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It would not have been incorrect to say that one of the reasons why Techno had suddenly decided to organize a family dinner for the first time in his life was because, during his latest visit to Snowchester carried out exclusively to make sure that they weren’t forming more governments and for no other reasons, he’d found out that Ranboo, his protege, was married to Mr. President and the Traitor. Not only that, but, as it turned out, those three had a kid together, a small zombie piglin, and that sure did make him feel some kind of way.
It hurt to know that Ranboo didn’t trust him enough to tell him about his family. Even more so, knowing he’d told Phil and his best friend, forgetful pigeon that he was, never remembered to snitch. He hated being the only one in the dark. It made it harder to know who he could truly count on.
But it would have been a lie to say that this breach of trust alone was the reason for his newly-found desire for some social interactions. Technoblade was not such a weak man.
No, there was something that he disliked even more than being lied to by his loved ones, and that was people doing things wrong. And one look at his little brother’s too-thin frame, his pale skin, his graying hair, and the dark circles under his eyes had been enough for him to decide that his partners were clearly not caring for him properly. Especially Tubbo. For being the one whose side Tommy had chosen when it mattered most, the goat hybrid sure didn’t seem keen on repaying that loyalty any time soon. The same amount of blame couldn’t be placed on Ranboo when that guy was so forgetful he might have lost his head had it not been attached to his neck. Giving him a toddler to look after had already been an awfully bold move. Thankfully, as a runt who’d never outgrown his golden fur and was, therefore, always left behind in the bastion to nurse the younger piglets when things got dire, Techno’s little brother had always been good with children.
Now, Techno would have preferred it if the family dinner had only been comprised of him, Phil, Ranboo, and Tommy. Maybe their kiddo, too. However, Tubbo hadn’t been a fan of the idea of being left out and had forbidden his spouses from attending unless he was allowed to tag along. And Phil had insisted he let Wilbur come too as his son had been self-isolating a lot recently, and he was convinced that seeing his old friends could fix him. Techno was rather certain that the only thing that could fix the musician was another good old stabbing, but, hey, he wasn’t the expert on avians between the two of them, and he’d never been good at saying no to his best friend.
So, in the end, they decided to hold the dinner at his house with everyone who could even just tangentially be considered family, aside from Fundy and his child. His living room felt a bit cramped with such a long table shoved in it, but it had to do. Wilbur had tried suggesting using the teens’ mansion instead since it was so much more spacious, only to be firmly reminded by Tubbo that he was not welcome in there, and neither were Techno and Phil. The goat hybrid made sure to add that it was nothing personal; he just didn’t like any of them, which kinda did feel somewhat personal, but who was he to call the guy a liar?
Techno had almost finished setting up the table while Chat screamed at him in his mind about blood, betrayals, and sounders, when the first knock was heard at his door. While he had expected that to be Phil, maybe Wilbur, if they weren’t coming together, he came face-to-face with Ranboo instead. And Tubbo. Tubbo was so much shorter that he noticed him after the young enderman, despite him being in front of them.
“We brought cake” Mr. President said, as he shoved a carton box in his hands and wiggled past him and directly to the couch he’d pushed all the way into the corner of the room next to the lit fireplace. At least he didn’t start rummaging through his chests and stealing like another menace he was familiar with would have. Silver linings.
Ranboo gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry, he’s not a fan of… the snow?” they pitifully attempted to explain, somehow picking the only thing around them that Snowchester was not only named after but also covered in at all times. They had to know that it was unbelievable, too, because they ducked their head, therefore quickly breaking eye contact, while their cheeks burned green and red, and they shuffled in, joining their husband on the couch.
He really needed to teach the guy to have some more self-confidence. If he kept acting like that, it would start impacting Techno’s reputation, too, no matter how much the voices insisted on cooing at him as if he were a little puppy instead of their protege. There was nothing adorable about weakness.
Once Ranboo moved out of the way, Tommy was revealed to have been standing there the whole time. He was holding their toddler in his arms. The little zombie piglin was too distracted by his mostly golden curls to make a fuss about the cold, thankfully. Techno didn’t think he would have been able to handle screaming so early on. Especially since Chat already erupted in a cacophony of happy cheers and outrage when they saw the blond. Much like Techno himself, they didn’t seem to be able to decide whether to be happy that Tommy was still alive or cry at his broken appearance. His tusks were still as small as they’d been back in the Nether, but they looked healthy and sturdy at least. They were the only part of him that didn’t look so obviously fragile, and they were not enough to quench the insidious worry building among the voices.
“Hey” Tommy whispered. “How’s it going, Big T?” he sounded hesitant. Unsure. So unlike his usual loud self.
There was no affection for the teen in Techno’s heart.
The only reason his pitiful condition had made him want to organize that meeting and was now making him consider making it into a regular occurrence was that he loved to be right, and he loved to prove people wrong even more. It was a golden opportunity for him to mock Tubbo, so he wouldn’t let it go to waste. Especially since, with how few missteps his nemesis had been making lately, he didn’t get too many of those anymore.
Still, for some reason, Tommy’s subdued behavior sent a pang through Techno’s heart.
Quickly, he made sure to justify the moment of unwarranted emotion to himself by reminding the voices that the teen was dead to him and them and that seeing him so miserable should have only served to reinforce his point about Tubbo being a less-than-adequate caretaker. It made his victory that much more certain, and, for that reason, he should have been ecstatic about it. He didn’t know how much he actually believed his own thoughts.
Without a word, he wrapped an arm around Tommy’s shoulders and ushered him inside and out of the cold. He closed the door behind them and then guided him and, since he was holding the little guy, his kid, to the table to their assigned spot. Which, coincidentally, was to the right of the head of the table, where Techno would be sitting. Phil was meant to sit to his left and Ranboo in front of him at the other end of the table. Wilbur and Tubbo were next to Ranboo, far away from him and mostly hidden from his sight. It was truly the perfect arrangement to minimize headaches.
Before sitting, Tommy moved away the high chair Techno had prepared for their kid. “If it’s okay, I’m just gonna hold Mickey. New environments stress him out” he explained.
The kid did not look stressed. He was as content as one could be, staring at Tommy’s golden curls as if his life depended on it. It made sense; that’s what piglets were meant to do. The core of the bastion was where they were usually kept for their protection. There, they could be guarded by brutes at all times. And it was, by all accounts, a golden cage where they remained when they were still too young or too small to hold a sword. Their fur usually remained golden for as long as they were to be hidden away so that they could blend in with the environment around them and would be harder to spot for ill-intentioned intruders. In Tommy’s case, he would have stayed there forever had Techno not met Philza. That really did change everything for them…
Regardless, while the child was definitely too young to have safely left the protection of the cage of his bastion of origin based on the rotting tufts of golden fur he could still spot amidst his decaying flesh, Techno was happy to see that he at least had enough common sense to stay close to his elders and keep his one good eye on the gold. He was being raised well.
“You can do whatever” he answered very eloquently after a few beats of awkward silence. He didn’t realize that Tommy had been waiting for an answer, so he’d just been standing there, staring.
-
softnoblade
awwww
WE’RE SO BACK!
EEEE
who wants to bet he’s gonna call him a runt by the end of the day?
BEDROCK BROS CRUMBS!!
E
EE
gonna donate some thoughts and prayers, ‘cause the brainrot is hitting Chat hard
-
Techno mentally chastised the voices for all of their cooing and sternly reminded them that he just didn’t quite remember how to act around so many of his kind anymore. He and Tommy were both human-piglin hybrids, so they were fine living in the Overworld, and neither of them had ever felt the pull of the Nether once they’d left. Which did make living up there in the Arctic with Phil easier, but also meant that he’d gotten rusty when it came to all piglin-related habits. He was no longer accustomed to the feeling of unity and sounder that hit him whenever he was around others of his kind, and it made fighting off his protective brute instincts all that much harder. But that’s all there was to it. Instincts, nothing more. It didn’t mean anything.
It would never mean anything if he didn’t let it.
Tommy nodded and sat down, settling Michael more comfortably on his lap. Once they were both situated, he turned his body to face his spouses, therefore turning his back on Techno.
He never would have admitted it out loud, but that simple action stung. It shouldn’t have, but it did. It was a reminder that his little brother had chosen who his sounder was, and he was not a part of it anymore. Tommy likely didn’t consider him an enemy or at all a danger to his loved ones (he might have been a runt whose instincts were more of the nurturing kind, but Techno knew his brother well, even after all that time apart; he knew how fierce he could be when he found a cause worth fighting for. Had he doubted his kid’s safety for even a second, he would have started biting like the feral raccoon he often behaved as), but he wouldn’t give him his loyalty or his time if it wasn’t necessary. They weren’t enemies, but they weren’t friends either.
Did Techno want that to change?
Was that the real purpose behind his impromptu dinner plans? Was he hoping for some kind of reconciliation? Was that what proving Tubbo’s inadequacy would lead to?
Would breaking what few bonds Tommy had managed to maintain for his own selfish goals be fair? Was it justifiable? Would it have been as big a betrayal as the one Tommy had pulled against him when he chose his old rotten country and that despicable excuse of a best friend of his over the sounder that literally raised him?
Another knock at the door saved him from having to do any more introspection or finding an answer to any of his unspoken questions, luckily. He had never been a fan of that stuff.
Techno was a self-aware man. He knew his strengths and weaknesses. Interpersonal relationships were a weakness. Denial was a strength.
This time, Phil was the one standing on the other side of the door. Wilbur was there too, behind him, but he was hunched over so far that he was completely hidden by his father’s dark wings. He looked kind of like a worm slithering around in the shade to avoid getting dried out by any hint of light touching his skin. He looked far healthier than Tommy because his best friend was many things, but a lousy caretaker wasn’t one of them, and yet he somehow seemed far gloomier, too. Whatever paranoid thoughts were tormenting him at the moment, Techno didn’t know and wouldn’t ask about.
So, instead of acknowledging Wilbur and starting the small talk the other tried hinting that he expected, Techno clapped Phil on the back, between his wings, and welcomed him in.
His friend was always a joy to be around. He abhorred pointless pleasantries as much as he did, so, instead of losing himself in meaningless chatter, he raised up the bottle of sparkling wine he brought and excitedly proposed that everyone gather around the table and do a toast. Had that level of enthusiasm come from anyone else, Techno would have found it irritating. From Phil, however, it managed to steal a fond little smile from him. His happiness and laughter were infectious.
Ranboo rose from the couch and, with some prompting from them, Tubbo reluctantly followed suit.
Techno made sure to instruct them all about their sitting arrangements and, surprisingly, he got no complaints about it. Mr. President did mutter something about how it was weird that Tommy’s and Ranboo’s spots weren’t inverted when the young enderman was his protege, but nobody paid him any mind. Sometimes it just felt as if he complained more because he found some pleasure in starting fights than because he had valid critiques to make. It was something Techno could relate to.
One didn’t acquire the title of Blood God because they were big fans of peaceful resolutions to conflicts. It was a moniker earned through bloodshed and sacrifice. Only the strongest warriors and the highest priests could ever hope to acquire it (Techno personally had gotten it by being very good at competitive bed demolition. Overworlders loved running wild with cool terminology from other cultures that they did not understand. Not that he could complain about it in that case).
Still, if he hoped to prove himself as the better caretaker, he couldn’t start throwing down with Tommy’s current sounder at the first sign of disrespect. He had to grit his teeth and deal with it.
“What are we toasting to?” Ranboo asked curiously, holding their half-full glass of sparkling wine carefully at a distance and eyeing it warily. It was always a tad bit amusing to see them interact with any kind of liquid, even those that were perfectly harmless to them. It was like watching a kitten approach the first snow of their life, hesitantly sniffing and hissing at it as if it were an unknown foe and not an inanimate object.
The question somehow caught Phil off guard; he must have forgotten to think that far. Sometimes, Techno was genuinely convinced that his best friend had misidentified himself as a crow, because he had none of their cleverness. Surely, someone whose head was so often lost among the clouds was more of a pigeon. Many would and had disagreed with him on that, but there was no point in doing so as his mind could not be changed once he’d made it. His stubbornness was a great point of pride for him.
Wilbur took his father’s lost expression as his cue to bring the spotlight on himself. He rose to his feet, full glass in one hand, and a fork in the other. Without any regard for those of them with more sensitive hearing, he clinked the two objects together and smiled brightly once all eyes turned to him as a result. “This seems like a wonderful occasion for a speech!” he said in a tone that left no space for arguments or compromises. Tubbo let out a low groan, moved his plate out of the way, and then slammed his head on the table. For as much as he hated the guy, Techno resonated with the sentiment. The only reason he didn’t copy his behavior was because Phil gave him a sharp glare that clearly communicated that he’d be sleeping outside in the snow if he wasn’t on his best behavior. Ranboo was smiling nervously, although that was not unusual for the anxious teen. And Tommy looked exasperated but also somewhat fond and intrigued. Overall, they made for a far warmer and more welcoming audience than he thought they would. “For years now we’ve been divided, not acting like a real family” the musician began, unbothered by the lukewarm response. “It is time that we put those silly little differences aside and come together as one harmonious unit. So let’s cheer... to family!”.
Phil clapped for him, possibly not having entirely understood what most usually meant by ‘doing a toast’. Avians were End folks, Overworld costumes were as foreign and bizarre to them as they were to piglins. That said, his best friend had lived all over for hundreds of years at that point, so his excuses were about starting to run out.
Tommy and Ranboo both raised their glasses and, after yet another glare from Phil, Techno hurried to do the same. They all joined them together in the center of the table for an annoying high-pitched cacophony of clinking and ringing, and then they all gleefully downed the wine.
Tubbo was the only one who had abstained from the celebration. He picked up his head from the table after all the fanfare was over, and locked eyes with Wilbur as he did so. “You’re still not allowed in the mansion, I hope you know that” he stated dryly and flatly. It was impressive how much his inflection matched Techno’s famous monotone. Surely, that was the only way in which they could be considered alike.
The musician’s expression immediately morphed into a pout. He dropped himself back down in his chair very dramatically and crossed his arms over his chest like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. Phil reached over to him and squeezed one of his arms comfortingly, but it didn’t earn him any reaction, so there was nothing he could do but give up for the moment and circle back to that problem later. Especially since words had never been his strong suit. He was a bird of action.
-
that was anticlimactic
EEE
FF
some epic music could have fixed that, I think
E
Tubbo was brutal! I kinda respect that
Let’s get some TechnoSUPPORT in chat for these trying times!
I think this family needs therapy
-
It was surprising to hear that even the voices hadn’t been swept up by Wilbur’s honeyed words. Usually, they were all over that guy. Then again, maybe now that they lived in such close proximity, they’d had their fill and were looking for some variety in the content they consumed. He couldn’t blame them for it. He also got bored easily.
“Right. Now that that’s all over with-” Techno spoke up while leaving the comfort of his chair to go grab the feast he’d prepared (that being mostly baked potatoes, various kinds of meat with different preparations, and a hearty grains, beans, and green leafy vegetables soup he thought of mainly for Tommy as he knew that his little brother preferred to stick to a vegetarian diet when possible) “Let’s eat” he concluded, setting the dishes down where everyone could reach them. He leaned close to Tommy once he was seated again and whispered: “The soup is how you always liked it, no nether wart though, you know Overworlders can be fussy about that stuff”.
Tommy snickered. It had been a while since he’d last heard him laugh, and, even if it wasn’t his usual hyena laugh, it was a nice sound. Knowing that he was the one who caused that filled his heart with pride. And, no matter how much he told himself and Chat that the emotion meant nothing, he couldn’t quite believe that himself.
Mr. President threw a suspicious glance their way, but Tommy was quick to reassure him that everything was alright, so no fight broke out just yet. Techno could feel that something would happen by the end of that dinner. The tension hanging in the air would either dissipate as they found out that they were delighted by the company of one another after all (highly doubtful) or they’d try to kill each other and end up with at least a couple of broken bones between them.
Once upon a time, he would have been certain that, if a fight were to ever break out between him and Tubbo, he would have had the upper hand. However, in the years since he’d met him, the teen had grown more muscular. He hadn’t gained much height since he was twelve, but he was still a foe to be wary of nonetheless. And the netherite armor he wore at all times could rival Techno’s in quality and sturdiness. That wasn’t to say that he thought he’d lose now; he was still likely the strongest fighter on the server, but a duel between them was sure to be a memorable spectacle.
He was broken out of his musings when Tubbo served Tommy only half a plate of soup, before moving on to fill his own plate, and to serve a baked potato to Michael, and a piece of the garlic-crusted rack of lamb he’d prepared as one of the meat options to Ranboo. The sight gave him pause.
That didn’t seem right.
Without saying a word, he stretched forward and filled Tommy’s plate the rest of the way.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Tubbo asked sharply, venom dripping from every syllable. His eyebrows were knit together, his eyes squinted slightly, and his mouth was curled into a half-formed snarl. He was angry. Pissed even. And suspicion like the one he’d shown before was creeping along his expression.
And it was ridiculous seeing as he was the one who’d messed up in the first place, not Techno!
“I’m feeding Tommy right since you clearly don’t know what you’re doing” he shot back, puffing out his chest. He was throwing a challenge, one that, after witnessing that poor attempt at putting his stick-thin brother on a diet, he was certain he would win.
It had been a bit too understanding of him to believe that perhaps Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s care for his little brother was only lacking in the sense that they’d chosen to have a child but could not be bothered to raise him themselves, and, instead of offering Tommy assistance any way they could with him, they neglected the one guy who was up for the job. It went against his nature to assume ignorance when malice was an option, but he had tried to this time. Only for the fact that all romantic relationships (which he assumed was what they had going on) were nothing but poison to be proven to him once more, along with the fact that there was a bit more than some disregard for his brother’s wants and needs going on in that mansion.
And while, as he had established before with himself and the voices, there was no affection left in his heart for Tommy, as a brute, he still felt a duty to protect him and provide for him when possible. As a bonus, he not only got to indulge his instincts but was also proven right while proving someone he despised wrong. It was a win-win situation.
Instead of getting even more aggressive, Tubbo just turned confused. “What are you talking about? Tommy can’t eat all of that-”.
Techno didn’t let him finish. He’d heard enough to know it was all a pile of hoglin shit anyway. He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the teen. “Bruh… have you looked at him? He’s a stick. That’s not what he’s supposed to look like. Let him have a full plate, you don’t even have to provide it for him” that last part was a clear jab at his poor performance, as it was obvious to anyone looking at them that it should have been Tubbo’s responsibility to take care of their little sounder.
In piglin society, roles were not dictated by gender as they seemed to be for a lot of Overworlders, but they were still just as rigid. Runts like Tommy weren’t meant for war and combat, and the fact that Wilbur had dragged him into both was a big reason why Techno vehemently disliked the guy. Most of the time, those like him provided care for those at the beginning stages of zombie virus infection, or remained behind in the golden cage with all the piglets to nurture them. Those with a strong build, like Techno or Tubbo himself, meanwhile, were the ones meant as protectors. They usually weren’t the ones who went out hunting and procuring all the necessary food for the colony (that tended to be up to the lighter, faster, and more agile ones among them), but when Ranboo was the only other option for the role, their little family unit had well… the choice of who should have done so seemed obvious.
His protege wasn’t useless. He’d seen how many hours he could spend mining for resources and walking long distances for seemingly no reason, but he was far from being a fighter or a hunter. A hoglin would have had him on his ass in under ten seconds.
They were working on fixing that, but it was a slow process.
Once again, instead of reacting with anger, Tubbo just seemed increasingly bewildered. “Yeah? Nobody’s debating that Tommy is underweight and malnourished”. Tommy tried to open his mouth to argue against that, but identical side eyes from Techno and Tubbo shut him up before he could even speak a single word. “Yeah, so, nobody is arguing against that. But that’s exactly why he can’t eat too much all of a sudden. He’s gonna feel sick halfway through, and then that’s just gonna give him food issues. And that’s the last thing anyone wants”. It was truly unfortunate that what he was saying was starting to make a lot of sense.
But if Techno had ever let himself get dissuaded by something as stupid as logic, he wouldn’t have been himself, would he?
Right down to his core, there was nothing but a stubborn desire to be right and have all the solutions needed to fix Tommy once and for all. His pride as a brute was on the line after all!
“You could just tell him to eat, he’s not gonna say no to you…” was Techno’s mumbled response. From that point of view, he and his little brother were extremely alike.
For as much as Tommy’s betrayal had stung back when it happened, he couldn’t say that he hadn’t understood it. He, too, would have chosen Phil over him if push came to shove. That had never been an ultimatum he’d had to face, but they both knew that was the case. They were both more loyal to their sounder of choice than to their sounder of blood. Perhaps it was an effect of the human part of them, or maybe it was just a similarity in their character as they’d been raised side by side. Regardless, the result of it all was that, when their respective best friends asked them for something, saying no was hard for them.
Techno suspected that, for Tommy, saying no to Wilbur had been just as hard once upon a time. Maybe it still was. There was still some fondness in his eyes when he looked at the musician, even if they didn’t spend as much time together anymore. But it had always been easier for him than denying Tubbo anything.
He kind of suspected that Tubbo’s blond hair from when he was younger had helped. The first time Tommy saw him, he must have thought of a piglet in need of care. It was easier for that initial surge of protectiveness to turn into dependence over time. Techno's and Phil's relationship had followed some similar steps.
“I’m not gonna just do that” Tubbo stated firmly. He didn’t deny the fact that it would have worked, because they both knew that was the case. However, he was proving himself to be almost as obstinate as Techno himself. “Tommy’s had enough choices taken away from him” he paused his talking a moment to turn to glance at Wilbur. He didn’t say anything to the man, he didn’t throw a jab at him for dragging his best friend into a war that had very little to do with him and a lot to do with the musician’s overinflated ego, and he didn’t even glare at him. He just looked in his direction long enough for everyone present to know that he was one of the people who had harmed Tommy in that way, and then seamlessly went back to giving his speech: “I’m not gonna take away more. And I’m not gonna let you do so either. I don’t know why you’re getting involved all of a sudden, but back off already, your help is unneeded and unwanted”.
The last sentence he uttered got an offended squawk from Phil; his horror at the goat hybrid’s words was almost intense enough to match what Techno was feeling. Almost.
Hearing that he was no longer required as a provider for his little brother stated so clearly, hurt. Even more so because Tommy didn’t try at any point to intervene and tell his best friend to cut it out, to correct his mistake, to point out that he was overlooking a perfectly good solution to all of his problems just as Techno had been implying. No, pretty much that entire time, he had just been hugging Michael close to his chest while looking off into space, not even at Phil, who was sitting directly in front of him, just at the void that existed between them. He looked exactly as he had when he was a piglet, and an elder piglin came over to try and teach him and his peers some history or alchemy; he looked lost.
“I mean…” Wilbur piped up out of nowhere “You are kinda keeping us away from him… that’s a choice”.
For once, the musician was bringing up a valid point.
One strong enough to leave Tubbo speechless, his brows furrowed in concentration, a mirror of the expression Techno was wearing at the moment.
“You can still see Tommy, just not at our house. I mean… we’re- we’re here, aren’t we?” Ranboo came to his husband’s defense, gesturing at their small little sounder of four and then around at Techno’s living room. “Tubbo has gone through a- a lot… and a lot of that is a direct result of- of your actions. And- and Techno’s. He- he shot him. So, yeah… uhm… he’s allowed to be uncomfortable having you at our house. Miss Puffy said so before”. At the mention of the therapist the three teens had been seeing, Wilbur let out an annoyed groan and rolled his eyes once and then again to make sure everyone had seen that he’d done so. He never respected psychology as a science. Nor any other form of science from Techno’s understanding of him. Ranboo, in an unprecedented show of character, ignored his disrespect and trudged on: “The only reason why you don’t- uhm- you don’t see him more often is because you- you kinda avoid him a lot, Wil. Techno does too. He barely ever comes over. The only one who has been consistently trying here is Phil. And- and Fundy. Well, I don’t think Tommy and Fundy ever disliked each other… not important right now. My point is, you can’t just expect to barge back into his life with one dinner and have everything be peachy. That’s not how- that isn’t how any of this works!”.
Techno’s ears drooped in shame as his neglect was called out. It wasn’t as if he’d been unaware of the fact that he’d been a stranger to his brother for quite some time, for as strong as his denial could get sometimes, it wasn’t powerful enough for him to ignore that fact. But there had been a part of him that, since the day Tommy chose Tubbo over him, had been stubbornly waiting for an apology that he was starting to think would never come. And it would never come because he and his little brother were more alike than he often dared to admit to himself; they were both staunchly loyal to their sounder of choice and couldn’t regret standing by their side even if they wanted to. They were two nuggets of the same golden ingot.
Unlike him, Wilbur didn’t take that speech as a prompting to do some introspection and soul searching. No, he just let out a huff, rolled his eyes yet again (one day they would fall off if he kept that up. The elder piglins always insisted upon that point), and launched into another rant that nobody cared to listen to aside from maybe Phil: “How can we avoid him less when we’re banned from the mansion he spends most of his time in?! Besides, it’s ridiculous that two basically strangers can get to dictate the terms and conditions of our meetings. We’re his family! And blood is thicker than water”.
It took every ounce of strength Techno had to avoid pointing out that Wilbur was misquoting that saying.
The original phrase was: ‘the blood of the coven is thicker than the water of the womb’ which, while accurate to how both he and his little brother tended to look at the world, was the exact opposite of what the musician had been trying to say. Not that it would have served him much better even if his understanding of that saying was correct, because he wasn’t even related to Tommy in the first place!
The only one there who could make that claim was Techno.
And he was about to remind everyone of that fact when Tommy beat him to the punch. “Techno’s my only blood relative, though?” he pointed out, brows furrowed in confusion and head cocked to the side like a bird in a way that made him look like an almost exact copy of Phil. It had always been uncanny how much those two resembled each other despite having no family in common and being two completely different kinds of hybrids. It had led to plenty of confusion in the past. Especially since Tommy and Techno did not look alike at all, what with Tommy having mostly humanoid features (aside from his small tusks and the unusual golden hue of his hair) and Techno resembling more of a typical piglin brute. “Did you forget?”.
Caught by surprise by the correction, Wilbur sputtered and hand-waved it away with all the elegance and smoothness of a warden fighting an annoying bat.
Far more interesting was Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s reaction to the news, however. Both of them went wide-eyed in surprise, staring between Techno and Tommy as if they’d just sprouted an extra head each. As if they truly had no clue…
Did they?
Had Techno ever mentioned his relation to Tommy when hanging out with Ranboo? It wasn’t the kind of topic that could come up in training, but they did occasionally see each other outside of that context, too. The half-enderman had been there for his birthday, as well as the few meetings the Syndicate had already held in their underground base. Had he not once made an off-handed comment that hinted at the brotherly nature of their bond?
Heck, had Tommy not said anything in the years he’d known Tubbo? Had that not come up when Techno had joined the war efforts on the side of Pogtopia? Had nobody questioned why he’d singled out Tommy during his speech on November Sixteenth? Had nobody ever wondered why he’d been so quick to take him in, even if he was an annoying, weak, and dirty raccoon? And had nobody thought it weird that it had hurt him so much when, once again, he’d been deemed a lower priority than Mr. President (the best friend who had already once discarded his little brother as if he were worth nothing), and publicly betrayed?
“You’re a piglin?!” Ranboo questioned first, shock audible in his voice. “But you’re not even pink!”.
“What do you mean you’re related to Techno?! How did I not know?!” Tubbo screamed, almost in unison.
The sudden yelling startled Michael, and Tommy quickly excused himself to go calm the little zombie piglet down, leaving Techno to deal with the aftermath of that reveal all alone.
“He’s a runt”. He decided to start by addressing Ranboo’s question first. After all, they were his favorite between the two remaining teens. He had to once more shush Chat, who had taken that thought as an admission of his affection for his little brother and was now chanting ‘BEDROCK FOR THE BEDROCK BROS’ at full volume in his mind, just to be able to put together a few more coherent sentences. “All piglets start off gold; some stay that way. Tommy’s one of them. And yeah, we’re full brothers. We share both human and piglin parents. I’m just as shocked as you guys are that the nature of our relationship never came up in conversation”. He was well aware of the fact that his tone remained as monotone as always, but he wasn’t lying about his surprise. He simply wasn’t too gifted in the art of conveying his own emotions in any language other than his native one. That was, unless he’d prepared a speech in his mind beforehand, then he was a gifted orator.
It was Wilbur’s turn to be confused then. “Wait… you used to be blond too?”. The fact that such an inane detail was the only one that stuck out to him was another reason why he kept losing every battle of wits he engaged in against Quackity. That and the fact that the only thing that could trample his desire to be right, adored, and revered as an almost prophetic figure was his deep craving for the approval of a father-like figure. A role that the duck-hybrid seemingly fulfilled for some obscure reason.
Techno didn’t dignify his question with an answer.
-
TechnoGold
TechnoGold
Gold for the Gold God
GOLD FOR THE GOLD GOD
I think Tommy’s having a panic attack right now-
don’t stream snipe Chat!
Gold for the Gold God
TechnoGold TechnoGold
we need emojis for this stat!
-
Ignoring the burning in his cheeks was harder than he would have liked to admit. He was glad that he’d inherited more of the piglin genes at that moment, as his fur more than adequately covered up his embarrassed blush.
Every piglin had once been a small, defenseless, and useless golden piglet, just like every avian had once been an ugly, featherless chick. There was nothing wrong with it. Nothing humiliating about that fact. Nothing to be ashamed of in admitting as much. Especially when even a runt like Tommy could prove himself to be resourceful, capable, and strong in combat. That said, that obvious and undeniable fact clashed so horribly with the image of himself that Techno had spent years building, and it made him want to crawl into a hole and die.
His surprising savior ended up being Tubbo, who, in his haste to express a realization he just had, quickly forced them all to move on from that sore topic. “Wait… is that why you were being so weird about the way we take care of Tommy? Well, the way I take care of him, at least. Are you jealous he chose his found family over you, or are you trying to, I dunno, remind him you’re his brother? What was up with that?”. His eyes were squinted like they had been before, but this time there was no suspicion in them, only confusion.
Rightfully so because, truth be told, Techno was just as confused by his renewed protective drive.
It was a well-known fact that instincts long buried could resurface when new elements were introduced to a dynamic. In his case, perhaps what kick-started it all was his discovery of Michael’s existence. It explained the unfamiliar voices that had been joining the chorus of his and Tommy’s shared ancestors in harassing him daily. The little guy was an official addition to his little brother’s sounder and, for as much as Techno would have liked to claim otherwise, that meant that he was his family too. For better or for worse. And that meant that there was no longer only one unprotected runt out there, but a piglet too. And maybe that had been too much for the brute part of him to ignore. Maybe that had been the last straw.
The trigger could have also been the fact that Phil and Ranboo had kept a relatively huge secret hidden from him. It shook the foundations of his sounder of choice, and that instability could have driven him back to his roots. He didn’t distrust the two of them now by any means. He still adored and cherished them. He would have still been happy to slaughter thousands for them. But his instincts were so repressed that they were easy to affect. He hadn’t really been working on controlling them since he’d left the Nether a good ten years before.
And, while he wanted to believe his contrived lies about how it had all been a big ruse to show the Government he so despised that he was right and Tubbo was wrong, he knew that was not the entire truth.
So, in a rare moment of honest vulnerability, he admitted: “I think I was just worried for him… for him and the little piglet. They’re meant to be protected and… so far I’ve failed to do so. And you and Ranboo did too, based on Tommy’s stick-thin frame. So, yeah. I guess my instincts kicked in. I dunno”. He would have loved to throw a silly joke in there to undercut the tension of the moment. That was how he usually operated. But, for maybe the first time in his life, he realized that it wasn’t appropriate.
From Tubbo’s expression, he could tell that he was ready to argue those claims yet again.
Mr. President truly was just as stubborn as he. To the point that some of the more easily excitable voices were already trying to convince the rest that they could have made for great brothers in another life. He wasn’t sure he agreed with that rhetoric. Quite frankly, he was fairly certain that they would have ended up killing each other had they met back when either of their necks was still easily breakable.
They were too alike to get along.
The only reason Tubbo didn’t go on another tirade about why he was ethically in the right for letting Tommy starve himself was that the blond in question walked back in, Michael in hand, looking even more tired than he already was at the beginning of that evening. The fury that had taken over Tubbo’s features left its place to concern, and the short brunette hurried over to his husband’s side to check on him. He didn’t try to take the kid from him (a smart move since he wasn’t wearing golden armor and couldn’t minimize the distress that would have caused), but he did lift both of them and carried them over to the couch, where they could chill a bit more easily.
For as much as Techno loathed to admit it, Tubbo did handle that situation rather well.
Ranboo disappeared from his seat in a flurry of purple particles and reappeared next to their husbands, likely having also decided to make them their priority.
“Well… that was an eventful dinner” Phil muttered, already getting up to take away the mostly untouched plates. Techno had to grab him and drag him back down to get him to stop.
“We’re not done” he assured him. He knew how much his friend could struggle reading what was going on. He wasn’t an expert either, but sometimes he was a tad bit quicker on the uptake. Phil just nodded, scooted closer to him with his chair, and curled up against his side in a ball of feathers and big bird feelings neither of them knew how to untangle. All Techno could tell was that having his flock so fractured must have been painful for him. Almost unbearable. And yet, he still did his best to smile throughout it all. His best friend was truly admirable. Techno dared to take his eyes off his old crow only to glance over at Tubbo. “I think that was needed. We had to air out some of the grievances we’ve been having. We can’t patch anything up if we don’t establish what’s broken first”.
Tubbo thought it over for a moment. Anger was still flickering in his eyes. Techno didn’t remember so much of it being there back when he’d first met the boy in Pogtopia. He had been a placid being back then, always ready to go along with whatever mischief Tommy got himself into, and following every order Schlatt, Wilbur, and Quackity dished out, no matter how contradictory they were. He had changed. He was a bitter man now. And it was obvious that Techno had some part in making him this way…
Still, after a minute or so of silent contemplation, he nodded. He wasn’t burying the hatchet quite yet, but he was putting it by the side for the time being.
“Still can’t believe Techno used to be blond… I think we moved on from that too fast” Wilbur piped up out of nowhere, bringing some much-needed levity to the situation. “Sunshine, do you have pictures?” he demanded in a whiny voice, all while leaning so far back in his chair that he was only balancing on the two back legs of it, so that he could look at Tommy upside down. He was such a clown sometimes…
Not that Techno could complain at times like that. Even if his mind was screaming at him to silence the man forever before his deepest, darkest, most shameful secrets could be unearthed for the world to see.
Thankfully, Tommy shook his head. “We didn’t have cameras in the Nether” he explained. “Besides, I wasn’t even alive when Techno was still gold. Usually by age four or five, you start shedding and turning pink ‘cause you’re old enough to start holding a sword and all that. And Techno’s, like, ancient or some shit” there was a small glint of defiance mixed with amusement when he said that last part. He was testing the waters, trying to see how genuine Techno’s desire to make amends truly was. How quickly he would retract his outstretched hand when even slightly annoyed.
Compared to the past, it was a subdued kind of testing boundaries.
Techno hoped that the reason behind his newfound quiet demeanor was the tiredness he got from the trials and tribulations of parenthood and a fresh marriage, and not some unseen evil making his life miserable that he’d failed to put a swift end to. He refused to remain willfully unaware of the fact that the worst-case scenario was still very much a possibility anymore. However, questioning the kid about it now, when Wilbur and Phil (whom he was not as comfortable around) were there, didn’t feel like the correct move. Still, he would get to it soon enough.
Because Technoblade had decided to heed Ranboo’s advice and stop avoiding his sounder while waiting in vain for an apology he would not receive.
He was hurt by that betrayal still, yes. That would not change. It would not fade. But it was time he chose between endlessly letting his hostility fester, or move on from it for the sake of the only blood family he had left, for the sake of the sounder he never truly forgot, for the sake of his brother. And, when put like that, the answer just seemed so obvious that he was disappointed he’d missed it for so long.
For the time being, he decided to just humor his little brother and lean into the banter they used to have. “Bruh… I’m not that old. I’m, like, eleven years older than you”.
Tommy’s grin grew brighter, bolder, happier. Finally, after years, he once more looked like his old self. He was still too scrawny, too tired, too skittish, but it was reassuring to know that he hadn’t entirely lost his spark. That Techno hadn’t failed him to that degree quite yet, and neither had his spouses.
“Exactly” Tommy nodded along, although his expression indicated that he was about to prove he hadn’t listened to a word Techno said. “Basically a dinosaur” he concluded.
Everyone else laughed, and Techno struggled to keep a fond smile off his face.
“Mate, what does that make me?” Phil foolishly questioned, stepping right into the trap that Tommy had clumsily set up. Techno would mourn him.
“You’re the first thing that stepped out of the primordial soup”. Tommy’s deadpan tone as he delivered his answer was what dealt him the last blow. That kid could be funny when he wanted to be. Techno had almost forgotten it.
He hadn’t been so willing to joke around right out of his exile, and back in Pogtopia, he was always either tired, frustrated at Wilbur’s lack of care for himself, or both. It had been a long time since he’d last allowed himself to act a bit childish. And perhaps Techno was partially at fault for that. They were piglins; they were expected to mature fast, become independent as soon as possible, and serve their colony’s interest above their own. Being a runt hadn’t spared Tommy from all of those expectations; it had just pushed him into a different role. And Techno never saw anything wrong with that. He never questioned if that was how things were supposed to be. He hadn’t stopped to consider if it was a good idea to allow him to go off alone with Wilbur when he was twelve. He didn’t wonder if being dragged into wars could harm him in more ways than just physical. He ignored every sign that things were getting worse and then acted surprised when it backfired against him, too.
No more.
Life the way he’d been taught was tiring. It was the only choice they had if they wanted to survive in the unforgiving landscape of the Nether, where lava burst out of every wall one broke, and every animal was out to kill them. But they hadn’t lived there for a long time. They didn’t have to hold onto their roles; they didn’t have to hold each other to ancient moral standards that neither could meet; they could be fine.
“I’d like to see you more often” he blurted out, surprising everyone else as well as himself. For a few moments, all the eyes on him left him paralyzed. But then the voices reminded him that he was The Technoblade. He didn’t lose, he wasn’t a coward, and he never backed down from a confrontation. So, heart newly filled with courage, he added: “I’d like another chance to be a big brother… if you’ll let me have it”.
Tommy’s shock quickly morphed into eagerness. “Please!” he yelled out, right as Tubbo groaned in displeasure and hit his head against the backrest of the couch in a rather miserable display of defeat. Who knew that all he needed to win their game was to be a tad bit more open with his feelings? He’d known from the start that he had the victory in the bag, but he hadn’t expected it to come so soon!
The more vocal of the complaints, however, came from Wilbur. The man let out an offended screech and whimpered out: “What about me? Why don’t I get a chance?”.
The sigh Tommy let out resembled that of a very tired single mother who’d been asked one time too many why she was ordering out that night instead of cooking and had lost all will to be candid about it. “Wil, I love you a lot, you’ll always be my big brother, but this just isn’t about you, man…”.
Wilbur deflated. He crossed his arms and his mouth twisted into a pout for the umpteenth time that evening. How did Phil have the patience required to deal with him on a daily basis? Had the musician tried to move back in with Techno, he would have fed him to his darling wolves already.
“These dinners could become more of a regular occurrence” Ranboo proposed, swiftly and skillfully getting their attention back on the topic at hand.
“I would like that” Techno answered, his tone nowhere near as flat as it usually was. He would deny it to the end of his life, but that olive branch he’d been offered meant the world to him, and yes, he did get a bit emotional about it. He didn’t tear up, though, no matter how much Chat tried to claim otherwise.
Tubbo lifted his head and sighed. “Guess we’ll have to learn to get along then”. That concession alone was enough to get Tommy bouncing excitedly where he was. Mr. President had way too much sway on his emotions. Maybe that was something worth bringing up later on down the line.
Not that day, however.
That day was to make amends.
“I guess so” he agreed.