsters around here. And even less with creatures of other dimensions.

Technoblade breathes a satisfied sigh as the third empty bowl joins the first two on the table, unable to help but notice his own bandaged arm. The hybrid wonders what the hell was that potion that had apparently made him hallucinate. And then the nightmare... his mind has been playing with him lately, in very strange ways.

Also, upon waking up in that bed, he noticed how at least half of his things had disappeared. He would have to question them about it too.

"Well, so how do you know my name?" It's the first question that Technoblade asks.

The older of the two is the one who answers.

"Well... this should answer that easily." He exclaims presenting a book in his right hand. Technoblade stares at it.

No, so far it has not answered anything. Philza gets up to hand over the object.

The hybrid takes it in his hands, opening it by the middle and seeing that it's mostly blank. He turns the pages in reverse until he finally finds something written on it. A short text, in which he recognizes his own rough handwriting.

"My name is Technoblade, I am a Nether warrior.

The moment is near, there are only a few days left, judging by the appearance it presents. ----- has told me that he will not come again. Until the end comes."

The handwriting is his but he doesn't remember writing that. Several words are crossed out and covered in ink. Technoblade skims the pages superficially, being able to first notice how the short introduction read previously turns out to be a constant in all the entries of what appears to be a diary, or some kind of logbook. The three data are always present in his annotations, in some way or another. Vital information that the hybrid didn't want to forget, the only thing he had remembered after awakening from the trance that had received him in that cave. But what had made him forget to the point of not even remembering his own name?

Besides, none of them are dated. It isn't something he handles very well, keeping track of days.

The piglin stares at the book in his hands, closing it and also looking at its maroon cover. Nothing that stands out, apart from the fact that the object looks somewhat mistreated and little cared for. It is not something he carried in his inventory. All of this raises more questions than answers.

"So, Technoblade. Piglin. That's yours right?" Wilbur interrogates, leaning on the back of his chair. "I mean, dad found it in that creature's little claws, and I doubt he was the one who wrote it."

Without ignoring the information he receives second-hand, dad, Technoblade tries to remember something else from that moment, when he was bleeding out on the opaque grass of the savannah. He heard the flapping of what were presumably the wings of the oldest avian, and he had seen the sky flicker and a voice speak very clearly but in an unknown language a phrase in his head. The hybrid looks at the enderling, who runs his hands over the leather cover of the book. A pair of green eyes like the creature's right orb. And the accent of an enderman is embedded in his mind.

Technoblade just nods, feeling strange at learning that they have read what seemed to be something as personal as a diary created so as not to forget his own identity. They know his name and things that even he didn't know until then. There is nothing he can do about it anymore, just move on. It's not like it's overly vital information, though, but rather posts written in a cryptic tone that even Technoblade doesn't understand. The only clear details were his name, his occupation and his dimension, the latter of which is easy to deduce just by looking at him.

The piglin looks around the room, noticing how domestic and homely the dwelling is. Technoblade assumes that this is what a family environment should look like, since it is not something that he really knows. The child's movements distract him from inspecting the room, seeing how, leaning against his chest, the enderling rubs his eye with one hand, then yawning. Lately he has started to develop the habit of taking naps during the day. Technoblade hopes he's not getting on a daytime sleep schedule, judging by his kin's vision, it would make sense for his active time to be at night, but that would not be practical for Technoblade. Then they would both have opposite schedules and that wouldn't be good.

He just keeps growing more and more and carrying him around is even less desirable the more time passes. That makes him think, what will he do now? Most likely not staying here, living with a couple of strangers and another kid, but the idea of leaving so soon doesn't please him very much either. So far they have welcomed him, the best thing to do is take use of their hospitality and alleviate the hassle of having to wander with an increasingly large and independent youngling everywhere.

When the enderling tries to snuggle against him for the purpose of sleep, Technoblade gets up with the kid in his arms, ignoring his whine at being moved and turns to the blond man.

"Do you have a cauldron?"

The man thinks for a moment. "I'm not sure, but I could go take a look. Are you going to cook something or..."

"No, I'm going to put this child to sleep."

The two men's faces reflect immediate shock and confusion upon hearing the hybrid's words. Horror seems to flash in Wilbur's expression for a second.

After a slight interaction that awkwardly clarifies the meaning of that, Philza presents him with a cradle that he explains having kept since Wilbur was a hatchling. It looks somewhat unkempt but in pretty good condition to have been stored for presumably over ten years. Soon the yellow furniture lies next to the bed where Technoblade sits to read the book more carefully, in the solitude and silence of the room that the owners of the house designated for them. Every now and then Technoblade's gaze drifts towards the crib, observing for a few seconds the placid scene of the little enderman sleeping soundly on the mattress behind the wooden bars.

Chapter Text

The sound of the same loud beeping wakes probably everyone in the house. Technoblade open his eyes to see into the room through the dim light of the full moon entering through the window. Turning towards the crib to find the enderling sitting on the mattress looking in his direction, seeming wide awake and alert. His bicolour eyes glow in the dark, as purple particles pass through the bars of the crib, floating around him.

It has been a couple of days of living in this family's house, interacting the least possible with them but still enough to learn little by little things about them, which they let him see with their daily routines.

Technoblade hears movement outside of someone going to take care of that annoying alarm or whatever it is. He has not idea of what the hell that thing is, always forgetting to ask about it, especially because the two men have never acknowledged it in any of the short and sporadic conversations they occasionally exchange. It's not like it's necessary, its existence is no secret, when it very constantly interrupts whatever everyone is doing with the loud and monotone noise at random hours and times.

Technoblade is taken out of his thoughts when he hears the enderling vwoop from the cradle and stick his white hand out between the bars towards the piglin.

"No, go to sleep." The hybrid orders, averting his gaze from the hatchling's and unable to help but think about how he seems to be the only one who can keep his gaze on the enderman's without awakening his defensive instinct. The enderling has never hissed or growled at Technoblade. The piglin hadn't even considered him capable of doing that until seeing him do it towards the endermite and later towards Philza and Wilbur, and even towards the daughter of the latter.

Wilbur, who had had the audacity to point out the non-existent resemblance between the piglin and the enderling, with he having a pair of black wings on his back and his daughter the ears and fluffy tail of a canid fox among her features, in addition to the absence of feathers in her, with fur instead. Technoblade is not one to question that, and now that he thinks about it he never made it clear to the men that this baby is not his. Thinking about that makes him snort a laugh. What a stupid idea, but if he doesn't make it clear, maybe it can lead them to assume it, no matter how ridiculous it may be.

"I'm not going to let you sleep tomorrow during the day, so you better use the night time for that."

A shadow passes in front of the window next to him, and the small emerald glint in the shadows makes him rise quickly in bed, peering through the glass to try to catch whatever he just saw. In the dark exterior of the house, he can barely see anything, silhouettes of trees and some animals, cows and chickens that walk in the pens, defying their usual sleep schedule. Nothing that glows green.

Technoblade spends a few minutes looking out the window, hoping to find something outside that catches his eye. The enderling chirps behind his back and the sound of an enderman's teleportation makes him turn to find the dark and tall figure of an adult enderman by the closed door of the room. The glow of its green orbs watches him from above and the same particles of faint light that surround the youngling float around the intruder. The enderling watches the scene with a strange calm. He has never been so close to another creature of his race, but still he looks comfortable in its presence. Perhaps even slightly fascinated.

Technoblade reacts, sensing the mob to be too close to the defenseless young, leaping up to take the axe and as he does so he hears the enderman growl in a low tone. Between the claws of the high mob there is a sheet of paper, its white hue contrasts sharply against the dark skin even in a room without light. The piglin prepares to charge, axe in the air and ready to drive its edge into the languid body of the living shadow. A sudden shrill scream stuns him, almost knocking him off balance with surprise and shock. It reminds him of the deafening roar of the huge creature from his nightmares.

Something in his head clicks. That must have been the dragon. That giant, obsidian-coloured beast with violet eyes, like the endermen. Endermen's eyes are purple. Or at least that's the way it's supposed to be. The creature that he has carried in his arms for almost a year already lives to defy that, but Technoblade knows that he is not a pure blood, just as he isn't himself. That leads him to think of the double emerald flash that he can see right now in front of him, not the first time he can observe it but the first time he can observe it directly. The enderling isn't the only creature from the End with a green gaze, or at least partially green.

This reminds him too much of that nightmare from a few days ago. For a moment Technoblade wonders if he is sleeping.

The confusing scene is over before he knows it.

The piglin wakes up the next morning with the axe on the floor next to his bed. The kid is also on the ground, on the carpet and dangerously close to putting his hands on the diamond edge of his weapon. The hybrid takes him away from the axe, putting it out of his reach and wondering why he is out of the cradle. He's almost completely sure he put him behind the wooden bars last night. But with all the confusion filling his head, he wouldn't put his hands on the fire for it. Perhaps at some point he himself took him out of that piece of furniture. Which reminds him of the scene that seems so fresh and yet so distant in his memory. Had it just been another nightmare?

His gaze scans the room. Nothing else apart from the enderling and his axe seems out of place. His eyes land on the table in front of one of the walls. On it, next to his backpack lies the book that Philza had given him a few days ago. Technoblade gets up to inspect it.

A sheet protrudes from the diary, which looks rather shallowly placed under the cover and not uniform like the rest of the pages of the book. The piglin opens it, noticing how the page is effectively loose, not stitched like the others. On the paper there is a text, which means nothing to the piglin. A script that he does not understand, presumably belonging to a language that he doesn't know. Still the letters look strangely familiar. The hybrid observes the characters on the paper, paying more attention to the way the letters are written. They are just scribbles for those who don't understand them.

ᒷꖎ∴∷ ᓵ⍑ꖎ ᒷᒷꖎ⍑ ℸ ̣ リ𝙹ᒷᔑ, ᒲ╎⍑ꖎꖎ⎓∴ᒷ╎⍊ 𝙹ᒲリℸ ̣  ᒷ╎╎|| ᓵᓭ𝙹ℸ ̣  ⊣ᔑリ!¡ℸ ̣. 𝙹↸⍑ ᒷꖎ!¡ᓵ∴ ᒲℸ ̣  リ⍑ꖎ ꖎリꖎ⎓ ᒷ!¡⍑ ∴𝙹ᓭ ╎ꖎℸ ̣ ⍑ ᒷᒷ⍊ ⍑∷ᔑ╎ ↸⍑ᒷℸ ̣  ╎⍑ ᔑ⎓リᔑᒷʖ⍊ ⍑ᒷ𝙹𝙹!¡ᓵᓭ, ᔑᒷリ╎ ᒷʖ ᒷリᔑ ꖎ↸ᒷᒷ⍊ ꖎ↸∴╎ᒷ∴ ⎓ᒷ⍑ ╎ᓭ⍑∷ᒷ↸ℸ ̣ ᓭ𝙹⍑ ℸ ̣ ᓵ 𝙹ℸ ̣ ᒷ ᒷ⍑ᒷ⚍𝙹. ᓭ↸⚍ ᒲᓵℸ ̣ ᒷ𝙹 ⍑⚍ᓭℸ ̣  ᒷリᓵᒷリ⍑⚍ℸ ̣  ᔑ∷. ᓵ∷𝙹 リᒷᔑᔑꖎ ⍑ᓭᔑ 𝙹ℸ ̣ ᒷ ↸ᔑ⍑𝙹 ᒷ╎ℸ ̣ 𝙹ꖎ 𝙹∷リ ╎𝙹∴∷ᒷ╎ リᓭリ╎ᓵᔑ 𝙹⍊ ℸ ̣ ᒷ↸ ⍑ℸ ̣ ∷ ↸𝙹リ ⍑𝙹∷ ∷ᒷꖎ!¡╎↸ʖᒷ⎓ ↸╎ ⍑⚍リ ᒲ⊣⍑⎓∴ᔑ↸ᒷリ ⚍↸ᒷ ʖ𝙹ℸ ̣  ||ꖎᓭ╎. ⍑⚍リ ℸ ̣ ᒷ !¡リリ ᒷ∷リ↸ ⎓ᒷℸ ̣ ᒷℸ ̣ リ∷ᔑ ᒷ↸ ↸リᒷ∷𝙹 𝙹ᓭℸ ̣ ⍑ ᒷリ⍑𝙹⎓ᒷᒷ ⍑ᒷᔑ リ⍑↸╎ 𝙹ᒲᒷᒷ∷ℸ ̣ ᓵ∴ ↸ᔑ リꖌᔑ ᒷ↸ℸ ̣ ᒷ⍊ᓭ ᒷ↸∷ 𝙹⍑ℸ ̣  ⚍𝙹ꖎ ᒷ𝙹ℸ ̣ ꖎ∷ᒷᒷリꖎ𝙹 ⎓⍑ ∷⍊𝙹 ᓭᔑᒷᓵ∷ꖎℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷℸ ̣. ᒷ╎ℸ ̣ ∷ ᓭᒲᒷ𝙹↸ᓭ ꖎ╎∷ᒷ ⍑∷ ꖎℸ ̣ 𝙹⍑ʖᒷ||∷ ᒷ∴ᒲ⚍ 𝙹ᒷリ ∴ᓵᒷᒲ ᒷℸ ̣ ᒲ𝙹||. ꖎʖ⍑ᒷ リᒷᓵ∴⍊ᔑ╎ᒷꖎ⍑ ᒷ╎ℸ ̣ ⊣ ᒷ∷ ∷ℸ ̣ リ||ꖎ. 𝙹ℸ ̣ ∴⍑ℸ ̣ リ⍑ᒷ╎, ꖎ⚍⍑ ᒷℸ ̣ ||𝙹╎!¡ ꖎᔑ ᒷℸ ̣ ᔑ ꖎ╎∷ᒷꖎ|| ᔑ||⚍𝙹 ∴↸リ ⎓╎⚍ ∷ᒷ ᒷ∷ꖌ!¡ 𝙹リℸ ̣.

A couple of gentle knocks on the door distract him from the unfamiliar characters on the page. "Techno?"

The patriarch's voice comes from the other side of the wood. In the time that he has lived there, the man has taken the habit of referring to him by only the first part of his name. Technoblade doesn't bother to correct Philza when he does so, it's not like he's wrong anyway; it's just a shortened version of his name. He has to admit that it is a strange experience. It's unusual for him to hear his own name, even more being said as a nickname, but it is not at all unpleasant. Just foreign.

"Yes?" Technoblade answers simply. The door opens slowly, reminding him so much of the first time he had seen Philza. The gentle face of the man appears behind the door.

"Breakfast is ready. Plus there's something I'd like to show you." His gaze drops to the creature watching him warily from the carpet. Philza tries not to keep his gaze fixed on the enderling's eyes so as not to upset him. "I think this little one especially is going to like it."

The man leaves without another word, leaving the hybrid with the question. Well, all that remains is to follow him, and go to eat. It's a lot more convenient than having to search for food all the time or carry it everywhere so he doesn't spend all day hunting and harvesting from other people's crops. Technoblade looks at the baby, and his first reaction is to lean down to take him in his arms, but before doing so he stops short. The enderling looks at him curiously and Technoblade simply walks out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

He walks down the hall, keeping his ear alert and feeling his stomach rumble with anticipation at the smell of freshly baked bread and mutton and cocoa. A wonderful blend of aromas that almost makes his mouth water. The sound of little pats on the floor behind him invites him to turn, finding the enderling making his way through the doorframe into the hallway, crawling deftly and eagerly, trilling to call Technoblade. He ignores him, turning and continuing into the living room. He is able to follow Technoblade, he's not going to carry him if he doesn't have to.

The hybrid comes up to the table, seeing the food served for him, while Wilbur scoops the last crumbs of his own breakfast, his daughter standing next to him. Philza is in the process taking care of his empty plate in the kitchen, looking up at Technoblade as he enters the room. The piglin arrived in time to see them finish eating. They are very early risers, unlike him. That probably hadn't been the first time Philza had knocked on his door that morning.

"Oh Techno, where is the little one?"

Technoblade turns to see the enderling enter the room crawling after him, still insisting on getting his attention with clicks and trills. The hybrid sits in front of his plate, waiting for the baby to come up to him and cling to his pants, calling him insistently. Then Technoblade leans over to take him and sit him on his lap. The enderling tries to reach out to take the food, but Technoblade stops him, giving him a piece of bread to distract him while he begins to eat himself, holding him with one arm while he uses his other hand to take care of his breakfast. The little enderman is already equipped with sharp and very useful teeth, but the piglin still feels a little unsure about giving him solid, whole food, still worried that he might choke.

Wilbur finally gets up from the table, after completely emptying his plate and cup, walking towards the door and taking on the way an iron hoe that rests in a corner.

"Well, we'll be back in a few hours. With a sack full of rabbits and chickens, right Flora?"

The little girl next to him nods enthusiastically, bouncing next to her father as they walk through the doorway, her ears slightly twitching. "Bye guys!"

"Bye Wil, bye Flora." Philza returns from the kitchen as his son closes the door behind them, in his hands there is a bowl of something lilac or pale purple, and he sits on the chair to Technoblade's right. "Here, could you give him this? Let me tell something... unexpected might happen after trying it."

The initial reaction of the hybrid is to give him a confused look at that. Why should he give him that now? With the way he says it, Technoblade would think he wants to poison him, and since they are still pretty much strangers, his first idea is to tell him to eat it in front of them to prove that it is completely harmless, but before he can say anything else, the black arm of the child on his lap reaches out to Philza's hand, taking the piece of whatever he has between his fingers and putting it in his mouth before Technoblade can stop him.

The hybrid looks at him without the intention of stopping him.

If something happens to you, it's your own fault.

He would have liked to tell him that, but when the weight on his lap disappears in a small cloud of purple particles, Technoblade's first reaction is to get up from his chair, forgetting his unfinished breakfast and looking in bewilderment at the man next to him. He can hear a teleportation when the enderling disappears from his sight.

"What the-"

To his left he hears the enderman utter an excited sound, turning his gaze towards the noise and finding him on the floor in front of one of the chairs, with the lilac slice in his hand, his eyes sparkle with fascination and pleasure at what he has just tasted. The piglin rushes to reach him and remove that thing from his hand, hearing him protest indignantly in the background, himself examining it in confusion. It looks like a fruit, but not one that he can recognize.

"What the hell is this?" He asks with the piece of unfamiliar food in his hand towards the man who watches them amused from the table.

"Chorus fruit." He responds, taking a piece and looking at it for a second before taking a bite. He too, like the enderling on the floor, teleports a few meters across the room, ending up sitting on another chair. "It only grows in the End."

Shock and surprise at that information should be evident on his features. That caught him off guard. "Have you been to the End?"

When you enter the End there is only one known way out...

An expression of satisfaction makes its way across Philza's face, as if this is where he had wanted to get to from the start. "I'd like to show you something, Techno."

Philza gets up, the bowl of fruit in his hands before leaving it on another table, and walks towards the rooms at the back of the house. Technoblade doesn't hesitate long before following him, being able to hear the youngling once again communicating his indignation with exasperated chirps, seeing how once again the piglin hybrid ignores his calls, rushing to crawl after his steps.

Chapter Text

The man guides him to a door, after descending a long line of stairs. "This house really is a lot bigger than I thought" is the only thing Technoblade can think along the way, wondering what more secrets this humble-looking house may hide.

The hybrid can hear the youngling's pitter patter, crawling rapidly after them all the way up until they reach the stairs, forcing Technoblade to lean down and pick him up to prevent the enderling from rolling down the mountain of steps.

The winged man takes a key out of his pocket and proceeds to open the door, gently pushing it and stepping aside to allow Technoblade to enter the room. The piglin raises an eyebrow and looks at him with an expression of certain mistrust, feeling the enderling clinging to his shirt and vwooping.

"Let me show you one of my biggest prides, Techno." He exclaims crossing the door. Technoblade puts aside his mistrust and feeling his curiosity win, he goes after Philza.

Before the three creatures, surrounding them from practically every side are shelves full of books. What appears to be hundreds and hundreds, and he could boldly say up to thousands in a large room with a ceiling that extends several meters over their heads. Even for Techno, almost twice the height of most individuals, the size of this room makes him feel small. The expression on Philza's face is one of undisguised pride, heading to one of the nearest bookshelves and taking a book from it.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?" He inquires, opening the book and returning to the hybrid duo. "This is a collection that I have been gathering throughout the years. It has information on everything."

The man closes the book and offers it to Techno, who without much thought takes it with his free hand. The piglin examines it superficially, opening it with a little difficulty and being able to see that it is some kind of guide or encyclopedia of his native dimension. It includes some hand-painted illustrations of the Nether's most striking lava falls and biomes, as well as its creatures.

Philza walks to a table in the middle of the room, inviting Technoblade to sit in the chair next to him. The piglin does so, putting the book on the table and debating about what to do with the baby in his arms. His first thought is that those long little hands can reach the precious collection and tear apart the priceless pieces of information. He chooses to let him sit on his lap and hope he doesn't get too bored.

"Some of these are from my own hand." Philza continues, turning around in his chair and once again admiring the shelves almost filled to the brim.

The man stands up, again heading to a bookshelf, jumping and using a swift, strong push of his wings to lift himself off the ground and reach one of the tallest shelves, picking up a book that looks slightly thicker than the others before descending back to the ground. It's the first time that Technoblade has seen him use the black and large appendages on his back. Philza checks the book, opening it to see its contents and then he starts walking back towards the piglin.

"I always forget to put ladders. Wil and I can reach all the books, but I want Flora to be able to access to them too when she's old enough." He exclaims, putting the book next to the other on the table.

"I trust that you will find a lot of information that may interest you here. Even if you are not looking for it."

Philza turns around, once again admiring the bookshelves before turning to head for the door. There is something ringing in the hybrid's mind, after hearing the avian's first statement about the origin of such an imposing collection.

"Philza." Technoblade calls before he walks through the exit.

"Hm?" The man turns with a soft smile on his face. He has barely heard Technoblade utter his name during the time he has been here.

"How old are you?"

A full smile makes its way across his face. The man just walks out the door without saying another word.

Technoblade (and the enderling) are left alone in the largest library he has ever seen. The way Philza talked about gathering books over the years and the sheer quantity of them. These are the books of at least three lives; Technoblade cannot believe that a single person created such a collection. He will later find out more about it. Right now, he appreciates having learned how to read, because he is definitely going to look for answers, even if it is to questions that he doesn't know how to even begin to ask.

Several minutes later (probably, although it could well have been hours) Technoblade has not moved from the chair at all, completely absorbed in the book Philza left for him. After reading the Nether one, to see what they had documented "well" and which parts were pure nonsense, Technoblade had picked up the second book, something that had instantly grabbed his attention.

Similar to the one about his own dimension, this consisted of some kind of guide on the End. Every page that is he turns is filled with information completely new and unfamiliar to Technoblade. The End has always been a mystery to him, as it is to most creatures foreigner to the dimension. Its main population, the endermen, are already quite mysterious; the only ones with the freedom to enter and leave the third plane without problems, silent and intriguing. The tall creatures of black don't seem very keen on sharing the secrets about their islands in the void.

Technoblade turns the pages, lamenting the lack of illustrations, just as they are in the Nether encyclopedia. Just entering the dimension is a feat in itself, not to mention the mystery about how to get out (in one piece), making drawings of it with a dragon trying to throw you off the island into infinite blackness and with an army of endermen always on alert is pretentious just to think.

Noticing how his right arm is feeling numb, the piglin tries to move it, but the weight on it reminds him that he still has the enderling in his lap. Techno gazes down at him, finding the kid fast asleep against his torso, the thumb of his black hand tucked into his mouth. Technoblade proceeds to remove the finger from between the baby's lips, hoping not to wake him up. He wants to prevent him from developing the habit of sucking his thumbs, it is not good for his teeth, which could also easily dig into his own skin, that, plus his growing sharp little claws that could hurt his mouth, and, it also is just disgusting. He is not trying to raise a brat.

The thought that just echoed in his head makes him stop in shock. Technoblade is raising him. Did he just admit to that? Things weren't supposed to be like this. Technoblade was not going to become domestic and caretaker for this creature. He, without even realizing it, has been able to spend almost a year living as a breeder with a young that is not even his own species. And it feels so natural, the thought alone almost makes him shudder. The image of the little enderman sleeping on his chest makes him frown at the sudden realization of how far astray things have gone.

Wanting to ignore the shame of the realization and how ridiculous he feels, the hybrid turns his attention back to the book, turning the page and finding in front of him something that shocks him almost as much as realizing that he is beginning to turn into a pa-

No. No, definitely not that. Never that.

On the page in front of him there is a text written with the same strange characters that just hours earlier he had found on that sheet in his diary. What surprises him the most is also seeing some kind of transliteration for the short message on the paper. Maybe he can use this to translate the text in his book.

Philza probably doesn't mind him taking a book out of the library, although it's not like he's going to sneak it out either. If the patriarch says no, he will simply have to bring the page with the strange text and go back down the hundred steps to the library.

Chapter Text

Getting out of that room and going back up the ridiculous number of stairs with the baby in his arms feels like a journey. I'm really out of shape if just climbing stairs makes me feel like that, he thinks, I used to stride through biomes like it was nothing. Sedentary life is the worst.

Technoblade returns to his designated room, with the enderling still asleep on his shoulder, and without meeting Philza on the way as he had expected. The man is nowhere in sight, so that he can ask to borrow the book that he is carrying in his hand. Well, he's not going to look for Philza either; he surely must be busy with something important. His plan to borrow it turns into a plan to let him know that he is going to borrow it. Technoblade will use it until he can notify Philza that he has it in his possession, and if the patriarch says no, then he will return it to the library.

For the time being-

The first thing Techno does when he gets to the room is leaving the sleeping baby in the cradle; seeing that it's daytime and still relatively early the hybrid would normally wake him up, still in the battle of molding his sleep schedule so that he stays awake all day and sleeps through the night, something that surely challenges his biology in some way. But now his mind is occupied with the book, and the possibilities its contents signify; so without wanting to be interrupted as much as possible he allows the enderling to sleep as much as he wants.

Babies have to sleep to grow or something, and this one definitely has a lot of growing ahead of him.

And so, book in hand and sitting on the desk opposite the bed and the crib, Technoblade sets out to decipher what the strange characters on the paper mean.

The sound of the front door opening reaches the piglin's ears. Wilbur announces his arrival in a yell to his father, loud enough for the rest to hear. The rest consisting of Technoblade.

He tries to divert his attention from external sounds and refocus on the activity in front of him. He feels that he is so close to coming up with something, he seems to have found some kind of pattern that he can follow to translate the message. But his patience starts to waver and for some reason staying focused on it feels like an increasingly difficult task. It seems like something is interfering in his mind. Technoblade puts his hands on his temples, sighing deeply.

The characters on the sheet seem to dance, they seem to want to get out of the confines of the paper. Or is Technoblade hallucinating? So many hours going round and round the text in the book and the squiggles in front of him are starting to make his mind force him to see things?

Techno alternates his gaze between Philza's book and the page next to his diary, quill in hand on a fresh, white new sheet where he makes notes of everything that seems to be a step in the right direction. Two words begin to form and Technoblade feels his heart race as he realizes that he is making progress toward actually translating the message.

The piglin alternates his gaze between the two texts, and suddenly it seems like the words that have been finally found shine on the paper; among the jumble of strange characters, the two newly translated words glow from the sheet. Technoblade is quick to write them aside.

ᒷꖎ∴∷ ᓵ⍑ꖎ ᒷᒷꖎ⍑ ℸ ̣ リ𝙹ᒷᔑ, ᒲ╎⍑ꖎꖎ⎓∴ᒷ╎⍊ 𝙹ᒲリℸ ̣ ᒷ╎╎|| ᓵᓭ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⊣ᔑリ!¡ℸ ̣. 𝙹↸⍑ ᒷꖎ!¡ᓵ∴ ᒲℸ ̣ リ⍑ꖎ void ᒷ!¡⍑ ∴𝙹ᓭ ╎ꖎℸ ̣ ⍑ ᒷᒷꖎ ⍑∷ᔑリ ꖎ⍑ᒷℸ ̣ ╎⍑ ᔑ⎓リᔑᒷʖ⍊ ⍑ᒷ𝙹⎓!¡ᓵᓭ, ᔑᒷリ╎ ᒷʖ ᒷリᔑ ꖎ↸ᒷᒷ⍊ ꖎ↸∴╎ᒷ∴ ⎓ᒷ⍑ ╎ᓭ⍑∷ᒷ↸ℸ ̣ ᓭ𝙹⍑ ℸ ̣ ᓵ 𝙹ℸ ̣ ᒷ ᒷ⍑ᒷ⚍𝙹. ᓭ↸⚍ ᒲᓵℸ ̣ ᒷ𝙹 ⍑⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ᒷリᓵᒷリ⍑⚍ℸ ̣ ᔑ∷. ᓵ∷𝙹 リᒷᔑᔑꖎ ⍑ᓭᔑ 𝙹ℸ ̣ ᒷ ↸ᔑ⍑𝙹 ᒷ╎ℸ ̣ 𝙹ꖎ 𝙹∷リ ╎𝙹∴∷ᒷ╎ リᓭリ╎ᓵᔑ 𝙹⍊ ℸ ̣ ᒷ↸ ⍑ℸ ̣ ∷ ↸𝙹リ ⍑𝙹∷ ∷ᒷꖎ!¡╎↸ʖᒷ⎓ ↸╎ ⍑⚍リ ᒲ⊣⍑⎓∴ᔑ↸ᒷリ ⚍↸ᒷ ʖ𝙹ℸ ̣ ||ꖎᓭ╎. ⍑⚍リ ℸ ̣ ᒷ !¡リリ ᒷ∷リ↸ ⎓ᒷℸ ̣ ᒷℸ ̣ リ∷ᔑ ᒷ↸ ↸リᒷ∷𝙹 𝙹ᓭℸ ̣ ⍑ ᒷリ⍑𝙹⎓ᒷᒷ ⍑ᒷᔑ リ⍑↸╎ 𝙹ᒲᒷᒷ∷ℸ ̣ ᓵ∴ ↸ᔑ リꖌᔑ ᒷ↸ℸ ̣ ᒷ⍊ᓭ ᒷ↸∷ 𝙹⍑ℸ ̣ ⚍𝙹ꖎ ᒷ𝙹ℸ ̣ ꖎ∷ᒷᒷリꖎ𝙹 ⎓⍑ ∷⍊𝙹 ᓭᔑᒷᓵ∷ꖎℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷℸ ̣. ᒷ╎ℸ ̣ ∷ ᓭᒲᒷ𝙹↸ᓭ ꖎ╎∷ᒷ ⍑∷ ꖎℸ ̣ 𝙹⍑ʖᒷ||∷ ᒷ∴ᒲ⚍ 𝙹ᒷリ ∴ᓵᒷᒲ ᒷℸ ̣ ᒲ𝙹||. ꖎʖ⍑ᒷ リᒷᓵ∴⍊ᔑ╎ᒷꖎ⍑ ᒷ╎ℸ ̣ ⊣ ᒷ∷ ∷ℸ ̣ リ||ꖎ. 𝙹ℸ ̣ ∴⍑╎ リ⍑ᒷ╎, ꖎ⚍⍑ ᒷℸ ̣ ||∷╎!¡ ꖎ|| ᒷℸ ̣ ᔑ portal ᔑ||⚍𝙹 ∴↸リ ⎓╎⚍ ∷ᒷ ᒷᒷꖌꖎ 𝙹リℸ ̣.

void and portal

Technoblade scratches his head. This is going to be a long process.

Judging by the orange colors mixed with black and deep purple that the hybrid can see in the sky through the window, and the hunger that is already beginning to sting his stomach insistently, Techno he deduces that dinner time must be approaching for the family. Which, thanks to their hospitality, includes him; sitting at the table next to them. The first days of his stay there, the food was personally brought to his room by Philza, where he ate in the company of the enderling, but as the weeks passed, the hybrid had begun to feel comfortable enough to go to the table and join them during their meal times.

Today, in the absence of Wilbur and his offspring, with Technoblade having spent most of the day with his nose buried in a book and Philza nowhere to be found, probably busy with something, lunch was just skipped by everyone.

Even with the occasional eating out of the routine hours, it feels strange to suddenly have so many routines loosely tied to the tick-tock of the clock. Before, mealtime only came after finding said food. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were flexible concepts. They both ate several times a day, as long as the situation allowed and food was available. There was no set time where they knew they could get ready to eat. Such radical changes to their sleeping and eating schedules is... jarring he could say at least. So much sudden comfort almost feels wrong.

Just as Technoblade imagined, a few minutes after hearing Wilbur's arrival, a couple of knocks on the door and Philza calling his name indicates that the food is ready. An announcement he probably didn't need, when the scent coming from the kitchen gets to him, making his stomach rumble with hunger. Deciding to finally put aside the task in front of him, the piglin gets up and pretty much repeats the same scene from that morning, only now without the enderman crawling behind his steps, deciding to let him sleep and deal with his inevitable restlessness later that night.

When he arrives at table Philza is taking his own place, Wilbur is already seated and his daughter is nowhere to be seen. Philza has told him that she prefers to eat away from the presence of others, even her family most of the time. Her nature should call her to be more cautious and reserved with her food. Technoblade can understand that. It's not like he particularly cares about it either, but at least he finds it slightly curious.

He secretly wonders if the enderman in the crib will develop those kinds of instincts in the future. He already exhibits certain peculiar behaviors in line with his race, but the hybrid wonders if time will bring new traits. It surely will.

The lack of lunch is generously made up for by a hearty dinner. Various pieces of chicken lie tantalizingly in front of each man, some sort of mashed potatoes with strips of raw carrot and disks of cooked beetroot staining the quartz dishes with a rosy hue, all accompanied by iced melon juice. His plate looking especially full if he compares it to the other two. Technoblade would never have dreamed of eating like this before meeting this family.

The piglin takes the little tool next to his plate (bigger when compared to the ones the other men use). A design similar to the one he had improvised to feed the youngling a few months ago, something like a small-scale shovel. Philza had told him that they were called spoons, and along with a couple of other similar tools, they served to make bringing food to your mouth easier. Something that looks like a very small sword with a single blade and another similar to a miniature trident. They had called it cutlery, and these, so different from his rustic design carved from bone, were molded out of pure, shiny, yellow gold. The piglin hybrid had more than once found himself more interested in the tools rather than in the food he was supposed to be eating.

Dinner proceeds normally, after, like how it had happened that morning, Philza asks him about the enderman baby, the hybrid telling him he's sleeping in the cradle. Technoblade eats in silence after that, while Wilbur constantly interrupts himself to tell his father about their trip earlier that day. He talks to him about his kit's actions, with a tone of pride and fascination evident to anyone who hears him.

"She's getting really good at stalking and ambushing. Sometimes it's hard to know where she is, even for me. She even has ambushed me a couple of times." The young man chuckles, stirring the potato mush on his plate with the spoon.

Technoblade picks up a collection of everything on his plate with his own spoon, still in the process of learning how to use the tools and not eat with his hands, as he is used to. He wants to give the impression of being completely uninterested with the conversation in the background, like he isn't hearing it in the first place, but it's not like they're not sitting at the table next to him, he can't just ignore what Wilbur is saying.

He unconsciously wonders if the enderling will have hunting instincts. He has the teeth for it... so only time will tell.

"You should have seen her, dad. She caught three chickens and two rabbits. And those little bastards are so fast and so slippery!" The older man nods, putting his food aside in favour of focusing on what Wilbur tells him, smiling at the excitement and pride of his son as he talks about his granddaughter. "She's become so sneaky and nimble, and she leaps up so damn high! I couldn't believe that was my little Flora."

The young brunet sighs deeply, running a hand over his face.

"Oh dad, my little champion is growing up so fast."

Chapter Text

Being all the time between the four walls of that room is beginning to affect Technoblade. It will already be a month and a half or something like that of being a dweller in the house of a family of strangers (although at this point, they no longer feel so much like strangers) and spending practically twenty-four hours a day locked in the room, with the exceptions of going to eat, going down to Philza's library and other situations outside the rule. And his sanity is starting to suffer from it. He feels like a prisoner, with only the enderman youngling as company. The main reason why he stays locked almost all day.

Technoblade doesn't know how safe it would be to leave him alone in the room. He still can't walk, and the crib bars are probably enough to keep him in one place, but Technoblade isn't sure he trusts that little demon isn't going to find his own tactics. Plus, he whines whenever he's left alone, unless he's asleep.

Only then is Technoblade aware of how attached and dependent the enderling really is. Bad news. He was supposed to be raisi- uh, he was getting him used to being an independent and lonely mob, like himself; but months and months of being each other's only company have made him the only person the child trusts, and he's obviously reluctant to part from him.

Technoblade exhales, running a hand over his head. His hair has grown a lot. Enough to hang like a small cape across his back. He doesn't remember when was the last time he cut it, too busy trying to survive the presence of a demanding halfling to remember taking care of his hair. He definitely should do something about it soon. For the moment he just pushes it all onto his back and uses a piece of cloth to tie it up and keep it from getting in his way.

The book lies on the desk, tempting him to get back to the task that promises answers, but the piglin ignores the urge to refocus on his translation project. After those two words, void and portal, there has been nothing else. Loose letters that do nothing but confuse him after long sessions of alternating his eyes between the pages; usually ending with a headache after spending several hours with his face almost stuck into the pages. His eyes suffer from the prolonged activity, his medium vision is not designed to read in the first place.

The hybrid gets out of bed, goes to take the enderling from the crib and leaves the room, heading outside. Ever since he came to this house he has not left its confines. Somehow, something close to two months of going round and round inside the house has not been enough to drive him crazy and forget that there is an outside world. Technoblade walks down the hall to the living room, finding the whole family there, which is a strange occurrence.

Wilbur is in the kitchen, preparing something with his kit standing up on the tip of her hind paws to try and see what he's doing. She looks excited, as she usually does when she is with her father. The aroma of pulverized wheat and sweet berries reaches the piglin. Philza is in one of the chairs, reading a book. Everyone reacts to the presence of the piglin hybrid, turning to see him, something that he certainly does not appreciate.

"Hi, Techno, good morning. Good morning, little one." The man addresses them both, smiling as he closes his book, one finger between the pages so as not to lose his progress. "Are you... are you going anywhere?"

Technoblade may feel the elder's hesitation in asking the question. He probably doesn't want to sound nosy, but it's obvious that the piglin has some destination in mind, especially seeing the backpack slung on his shoulder, as well as how his path is in the direction of the front door and since he hasn't left once since the time he arrived, seeing him leave is an unusual scene for them, probably.

Technoblade ponders on how to respond.

"Yes." He should say where? Because he doesn't really know it himself.

"Oh, do you... uh, do you think you'll be back before noon? Wil and Flora are going to bake something, and trust me, it's better to eat it warm."

Technoblade simply nods, feeling the awkwardness of the interaction. Maybe Philza thinks Technoblade is planning to leave without warning. He is about to walk through the door when Philza's voice stops him.

"Oh Techno, please wait a moment." He asks as he rushes into the kitchen. His wings narrowly missing the objects on a table on the way. The avian opens a chest and takes from it three wooden bowls, each with a lid to prevent their contents from spilling, wrapping them in a white cloth and returning to the pair of hybrids. He hands Technoblade the objects, who looks at them with a certain confusion. "Some food for the way. In case you take too long out there, so you two don't go hungry."

Technoblade is quite capable of finding his own food, he has been doing it since he was a shoat. But still with that idea in mind, his hands immediately go up to take Philza's offering.

"Thanks." He mutters, putting the food in his backpack and walking out of the house.

The feel of the grass under his hooves is natural and at the same time very strange. Techno has already become accustomed to the echo of wood when walking on it. The hybrid looks around, turning to also observe the house from outside for the first time.

A beautifully constructed facade, wood and other materials with dark and light tones mixed efficiently and attractively, a house evidently designed by someone who knew what they were doing.

Bright plants and flowers decorating the exterior and windows give the building an extra touch.

Finishing his inspection and slight admiration of the house, Technoblade turns around and begins to walk in any direction, enjoying the fresh air but without forgetting or despising the homey aroma that is breathed inside the house.

Walking practically in a straight line with the idea of not getting lost, Technoblade explores what he can of the biome where that family's house is located.

With a few hours of exploration on the clock, Technoblade stops after finding a mushroom forest, enjoying the image of the huge red and white mushroom rising from the trees. And not far from this one, a beige one, just as giant, helps to create shade in that already dark forest.

Technoblade leaves the enderling on the ground, looking at him seriously and speaking firmly. "Stay there."

So he heads over to the pair of colossal mushrooms, and collects their soft flesh with the idea of using them later for cooking. He hasn't had a mushroom stew in a long time... or at least he thinks so.

The idea of eating makes him aware that he is somewhat hungry, and probably the enderman is as well. So he goes back to the little boy looking at him from the ground and sits across from him, taking out of his backpack one of the mysterious bowls and removing the lid to see that it is some kind of meat and vegetable stew. Philza seems to be a fan of cooking stews, and Technoblade could say that he is a fan of eating them.

"Are you hungry, kid?" He asks, settling in front of him and taking the spoon that Philza somehow wrapped in the white cloth without Techno realizing it.

The enderling vwoops excitedly and extends his bicolour hands toward Technoblade when he smells the food. It seems that the answer is yes.

After their lunch break, Techno steps take them to a small river next to a couple of trees. The water looks crystal clear and delicious, and he would have no reason to be drawn to it, not when his birth and childhood occurred amid flames and lava without a drop of the clear foreign liquid nowhere to be seen, but he almost feels the river calling him, inviting him with blue reflections that flash with the stream. Technoblade decides to take a bath in the shimmering waters, something he hasn't done in a long time, the blood (his own and that of others) and the dirt stuck to his clothes in what will surely be permanent stains at this point. Although there is a small problem...

The enderman warbles in his arms, watching mesmerized the glow of the water. He can't risk dropping him on the shore and lingering in his own bath. If the boy decides to jump into the water with him... No, he can't risk it.

Technoblade tries to think of a solution. He could dig a little hole in the ground and leave him there. But then Techno wouldn't be able to see him, and if some other unfortunate situation arose, Technoblade wouldn't know about it. Unless the creature yelled or something.

Techno looks around, planning what to do. There are a couple of trees by the river.

He thinks.

And thinks...

Hmm...

Moving away from the stream of water, Technoblade puts the enderman on the ground and takes out his axe. The first blow against the trunk sends splinters flying, and the hybrid worries that the kid is not far enough away not to be hit by them. He doesn't have to worry about that, when he turns to see him, he is still several meters away where he left him, away from his axe and away from the murderous water, too entertained playing with some poppies next to him.

Technoblade collects enough wood for what he plans, using one of the logs to make a workbench and turning two into a boat. The piglin leaves his backpack and the belt with his weapons and tools next to the tree, and puts the boat a few meters from it. Eager to see if this will work, he picks up the enderling from the ground and places him into what he just created. The boy looks a bit confused, exploring the floor of the boat but he doesn't seem to be trying to escape. Endermen trap.

The water feels ice cold against his (very) hot blooded body. Techno dives in fully clothed, unwilling to undress in front of the enderling (who is too busy playing and babbling in the boat on the shore anyway) but once he is in the water he decides to take off his clothes to "wash" them, or more appropriately called rub them against the stones until the stains fade a bit. The feel of the water against his skin is strangely comforting, and Technoblade can't help but think how those ideas would only earn him more rejection from his race if he ever shared them. Water was not made for piglins and piglins were not made for water.

Technoblade comes out of the river soaked and fully dressed, after putting his clothes back on while still in the water. The sun begins to fall on the horizon and the piglin approaches the boat to find the little enderman huddled in the boat, asleep from sheer boredom perhaps. Technoblade is about to bend over to carry him and abandon the boat next to that river, but the water dripping from his body reminds him that he cannot touch the child while he is soaked. He doesn't want to wait to dry naturally, by the time he does it'll probably be night already, and there's no faster way to dry. He can't shake off like a wet wolf and solve the problem.

The unpleasant sound of a slime bouncing behind him draws his attention. The hybrid turns to find a medium-sized slime cube jumping towards them. Grabbing his axe again, Technoblade reaches it before it reaches them and plunges his blade into the gelatinous creature. Each slice causes the slimy being to divide from one, to two, to four, four little green cubes unable to harm them, no matter how hard they try.

Technoblade's weapon ends up covered in a sticky green substance, and four small balls of slime lie at his feet. Techno takes them with a bit of disgust and puts them in his backpack, watching how the sun continues to advance towards the horizon. The piglin heads to the river to wash his hand, but the sticky consistency on it reminds him of something. Picking up his backpack again, Techno rummages through his objects, managing to find a couple of spider threads. Oh.

Back at the workbench he left earlier, the hybrid combines the slime and thread and makes a leash. Using one of the sides of his pickaxe he creates a hole in one end of the boat, passing the leash through it and thus allowing him to drag the boat in this way. Well, now he can take the kid back without getting him wet (although at this point his clothes are almost dry, but Technoblade is too involved in his plans to pay attention to that). As a final touch, he takes the sturdy shield he was hanging from his belt and places it over the edges of the boat, over the still-slept enderman. To prevent an arrow from hitting him or a phantom from diving at him.

By the time he gets back to the house, the sky is completely black, and a full moon is watching them from above. The enderling woke up sometime during the trip and he trills and screeches with apparent excitement. At least he's enjoying it.

Just in front of the door, the piglin retrieves his shield, hanging it from his back and then bends down to pick up the enderman. He then puts the leash away and pushes the boat aside, hoping that the occupants of the house don't question later what is that doing that there. They'll probably be confused when they see it.

When he walks through the front door, Philza is back (or still?) on a chair. Leaning forward, with a book in his hands like that morning, but now instead of reading it, he seems to be writing on it, a small bottle of ink on the table in front of him and a long white quill between his fingers. Wilbur and his kit are nowhere to be found.

The blue gaze lifts as soon as Philza hears the door open, looking slightly surprised to see Technoblade back. Maybe he really thought that the piglin was trying to sneak away very inconspicuously.

"Oh, hi guys." He greets with a smile, abandoning his task and straightening up on the furniture. "How did the... uh, walk go?"

"It went good." He replies simply, watching Philza stand up and start walking towards the kitchen, his wings half open obstructing the view of whatever he is doing.

When he turns around there is a plate with a red, triangular piece of something in his hands. The shape makes it look like a pumpkin pie slice, but neither the aroma nor the color relate it to that.

"Sweet berry pie, Flora's favorite." He announces, walking to the table and putting the plate in front of the chair where Technoblade usually (every time) sits. The hybrid gets the message, walking to the table and sitting in the chair, with the youngling on his lap.

"Obviously it's not warm anymore, but it's still great." Philza smiles gently, picking up a plate and helping himself to a portion. "Hope you two like it. Flora was really proud of it."

The idea that a spaw- other youngling had a part in the preparation of this meal makes him hesitate a bit, but it is not as if he himself has not eaten less than appetizing things before (and this does not look too bad, to be honest...). He has chewed rotten flesh before, whatever he has in front of him now can't be worse than that. Even if the dirty little hands of a kid have interacted with the food.

Techno decides to swap the fork for a spoon (spoons are great) and with this taste the first bite. It's very good. The way the dough crunches between his teeth and the sweet berries fill his mouth with flavour is beyond good. It is delicious. The enderling whines, watching him eat in front of him and distraught that he can't taste the food too.

A less full spoonful reaches the eager mouth of the eager enderman. And once again his eyes widen and sparkle like they had done when he tasted that chorus fruit a few days ago. The little half-blood looks like he wants to bounce with excitement on Technoblade's lap, chirping and vwooping with sheer delight in his voice. He loves sweet berries, of course he was going to like this.

"I see we have a positive review." Philza laughs, holding his own fork in hand, looking amused by the baby's reaction.

Techno is not going to mention anything, but it may be two positive reviews. With both hybrids eating from the same plate, the sweet and crunchy food doesn't last longer than three minutes. Philza seems happy to put another portion in front of them, warning Techno not to let the little one eat too much sugar and smiling as he tells him about how he could teach Technoblade the recipe if he wanted to.

"After all, Wilbur learnt it from me."

Technoblade nods silently, the enderling licking his lips delighted with the sweet aftertaste, while Techno eats the second serving from his plate. That... he wouldn't really mind that.

Chapter Text

There is a strange smell in the air, Technoblade notes one morning. His memory recognizes it immediately, the unmistakable smell of molten gold, something he hadn't smelled in years. The last time he remembers identifying that scent was in the Nether, an indefinite amount of time ago, but surely vast. Unable to avoid it, his instincts urge him to go in search of the origin of the scent.

Without giving much thought to what he is doing, the hybrid gets up from the desk and leaves the room, ignoring the whimpers and calls of the enderling in the crib; following the scent down the hall and into the living room, to the door and... outside.

Outside the house, the fiery metallic smell fades a bit, overshadowed by the scents of nature, dirt, and grass, but his sense of smell is too good to lose track of such a characteristic, well-known and well prized scent like that of boiling gold. In a small shed behind the house, near the sheep and chicken pens, the scent guides him, awakening his instincts to possess the precious material. The open door reveals Wilbur, both hands covered in thick protective gloves as he holds a bucket full of glowing, liquid, metal gold.

The young man's gaze rises when he feels the hybrid's presence in front of the shed.

"Oh hey, Technoblade." He greets, pouring the molten material into a mold in front of him. They haven't really interacted much, especially since Wilbur spends most of his time outside of his dwelling, taking his daughter with him wherever he goes almost every day.

"Hm. What are you doing?"

Wilbur looks happy to have received the question, putting the empty bucket aside and leaning over the mold he just filled, examining whatever he is doing. "My little champion's birthday will be soon."

Technoblade has heard Wilbur talk to Philza enough to know that "little champion" is his kit. But the first part of the message still requires explanation.

"Birthday?"

The boy looks like the question caught him off guard.

"Yes, birthday. The day you were born?" The piglin's expression must reveal his confusion and Wilbur gasps in disbelief. "Oh god, don't tell me you don't have those in the Nether."

The day you were born...

"How am I supposed to remember the day I was born? I was a newborn." He replies, in a tone that highlights how ridiculous the concept seems to him. "As I suppose we all were."

"Well, yeah. But that's what parents are for- ehhh." Wilbur seems to regret even starting to talk, wincing when the realization of something makes its way into his mind. A shadow of sadness crosses his brown eyes as his gaze lands on the hybrid's face, and Technoblade raises an eyebrow, confused by his sudden change of mien.

"What?" He asks the suddenly silent brunet, who quickly shakes his head and takes off the gloves in a hurry.

"Nothing, nothing." He responds, gently flexing his wings in the tight space where he is in. "Would you like to see what I have made for my Flora?"

Technoblade doesn't need to answer before Wilbur reaches to grab a necklace from a small shelf, with some kind of charm hanging from it. The whole piece is made of pure gold, and Techno's fingers involuntarily twitch at the sight of the shiny object

"This was my first attempt. But I'm not very happy with how it turned out." He exclaims, twirling the pendant between his fingers and sliding the chain over his palms. His gaze lifts back to Technoblade, and without saying anything he throws it in his direction. Technoblade catches it without problem, looking confused at the young avian. "I actually doubt she's going to wear it. I feel like you can give it a better use."

Technoblade feels...

He feels...

He feels very confused.

He knows his instincts. He knows the customs of his own species. Gold is a precious thing. Gold is the greatest gift that can be given.

This young man with wings just threw a molden piece of gold made by himself, as if it were a simple apple (and in fact he had referred to his own creation with some disdain). His emotions are in conflict. Nobody had ever given him anything, much less a piece made by hand with the most valuable material that exists (at least for them).

His silence and stare must be worrying Wilbur, because he can hear him calling him in a low-key but somewhat concerned tone.

"Technoblade?"

The hybrid's eyes go to the winged boy, a few centimeters shorter than him, who looks undecided about how to continue.

"Uh... what about your boy? I haven't seen him in a while. I bet that he's happy about that."

Technoblade's eyebrows furrow when responding. "He's not mine."

Wilbur's expression twists into a perplexed look, confusion and doubt very evident on his face. "I mean... that would probably explain a lot... But I think it also raises a lot more questions."

Techno just looks at him. He can have all the questions he wants, because Technoblade doesn't intend on answering them. Anyways, the young avian does not seem willing to interrogate him as his tone suggests, taking up his position next to the gold-filled mold and once again examining his work in progress. Technoblade looks at the small object in his hands, putting an abrupt end to their interaction and muttering a half goodbye before heading back towards the house.

Upon entering the room he is greeted by the happy and at the same time anguished trills of the baby... on the floor.

Technoblade is completely sure that he had left him in the crib before leaving the room. That little demon is finally learning not to stay behind the wooden bars. Oh no, that's terrible news. If the only method of containment is no longer effective... Technoblade doesn't want to think about what it will mean to have a baby crawling around, as far as his limits will allow it.

Technoblade just watches from a chair as Wilbur walks up and down the room, the enderling at his feet doing the same as the piglin. It seems that the long-awaited day of the so-called "birthday" of Wilbur's kit has arrived.

A cake which (according to the proud father) is more for decoration than anything, with five candles in the middle of it lies in the dining room. At the moment the candles aren't lit, but Technoblade deduces that they are there in order to be lit later. The customs of the Overworld are terribly bizarre. Techno can understand more that dessert is a decoration, with those bits of wax in the middle, but it still seems like a waste of a perfect cake. Five sweet berry pies lie tantalizingly on the table, promising at least, a fairly enjoyable snack (especially for the enderman, who has been staring at the food with almost palpable craving).

Wilbur is decorating, using dyes to color pieces of paper and then some shears to cut it into strange shapes, hanging them and scattering them around the room. Overworlders.

"Ah, my Flora." The black-winged boy exclaims out of nowhere, as he scatters more papers around the room. His tone is dreamy and soft. "I remember the day my little girl was born."

A pause makes its way in Wilbur's monologue.

"Well, and how could I forget it? It hurt like a bitch." He continues, letting his expression of love be replaced for a wince. "But I can't say it wasn't worth it for having my champion."

The brunet laughs softly, ignoring the fact that Technoblade has not participated in the "conversation".

"Besides, I swear to you, Phil cried more than she did that day. Poor old man couldn't believe he was a grandpa."

The door opens and Wilbur rushes to it, welcoming his father with a simple greeting and his daughter with a hug, lifting her off the ground and kissing her soft cheek, to which she reciprocates equally. Technoblade looks at the scene with discomfort and oddness, glancing at the enderman for an instant.

Wilbur takes her to the table with the desserts, laughing as he feels her cling tighter to him at the scene of so many pies in front of her, but Wilbur tells the young creature that before they can eat there is something he wants to give her. With that he puts her back on the ground and walks to a chest, taking something out of it and going back to his youngling with his hands behind his back.

"For my princess." He says, putting on the red-haired head the tiara that he himself had made a few days ago, before Techno's own eyes. The child seems happy with the piece, taking it off for a moment to appreciate the details and the brilliant jewels that sparkle in it, turning to see her father with a big smile and allowing the brunet to rearrange the accessory over her ears.

Technoblade can't help how much his gaze is fixed on the gleaming gold gift.

Philza clears his throat from a corner of the room, drawing everyone's attention, and presents something long wrapped in leather between his hands. "My turn."

The winged man walks up to the kit, looking at her fondly from above for a few seconds.

"Happy birthday, Flora." He exclaims, leaning towards his granddaughter and handing the pup the package. She unwraps it quickly, an obvious glint blazing in her eyes as she finds in her hands an iron sword, crafted smaller but with much more detail than a normal weapon.

"Dad!" Wilbur screeches in alarm, trying to snatch the sword from the youngling. Trying. The little canid runs away before her father can take the object between her paws. He had mentioned before (not with little pride) how agile and elusive his kit had become. Well, maybe he's not so proud of it right now. "Flora!"

"Relax, Wil. The blade isn't even that sharp." Philza smiles as he replies to his nervous son, who looks at him like he's gone crazy.

Technoblade snorts quietly from his seat. The enderling looks up at him.

He just likes Phil more and more every day.

Chapter Text

The sound of crying from outside his room wakes Technoblade up one night. The hybrid knows well that it isn't coming from the enderling that accompanies him, who miraculously sleeps next to him during the night this time. So he finally seems to be adjusting to a daytime schedule with a relatively deep sleep at night. Lucky him.

The constant white noise of drops against the glass and roof lets him know that it is raining outside. A heavy and intense rain, which he easily classifies as a storm.

A new stifled sob makes Technoblade frown in confusion. The crying sounds like a creature older than a baby, it sounds like a small child, less demanding and more distressed. He can hear pain in the screams. The piglin wonders if it is coming from the daughter of the youngest avian, who, now that he thinks about it, Technoblade doesn't really remember ever hearing, speaking or complaining. But the crying has an accent he's rarely heard, something like... bleating?

Technoblade gets up to investigate, not wanting to be too obvious with his curiosity and sneaks as quietly as he can from the room, careful not to wake the baby in the crib. He doesn't have time to deal with him now, when he wants to find out what the fuss is about before he goes back to bed. That doesn't stop him from pausing to pry the white thumb out of the baby's mouth. Stubborn child.

For a two meters creature trying to sneak up over a wooden floor… is not easy, but Technoblade has his tactics. He is as stealthy as his dimensions allow him to be. His hooves inevitably echo on the planks, but the cries and sobs of the child outside, along with the dull patter of the rain against the house work well to cover his steps. The hybrid can hear the familiar voices of the winged father and son, exchanging worried words as he moves to the end of the hall. The main room is barely lit by the flames of a couple of candles and Technoblade peeks around the corner of the wall, he hopes, hidden enough by the shadows.

Wilbur is on his feet, looking through the chests and drawers, walking around the room with a lantern in his hand so he can illuminate the corners that the candlelights don't reach. And in one of the dining room chairs Philza is sitting, with a child in his arms. The one responsible for the ruckus that woke Technoblade up. Fluffy, slightly curly brown hair and pale peach skin, its clothes and all of it in general looking soaked and dirty, probably after spending a considerable amount of time under the heavy rain and having tripped and fallen at least once on the damp earthy soil. The creature has a rather human appearance, it even looks like Wilbur. If it weren't for the pair of long ears that stick out from between its hair locks and fall to the sides of its head, and the bleating that escapes with its cries. A yeanling.

(Although the incompatibility of species and lack of resemblance doesn't seem to be an issue when it comes to blood ties in this family. The kid could well still be Wilbur's. His daughter is a ginger fox, for hell's sake.)

The child doesn't look older than the brunet's daughter, if Techno had to guess he would estimate its age on about two years, but again he has never been good with time measurements. He is still not clear on the age of the enderling in his room.

"Did he get here all by himself?" Techno can hear the older man ask his son, gently cradling the kid on his chest, who at last seems to begin to calm down, though it's still crying. For the first time, Technoblade sees Philza without his hat, his light hair disheveled, apparently after just getting out of bed, his dark wings folded behind him. The piglin manages to smell a hint of blood in the air.

Wilbur finally finds what he is looking for, returning to the table and sitting next to his father, handing him what appears to be a roll of white bandages, placing a box on the table; probably a first aid kit. Technoblade can see that the kid's arm is slightly covered in blood and most notably covered in dirt.

"I don't think so. It's impossible that he could have gotten here from his house. It's too far, and he would never have remembered the way. Maybe Schlatt was bringing him... do you think something could have happened to them while they were coming here?"

The man doesn't reply, busy cleaning the right arm of the lamb on his lap, softly shushing his whimpers as he uses a cloth to wipe the blood and dirt from his skin, disinfecting with experience and ignoring the cries of pain with trained stoicism, finally beginning to bandage the small injured forearm.

Wilbur leans slightly toward the creature once Philza's job is done, speaking in a soft but serious tone. "Tubbo, did you come here alone? Do you know where your dad is?"

The yeanling sniffles and shakes his head negatively. It's not clear if the gesture is in response to one or both questions.

"Wil, leave him alone. The poor thing must be exhausted and terrified."

"Dad, I just want to know what's going on! We need to know what the hell happened to make him end up in our house, alone and injured in the middle of a storm."

As if for emphasis, the booming of thunder echoes overhead, startling even the piglin hybrid, who takes a moment to pray that the enderling in the crib remains asleep. The child on the avian's lap whines terrified at the loud sound, pressing himself against Philza, and Wilbur jumps up from the table after hearing the roar in the sky. His expression is one of determination and deep concern in equal parts.

"I can't just sit here, I have to go see if he's okay. Maybe he's hurt somewhere out there." The young man moves quickly in the direction of the door, about to open it when the voice of his father stops him.

"Wilbur Soot, you're not going anywhere. Do you want to be struck by lightning?" The man exclaims in a stern voice, combing the slightly curly hair of the lamb sniffling and blinking languidly against his sleep shirt. "We are going to take care of Tubbo tonight and in the morning we will go find out what is happening. The only thing you would accomplish by going out now would be to soak your wings and probably serve as a lightning rod. You won't even be able to take flight in this storm and you sure as hell won't be able to find anything under these conditions."

The young man seems to be debating whether to obey or to continue with his announcement, lantern in hand and standing in front of the door with his wings slightly spread, preparing to take flight; but he finally decides to abide to Philza's order, moving away from the door and closing his wings, returning to the table and looking at the toddler in the elder's arms, with an hint of anguish in his eyes. The man looks up at his son, his expression softening at the concern on his face.

"Go get a couple of blankets to dry him off and keep him warm, and do you think any of Flora's clothes will fit him? We can't leave him in these wet and dirty rags."

Wilbur nods silently, starting to walk out of the room and towards the bedrooms. Towards Technoblade.

When the piglin realizes where his trajectory is going, he rushes back to his own room as quickly and quietly as he can, closing the door behind him and hoping he hadn't been seen. He has no real reason for wanting to be so discreet, it's not like he has discovered some obscure, terrible thing or something like that, but he knows that whatever is happening outside it's not something that concerns him. They know the lamb and from what he sees, they know its parents as well, surely the other name mentioned is one of these. It obviously is a family situation or something like that, in which he does not belong.

Technoblade returns to his bed, stopping at the crib to check that the enderling is still asleep and not sucking on his thumbs. Indeed, as if the rain was lulling him, his relaxed posture, with both hands at the sides of his head, and his soft sighs while he rests almost make Technoblade feel jealous as he witnesses the placidity of his sleep. Well, a heavy sleeper, he can imagine that is the fantasy of many parents. Not like he knows anything about it, of course. He wouldn't know what it's like to be a parent.

Shaking his head, disappointed in his own ideas and how these kinds of thoughts continue to creep into his mind, Technoblade lays back down on the mattress. He can still hear movement and the voices of the two men, distant and muffled by the distance and the walls.

Technoblade assumes that tomorrow will be a considerably more interesting day than usual.

So now there's yet another kid in the house... oh hell.

Also, apparently the brunet avian's full name is Wilbur Soot. Huh.

Chapter Text

When Techno wakes up in the morning, he has completely forgotten what he saw last night. The memories begin to creep in, confusing him at not knowing if it was all a dream or if he really saw what he saw last night.

With the hunger urging him to get up, and seeing that the enderling next to the bed is already awake, the hybrid gets up from the mattress and repeats the already automatic routine of taking the baby out of the crib and walking with him to the table, where winged father and son are already waiting for him to share breakfast time.

Everything seems normal with them, the most unusual thing being that Wilbur is not already finishing his breakfast, apparently having fallen behind in his routine, seeing how his father's plate is the one that is already empty, as opposed to already finishing his food by the time Technoblade reaches the table. From what he can see the blond avian woke up even earlier this morning. (And again, the hat is on his head. Seeing him without it seemed quite unreal. It was probably a dream.)

The piglin greets as usual, receiving responses immediately, from a cheerful and awake Philza and a Wilbur with his mouth full, earning him a scolding from his father. In front of the hybrid's chair are two plates and two cups, something he does not recall seeing before. Philza replies before Techno can ask.

"I prepared something special for the little one." He exclaims, presenting the plate when the piglin sits next to him. A few slices of bread stacked in pairs, as far as he can see, with something peeking out between them. "I made jam from the leftover chorus fruit and used it for sandwiches. Since he seemed to like End fruit so much."

Technoblade stares at the food he now knows is not for him, but for the enderman on his lap. Philza gets up from the table, taking his empty plate with him and returns to his chair with a spoon full of something that looks like purple slime. "Do you want to try it?"

The piglin raises an eyebrow at the offer, looking at the man with obvious doubt. "Won't it make me bounce around the room?"

He unconsciously shifts the baby on his lap, remembering the time he ate that fruit and ended up on the other side of the room.

"You know," Technoblade continues, gesturing with one hand to represent teleportation. "Poof?"

"No, don't worry. Boiled, cooked and so on, it loses that property." Phil explains, offering him the spoon. The little halfling immediately tries to reach for it, but Technoblade moves faster and takes it from Philza. Techno examines the full golden spoon for a few seconds, shrugs and proceeds to put the utensil in his mouth.

Somewhat sweet.

And very sour!

Before he can help it, his face twists into a grimace from the acidity of the thing he just ate.

"Techno?" Philza's voice sounds concerned, and Technoblade must compose himself quickly to avoid further humiliation and not to cause worry in the avian. He presses his eyes lightly before looking back at Phil.

"It's sour." He explains simply, turning the spoon back to Philza and looking down at the child on his lap, who is now reaching for the food on the plate in front of them. "Do you actually like that?"

The blond man laughs softly, putting the empty spoon aside and looking at Technoblade as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't dare to do so. Behind them, Wilbur seems to have finally finished with his breakfast, silent throughout the process. Philza follows his son with his gaze as he walks to the kitchen, mindlessly playing with his fingers as he alternates his gaze between the two hybrids.

"Um... Techno, do you think I could...?" Phil extends both hands towards the young. It takes Technoblade a few seconds to figure out what he is referring to. His first reaction is confusion, unsure whether he understands the implicit request. His outstretched hands towards the enderling are a pretty clear sign. His second reaction is uncertainty and seeing how Phil seems to regret having asked, starting to retract his arms, Techno finally responds to the man with wings. "Sorry I-"

"Uh, yeah, sure. I guess." Technoblade interrupts him, taking the enderling (incidentally noticing how heavy he is when he lifts him up to Philza) and allows the older male to sit him in his own lap. The objection from the bicolor creature is immediate, whimpering and trying to get back with Techno as soon as he feels in strange hands. "Don't be dramatic, I'm not going anywhere and neither are you."

A loud screech startles everyone, and Technoblade tries not to laugh at the look of utter betrayal on the enderman's face.

"Calm down, kid." He orders without malice, taking one of the... sandwiches? on the plate and bringing it closer to the noisy little mouth. The child seems to forget his suffering when the familiar taste of the chorus fruit fills his mouth. (Technoblade may have used a little too much force to feed him, seeing the purple gelatinous substance slightly smeared around the sides of his mouth.)

Philza awws indiscreetly, taking the rest of the sandwich in his hand and shifting the baby on his lap.

"Yeah, don't worry, mate. Your dad is right there."

Techno's stomach sinks and his blood runs cold when he hears that coming out of Philza's mouth. Had he still had the food in his hands, now it would be a jelly-like mess crushed between his fingers.

Does he still think that?!

"Phil, I'm not-"

"Oh, it looks like someone woke up early today!" Wilbur's voice interrupts his desperate clarification from the kitchen. Phil immediately leans out to look to the side of Techno and smiles at someone behind him.

"Good morning, mate."

Technoblade also turns without thinking, confused by the presence of someone else in the house. A brunet, long-eared boy with a bandaged arm rubs one of his eyes at the entrance to the room.

So it wasn't a dream.

The creature says nothing, walking over to the table and pushing a chair to sit down. The lamb yawns and stops rubbing his eye, finally seeming to notice the presence of Technoblade in the chair that's diagonal to the one he chose. His eyes widen in surprise, before looking at Philza and noticing the enderling on his lap.

"Phil?" He exclaims unsure, looking at the avian with confusion on his face.

"Tubbo, these are our friends! This is Techno," he introduces, pointing at the piglin with all the fingers of his left hand. Technoblade observes the child from the corner of his eye, not wanting to intimidate him with his staring gaze. Phil then looks down at the baby with him, who for the moment looks indifferent to anything but his breakfast. "And this is..."

Again, Technoblade remembers that the baby has no name. Is he supposed to give him one? No, that doesn't make sense. The parents, at least the relatives, are the ones who are in charge of naming the offspring. Not him. He is... is...

(What is he? A... caretaker? Oh hell, that sounds awful.)

"This is..." Phil looks at Technoblade for a moment, waiting for assistance with the missing information.

"It's an enderman." The kid finishes at Philza's hesitation. "But why is it so weird?"

"Tubbo! Don't say that." The older avian chides, assisting the enderling in his attempt to grab another piece of bread. It seems the food was a distraction effective enough that the halfling forgot that he really didn't want to be with Philza.

"But Phil, it's true. Doesn't even look like an enderman." The lamb insists, looking strangely at the enderling who seems to have not even noticed his presence yet. "It looks like..."

"Hey Tubbs, are you hungry?"

Wilbur reappears on the scene, in his hands a plate with some kind of flour discs or something, covered in honey and jam as far as Techno can see. The little ruminant reacts very positively to the food, nodding excitedly as he reaches out his hands towards the younger avian.

Before handing it over, Wilbur helps him get out of the chair. Once he does, the child eagerly receives the food. "Go look for Flora in my room, I think she should be awake by now. Those are enough to share between you two."

And with that, the creature leaves the room, followed by Wilbur, who is carrying a pair of forks and... knives, were they called? He's not going to give those spiky and sharp things to the offspring, is he?

Techno is quite absorbed in his ideas, when the voice of Phil brings him back to the scene.

"You are probably quite confused." The man laughs nervously. "That little boy is Tubbo. He is the son of a... friend of Wil. He is like part of the family. And... he may be staying here for a while."

Techno nods silently, scooping up some scrambled eggs with his spoon and glancing at the enderman baby as Phil assists him in eating what is left of his own food, a little smile on the avian's face. This man seems very fond of younglings. The hybrid doesn't understand it.

Techno watches them, feeling that there was something he wanted to say to Philza but he can't remember what.

"He is a very well behaved little boy. Very calm for his age. I remember when Wilbur was the same age." The chuckling as he shakes his head, rolling his eyes tells Technoblade what he needs to know. "That chick was... well. He was quite a challenge. Getting him to stay still was quite a feat."

Philza interrupts himself to take the cup with liquid cocoa and help the enderling to drink, trying to prevent him from spilling the beverage all over himself.

"Actually, Wil hasn't changed much. Now he's just a big fledgling." He continues, putting the cup back on the table. The smile never leaves his expression. "Also, I remember... kid liked to eat sand. I suspect he still does."

Phil mumbles the last part, looking sideways as he says it. Techno arches an eyebrow at that. That sounds... familiar.

"Luckily, Flora didn't inherit her father's craziness. Not much of it, at least."

Phil stacks the empty plate and cup, cooing at the child when he raises his head to look at him. Philza quickly looks away as soon as the kid looks up, not wanting to trigger his defensive instinct by meeting his gaze for too long.

"You're doing a good job with this little lad. I assume he's your first-"

"He's not mine. That kid... I have nothing to do with him."

Philza's expression immediately reflects his surprise, and like his son when he informed it to him, confusion. Why does everyone look so confused when he informs them the obvious news that this baby is not his? Don't they see that they are not even of the same dimension? That they are not even of the same species? (The avian, Wilbur's child, is still a fox, though. But Wilbur is too weird, he's a special case.)

"Oh... um. Well..." For the first time Philza looks like he has no idea what to say.

Once the distraction from the meal is over, the youngling seems to remember that the person who is currently carrying him is not the person he has become used to seeing since he opened his eyes. Technoblade is in front of him, so this is not Technoblade. His hands reach up to the piglin and his fingers open and close eagerly, beginning to click in anguish toward the Nether hybrid.

Eating with unusual slowness, Techno watches his spectacle in silence and still with his spoon in hand. Philza stares at the agitated child, looking conflicted, and as if he expects Techno to tell him to do something.

"Do I...?"

"Just let him down." Techno indicates, reaching out to grab his own cup for the first time. He watches as the avian obeys to his instruction, bending down to free the restless child. Quick as an arrow, the halfling crawls the short distance between the two chairs and reaches Technoblade, babbling enthusiastically and clinging to the side of his pants. Using the fabric as an anchor, the creature propels himself up off the ground, awkwardly balancing on his two legs as he looks up at the piglin hybrid with some kind of expectation.

Oh. He hadn't done that before.

"Phil." Techno once again leaves his delayed, half-eaten breakfast in the background. Philza hums in response to the call, apparently also attentive to what the enderling is doing. "Do you think he will start walking soon?"

"Probably, Techno."

Techno tries to visualize an enderling waddling freely around the house (plus now it seems that the crib is no longer an obstacle for him). Hm...

Is that good news or a nightmare awaiting?

Chapter Text

After finishing his breakfast, Technoblade returns to his room. As is customary, the baby does not separate from him, crawling quickly after his steps and vwooping sporadically, as if to not let Technoblade forget about his presence. In the background, Technoblade can hear the clinking of plates and metal, presumably the other two younglings eating their own breakfast in Wilbur's room.

Techno leaves his door open and lies down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling and wondering what he can do with his day. The book and the paper are still there on his desk, and although Technoblade plans to try to continue with his translation task, he feels no desire to do so now. That can be left for later. It's still too early to try to get a headache.

From the blue carpet in the middle of the room, the kid looks at him curiously.

"What? Any ideas?" He exclaims, as if the youngling could read his mind, and also answer his question.

It's been a couple of weeks since Technoblade last left the house, along with the enderling. Maybe he can plan a new walk, go get some fresh air and do some exploring, only this time without staying out until night.

His ideas are interrupted when from the living room, Techno manages to hear the voices of Philza and Wilbur, in a conversation that, judging by the volume of his voices, is not a secret topic. A couple of stray words reach his ears, but Technoblade doesn't feel the urge to get up to eavesdrop on their talk. He already did that last night... and he probably shouldn't do it again.

Some mention of Schlatt and the lamb that is now in the house is exchanged between the two men, as well as mentioning of the storm. He already heard that name before, last night when they were both attending to the crying child. As far as he knows, according to what they talked about yesterday, that is the father of the lamb. That friend of Wilbur that Philza mentioned at the table.

After a short exchange, with some tone of exasperation on Phil's part that makes it almost impossible for Techno not to get up to hear more clearly, the front door opens and closes, presumably someone leaving the house.

Techno tries to concentrate to hear what else happens next, but it seems that his interaction is already over, obviously with someone leaving the house. His gaze returns to the halfling who has not stopped looking at him even for a second.

"If you're so good at getting out of the crib why don't you use your great talent for good and get in it for once. It would be pretty good for me, you know." He says sarcastically towards the creature that is staring at him from the floor.

The sound of wet footsteps by the animal pens distracts him from his staring contest with the enderling. Whoever is out of the house is now walking behind it, and from what he can hear, last night's heavy rain left the ground like a swamp.

"Flora!" Wilbur's voice reaches his ears, apparently being near the window next to his bed. Technoblade sits up on the mattress, trying to peek out without being seen by the avian. "I told you to stay with your grandfather."

Not far from the house Wilbur is standing, his gaze fixed on a bush at the entrance to the woods behind the house. Its leaves shake and a pair of black ears peek out from the branches, soon followed by the rest of the creature. The now five-year-old daughter of Wilbur comes out of the leafy plant.

Technoblade raises an eyebrow at the scene. He hadn't seen the pup since her party a couple of days ago.

She doesn't look up from the ground. Techno doesn't expect to hear her exclaim anything.

"Ik wil ook gaan, pa."

... What?

"No, Flora. I already told you no. Go back to the house."

He can hear a little whine from the kit, who finally looks up to see her tall father. Wilbur sighs softly, a small smile replacing his firmer expression.

"When I get back we can go fishing, okay darling?" He continues in a less stern and softer voice, leaning down to run his right hand over his daughter's ginger head, gently flattening her ears. "Go play with Tubbo."

"... Oké, pappa."

The pup turns around and runs back toward the house, quickly getting out of the piglin's field of view. Technoblade then follows Wilbur with his gaze until he disappears into the trees. Something black and not very big flies rapidly over the grove, quickly getting out of sight, and in the distance Technoblade manages to hear some kind of caw.

The front door opens and closes again, and Philza calls out from the living room, presumably to his granddaughter.

Techno realizes that he has just eavesdropped on another conversation. Only this one was a lot weirder than the last one and his spying was a lot less intentional.

If he were to be honest, Technoblade didn't expect the kit to actually speak. And he has no idea what she said... if she said anything at all. Maybe that was some kind of fox language or something?

Well... Wilbur seemed to understand her.

Technoblade wonders what the language of the endermen will be like. He'd pretty much bet that whatever's written on the sheet on his desk is enderman, but he has no idea what it sounds like.

The child chirps from the floor, demanding his attention again. Once he sees Techno's gaze on him, he crawls to the bed and clings to the sheet under Technoblade. He seems to want to repeat his earlier feat in front of the piglin. The hybrid just watches him silently, hearing him vwoop happily once he balances shakily on his paws again. His bright eyes stare at him.

"Now you're just showing off." Techno exclaims simply. "If you want to really impress me, let go of the sheet and start walking for real."

Technoblade hopes not to regret that request in the future.

Chapter Text

Techno can hear the two younglings screeching and laughing outside his room, footsteps running over the wooden hallways, and occasionally Philza's voice calling them to be careful. Technoblade cannot deny that a certain curiosity is awoken in him by hearing the cries and laughter of the lamb and the kit, apparently quite enjoying their playing session. Occasionally his gaze falls on the halfling still on the floor, who also seems alert to the commotion outside, looking towards the door, in the direction of the room from which the noises are coming.

Techno watches him for a couple of seconds, concluding that letting him interact with the other two kids is probably a positive development. After all, the enderling must learn to be more independent and separate from Technoblade, and what better way to do that than by exchanging laughs and screams with other creatures his age?

"Go ahead. Join the Armageddon out there." His voice makes the two-colored head immediately turn towards him. Technoblade makes a shooing gesture with his hands, not really expecting him to understand, but not letting that stop him. "Be a kid or something, go play."

The little enderman looks at him, not for long before a loud screech catches his attention again. Technoblade decides to get up and go see what is happening out there. There haven't been many times where he's witnessed young creatures playing, he doesn't even remember if he did it himself during his early years in the Nether, along with the other shoats.

Piglin and enderman move down the hall toward the living room, and halfway there, Techno hears two pairs of footsteps approaching them. Around the corner before reaching the room (the same corner Technoblade used last night to hide while listening to the avians talking) the brown haired lamb appears, evidently unaware of his presence and too busy using his hooves to kick a ball that appears to be made of fabric and probably stuffed with wool. Who doesn't miss him, though, is the attentive daughter of Wilbur, who sees him immediately after passing the corner. She seems to freeze for a moment in his presence, yellowish-orange eyes wide, evidently not expecting to meet head-on the tall male she seems to have been avoiding since they arrived here.

Her commotion is short, without looking at him for more than two seconds, the child turns and runs towards the kitchen, from where Philza's voice soon arrives.

"Flora? What's wrong?"

The yeanling then notices his playmate's absence, and is finally aware of Technoblade's presence. The tiny ram looks around until he finds Technoblade, then stares at him too, less terrified than the girl but still looking somewhat intimidated and wary. The glow of the purple particles next to Techno's hooves (where the enderling is waiting) seems to catch his attention, then looking at the halfling, and frowning, the creature leans down, picks up his toy, and walks casually towards the kitchen.

Technoblade stays silent, simply digesting what just happened. He seriously just cut off a game session so abruptly just with his presence?

The little enderman utters some kind of grunt that takes the hybrid off guard, looking down at him and finding him in a resting position, sitting on his calves, with his hands on the ground.

"Hm." Technoblade exclaims dryly and starts to walk towards the kitchen. The canid daughter of Wilbur obviously senses his imminent presence and just as he reaches the kitchen, she runs away from Philza (who is kneeling in front of the oven). The baby sheep soon runs after her.

"Phil, why does your grandkid hate me?"

"Aw, Techno, mate. Don't be silly, of course she doesn't hate you." The avian replies, interrupting his task of cleaning the oven to look up at the piglin.

"The child runs whenever I'm near and looks at me like I'm planning on eating her, Phil."

"Flora's just a little timid... you know how shy foxes are. She's really not fond of strangers."

Technoblade tries to reply with the flattest tone possible. It would be ridiculous to sound hurt by what he just heard.

"I've lived here for like three months, Phil. Am I still a stranger in this house?"

"Oh, Techno!... Of course not. Oh, mate, I didn't mean it like that. You and your little... this little lad are part of the family. It's just that she doesn't see you often and she's just naturally very evasive with everyone." Techno decide not to point out that the reason she doesn't ever see him is because she straight up runs from him every time.

"She probably is just shocked to see someone taller than her father, Techno." Philza laughs softly. "She's really not used to people."

A somewhat heavy silence abruptly cuts through the conversation. Techno sighs.

"Is it because we're monsters?"

Philza seems surprised at what he just heard. His face stained with soot and ash, matching his wings making him look somewhat comical (if it wasn't for the obvious anguish on his face).

"... What?"

Technoblade doesn't respond at first, looking away in discomfort as he sees that Philza has fixed his blue eyes on him.

"I know what being rejected is like, Philza." A small pause that is not filled by any background noise. Not even the enderman. "And being useful is the only thing I can be to..."

Maybe Techno is regretting a bit for having said what he just said, and he may be regretting even speaking in the first place. Philza's gaze seems to be a tornado of emotions, none of them really positive.

"Nevermind, forget I said anything." He says somewhat sharply, turning around and planning to lock himself in his room until Philza forgets about it.

His footsteps move quickly down the hallway he walked through just a few minutes ago, entering the room and closing the door without hesitation. Technoblade walks towards the bed, sitting on it and trying not to think about what just happened. He feels embarrassed remembering the scene, especially the avian's look... ugh.

It doesn't take long for a high whimper to come from the other side of the door. And then Techno realizes that he left the kid locked out of their room.

He is about to get up and open the door, but immediately he hears footsteps approaching, and a soft knock, followed by a cautious "Techno?" on by Philza makes him doubt. He can sense that the man wants to talk about whatever he made the mistake of spitting out there, and his own threat of weakness makes him feel angry with himself.

"Uh... Techno... the baby."

"You can keep him." He responds dryly, laying down on the mattress with the idea of sleeping. Or getting lost in his own rushing ideas. "He's gotta learn to be alone anyway."

The last thing is said without the intention of it being heard by the man behind the door. Whether he heard it or not, Technoblade doesn't care. He now just feels embarrassed and wants to be alone anyway.

Silence. Then the footsteps recede. The whines and whimpers stay, though; and Techno convinces himself that this is part of building a character for the offspring. He will never become independent if at every slightest whine, Technoblade will run to his rescue.

Also, he has to learn to be alone. He needs to.

Technoblade is jolted awake by a loud bang outside his room. His sleepy mind struggles to focus and he can't even remember where he is. Still, before even processing what's going on, Techno is already out of his bed, rushing to the door and swinging it open. The hallway looks unusually dark.

Techno stares into the darkness for a few seconds, recognizing the house and remembering the noisy hatchlings that had been running through the halls before. The hybrid walks on the planks, which strangely don't squeak under his weight, as he remembers them doing before, and he peeks around the corner, seeing Wilbur and Philza sitting at the table. As he already saw them the night before.

"I think we should tell him." Wilbur exclaims, a flint lighter in his hands, which he fiddles with, lightning and killing the flame periodically.

"What for? He is going to ruin everything if he finds out. We just have to wait a little more, and it will all work itself out." Philza's retort is sour. Aggressive even.

Technoblade can't believe what he just heard. They are definitely referring to him. But what are they talking about?

"How do we know he will even cooperate with us?"

"He knows he has to be useful. He will. Everything's already so close to being done. It should be smooth from now on. We just have to be patient."

"But we have waited so long already. I miss her." His voice sounds melancholic and… annoyed. "Having monsters in the house is the last thing I imagined you ever doing. Moreover, one of them being an enderman!"

Wilbur sounds whiny, like a child complaining to their parent about something they don't like. Which seems to be exactly the case now.

"Oh, Wilbur, don't be stupid now. You know well that enderman is the key to all of this. We need him." The blond avian replies accusingly.

"Yes... do we need the piglin, though?"

The older man leans back in his chair, thoughtful for a moment.

"No, not really." He answers, looking at the ceiling. "Getting him out of the way wouldn't be an issue, but he can be useful for a while. He has to."

A long silence passes, broken only by the clicks of the lighter in Wilbur's hands. In one of these, his hands seem to slip and the tool with an open flame falls to the ground. Which, like the rest of the house, is made of wood.

"Oops."

Inexplicably, the flame lights up with an unnatural intensity, advancing only towards the place where Technoblade is. The hybrid tries to flee in the opposite direction, but his path is blocked by some kind of invisible barrier. On the other side of it, directly outside the door to his room, the enderling sniffles and cries, looking at him with pure despair on his features.

Desperate to do something, the piglin pushes against the non-existent wall, slamming his body into it a couple of times. Nothing.

Technoblade turns back to see the men at the table, who in turn are looking at him. Wilbur raises a hand and waves vigorously, an unsettlingly wide smile set on his face as he waves at Technoblade. Philza instead looks at him with his arms crossed over his chest, on his face an expression so cold that it could probably put out the flames that are about to engulf him completely. Technoblade can almost feel the hatred from his mien hitting him like the waves of heat currently surrounding him.

"Help!" He manages to squeak in a voice that's not his. "... Please, help-"

Technoblade opens his eyes.

The first thing he notices is more screeching and noises from outside. Now, the enderman's accent has joined the children's choir on the other side of the door.

A feeling of uneasiness fills his body, getting up from the mattress and rushing to the door. Technoblade hesitates a bit before opening it.

The hallway is not dark.

The walk from the doorframe to the living room feels agonizingly long, and inexplicably, his heart races and his nerves arise. The mix of small voices continues to fill his ears, distant and somewhat muffled.

Technoblade arrives in the living room. And there's no one there.

"Hi, Technoblade."

Oh wait. Wilbur's there. The hybrid won't admit how hearing the brunet avian's unexpected voice made him jump slightly.

"Where are they?" He snaps, straight to the point, looking at the boy sitting in a lounge chair.

"Huh?"

"The kids." He retorts, somewhat exasperated. Wilbur's confused look stirs the feeling of annoyance growing in his chest. "Where are they?"

"Oh, they're playing outside. Dad's looking after them." His footsteps immediately take a course towards the ajar door. Wilbur exclaims something else before Technoblade can leave the house. "Don't worry, your little man's with them too."

Not far from the main door, sure enough, on an improvised platform made with wooden planks to save them from the muddy ground, the trio of young creatures are sitting around the older avian, who has his back to the house. Apparently each one of the kids is eating something they have in their hands.

"Techno! You're awake." The winged man says in a relaxed tone when he hears his footsteps and turns slightly to see him. "How are you-"

Philza interrupts himself, perplexed and quite confused when he sees that the hybrid just walks ultil he reaches the baby enderman, bending down to snatch him from Philza's side (somewhat harshly) and proceeds to turn around and start walking again without uttering a word. Technoblade's stern and unfriendly expression probably having been picked up by Philza.

"... Techno?" His heavy, hurried footsteps are halfway back to the dwelling by the time Philza turns around to follow him with his eyes. Technoblade can feel his gaze behind him.

"Oi, Technoblade. What's up with you?" Wilbur questions once his path crosses the room again. Technoblade ignores him.

For the second time today, Technoblade reaches into what is his room and slams the door shut, locking it before putting the enderling on his own bed, instead of the crib.

The child just stares at him, with eyes just as open and just as bright as ever, in his little claws a half-gnawed cookie, whose consumption he resumes as soon as he has the opportunity to do so.

Technoblade exhales hard, ignoring the crumbly mess his bed will be if he doesn't do something about it, and leans heavily against one of the walls by the door, sinking to the floor.

His mind is full of white noise and at the same time he thinks he can hear, in the background and very muffled, the voices of Philza and Wilbur, laughing at him and calling him useless over and over again.

"He can be useful for a while."

Technoblade rests his head on his hands, trying to isolate the demeaning words that repeat over and over inside his mind.

"He has to."

Chapter Text

Technoblade is not sure... what is going on.

An intense anxiety, a strange fear that tightens his chest and barely allows him to breathe fills his body constantly. The feeling that someone (not the enderling) is watching him at all times. His surroundings, a jumble of colors and shapes, that he can't make out half the time.

Time.

Technoblade has no idea how long he's been like this. At some point, not long after he locked them both in this room, Philza's presence made itself known from the other side of the locked door. Knocking a couple of times and calling out to him in concern, his attempts to interact ceased (quite quickly) as the hybrid lost patience, hating the drumming of knocking against the wood and the murmur of his voice behind it. There was already enough noise inside his head for the man to want to overwhelm him with his own presence.

"Go away!" He barked fiercely, slamming his closed fists against the door itself. He could hear a squeak come from behind, from wherever the kid was. "Leave me alone."

He could hear how Philza hurried away, the hesitant footsteps easily heard with the silence that followed his outburst. There would be more times that the man (and even once or twice his son) approached the door for the reason of wanting to interact, it seemed (although, to be fair, Wilbur seems more interested in talking about the young and "confirming that he is okay". Stupid crow, of course he is, why shouldn't he be?) They were all rejected, none quite as violently as the first, but the severely unwelcoming tone should have been more than enough each time. For some reason they keep insisting.

Or maybe he has already begun to imagine they do.

All the time there is someone talking. Laughing, shouting, crying or mumbling intensely, his mind has no rest. Although he should point out, the constant monologue in his head consists mostly of someone asking, begging for help. The same voice that replaced his in that strange scene. A soft chime that has been haunting him for months now, in the back of his head. Begging him for help.

Sometimes it's easier to ignore it, and sometimes he feels surrounded by unseen presences trying to drive him crazy. Technoblade wonders if maybe they were present all along, and before he just did a better job of isolating them.

The kid is there. He can see him crawl from one corner of the room to the other, and try to climb on the chair, the bed, and when he finds him on the floor, in Technoblade's lap (an action that is quickly rejected and discouraged each time).

He can hear his voice, making sounds every now and then (Technoblade doesn't want to think too much if half the time it's really the enderman, or just another figment of his imagination). He should be feeding him, that thought flashes through his mind, and he realizes that he should be feeding himself, too. Philza and Wilbur have arrived several times at his door, evidently with food behind it, the aroma easily reaching him from the kitchen. Philza, especially asking him (not too insistently, but pleadingly and gradually more urgently) to accept the food and let both hybrids eat.

He will not open that door. He will not accept anything from them. He's made that very clear already.

But I need to feed him.

Be useful!

What kind of parent allows his own child to starve? You're awful.

An involuntary grimace twists his face.

This is so painful to watch.

Hey, listen to the voices of reason for once! Go eat a sandwich and feed the poor kid right now!

(Technoblade knows that's his own internal monologue. Perhaps with one exception.)

The kid, however, doesn't seem too upset... or too hungry, either. He just spends the day entertaining himself with whatever his little hands can reach, exploring the room from the floor, trying to get the piglin to accept him in his lap, or just sleeping. He doesn't seem to be fussing much about the lack of feeding Technoblade's been performing lately.

The hybrid would think that'd be a relief, but it only serves to get him more stressed.

The boy should be crying, complaining, kicking or... doing something, demanding for food. He's doing none of that. He's just... coexisting with him in that small room, spending his time as he would if nothing had changed, playing with his own hands and curling up with the purpose of sleeping wherever he is when the tiredness gets to him.

Is he sick?

It's been days. Technoblade is almost totally certain of that. The kid can't just spend days without eating.

He can feel the hunger. Not agonizing, not debilitating; but starting to be really insistent. Annoying and very present, when he's lucid enough. When the cackling and the screaming aren't muffling everything around him.

I need to leave.

The idea settles itself firmly in his head, appearing out of nowhere and repeating once and again with such urgency and iteration that it makes him feel chased. Stalked. The paranoia only gets worse.

He feels so betrayed.

Leave.

He feels so dumb.

Ha, as you should.

Leave .

It's a new morning, with the sun streaming through the windowpane, and the hybrid opens his eyes to find a quiet room, with no immediately obvious sense of presence. Maybe the kid's still sleeping, hidden somewhere?

He gives him a few minutes to wake up too, and get out of whichever nook he's gone to sleep into. When what seems like hours have passed and Technoblade hasn't heard the first sign of life from the halfling, his anxiety suddenly spikes, moving around the room looking for him with the idea (and hope) of finding him in some corner. After a progressively more and more agitated inspection, the piglin concludes that he is alone in the room. The child is not with him.

Not giving himself enough time to take in all that means, his hand is already on the metal knob, pulling the door in and taking his first steps out of the room in who knows how many days.

They violated my privacy. Somehow they got into the room without me noticing and took the damn kid!

Technoblade repeats to himself that the offense of the invasion of his privacy is what causes his stomping. The fact that they (somehow) took the youngling under his nose is just adding insult to injury.

C'mon big guy, just admit you're worried about your kid and quit being so stubborn!

A low growl escapes his throat, at the stupid voice he can't get out of his mind. It sounds so sarcastic and burlesque. He hates it.

The living room is empty and the front door is open. Technoblade doesn't think twice before going through it.

The first thing he sees outside the house is the lamb, almost in the same exact place where he last saw him, now standing in front of Wilbur, who, crouching next to a freshly plowed land, turns a barely used-looking iron hoe in his hands, and seems busy explaining something about the tool to the yeanling. Not far from the two, Philza stands once more, with his back to the house, apparently inspecting something. Wilbur, the only one facing the house sees him almost immediately.

"Well, look who finally got out of their room!" The brown-haired avian exclaims, drawing the yeanling's attention and causing his horizontal pupils to fall on the piglin as well. "Mr Blade!"

"Oh." He can hear from Philza before he turns. "Techno?"

In his arms, looking happy and too relaxed, the enderman looks at him passively. His claws hold a purple bud.

Traitor.

"Give me the kid."

"Oh? But we-"

He can hear footsteps behind him, inside the house. Small, light, discrete steps approaching cautiously and quickly. He doesn't have to think long to figure out who it is.

His hand is quick and with an undoubtedly startled squeal on the creature's part, his fingers close around a small forearm as the pup tries to sneak out past him through the door. A small cloth satchel full of seeds falls from her hands to the ground, scattering its contents across the front steps.

"Pappa!" She calls out terrified, struggling with all her might to try and free herself. Which means nothing against the grip of an adult piglin.

"Hey, hey! No, no, no!" Wilbur is immediately on his feet, pushing the boy in front of him to the side and stepping forward. Behind him, his black wings spread slightly, feathers slightly puffed up in alertness and readiness to act. His gaze looks terrified. "You bastard, let go of my daughter right now!"

"Give me the kid."

"Wilbur!"

Wilbur raises the hoe with both hands next to his head, its sharp edge pointed towards the hybrid, wielding it like a sword about to strike. There is no doubt on his face that he does indeed plan to use it as a weapon. Technoblade can see his eagerness to charge at him, but the uncertainty and fear knowing his offspring is at the mercy of that who can easily do a lot of damage before he can even graze him. The terrified squeals of his kit making the feathered appendages behind his back twitch nervously, his eyes alternating between her and Technoblade.

"Techno! Techno, calm down. We were just giving him breakfast, but you can have him back. No problem." Philza intervenes, looking into his eyes, before directing his gaze to the child in his arms and starting to walk. "Are you hungry? We have some-"

The eldest avian doesn't manage to take more than two steps before the deep voice in front of him makes him stop.

"No." He snaps. Philza lifts his eyes to the naturally reddish irises. His gaze is now on him. "Stay away from me."

"Okay, it's okay. Please be careful with her, Techno." He answers in a composed voice, bending down and carefully setting the boy down. Wilbur stares at him, turning his eyes towards the hybrid once the enderman hatchling is on the ground.

"Now get your fucking hooves off my baby or I'll kill you!"

"Wilbur, stop it!"

"Let go of my fucking kid now, you fucking brute!" He insists, his voice increasingly more demanding and aggravated. The young fox sinks her short but very sharp nails in his wrist, never ceasing her struggle.

He's decided to ignore them. Wilbur keeps screaming at him, threatening and uttering words he's never heard before, which are obviously directed at him, and his kit keeps struggling and squeaking in his (purposefully not so tight) grasp, trying to hurt him with her little claws.

"Come here." He tells the enderling, who is looking up at him from Philza's feet, the violet bud still between his fingers. He doesn't seem to want to leave it behind. "Don't make me say it twice."

C'mon, love. Come with papa.

His bicolor eyes seem to reflect a sparkle and the boy seems to react to the (horrifying) sentence that just echoed in his head. At that moment and without further convincing, the baby begins to crawl in his direction.

Can he...?

When the enderling is halfway there, Technoblade decides to finally stop the now annoying cries of both Wilbur and his offspring, releasing the little limb and allowing the fox to run into the immediately open arms of the younger avian, who crouches down to take her into his much more caring hands. The hoe makes a dry sound as it falls from his hands onto the ground and Wilbur is urgent to press the kid against his chest, taking the opportunity to inspect her body and arms in the meantime. From his right, slightly hidden behind him, the lamb watches the entire scene, looking equally terrified.

His dark eyes, slightly covered by the brown locks on his head look up at Technoblade, never stopping pressing his terrified daughter against his body even for a second. The hybrid pays little attention to what they are doing, rather watching as the enderling crawls up to him.

One of Wilbur's hands stops pressing his daughter against himself, feeling blindly the ground beside him until it finds the handle of the forgotten hoe.

"You better leave this fucking house right now if you don't want-"

"Wilbur Soot." Once again, in a firm and calm tone, Philza calls out to his son, probably ordering him to stop the threats. Technoblade… is a little confused about that, but he doesn't care.

The piglin ignores them as best he can, leaning down and grabbing the boy as soon as he is within reach and immediately turning to head into the bedroom to get his forgotten backpack.

Wilbur doesn't need to say it twice. He is going to leave.

Chapter Text

It's not like he really has belongings to pack from the room. All the clothes he owns he's wearing now, his weapons and tools have a place on his waist or on his back, he can't put the child in the bag and practically nothing that's decorating the room is his.

With the exception of...

Technoblade's gaze goes to the desk, where the diary that apparently was written by his own hands lies, and next to it, the mysterious sheet and the book that he took from Philza's library rest forgotten.

Technoblade thinks for a moment. And one moment more. And he finally decides that he is not above stealing (borrowing without asking), walking until he reaches the book and the papers. If there is something useful in this house that he will definitely need in the future, it is that book.

"... Techno?"

The hybrid turns around quickly, and his body seems to struggle on deciding how to react. His hands instinctively reach for the handle of his weapon, but the blue eyes, warm despite their cold color and filled with concern in front of him, pierce through his mind and make him feel ridiculous for feeling the need to arm himself. Technoblade hadn't looked Philza in the eye for days, since before he locked himself in his room.

But then again...

"... Getting him out of the way wouldn't be an issue..."

His fist clenches, centimeters away from grabbing the base of the diamond axe hanging from his waist. Cautious but not impetuous.

"Techno... what's wrong, mate? Please tell me what's happening, I'm really worried about you."

The hybrid tries to ignore the avian's anguished tone, planning to resume his packing, failing to get hold of the book as its owner stands in front of him. What he wants most is to avoid confrontation (Technoblade?! Avoiding confrontation?!) and stealing an item while he looks its owner in the eye is a good way to stir up trouble.

"Leave me alone. I'm leaving your house."

The man's expression changes slightly, evidently wanting to hide his reaction but failing to conceal how his eyebrows try to frown and his mouth twitches slightly.

"If that's what you want, I won't stop you, Techno. But I would like to talk to you before you go."

They both look at each other in a tense silence, barely broken by the background sounds emitted by the enderling, fiddling with whatever he has in his hands.

"Can I, Techno?"

The piglin feels defeated when he almost unconsciously nods without speaking, sighing heavily. The older man doesn't move from his place in the doorway, and only his expression seems to reflect evident relief.

"I guess I'd first like to apologize on Wilbur's behalf. He was just scared, and I understand you were too."

Hah.

"I wasn't scared." He grumbles in a low voice. "What would I be scared of? Huh?"

Well, maybe of a dude that threatened you, holding your kid?

Oh hell. Not now. The stupid sarcastic tone echoes in his head. He miraculously almost forgot that was a thing.

The urge to hit a palm against his temple, hoping to silence the taunting voice is great, but when his hands are occupied by a backpack and a child it's easy to resist the urge to harm himself.

"Did you come here to mock me or something?" He exclaims in a tone a level more aggressive than he had planned. The kid in his arms hums, and if he didn't know better, Technoblade would think he's backing him up.

"No, Techno. I'd never do that."

"Then I don't understand what you are doing here. Go away."

"What did I do wrong, Techno?"

An arrow of guilt pierces in the middle of his chest. Philza's hurt and confused tone makes him feel... oh hell. Since when does he care so much about other people's emotions? This is just ridiculous, and why the hell does Philza insist on talking to him? Technoblade doesn't feel able to be harsher with him, but ignoring him doesn't work either and from what he sees, the avian isn't going to leave him alone until he answers his question. Technoblade cannot deny that Philza's confusion is quite understandable and justified. Suddenly he just... began to avoid them and treat them like intruders in their own house, Technoblade would also be confused if the situation was reversed.

The least he can do is answer his question. Before leaving.

Technoblade sighs deeply, looking away into a corner and trying to think of some excuse, any lie that might sound convincing.

"I just... I'm used to not staying in one place for that long."

Philza says nothing. He doesn't react, as if he expects him to continue. Well.

"It's natural to me. I've already spent too much time here."

His species mainly inhabits the ruins of the bastions, forming their communities within them. Most individuals are born, grow up and die within these buildings, barely knowing the plains of hell. Piglins are pretty much the definition of sedentary. So... the first part is true, he's not used to that and he may be the only one of them who is like that. But it's not natural to him, it's something he's learned over the years. Being alone is his best option.

Philza is a wise, experienced man, Technoblade can see it in his eyes, and whatever he might not know, the huge library in his basement must make up for it. He has books and more books about the Nether, about its creatures and about their characteristics. Techno's humanity can be quite dominant in many aspects, but even so, his instincts are somewhat too marked in his identity, regardless of how well or not he ignores them. Wanting to leave a shelter where they have done nothing but take him in is not in line with his nature, even though he is used to wandering from one corner of the world to another. Technoblade knows that his lie is not believed for a second. But it would be stupid to want to back down now.

Silence. Uncomfortable, which makes the hybrid grow embarrassed. Terrible liar.

"Okay, Techno." The man exclaims in an "I don't believe you, but okay" tone, and sighs. Technoblade shifts awkwardly. "I don't know what we did to upset you, if we offended you in any way, I'm sorry. From my side and my family's."

Technoblade keeps silent from his part, unsure how to react to the avian's sincere apologies. Philza. Why was he avoiding him, again?

"I assure you that my intentions have always been good, even if you have ever felt that they couldn't be. I understand that speaking is not easy, Techno. Expressing yourself can be very difficult at times, but never think that it is not worth it or that it is low, or humiliating to talk about whatever troubles you. Never think that makes you weak, Technoblade."

Why were you avoiding him, bro? Man's just a ball of motivational quotes and feathers.

"I'll always be willing to listen to your ideas, Techno. And help with whatever I can, please don't hesitate to come to me..." Philza breaks off somewhat abruptly. "... Well, if you ever decide to stop by again."

Oh right, he was on his way towards the front door. Not before steal-ing one of Philza's books.

"Before you go, you should take some supplies for the road, don't you think?" His tone is wary, inquisitive, and as if he's afraid of taking a wrong step. The fact that his presence is not received with an aggressive tone is a positive development, but Technoblade is still quite unpredictable. He doesn't blame Philza for his caution, he would act the same.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I can show you how to make berry pie, I'm sure our little guy here would love that. Or meat pies. You know, rabbit, sheep, chicken. Whichever ones you'd like."

Technoblade doesn't think twice, nodding at the proposal, and Philza doesn't even try to hide the smile that spreads across his face. The piglin slings his backpack off his shoulder and tosses his tool belt aside, debating what to do with the child in his arms, whom he leaves on the ground for the moment. The crib is ineffective, when the brat simply says "no" and slips out of it, and closing the door is a sure pass to whines and endless complaints. So the three of them end up going in the direction of the kitchen.

Philza instructs him on what ingredients to use, what quantities and how to mix them so that the result is not ruined, also teaching him multiple new ways to prepare the different types of meat that he lists to use for stuffing; ways that Technoblade could never have imagined, or bothered to try before. At a safe distance, sitting on the rug in the center of the living room is the halfling, amusing himself with a set of five colorful wooden cubes that the boy seems to enjoy constantly stacking and knocking over.

As they knead and chop, Technoblade remembers something, which seems so far away that he is surprised to realize it just happened this morning.

"I really didn't appreciate you, whichever one of you two it was, opening my door and taking the kid out."

Philza looks confused and a bit taken aback.

"Techno, I never did that. I'd never do that. I'll always respect your privacy."

"Must've been Wilbur then." Echoes in his head and Technoblade leaves the subject there. He doesn't want to light the fuse for more unpleasant situations, promoted by himself.

The oven is not very big and they have to cook the pieces in batches, no more than six at the time, despite them being relatively small. Which is not good news seeing the huge stack of pies that Philza insisted on making. This would last them for at least two weeks. They wouldn't fit in his backpack even if he crumbled them.

By the time everything is finished and Phil has already put the last pies on a tray to cool, the afternoon has already turned into night and Technoblade turns around to go back to the room, but not before eating a couple of savory pies and a slice of the berry one that he made himself (only with the avian's verbal instructions). The kid, of course, doesn't allow himself to be excluded from the tasting, after all he hasn't eaten since morning and after one and a half rabbit pies and two spoonfuls of sweet, reddish stuffing, they both walk (and crawl) back down the hall to the room.

"Thank you for sharing this time with me, Techno. Please don't forget to stop by and say bye."

Technoblade doesn't respond, feeling his stomach sink at the reminder, which sounds more like a request altogether. Still, the hybrid doesn't respond or turn toward the man.

Technoblade kicks something as he walks through the door to the room, looking down and hoping it wasn't the kid. A few centimeters away from his hoof, something purple and small rolls, finishing stopping after the kick. If it wasn't for the light color, Technoblade would think he just kicked an endermite. The hybrid leans down, the closeness letting him see that it is the thing the enderling had in his hands this morning, while he was in Phil's arms. Technoblade reaches out and picks up the violet bud, discovering that it resembles a tulip bulb more than an actual bud; wondering what it is and why would Philza had given it to the child. He just tosses it towards the desk, the sound of papers moving under the object makes him look towards that corner.

Technoblade looks at the backpack on the floor, which he left next to the desk, and then looks to the desk at the book that he waited so long to put among his things, once Philza had taken his eyes off him. The hybrid then walks in the opposite direction of both things and lays down on the bed, not even bothering to get the kid in the cradle tonight. He can sleep on the carpet if he wants to; it's not like he hasn't been doing it for the past couple of days. But what Techno didn't expect was that not even a minute after he lays down, short but sharp claws reach for the covers and his right forearm, clinging to both as the enderling tries to get one leg up onto the mattress. Technoblade watches his struggle in silence for a few seconds, until, to his credit, the boy actually does it, managing to climb on the bed, and over the laying hybrid. He seems to be planning to use him as a mattress of his own, putting his head and part of his torso on Technoblade chest.

"Uh-uh." He shakes his head, pushing him to lie down on the mattress and not on top of him. Of course, the enderling protests, but he doesn't put up much of a fight. "I'm not your bed, be thankful I'm even letting you sleep here."

The piglin argues, moving the enderling to lie down next to his left side, feeling him press against his body almost instantly.

"Don't complain if I crush you." He warns, thinking for a few seconds about what he just said and quickly taking it back. "Actually no, you better complain. I'd have no other way to know if I'm… ugh, whatever."

Technoblade sighs in defeat, extending his arms to his sides and then folding them, putting his hands under his back, deducing that this is the most effective way to keep him from rolling over in his sleep. It's not exactly the most comfortable position, but he prefers it over risking it with the kid next to him. His shoulders are probably gonna kill him tomorrow.

The room is silent, and in the middle of the darkness, Technoblade remembers that night, so many months ago in that desert village. When he used a stolen cauldron filled with sheets and a pillow as a makeshift cradle to put the boy in for the night, out of the same fear he now has of very unintentionally suffocating him in his sleep. Back then... the tiny hatchling fit perfectly in his open palms, unable to do more than cry, eat, and soil himself. Now the enderling himself took it upon himself to climb onto the bed and settle on top of him. Technoblade can hardly believe how things have changed since then. The boy has really grown a lot, and for some reason that realization terrifies him.

Aww, little ⟒⊑⏁⟒⌰ is growing up.

Shut up.

Minutes later Technoblade falls asleep to the surprisingly loud purrs of the youngling curled up to his left. In the middle of the night, without either of them noticing, a pair of light colored eyes scan the dark room. A smile forms at the scene of both hybrids sleeping in the bed and soon they're left alone again to sleep.

The next morning, Technoblade wakes up with a strange weight on his sternum. Opening his eyes, the first image that greets him that day is the halfling's sleeping face in front of him, his arms resting on either side of the bicolored head, lying as he did last night on his chest, and rising and falling with each breathing in and every sigh that the Nether hybrid emits. Sitting on his flexed legs, with his knees poking against the piglin's left ribs, his little tail laying completely on the sheet displays his deep sleep, the soft vibration of a purr still in his throat and little chest. Technoblade does nothing but look at him.

Oh well.

For the next few days, Technoblade doesn't see Wilbur, nor does he see his offspring. The lamb sometimes appears, peeking around doorways and around corners, only when he's apparently looking for Phil.

In addition, the breakfasts of both consist of pies the whole week that follows. Needless to say, the things that Technoblade packed in his bag are taken out of it and put back in their proper place. Philza's book never left its place on Technoblade's desk. And Phil never mentions anything about him leaving again. Techno doesn't do it either.

Everything goes back to normal. With the obvious exception that... Wilbur seems to hate him now, and his daughter fears him even more.

Chapter Text

The kid is nowhere to be found.

The long hair is slightly tousled in exasperation, as the heavy echo of his hooves echoes over the wooden corridors that connect the rooms. The piece of cloth that was holding his hair locks falls to the ground, and in his distraction, Technoblade doesn't notice.

Yes, he left his door open, he admits it; but in his defense he didn't think the damn brat was going to use the opportunity to run away. Techno already knows that the child can (somehow) climb out of the crib, but he did not expect him to do so during the few minutes it took him to go outside and fetch a couple of logs.

Oh hell, what if he crawled out the front door when the hybrid wasn't looking?

Technoblade doesn't want to run around the house, calling and searching anxiously like a desperate mother... if someone saw him now, worrying about the elusive child that isn't even his... he wouldn't know how to explain the situation.

"Phil!... Philza!" To make matters worse, Philza also seems to have disappeared. No one in the house attends his calls. Has everyone vanished? (To be honest, he doesn't expect Wilbur to respond to him, or his kit or the lamb, but some sign of life would be nice enough at least.)

Technoblade now has some regrets about not giving the creature a name. It would probably be easier to find him if he could yell something that the boy would attend to.

Techno huffs, trying to think what to do.

Why do you care so much? Kid's not even yours.

A voice in his head snickers. Technoblade is a bit taken back by it, looking around and then feeling stupid for having done so. No one's there. Of course. It doesn't even sound like any of them, how stupid can he be?

Ugh...

In the distance, Techno manages to hear something. A small voice and some movement coming from behind a door. Now that he's finally quiet and isn't filling the house with the echo of his footsteps he's able to hear what's going on. How did he not think of that before?

Technoblade walks up to the door, stopping to confirm that the sounds are coming from behind it. Once he does, the piglin grabs the metal knob and quietly peers into the room.

Sitting in the center of the room, staring at something in the lamb's hands, both kids are sitting looking quite amused by whatever they are looking at. Oh yeah, there are also stains of colorful dyes all over the floor and on the faces and clothes of both.

"Hey!" Technoblade exclaims, startling the young hybrids and drawing their attention to him. The lamb looks understandably terrified and the enderling just looks at him with wide eyes. "What the hell did you do here?"

With those words Techno enters the room, walking towards the two children. With the first step beyond the frame, the lamb looks ready to sprint away, and by the time Technoblade leans in with the idea of taking the enderling and inspecting the mess, the piglin can hear the older kid whisper something in the direction of the enderman halfling.

"Run, Ranboo." He exclaims before getting up and sprinting right past Technoblade.

Techno looks confusedly in the direction of escape from the little ram (whose name he has yet to learn) and then at the enderman, whom he holds at arm's length to avoid staining his own clothes as well. The green and red eyes shine in the bicolor face, decorated with yellow, red and brown stains and smudges. The child's clothes are probably a lost cause. The colorful patches tinting his already colorful clothes don't do the simple fabric design any favors.

"If you two were trying to improve your clothes, let me tell you, you failed horribly." Techno snorts loudly, looking at the mess. Am I supposed to clean that? He doesn't want Phil to be angry with the kid. Or rather to be angry at Technoblade himself, for not paying enough attention to the brat.

With a heavy groan, Technoblade lets the kid down again and gets to the task of cleaning the room, using the already ruined rug to scrub the stains on the floor, folding it afterward so as not to let the colorful dust escape from the fabric. When he finally manages to make the room not look like a hurricane has passed through a merchant's stall, Technoblade bends down again to pick up the boy, holding him away from his (almost) white shirt. The fact that it is already stained in certain places is not an invitation to ruin it with colored powders and pastes.

The piglin walks out the door, bumping almost head-on with the one he had been looking for so much a few minutes ago.

"Oh, I see it was a crime commited in group." Phil comments, holding the lamb's hand, who is just as dirty as the enderling in Technoblade's arms.

"Hm." Technoblade is relieved at seeing that Philza doesn't seem bothered by the obvious waste of his materials (after all, dyes are one of the easiest things to come by, but still. Had it been Techno, he'd definitely be pissed). "He somehow got out the crib and by time I found them, they already looked like they'd just murdered a rainbow."

The brunet yeanling next to Philza seems to react to what the hybrid says, looking like he wants to say something but deciding to keep quiet.

"Does he get out of the cradle often?" The avian inquires. Technoblade nods.

"Almost every damn time." He replies. "He's gonna end up just running out the door one of these days."

Philza seems to think for a moment, his gaze rising to the ceiling as he thinks of something.

"Go clean him up and I'll do the same with Tubbo. Call me when you're done. I have something that may be helpful for that problem."

With this the man retreats towards one of the doors, leaving both halflings in the corridor without another word. Technoblade returns his gaze to the boy, expecting an apology that he knows will not come. The enderling instead sneezes into Technoblade's outstretched hands, blowing away the colorful dust that hasn't yet soaked into his clothing.

"Idiot."

Philza makes it to the room shared by both hybrids, entering it for the first time in weeks. The little enderman watches him from the crib, where Technoblade immediately put him in after spending almost an hour pretty much scrubbing him clean with a piece of cloth and a lot of dedication, leaving him dressed only in diapers, while trying to figure out how to get rid of the very bright stains on his clothes.

Maybe, and just maybe, Technoblade was a little rough and a little intense in rubbing the dye off his skin, seeing the purplish blush that lights up the white section of his skin, in the areas where the fabric passed over multiple times until all the trace of the foreign colors had been wiped down. If he didn't have such dark skin on the right side of his body, the boy would probably be a single lilac spot on the yellow sheet he is sitting on. In his defense, the youngling barely complained, and he didn't begin to cry at any moment. If he had, Technoblade probably would have stopped. Kid's tough, he could take it without whining.

Perhaps he knew those were the consequences of his own mess.

The avian smiles at the little creature, not stopping his footsteps until he reaches the bed and sits next to the Nether hybrid. Philza folds his wings in, toward his body, pressing them together as tight as he can to avoid hitting anything in his way. Included Technoblade.

"So, what did you want to show me?"

Philza extends his hands towards him, opening both palms to present what is hidden between them. A flat piece of stone by the looks of it.

Technoblade just looks at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

"Lodestone." He replies, as if that's an explanation. And well, to be fair... in a way it is. Techno remembers, in a very distant corner of his memory, entangled in the mist of amnesia and time... something related to that stone. Some bell rings at the name and patterns of the rock.

Years ago, or decades surely, when even a zombie was taller than him. In the Nether, during his childhood within the suffocating walls of a bastion. "To never lose your way home."

When someone was still waiting for you.

Somebody...? When he was still just a piglet.

So long ago...

Aww, poor little orphan!

He has to resist the urge to run away from the annoying noises inside his head.

Ughhh.

"It is a magnet." Techno says, without taking his eyes off the object.

"Mm-hm." Replies the avian, presenting in his right hand a compass, which shines as if it had met the crimson velvet of an enchantment table.

The red needle points in the direction of the small piece of stone, and when the man moves his hand, the little stick moves with it, its direction fixed on the thing Phil holds on his left palm.

Technoblade watches the demonstration in silence.

"I thought you were going to give me something to stop him from getting out, not to chase after him when he did." He replies, honestly and without malice. He was expecting some kind of impediment or containment method for the kid. What exactly? He doesn't really know. "Well, let's just give him this and be like 'hey, if you wanna run away don't forget to take your tracker with you, so I can find you'."

Philza just giggles at his comment, leaving the piece of stone on one of his legs, while he examines the compass.

"Oh, Techno." The winged man laughs light-heartedly. His chest inexplicably vibrates at the affectionate tone that carries his name from Philza's mouth. "We can find a way to... make him wear it."

Those words make him think, as if a mechanism was starting up in his head, Technoblade looks at Phil, looks at the objects that he carries and finally gets up from the bed, his steps going in the direction of the desk. Reaching for the furniture with the chair, Technoblade takes out of the drawer the shiny gold pendant that he had almost forgotten. After unpacking his bag a couple of days (or maybe a week) ago, that is. The bright little thing had already been shoved deep in one of his backpack's pockets.

The man looks surprised, taking the object carefully in his hands when Techno offers it to him, letting the chain dangle over his fingers. "Where did you get this from?"

Technoblade looks at him somewhat strangely, sensing something in his reaction...

"Wilbur gave it to me. A few days before his daughter's birthday." He explains, seeing Phil's even more puzzled and somewhat confused expression. The only thing Wilbur would give him these days would be a glare and probably a physical threat. "He said that he had made it for his child, but that he wasn't happy with the result or something. Basically, give the trash to Technoblade."

Regardless of what he says, the object is anything but trash to him. Casted gold, melted and molded to be given as a present. The giver is irrelevant to what the piece represents. It is gold. Casted gold.

"Oh, Techno. This is not trash." His tone sounds a little melancholic... and maybe makes him regret a little having referred to the item as "trash". "I was wondering why he..."

Whatever he was going to say gets lost in the air of the room, as the man rotates the little pendant between his fingers, examining it even more carefully than the piglin and eventually ending his inspection when he gently presses on a tiny flap protruding from one the sides and the lid opens with a slight "click".

Technoblade looks at the stone slab on one of Phil's legs. It may be obviously much smaller than a normal marker, but still that chunk of rock is at least three times the size of the tiny compartment.

"So?"

Like someone to whom nothing stops him, the man simply takes the stone in his hands and breaks it in half, thus creating more than two halves as the piece shatters multiple times at once.

"It doesn't have to be too big, just enough for the compass to pick up the signal." He explains, picking up one of the smallest pieces and touching the compass with it, proceeding then to put the tiny rock in and closing the lid at last.

Philza takes a moment to look at the piece once more, slipping the chain between his palms, and finally looks back at the piglin.

"Technoblade." As he offers it to him with a smile.

The hybrid takes it, standing up and walking to the crib. Huge, colorful eyes look up at him, staring at the chain that Technoblade holds open with both hands. The piglin leans over the crib rails, passing the object over the little head and adjusting it on his neck. With a single glance he can see that the chain is too long, and the figure in the middle of it hangs almost on his stomach. Curious claws soon reach for the yellow material, pulling it away from his torso to see what he's just been equipped with.

"Don't you dare break it. Or take it off." He warns, watching him fiddle with the object curiously. "The chain's too long."

Technoblade says, turning to look at Philza as he hears him get up and walk towards them.

"Oh, we can fix that very easily." He replies, about to lean down toward the boy, but stopping at the last moment. Philza then turns to Technoblade, looking at him seriously. "I can come closer, right Techno?"

Technoblade wants to resist the urge to quirk an eyebrow at the question. He's getting asked for permission? Well, now that's strange.

"Yeah?" He answers, positive but confused.

"Okay." He continues, also leaning over the wooden bars and he takes the fastener behind the child's neck, pulling it to be at the front and unhooking it, skipping several chains until the pendant doesn't hover over his (almost disappeared) belly button, hanging now to the middle of his chest. "There we go! Looking very stylish, mate."

Generous compliment to someone pretty much just in his underwear, almost bruised purple from friction burns. Phil then turns to Techno, handing him the glowing compass. Techno also tests it as Philza did before, moving it from one side to the other and seeing the needle follow the signal of the tiny piece of lodestone.

"Looks like it's almost dinner time." Announces Phil, looking out the window as the sun is already beginning to fall in the sky. "I hope Wil comes to the table tonight."

Technoblade can hear the upset tone in his words, even as he tries to hide it. I can't help but feel guilty about it. The brunet hates him, after all, and... to be fair, he gets it. He hopes he didn't leave a bruise on the kit's arm. He didn't grab her that hard on purpose.

"Alright, let's go, little one." The avian then calls out, forgetting about his downcast air and reaching into the cradle with his hands, waiting to see what the child's reaction is. He just reaches back towards him. Philza turns to look at Technoblade, and before he says anything the piglin knows what he means. Technoblade nods without further ado, watching the scene curiously as the avian lifts the halfling out of the cradle and settles him on his hip. "It's good to see he's becoming less shy."

Techno only hums, unconcerned as he walks towards the door. The hybrid walks ahead, hearing the footsteps of Philza behind him. Almost at the end of the hall, a door opens and soon an agitated little voice makes him turn around in confusion. In the middle of the avian's way, between Techno and Philza the lamb stands, looking up into the blue eyes of the man.

"Phil, please don't be mad at Ranboo! I was the one who told him to do it."

Both adults, without exchanging a word, seem to agree to ignore everything that makes up the beg, focusing solely on the unknown word that comes out of the young ram's mouth. Techno remembers hearing him whisper it to the enderling when he found them on the ruined rug.

"Ranboo? What's that?" Asks the blond man.

"He! He's a ranboo, like the ones in the sky!" The creature replies, pointing at the enderling and then holding his hands up. "I was trying to paint him like one, but I forgot which colors I had to use."

So you just used them all.

As far as Technoblade remembers, brown and gray were not part of the rainbow. He could always be wrong though, but it is very unlikely.

Philza seems fascinated with the story, glancing at the little enderman who is looking at the lamb on the ground.

"Ranboo?" He repeats, and the heterochromic eyes lift towards his face. Philza looks away from his gaze before triggering him, and the man then looks at Techno with wide, bright eyes, just for a moment, before returning his attention to the enderling. "Oh! You really liked your name, didn't you?"

"Name?"

"Yeah, Techno. Little Ranboo, is that you?" The black and white halfling turns back to him. "And he seems to like it a lot!"

Technoblade frowns, unsure about how to react to this.

Well... it looks like Techno Junior has an actual name now! Woo!

Chapter Text

"Ew, stop that. You look like a spider."

Technoblade scolds from the sofa, a slight grimace as he watches the creature move on his hands and paws, as if trying to mix walking with crawling. He can hear Phil laughing in the background, not bothering to search him with his eyes and focusing on making sure the enderling isn't going to trip over his own limbs and face-plant on the ground.

"Oh, Techno, leave him be. He's trying his best, and that's a part of learning, after all." Intervenes Philza, his tone without ever losing the air of enthusiasm.

The child already stands on his feet, yes, as long as he's holding on to something, but it seems that he doesn't want to dare to try to walk for real just yet. Perhaps the shape of his legs, with joints similar to those of Techno, make it more difficult for him to stand up and walk. It could be.

Technoblade wonders if he had trouble starting to walk himself, but it's impossible to know that. His most distant memory is... waking up in a dark cave with an unknown hatchling in his lap (and the very, very vague image of a lodestone marker on a bastion many, many years ago). He's definitely not going to remember his journey to learn to walk, if he ever had one.

The shiny charm on the heterochromic neck swings from side to side like a pendulum as the child moves. Luckily he seems to have gotten used to it by now, only having tried to pull on the chain a couple of times the first few days of having it on.

"C'mon, Ranboo! Come here!"

Bright eyes lift to the friendly face of Phil, who crouches next to the sofa where Technoblade sits. The avian gleefully holds his gaze until the shadow of a snarl starts invading the little features. They're progressing. Phil can look at him in the eye for a little longer now. And Philza is happy about it. (And to be fair, the kid seems to do it on reflex, rather than as an actual threat. Must be his instincts acting up.)

Ranboo.

Technoblade still finds it strange and foreign to hear the name and relate it to the creature that has accompanied him for a year now. The child, for his part, seems to acclimatize well to the word. His gaze flies quickly to whoever mentions it, especially if it's the lamb who invented it. (Technoblade still can't believe that one youngling named the other. What a ridiculous situation. Well, at least he's got a name now.)

The boy takes his gaze away from Philza, after staring at him for a couple of seconds and making sure he's not looking at him.

"Come on, mate! You can do it, Ranboo." Yes, Phil is very determined to use his name to the fullest. Although the child does not seem to need to hear it as much to get used to it.

The claws and paws plant themselves on the ground, and the creature raises his rear to the ceiling, making a triangular A-shape with his body, and waves his tail like a flag over his figure. As he has done so many times before, he begins to move like this, toward them.

Philza waits for him with open hands, cheering loudly when the little enderman finally reaches his position. "Well done, mate! You're so quick! You'll be running in no time!"

Philza basically monologues as he gets up from the ground with the halfling in his arms, walking to where the creature was a moment ago and placing him on the rug again. He gently helps him straighten up on his lower limbs, urging him to take a few awkward steps with his support.

"Alright, Ranboo. You're very talented, you just need a little help, don't you?" Philza smiles as he stops by a chair, making the little boy hold on to it with his hands, so that he stands without his help now.

The boy stays there, standing on legs that seem to strain to support the weight of his body. And to be fair, anyone who has seen an adult enderman will be able to understand where the difficulty in the process comes from. Although the slender limbs do not yet show their marked and characteristic slimness, the proportions of the child seem to be beginning to approach slightly those of a larger member of the species. His body, shaped soft and round with plenty of baby fat still, and the legs and arms that do not show their lankiness and slenderness yet do not seem to agree on finally giving him adequate dimensions to balance everything on his appearance as an enderman.

Philza watches him, trying to call him to follow him, or to just do it himself. But either the halfling doesn't understand him or he just doesn't want to. Finally, attracting his attention with a couple of calls, the man moves away from him, reaching his previous position next to the piece of furniture where Technoblade is sitting and invites him with his voice and his hands to reach him.

For a few seconds, there are only stares between the three of them. Ranboo directs his colorful pupils at Technoblade, as if waiting for something, and in the silence of the room, he ventures to take a step, unassisted (by someone) for the first time.

"Yes, Ranboo! That's it!" Phil encourages, without going too far so as not to scare him, and then claps gently a couple of times, gesturing with his hands to invite him to come closer. "Now come here, Ranboo!"

Maybe he does understand him, because the next thing that happens is that the enderling takes a couple of shaky steps, still holding onto the chair, in their direction.

"Oh!"

"Ba!" Yeah he's started babbling more too. Still not saying words though.

"Yeah Ranboo, you're great." The avian replies, a well marked smile on his face. "Now use your little legs to get here. I'll give you a jam sandwich if you do it!"

Yes, bribery. The age old technique.

Technoblade scoffs, apparently loud enough for Philza to hear him and turn to look at him for a moment, a bright smile on his face. He might... he might've missed the man's presence during his self-inflicted isolation. He feels more than a little idiotic now when he remembers that he did that.

All because of a stupid dream… so dumb.

It happens in an instant. The arm of the chair to which the kid clings comes to an end, and at the moment of taking a step beyond the limits of his support, the clumsy legs of the child entangle with each other and before anyone can do anything... Technoblade's heart stops for a moment at the image of the baby tripping over his own limbs and crashing spectacularly on the ground, his fingers still trying to hold on to the wood and miraculously not falling on his colorful face. Technoblade especially winces with the thud that echoes through the room, as the child falls on his side. Both adults are silent for a moment, and Techno looks confused at Philza, seeing that he has not rushed to assist the child, instead looking somewhat thoughtful as he watches the- Ranboo rise slightly from the ground, directing his gaze towards both of them.

"Ranboo, little one. Come here!"

"Aren't you going to do something? He just slammed into the ground like a sack of potatoes." Technoblade urges, ignoring that he himself does not move from his position.

"Shh, don't say anything. You're going to make him cry."

Technoblade only looks at him more confused. He make the kid cry? But if the boy was the one who fell to the ground like a bad apple. Is that a mock?

"What?"

"If you start to freak out, they'll start to freak out and probably will cry even if they aren't hurt at all. You just have to act like nothing happened and they'll just get up and keep on their way. As long as they aren't actually hurt, then you console them and treat whatever injuries they may have."

Technoblade listens to his explanation with a confused expression. His reaction is what determines the baby's, so does that mean he would be lying if he cried? These little things just keep getting more and more complicated every day.

The session lasts only a couple more minutes after that, with a second almost falling, the enderling ends up sitting on the mat, sharing his decision not to take another step for today. Philza, to no one's surprise, gets up from his place next to the sofa and once again walks up to the little enderman, picking him up and now sitting next to Technoblade. The compliments to the boy, of course, are not lacking.

"Is it normal that he doesn't walk yet, Phil? He's already at least a year old." Suddenly the hybrid inquires, while Philza settles next to him; with genuine curiosity and... maybe some concern that he doesn't want to admit (what if there's something wrong with his paws?)

"I mean, all babies are different, Techno. My experience is not really that wide. I've only raised Wilbur and then I helped him raise Flora. Based on that, I'd say he's pretty okay in his development and milestones. " Philza shares, seeming to search his mind for memories. "Both Wil and Flora were walking at eleven months old as far as I remember, but I know our species develop fairly quickly. The chicks are pretty much ready to leave the nest just a couple of years after learning how to fly. Not really sure how Flora's genes affected her though... but I'm sure if she had wings too, that little creature would be unstoppable. She'd be flying everywhere by now."

How did this end up in a conversation about flying? hmm? He's talking to an avian, he shouldn't find that strange. Technoblade only decides to take the opportunity to inquire a bit more.

"Does Wilbur know how to fly?"

Philza looks at him with wide eyes. "Oh, of course he does! He learned to do it when he was thirteen or fourteen years old I think."

His expression changes a little, apparently remembering that time, left behind who knows how long ago.

"He just... decided to stay with me for a little more than usual. Flora was born not long after we settled here and then they didn't want to leave."

A noise coming from outside the house draws the attention of the three. Apparently somewhere on the ceiling, heavy and moving; steps by the looks of it, and Techno is about to ask or go investigate what the hell that is.

"Oh, speak of the devil." Phil exclaims with a smile, still looking up. "Wil's home."

It is then that Techno hears the younglings' voices, somewhere on the roof, and eventually Wilbur joins them, the sounds muffled by the distance and the planks of wood between them. Come to think of it, that explains why the house was so quiet. The young avian had taken both children with him. Wherever he had gone today.

"I'm going to go see how their little exploration went." Phil announces, handing Technoblade the enderling in his lap. "And help him get the kids off the top of the house, I guess. The last thing I need right now is for someone to fall off the roof."

With that he stands up, walking a couple of steps and stretching widely, wings included. He's obviously going to use them in a moment, and Technoblade can't help but look at the little black feathers that fall from the broad appendages as he shakes them a bit. They remind him of the ever-present particles that surround... Ranboo.

"I'll be back in a moment. I think I just heard someone say my name." He explains as he walks over to the door, turning the knob and leaving it ajar as he heads for the roof, practically jumping up and using just the strength of his wings to go up. Technoblade… inadvertently overhears them exchanging a short chat, unable to hear more than their voices and unable to make out even one word.

One or two minutes later, through the front door, Wilbur enters with his daughter in his arms and with the lamb apparently asleep on his chest, Philza parades after him. The brunet avian's gaze seems to be trying to avoid the pair on the sofa, but at some point, as he walks, his eyes are directed towards both of them, the brown of his irises meeting the reddish of the piglin's, and then, the image of the gold pendant that his own hands crafted months ago, decorating the enderling's neck almost seems to make him stop in his tracks. The boy looks like he's about to say something, but as soon as his footsteps hesitate, his confidence returns and Wilbur just walks faster after that, heading towards his room. Philza just smiles softly as he passes into his field of vision.

It is the first time in almost a month that Technoblade and Wilbur look each in the eye. And from the looks of it, the winged boy still had no idea that his… gift had been put to use. Technoblade doesn't know if the fleeting expression on his face was positive or negative. He has no idea what kind of words he would have heard had Wilbur stayed a few seconds longer in the room.

"Hm!" The sudden 'call' from the boy on his lap startles him considerably, as he's somewhat lost in his own thoughts.

"Yeah." He replies dryly, his gaze finally leaving the hallway and settling on the enderling instead. "You kinda almost walked for real, I saw you. You gotta start getting serious from now on, kid."

He unconsciously bounces one of his legs slightly, making the youngling bounce as well and ignoring the boy's amused exclamations.

"I know you're capable of doing it. You better..."

His eyes are fixed on the halfling, but his mind is elsewhere.

He should... probably apologize to Wilbur, right?

Chapter Text

It starts one morning, as a discreet smell that Technoblade can hardly identify when waking up. A faint aroma, very known and tremendously hated.

As was the case months ago, the skin on his right cheekbone tingles and itches a bit. The faint scent of decomposition is easily picked up by his sensitive nose and he immediately recognizes that he is once again approaching the early stages of putrefaction. Potions have helped keep him alive and fresh for the time being, but the time he hasn't been in the Nether is still significant, and there's nothing that can totally replace its effect on him.

He needs to go to the Nether.

His first idea is to do just that, pack what he needs, get the necessary items (call it obsidian and something that makes fire) and just go out.

And what about Ranboo? Does he even plan to return to the house after his expedition to hell? Will he take the child with him?

The answers should be easy, it should be clear. Obviously...?

Before his own ideas make a tangle in his mind, Technoblade walks to the leather bag he has barely touched since he came to this house months ago and gets from this an awkward potion. The last one he owns, in fact. His visit to the Nether is now a must, seeing as the bottle he's holding is the last one he has. And he doesn't have the ingredients to make another batch.

Out of the corner of his eye, Techno manages to see something lying between the wall and the desk next to which the backpack lies, and curiously he reaches for it. A sheet of paper, looking semi wrinkled and with some dust on it. Technoblade opens it, assuming that it is one of the many paper sheets that he has re-accumulated on his desk, so his first reaction is to simply put it down and not think much of it. Until he notices the purple marks on the paper and the fact that the writing on it is no more than a couple of lines.

LIX
⟒⊑⏁⟒⌰ ⊬⏃⎅⊑⏁⍀⟟⏚ ⊬⌿⌿⏃⊑

Technoblade stares at the piece of paper. Okay… he hadn't seen this one before. And those lilac stains...

Placing the sheet on the desk, Techno remembers the bulb that he had thrown there a couple of weeks ago. Reaches out to take it and compares it to stains. The color is the same, and with it the hybrid deduces that the purple object was wrapped in the paper. How and why? Well, that's another situation.

The smell of rotten flesh takes on just a very slightly sweet note, just enough of an alteration for him to pick it up, indicating that the process is very much still moving forward. Whatever that strange sheet is, it can wait. Technoblade has priorities, especially when it comes to not decomposing alive.

Removing the cork and downing the potion in one gulp, Techno thinks how, if it was an emergency, he could always ask Phil for a few ingredients so he wouldn't rot. He quickly winces at the very idea of it, reminding himself that this one potion will get him out of the problem for another couple of days, maybe even a few weeks. He doesn't really like his previous idea, because asking for things and trusting others so significantly doesn't sound good to him, but dying while alive is too much of a threat to put his pride above him.

… Hopefully.

The newly discovered paper is added to the pile that covers the desk, along with the mysterious purple bulb. Technoblade forgets about both as he goes on with his day.

It's in the afternoon, after eating lunch, that everyone is home, which rarely happens. The three kids are busy, sitting on the floor next to Philza, who is teaching them to write and read, despite the age difference between the trio. The most advanced in the lessons is obviously the oldest, despite the fact that hardly any of her answers coincide with what Philza dictates or writes (with the blond avian constantly having to ask the kit's father for confirmation or to correct the answers). Wilbur is sitting at the table, using a knife to carve a piece of wood and Technoblade… Technoblade is there, doing nothing in particular, apart from watching Philza's teachings from a distance, as if he were one more of his apprentices.

It is the first time in weeks that the youngest avian and the piglin have been in the same room for more than five seconds. Wilbur has not acknowledged his presence, beyond looking at him out of the corner of his eye because of the relative closeness that he has to the three offspring. To his offspring specifically. In fact, Wilbur seemed ready to stand up and grab his pup as soon as he saw the piglin entering the room, but finally he didn't, just discreetly looking at him from the table. Technoblade doesn't pay much attention to that.

Sheets of paper are scattered on the ground around the group, full of scribbles and stains of black ink and other colors diluted in water. Similar to the disaster caused by two of the children, but much less colorful and terribly more controlled under Philza's supervision, and occasionally Wilbur's (and Technoblade's?) too. The creatures seem to enjoy the attention of the older avian, willing to follow the instructions that the patient man gives them. And Philza looks like the happiest man in the world, constantly smiling and laughing at the interactions he has with the three offspring. Technoblade must admit that he is somewhat fascinated with the ability to deal with the young that Philza has, and how he enjoys interacting with them. If he had to describe it, Techno would say without hesitation that Phil is a born father.

"Phil, I wanna write my name! Tell me how!"

With a quick reminder to Tubbo (don't forget please and thank you) the winged man jumps into the task of teaching all three youngs what letters to use to put their own names on the paper. (They're all lucky to have short names, thinks Technoblade). To no one's surprise, Flora is the first one to finish, probably having done it before and flashing a pleased smile at her own round, practiced letters.

"Pa!" She gets up from the floor and runs to the table to present her work to Wilbur, who immediately leaves his activity aside to praise his daughter's work.

The lamb seems to struggle a bit, even under the supervision and advice that Phil is ready to give, and in front of him, Ranboo seems to have accepted the challenge willingly, dedicating himself to "writing" before he can even walk. Although his page hardly contains more than random scribbles, soon the black fingers drop the pen and pick up the page; and crawling to Technoblade, the enderling presents him with his own work.

"Ba!" He exclaims excitedly, trying to put the sheet on the piglin's lap as soon as he reaches him. Technoblade receives it directly from his hands, mainly to prevent fresh ink from staining his pants and looks curiously at Ranboo's work. Which definitely doesn't say Ranboo anywhere.

"... It's a good first try, I guess. Don't give up, kid."

He can hear an inconspicuous giggle from Phil, who is still busy helping the young ram move his hand over the paper. A couple of clumsy strokes later, the boy exclaims triumphantly, proud at his crude and lopsided but complete letters. Philza enthusiastically congratulates him, urging him to show off his work.

He doesn't hesitate to get up and just like Flora, run to the man sitting at the table.

"Wilbur, look!"

"Yes, Tubbo, I see. You did a great job!" He replies with a smile, gently tousling his locks and placing both sheets side by side on the table for a closer look. "You two are so talented!"

Techno watches silently from his position, looking down at the sheet of paper in his own hands. Should he be praising and encouraging the youngling at his feet as well? The hybrid looks at the enderling. The enderling looks back at him.

Well, Ranboo seems satisfied with Technoblade's words. He's probably used to them at this point, it's all he's known pretty much since he was born, after all. But it doesn't feel right to dedicate such a dry sentence to the poor kid.

"You too go show it to Wilbur. Don't be less than them." He whispers to him, handing the paper back to him and pushing him gently toward the table. "... You… did a good job."

The enderling looks at him for a moment, then begins to crawl. Towards Philza.

"I guess that works too..." The piglin mutters.

The kid hums, waving the sheet at Phil once he reaches him. The avian receives it with honor, turning the paper over and smiling at the young enderman, trying to keep eye contact to a minimum, just enough to let him know that he is acknowledging him.

"Yes, Ranboo, you did it too, mate! Good job, little one; you're such a fast learner. Very smart!"

Yeah, that would've never come from Technoblade.

Things flow with relative normality. Or at least the normality that has been cultivated over the past few months. Wilbur avoids him all the time, his kit barely crosses Technoblade's line of sight, Phil treats him as casually as the strange environment allows it, and enderling and lamb interact regularly. It seems that a single unsupervised issue with dyes was enough to create a bond between the two. Weird.

Techno isn't going to admit it, but watching them play and interact with each other is a pretty entertaining sight to behold. More times than he cares to admit, Technoblade has caught himself staring intently at intense babble trying to simulate conversation (especially from Ranboo) as they exchange toys and snacks provided by Philza.

But... even though Techno resists acknowledging it, those babbles every day start to sound less like gibberish and more like words. The boy hasn't said anything that's made sense yet, but judging by the sounds he makes and the apparent "conversations" the two kids hold, that possibility isn't far from happening.

That's… great. He's growing up, he's finally gonna start being useful.

His favorite "word" seems to be simply "ba". He is probably learning from the lamb how to bleat… which would be a new problem, requiring even more intervention on Technoblade's part.

Because Technoblade definitely doesn't know how to bleat. Just overworlder and piglin.

The hybrid wonders if the boy is going to be bilingual too.

Chapter Text

So, you may have heard the news already, and if you haven't, I'll say it here. Fucking cancer won. Techno passed away

Saying that I'm heartbroken is absolutely not enough to describe the void I'm feeling in my chest right now. I'm fucking destroyed. This doesn't feel real. I can't imagine what things are going to be like without him here. How are Tommy's challenges going to be without his deep, sarcastic voice in them? Phil's streams? What's the Dream smp going to be without its best anarchist ever being there again?

What's going to happen now? Are the stories going to be abandoned? I don't know. I'd like to hear what people want to say about it. In any case, thank you so much for being here, thank you so much for your support to me and specially to him

Rest in peace, Alex. My favorite YouTuber and a great person

You'll never die, Technoblade

Chapter Text

Technoblade walks down the hall, Ranboo on his hip and glowing compass in his hand on his way to find Phil. The device seems to have malfunctioned or something, because the needle that should be pointing at the kid has gotten stuck at some random spot in his room. Under the floor it seems.

Deep into his own ideas, Technoblade feels himself bumping into someone with some violence. The child in his arms shrieks slightly at the collision, and finally the piglin looks up, to find Wilbur looking shaken in front of him.

"Like running into a wall." He exclaims with a hint of humor, leaning down to pick up the birch figurine that presumably just fell from his hands. Technoblade doesn't bother to detail what it is, but it appears to be something with fins.

"I'm… sorry." The hybrid mutters, apparently loud enough for Wilbur to hear and look up with an incredulous expression.

"It's okay, we were both going around with our heads in the clouds by the looks of it. Unless you did it on purpose, which I doubt seeing as you have..." His speech trails off, when the young avian turns his gaze to the enderling and his dark eyes meet the charm hanging from his neck.

His gaze remains riveted on him for a couple of seconds, until the boy seems to realize his gaze is fixed and turns his attention away from him somewhat abruptly.

"Doesn't he like, pull on your hair?"

Technoblade shakes his head. The movement causes the mop of hair to shake slightly, and the youngling is quick to reach into the strands with his hands, fiddling with it but making no attempt to grasp it. Just then Technoblade realizes that his hair is loose.

"Well, let me tell you that you are one lucky bastard then. My sweet girl used to have a fascination with hair. It didn't even have to be long for it to be a target for her."

Wilbur watches the young enderman fiddle with the pink locks. "You, Mr Blade, be very grateful you didn't meet her when she was between five months and two years of age. She would've just grabbed one of those rose tuffs of yours and tried very hard to pluck it out of your skull."

Well... at least he doesn't look like he wants to shoot him on sight anymore. This feels like the Wilbur he's... known? Through all these months. This feels like a... too sudden change. Just a couple of days ago, Wilbur wouldn't have even looked at him.

"Do you think I could... uh, braid it?"

Technoblade raises an eyebrow at the question. Well... that's the last thing he expected to hear.

"It's just... I've always wanted to. But dad's hair is never long enough and he doesn't really like hairdos, and Flora hates not having short hair." He explains, unable to help but glance at the long, straight locks that fall over both of the piglin's shoulders. "Yours is just so... perfect for it. Risking to sound like a creep, I've been wishing to do it ever since I saw it for the first time."

The hybrid only thinks about it for a moment.

"Yeah, why not?" He finally responds, feigning disinterest but unable to deny the curiosity that invades him. He doesn't remember having his hair braided before. Or cared for in any way other than cutting or tying it out of the way. Wilbur smiles with apparent enthusiasm.

"Okay! We should wash it first."

Oh?

That's something he's certainly not done before.

His hair is still considerably wet. Not enough to drip, but enough to dampen his clothes. Wilbur several times tries to convince him to put a towel on his shoulders, but Technoblade refuses each time.

"So... what now?" The three (including the enderling of course) are outside the house, at the suggestion of Wilbur.

The winged boy points to a chair that he had presumably put there himself. Techno walks over to it and sits down, turning his attention back to Wilbur, and something on his right hand piques his curiosity. Something that looks like a very strange little rake. His confused look remains fixed on the object, until the avian notices it.

"I presume you've never seen a comb before?" He exclaims, lifting it up to him.

"What the hell is that for?" Because it certainly looks like some kind of torture device.

"To get rid of the knots in your hair. You'll see." He responds, pushing him to face forward. To get rid of the knots? Technoblade either just ignores them, or pulls on them until they're away from his head in moments of especially idle boredom.

Technoblade sits quietly, feeling somewhat uncomfortable and perhaps beginning to regret accepting Wilbur's offer. As the young avian's hands begin to work through his locks Technoblade inevitably jumps with a start and tenses for a moment. It's not like Wilbur is going to kill him. He'd like to see him try.

"Your hair's pretty soft. And such a nice colour too."

Is he getting complimented on his hair? This is so damn strange. Last time he was complimented it was on his sword wielding skills... so many years ago.

The boy's hands run the "comb" through his locks over and over again, occasionally pulling too hard at a tangle and making him growl in warning. In his reaction a tone dangerously close to what he would use when in the Nether, with others of his kind. From time to time he can feel Ranboo moving by his feet, crawling to and fro and occasionally trying to coax him into letting him onto his lap.

"Techno, have you noticed anything about Flora's hair?"

The out of nowhere question about the kid he's barely seen in last few weeks (and with a reason for that) catches him off guard, drawing his attention away from the enderling clinging to his knees and trying to remember something related to the question.

"It's orange and yours is brown?" He can hear a small laugh come from the boy behind his back. That was apparently not the answer.

"Well... not exactly that. I mean, yes, it's true, but it's because she didn't inherit it from me." Technoblade expects the following to be about the person who gave the kit her red hair, but it isn't. "I'm talking about the white."

"White?"

"Hm. I figured so." He responds, his hands stopping his movement for a few seconds as he seems to think of something. "I almost lost her, Techno. The day she was born."

A tense silence invades his conversation. While Wilbur's fingers replace the tool, until he crossed a knot and the boy takes care of it with the comb.

"I was about to not meet her." Wilbur continues his monologue and the movement of his hands over the pink locks, with a special care that he didn't seem to be there before, stopping for a moment and starting to use something to dry it for what it seems. A towel for sure. "She took her first breath fifteen minutes after arriving into my arms."

Technoblade listens in silence, undecided on how to respond and wondering why Wilbur decided to tell him this.

"I was already convinced that my little girl had passed without a chance to even say hi." A heavy tone delivers the phrase, while Wilbur pats dry the long, and not as damp now locks. Once he seems satisfied with his work, now he does begin to use his hands to shape the established hairstyle. A repetitive and constant movement that he quickly gets used to.

"I'm one hundred percent sure that dad is the reason she's even here with us today." The hybrid waits for the boy to expand on that statement, but Wilbur just continues, tightening his work with some force. "Remember when I told you that he cried more than Flora at birth? Well... dad didn't cry as much as I did when I thought I had lost her."

He can feel a sigh hit the top of his head and Ranboo sits on the ground in front of him. The boy's hands work patiently but with obvious expertise, something curious for someone who admitted not having much practice space with his family, and soon most of the previously loose and wild locks find themselves incorporated into the new hairstyle.

"I know what it is to worry about the welfare of my child. I know what it is to fear for them."

The fingers of Wilbur continue with his work, a little slower when he seems to be nearing the end.

"And I have a suspicion that you know it too, Technoblade."

The avian's fingers finally stop their movement and brush over his finished work, finishing smoothing the loose hairs that refused to stay inside the thick braid.

"I hope that one day you can share with us all those ideas that torment you. Bottling things is not good, believe me."

Wilbur pats his hands on his pant thighs, telling him that he can get up now. Technoblade does it almost reflexively, seeing that Ranboo took to looking for entertainment in a couple of pebbles he found nearby, trying to stack them as he had already learned to do with the colorful wooden blocks that Philza dusted for him a few weeks ago.

"White represents opportunity. Hope. Don't forget it, Techno." This is what Wilbur exclaims before heading back into the house.

Ranboo stares at Wilbur as he walks away, and Technoblade can't help but point out the inverse colored freckles that have started to appear on both sides of his face.

This family seems to be quite cryptic.

Technoblade finally finds Philza inside the house, a few minutes later. The new style of course does not go unnoticed nor without a comment, and the way the man's face lights up, even more so when he assumes and receives confirmation that it was the effect of his son, almost makes a small foolish smile make its way under his snout. Technoblade tells him about his problem with the compass and Phil solves it with almost ridiculous ease. Using another piece of lodestone to put inside the charm, not before linking it to the compass of course.

Finding the small compartment empty, the avian tells him that it probably opened and the previous piece fell out, most surely ending up between the floorboards, which of course is worrying news. If the system to prevent the child from getting lost can be lost so easily, the forecast is grim. Phil assures him to modify the piece to prevent that from happening, deciding to take the charm and work on it immediately.

Which means that Ranboo will be free to wander around without his tracking chip until Philza returns it. Well, that just means that Technoblade will have to be especially attentive of the creature for the time being.

How hard can it be to keep track of a one year old enderman who can barely walk? That's exactly what he's been doing for past... well, entire year anyway.

Chapter Text

Wilbur once again returns from an expedition accompanied by his pup and the lamb. The brunet drags a bag of apparently considerable size and weight to the kitchen, while the kit carries a smaller and obviously lighter bag in her arms.

"Hey." The young avian acknowledges with a nod in his direction.

"Hm."

His daughter runs straight past the living room, beelining for the hall, and presumably their own rooms. The lamb marches behind her.

Philza soon appears from somewhere, and helps Wilbur deal with the contents of the sack he just brought, which the hybrid discovers is food. Without thinking much, Technoblade gets up from his place and heads towards the kitchen with the pair, also participating without saying a word.

Philza seems to enjoy watching the two of them pass things back and forth, while Techno tries to guess where to put most of the objects. The man also seems to find it amusing how both boys have a much easier time reaching the higher cupboards and drawers than he does.

Technoblade is just happy to see sweet berries and potatoes among the things he organizes.

Yes, he has tried. He really has. The objects that make up his translation project lie on the desk. Useless, his mind screams. Or something (someone?) inside it.

He hasn't made any real progress since the couple of stray words he found that time... who knows how long ago.

A click distracts him from his ideas, looking down at Ranboo, and staring down at the face of the kid on his lap. His eyes somehow reveal in a terribly obvious way how sleepy he is, despite not showing it very physically.

"You look tired." He reports, without expecting to really gain anything by mentioning it. "To the crib you go."

And with that he goes to the alluded furniture, taking the young enderman and untangling his tiny arms from his neck before placing him on the sheet, not without a bit of protest on the kid's part. The child whines half-heartedly, extending his hands in his direction and resisting the slight amount of force that the hybrid's palm exerts on his chest, to prevent him from immediately rising again.

"Don't even try it. Go ahead and take a nap."

Another whine, more determined and demanding, as he continues to struggle against the piglin to get back up.

"Ranboo." And with that he has to take a moment to assimilate what he himself has just exclaimed. A firm but calming reprimand for the infant in the crib in front of him. His name, his actual real name that he possesses now. And the fact that after that the child seems to understand him in a certain way, stopping struggling and simply looking at him, with his eyes full of fatigue. "Sleep."

After a few seconds he removes his hand while still looking at him. The boy just... stares back, looking like he's expecting something.

Technoblade turns around and heads towards the window, with the idea of ​​closing the curtains and reducing the intense midday light that fills the room. The child is more likely to fall asleep if the place does not look like it has a direct view of a lava lake.

He takes both curtains, one in each hand, but before pulling them closed, he manages to see Flora in the shadow of a tree somewhat far from the house and… the yeanling whose name he still doesn't remember.

The pair is sitting on the grass next to the house, their hands busy with some activity that appears to involve flowers and their stems. Wilbur's daughter's paws work with an ease and dexterity similar to those that her father evidently possesses when it comes to working on hairstyles. The creature seems absorbed in her task, while the young ram interrupts his own project to stare at the movement of his companion's expert little hands in front of him.

In a matter of a couple of minutes of bending, twisting and cutting, the ginger pup raises something that looks like a halo of flowers and stems between her palms, her baby fangs standing out in a proud smile, presenting her work to the lamb. before carefully placing it on top of her own head, encircling her ears. The yeanling exclaims, with apparent amazement, and looks at his own project in his hands.

"Flora! I want one as well!" He says, presenting her with the materials of his much less successful work. Which are still just somewhat battered flowers with broken stems.

She extends her hands but not to take the flowers, but to guide him on how to start.

"Ik zal je laten zien hoe het moet."

And with that she begins to instruct him, mostly with visual cues while the lamb seems to do his best to follow her guidance. Technoblade wonders if he understands her, seeing that so far the only one he has seen capable of understanding her has been her father, and not even her grandfather seems to know what she is saying, speaking in a language different from any other Techno has ever heard before.

Someone else joins the scene. Crawling from what must be the front door, Ranboo approaches the pair on the grass. Technoblade immediately turns around to see the crib where he had put him a few minutes ago. Of course it's empty, he can see the boy outside the house.

How the hell does he keep doing that?! This damn brat.

His first instinct is to get up from his place by the window and go drag the unruly boy back into the room, but in the end he decides to let him interact with the other two children. He can also watch him from his position, which is precisely what he had planned to do when putting him in the crib. Well... something like that. He was trying to get him to sleep, right? Eh, close enough.

You can escape from your nap.

For now.

But the enderling does not advance further, sitting in his place a few meters away from the two, who have not yet noticed his presence.

The pup instructs her companion as she assists him in tangling and folding and arranging, not getting very far before the lamb's voice interrupts her.

"Ranboo! Do you want one too?" With this the three look at each other, and the young ram presents his own project, to which the girl retracts her hands. "Flora can help, she's the best!"

The young kit seems to blush at the compliment, arranging the crown on her head again, despite not needing to do so, and takes a bunch of flowers in her hands, placing them on her lap. She then calls the youngest of the three to come closer with a movement of her right paw.

"Ik kan het je ook laten zien."

Ranboo doesn't seem to need any more convincing, resuming his crawl towards them and sitting next to the lamb, while extending his black hand to the almost completed project in the brown haired boy's hands.

"Look, you have to turn it like this... and then put this like this, right Flora?"

They both receive a nod from the girl, as she completely removes her hands to allow the lamb to add the finishing touches on his yellow and red project. His look is one of complete concentration as he repeats the instructions given by the kit.

"Oh, I did it!" He exclaims triumphantly, now raising his own finished piece to show the two children (and unknowingly Technoblade as well).

The little fox claps her paws, smiling at him. "Yay, Tubbo."

Tubbo. Yes, that is the yeanling's name. Technoblade should've probably learned it by now.

"Look Ranboo, I will give this one to you." He announces, turning to the enderling and adjusting the halo over his head. The kid vwoops with interest, trying to grab it immediately. "No, don't take it off! I will make another one for myself."

And with that he reaches into the bag, taking out a new assortment of colorful flowers with which to start a new project. The girl proceeds to do the same, carefully choosing a mixture of different flowers.

"Are you going to make another one, Flora? But you already have one." The lamb asks confused. Tubbo...?

"Ik ga er ook een maken voor pappa."

"Ba?" The little enderman looks towards the house.

The kit nods, seeming to decide which color combination she wants to choose for her own project. "Ja, Ranboo. Pa. Ga jij er ook een voor hem maken?"

From his place under the tree, the boy's two-tone eyes find the figure of Techno, standing in front of the window and staring back at him.

The girl's paws, placing a bunch of colors in his hands, distract him from her staring contest with the adult in the room, and when the lamb tries to follow Ranboo's gaze, Technoblade has already retreated from his position by the glass.

Trying to fill his head with anything, Technoblade sits on the mattress and puts his head in his hands, failing terribly in any attempt to sink into silence or distract himself from the ideas that come one after the other without stopping, remaining in his place in the middle of the fire of a squad of horrible voices that seem to snicker in his ears.

"Did you hear that? Did you hear it?"

"Of course you did! Little Ranboo's calling you pa now! Good luck getting out of this now, man. You're in too deep."

Techno gets out of bed, eagerly heading towards the desk without even taking a moment to look at the things lying carelessly on it, he proceeds to recklessly throw objects into the backpack that lies next to it. The mocking voices that taunt him inside his head drown out any attempt to think about anything other than the boy out there. The footsteps approaching from the hallway equally silenced among the imbroglio of his ideas.

"You're in too deep now!"