Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Somewhere far away, in a distant, unnamed village, there is daylight. Bright, burning daylight, lighting everything it touches in joy and happiness. The villagers of this town converse happily, trading their wares, none the wiser to the darkness creeping around every corner. They are oblivious to it, content in their own abilities to protect themselves and each other.

Meanwhile, in the shadows, a young bat lies in wait, red eyes glinting as it eyes up its prey. The alleyway, one of many in the small unnamed village, is cool to the touch, shielded away from the sun. The brightness of the light strains its eyes. It makes the young bat huff slightly, briefly mourning the loss of the shade as it prepares to hunt.

An apple stand stays in direct view of the dirty alleyway, letting the predator get a full glimpse of the plethora of food and the shopkeeper manning the stand. The bustling of feet fills its ears so that even with its subpar vision, it can hear the amount of people— humans— running around the town. The humans barter with the apple stand owner and the apple stand owner gives them bags of the fresh fruit, coins being exchanged in the mix. The bat runs its tongue over its sharpened fangs, vision blurred.

It can almost imagine fluids dripping down its fangs as it tears through flesh, ripping it apart.

It has not eaten in so long. It may be daytime, but the bat is so hungry. Its eyes lock on its prey, pupils thinning into slits.

All the town gets as a warning is a single chirp. A chirp that none can hear, being so high-pitched that not even a dog could detect it. A chirp— and then a demon runs out from the darkness.

(This always seems to happen with it. It always loses control, no matter how hard it tries to keep it.)

The humans notice him immediately, screams filling the air as a blur of pink hair darts past them. They yell and scream, and the people scatter like mice. The shopkeeper guarding the apples had not moved from his spot, paralyzed and staring at the bat in fear. The bat changes his trajectory, bouncing up from his legs and spreading his wings.

Technoblade grins, fangs jutting out of his mouth as he lunges.

The shopkeeper shrieks and ducks, Techno’s form flying over him.

He goes down in a tumble, crashing into the shopkeepers display of fruit. A squeak falls out of him at the pain, loosing his breath at the impact, but he recovers quickly. Yelling assaults his sensitive ears as he juts his fangs into the nearest apple, biting through the flesh of the skin and getting to the sweet apple core underneath. The sugar clouds his mind for a moment, soothing a piece of his soul as he devours the fruit, losing awareness of his surroundings. Everything goes fuzzy as he finally indulges himself.

Technoblade thinks that apples have to be one of the best fruits ever, second to watermelon. The tartness of the fruit matches the sugary juice that drips down his chin as he sucks juice through his fangs, filling him up completely.

He wishes he had more awareness of his surroundings when eating, though. He wishes he grabbed as many apples as he could before fleeing the scene. He wishes he were smarter.

A hand grabs the back of his threadbare shirt, lifting him up into the air.

The sugar was too hard to resist.

“Dirty bloodsucker!” A man spits in his face, prying Techno’s hard earned apple away from him. Techno yelps, and the grip around his shirt grows tighter. The man holding him is red in the face with anger, beard choppy around the edges as he practically breathes saliva onto Techno. He’s not the shopkeeper guarding the apples from Techno— he must’ve been someone in the crowd.

A startled chirp slips out of him as the man lugs him onto the ground, knees digging into the broken cobble of the town. His skin drags against the stones, pain shooting through his limbs. The remnants of his chirp bounce around the square and back into his cupped ears, giving him a clear view of the many people surrounding him.

People with angry faces, people with scared children, people flinching away in disgust. They all blend together when Techno opens his eyes, and he doesn’t bother with another chirp for clarity.

The man who threw him onto the ground pokes him with something sharp, a sneer in his voice. “Is it a demon or a vampire? It don’t got no horns or nuthin.”

“Ew, look at its wings!” Another person from the crowd pipes up, making Techno curl in on himself, wrapping said appendages around him protectively. “It’s a demon! Only demons have wings like those!”

Someone harshly yanks on his arm, prying his wings into view. Techno chirps in alarm, heart hammering in his chest. The vision the chirp gives him is not in his favor, seeing the villagers faces of disgust replaced with malice. The man with the choppy beard yanks his arm once again, causing Techno to cry out, a human noise.

Shoot, he really should have ran when he had the chance. How many times is he going to run from a town before he learns his lesson?

The crowd surrounding them is loud, whispers flying between them as they try to make their harsh comments quiet. Techno hears every word they say about him.

A finger brushes over the thinnest part of his wings. Techno shivers, the tiniest squeak peeling out of him.

“I bet this could make some fine boots.” A pull on the edge of his wing. “Or some nice leather gloves.” A hand touching his chin, yanking his head to face them. The bat’s ears angle back, threatened. “What do you think? It’s only fair, seeing as you stole from that nice man’s shop, dirty bloodsucker.”

In all his twelve years of life, Techno has to ask himself—

How many times has he been in this exact situation? How many times had the enemies looked at him like a monster, expecting to be hurt? How many times will he be cornered for the crime of being alive?

A chitter, and then Techno can see.

He lunges forward, fangs bared as they sink into the bearded man’s arm. Iron floods his mouth, fangs digging into the flesh as the bearded man  screams.

A single moment of surprise is what he gets as he rips his head away and runs.

“Get it!!”

Techno runs like the wind, chirps and clicks pouring out of his mouth to give him the gift of crystal-clear sight. The small town connects to a forest, to which he immediately darts for, ignoring the screaming and yelling of the villagers chasing him. Someone draws a weapon. Techno can hear it, his large ears catching the sound of a metal sword being unsheathed.

The bat shivers and runs faster.

The blood on his tongue is overpowering, washing away the sweet taste of the apple. He swallows the remnants of the iron flavoring down, grimacing at the taste.

Bleh, blood is the worst food, hands down. He almost wishes that he couldn’t digest it, but that would be hypocritical of him. A sip of blood had saved him from starvation many times before, as much as he despises the taste. It’s too— ironey. Coppery. Sludgy.

Techno runs as fast as he can, using his wings to boost him away from the greedy hands chasing him, their taunts and jeers echoing in his mind. He runs until the voices fade, most of the weak-willed humans giving up on their chase. He runs until the last stragglers, the ones whose footsteps are quiet, but not quiet enough, finally leave in defeat.

The young bat skids to a stop before running into a pine tree, awkwardly maneuvering himself around it before collapsing on his back. Fallen pine needles poke through his threadbare shirt, scratching into his skin, but Techno ignores it and stares up at the sky.

The sun is still high in the sky, farther along on its path to the horizon than it was during the apple altercation. It was maybe— midafternoon, Techno guesses.

He’s supposed to be asleep right now. Stupid humans and their stupid daytime schedules. He probably would’ve been fine continuing his sleep in the alleyway if they had not been so loud. Seriously— the humans were way louder than they needed to be with all their walking in heavy boots and yelling out obscene prices for fruit. They should try whispering once in a while. Or, maybe they should try being as noise sensitive as Techno.

Techno sighs, stretching out his wings and laying on the pine-riddled forest flooring, ignoring how his instincts scream at him to find a darker spot to sleep. He runs his tongue over the tips of his fangs, trying to find any lasting taste of the fruit on them.

He sighs when he tastes iron instead.

(hungry-sugar-hungry-!)

Stupid. Gods, Techno is so stupid . How many times will he charge out into the open without thinking of the consequences? How many more times will he have to be threatened before he stops indulging his stupid sugary-inclined instincts?

Not only that, but he bit a human, again. The humans probably think that he’s actually a vampire now, even though he’s anything but.

A chirp peels out of Techno’s throat as he stares up at the sky, and he watches as the previously blurry shapes of white turn into full, wispy clouds, shaped into the finest swatches of cotton candy. If only he could touch them, feel the cloud between his fingers before drifting away. Some of the clouds are heavier, darker with rain. They blow slowly northern, making a ring around Techno’s aching body.

Not for the first time, Techno wishes he knew how to fly.

Shaking that thought out of his head, Techno stands, feeling his ankle smart underneath him. Techno glares at the offending ankle, his upturned nose wrinkling even farther. Of course he had to go and strain his ankle, because being mocked and threatened to be turned into boots wasn’t enough, apparently.

The blinding sun slowly ticks across the sky, undisturbed by the clouds. His instincts pull at him, begging him to find the darkness once more, to finally give way to sleep.

Techno is inclined to agree with them.

(dark-sleep-roost-dark)

He must’ve wandered north in his mad dash for an escape. The grass is darker here, and the trees are shaped like cones, dark pines swirling until they reach an apex. Pine trees and spruce trees. The air is colder here, too, but not uncomfortably cold like the Winter is. It is cold in the way a breeze flowing through his hair could be considered cold. It’s a good sort of cold, one Techno finds himself relaxing in.

Every second wasted is a second Techno could be getting some sleep. Chirps and chitters are let out into the afternoon air as Techno sluggishly tries to find a place dark enough to roost in, to appeal the instincts that scream danger at him whenever he’s within a ray of sunlight. He needs to be unseen, hidden, and safe. Only the darkness can provide that for him.

After what feels like an eternity of wandering around the pine forest, the young bat finds a sliver of a cave, just barely wide enough for him to fit into. It’s placed on the underside of a jagged hill, stone rocks and basalt covering the walls surrounding the cave. Hidden away from the world, covered with moss and pine needles.

It’s perfect.

It’s a tight squeeze— the sliver of an entrance just barely fit his wings through— but the inside of the cave is a much more spacious.

The tension in his shoulders immediately fades at the darkness surrounding him, and Techno finally relaxes, eyelids drooping now that his needs are satisfied. His instincts sing a croon of (safe-safe-sleep) as Techno reaches a hand out, feeling his palms dampen underneath the condensation of the cave. A loud dripping echoes from farther within, but it’s no bother to the young bat as he scales the wall of the cave, finding a good place to latch onto.

Talons dig into stone, grip locked tight.

Techno lets his body fall.

The world turns one-hundred eighty degrees over as Techno swings upside down, his wild pink hair curtaining below him, the tips nearly brushing the cavern floor. His wings come to wrap around him like a cocoon, encasing all his limbs as sleep encroaches on his consciousness. The blood that rushes to his head from his position doesn’t bother him, only furthering his state from the present.

And yet he cannot go to sleep. Something is unrest inside of him.

Something is missing.

A croon slips out of his mouth without permission.

(colony-lost-missing)

Techno bites down another lonely chirp, a hiss escaping his clenched teeth.

He’s not a stupid pup anymore, he can sleep by himself. He doesn’t need anyone to cling onto, doesn’t need anyone to roost with. He’s an entire twelve years old— he should know how to fly by now!

He’s fine on his own.

Techno drifts into an uneasy sleep as the storm clouds roll in.

There is someone in his cave.

Techno’s few hours of sleep quickly fall away from him as his eyes snap open, darting around the damp cave for the disturbance. A chitter only he can hear cuts through the air, sharpening his vision. He can hear the labored breaths of a person, diaphragm being pressed in on itself, lungs not filling to their full capacity. The shifting of clothes between rock— a very specific sound, like cotton rubbing against granite. Rain thundering outside, filling the air with the smell of cut grass.

A mumbled curse that Techno can hear more clearly than anything.

A human. A human is in his cave.

Another chirp lets Techno see the human in their entirety— completely soaked from the rain, their hair drenched and sticking to their face. It’s likely they’re unable to see anything through them. The cotton sound had been their blue knitted sweater, the fabric rubbing against the wall as they squished themself through the crack in the wall. The sweater is comically oversized on their small body, their fingertips just barely peeking through the knitted sleeves.

Techno cocks his head, eyes narrowing further.

Is the human trying to find shelter from the rain?

The human huffs again, a slight groan peeling from their lips as they try to shimmy through the narrow entrance like a wet noodle. They’re small— smaller than Techno, even. Even a small human should be able to make it through the narrow entrance of the cave.

That’s when Techno sees it. Something on their back is preventing them from entering.

The human huffs again, squeezing themself through the crack, straining and straining against the thing on their back, until they finally pop through the opening with a startled yelp. Techno’s ears flinch back at the volume, wincing slightly.

“Fuck!” The small-human hisses, bent over slightly. The thing on their back shifts, a ruffling noise filling Techno’s ears as he squints to get a better look. “Stupid fucking—”

Wings. The human has wings attached to their back, the two appendages spread out wide to help their balance. Their wings are huge— not in size, but compared to the small human’s frame, they’re ginormous— attached to their shoulder blades and absolutely covered  in some sort of blurry fluff, light red in color with accents of gold and white. The wings stick out through a slit in the back of their blue sweater, reaching down to their calves in height.

The not-human stretches out, flicking their wings in disdain to get the water off of them. The fluff on their wings shuffles strangely, almost as if the fluff is rippling up and down the spine of the not-human. It looks uncomfortable.

Techno looks at his own wings, wrapped snugly around him. His wings aren’t fluffy— definitely not as fluffy as the not-human’s wings are. His wings are also attached to his arms, not his shoulder blades.

Confident that the darkness will keep him safe, Techno let’s out a chitter, wanting to see more.

The fluff on the not-human’s wings look more like feathers than regular fur, like the feathers Techno sees on the wings of birds that fly throughout the night. The feathers of owls that chase bats during their hunts, always trying to peck after Techno until they realize that he’s part-human, and not worth the effort. It makes the animalistic side of him cower, wanting to run from big, round, predatory eyes.

This not-human is no different. If Techno’s hackles weren’t raised before, they definitely are now, seeing the way this person’s wings resemble that of an owl, or a hawk. Some sort of bird-hybrid, then. A predatory bird with red wings.

Small red wings. Big enough for the small bird-hybrid, but still… small.

Techno hasn’t seen many of those, he thinks. Most hybrids follow the humans’ sleep schedule, and the ones that don’t aren’t very fond of bat-hybrids for some reason or another. Probably because of the vampire allegations.

Techno’s fangs press into his lips, his red eyes narrowing.

Definitely because of the vampire allegations.

A little giggle fills the air as the bird-hybrid looks around their surroundings, the giggle bouncing back to them. A quiet gasp echoes across the cave afterwards.

“Echo!” The bird-hybrid shouts.

“Echo!” The cave shouts back.

“Echo!” Rings in Techno’s shelled ears.

A quiet gasp has Techno stiffening in place, eyes finding the bird-hybrid’s silhouette in the middle of the cave, a sliver of light from the sky outside reflecting onto their form. A flash of lightening frees their features from the darkness, revealing silvery blonde hair and aquamarine eyes. The size of the bird-hybrid suddenly makes sense when the light shows off their chubby cheeks, youth clinging to them.

That’s a child. A kid.

What is a child doing all by themself? Where is their caretaker? Why are they bothering Techno?

They go still, back straightening up and form trembling as thunder grumbles outside of the cave. The child doesn’t look particularly afraid of the thunder, shivering from their wet clothes rather than from fear. The child stares into the darkness, feathers raised and eyes searching.

(Techno often forgets that humans are able to tell when they’re being watched by something.)

The kid’s eyes travel up, up, up the cave wall, frozen in petrification, until they clock in Techno’s hanging form, immersed in the shadows of the cave. Soft red feathers puff up from their back, drawing Techno’s attention away from their fear-stricken face for a moment. The fur on the back of Techno’s neck begins to rise, red eyes flashing in unease. A low chitter fills the air.

The child stares at him in fear, looking exactly like the villagers Techno faced off against only a few hours earlier. Same face, same expression; copy and paste. Same uneasiness in the shoulders, same base-level instincts running through their mind.

They look like they want to run away, eyeing his fangs with terror. Like he’s something to be feared.

Well, he’s not. He doesn’t even like the taste of human blood, and bird blood probably isn’t any better. Especially child blood. He may not be fond of kids, but he would never hurt a child, especially one as young as this one looks.

“Hullo.” Techno finally says, voice rough from disuse, waving a clawed hand in greeting.

Techno hears the way their breath hitches before they let out an ear piercing scream. Techno’s hands slap against his ears, wincing hard.

He guesses he’s not beating those vampire allegations anytime soon.

The screaming is so loud, echoing through the cave over and over, the sound bouncing around and hitting Techno’s cupped ears painfully. A litany of panicked chirps escape his fanged mouth, along with whimpers and cries that sound less like his origin and more like a human. The kid’s scream rings through his ears, thoroughly messing up his echolocation until the world becomes a blurred, staticky mess around him.

His skull is an earthquake, a sharp ache splitting through the center of it. It hurts— the scream, the noise, the everything—

A choked cry escapes his human vocal cords.

The screaming goes silent.

For a few moments, there’s silence. Blissful, wonderful silence as Techno tries his hardest to get his breathing under control, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. It’s all he can hear— the sound of a beating drum, slightly too fast for the time signature.

A shifting.

“..Hello..?”

Techno’s eyes pop open with a flash of red light, clearly startling the child. They’re a bit closer now, head tilted in a way that makes Techno’s mind spin, trying to figure out what direction they’re looking in. It’s a bit difficult when his vision is all wonky, hanging upside down from the ceiling.

The child openly gapes up at him, hands twitching at their sides, eyeing his long pink hair in a way that makes Techno want to hide it away protectively. He feels open and raw as the kid analyzes him, all the way from his claws digging into the ceiling to his hanging pink hair, brushing gently against the floor.

They’re probably curious about the color. Not many people have pink hair, apparently— most have boring blondes, browns, and blacks.

“What are you?” The child asks, their voice startlingly loud and pitchy in the echoing cave. “Who are you?”

Red eyes narrow.

They won’t scream again if he answers, right? Because he really doesn’t want them to scream again.

“What are you? ” Techno asks in return, a chirp lacing his words as he eyes the wings on the teen’s back. “Some sort of bird?”

Blue eyes blow wide as Techno responds back, clearly not expecting him to actually answer. They gasp, something like excitement coming over their childish features.

“Yes!” The kid says, bravely stepping closer. “Dad says that I’m— I’m like a bird, but not actually a bird, y’know? He says that I’m an avian hybrid! Like him!” The kid bounces on their little toes, spinning around to show him their back. “An’ I got wings !”

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Techno to process the word vomit just spat at him from the small goblin. When he does, Techno squints once more. An avian-hybrid— that’s just another word for bird-hybrid. Why call it an avian when bird is easier to say?

“You never answered my question.” The kid says, their nervousness having since evaporated. They are either really dumb, or have no concept of stranger-danger. “What are you? A vampire?”

Techno can’t help the loud hiss that escapes him, causing the kid to draw back with wide eyes.

“No? Not— not a vampire?” The kid’s blonde hair glints silver in the light the storm gives, not flinching for a minute when another rumble of thunder runs through the earth. “But you look like one!”

“‘m a bat-hybrid. Vampires aren’t even real.” Techno hisses again, baring his fangs at the hurt that rises through him.

“Why not?” The kid drifts closer, and at the movement Techno curls more towards the ceiling. “Why not?”

Techno chooses not to respond, deeming the young kid nonthreatening. He doesn’t have to explain himself, not to some— some random kid.

He huffs and closes his eyes, trying to slip back into a deep sleep. His instincts whir in his veins at that fact that someone unknown is so close, but the child doesn’t seem like they want to hurt him. They look curious of him. And while Techno is also curious of the other, there’s only a few hours left in the day, and he’d like to get a bit more sleep in before he goes hunting.

Techno forces himself to relax as the kid huffs, moving to sit down— probably trying to find a comfortable place on the ground— and tries his hardest to focus on the sound of rain outside, droplets hitting blades of grass and little pebbles. If he’s lucky, it’ll hopefully stop raining before he goes on his hunt. Bugs and insects are more active after a rainfall, after all.

“What’s your name?”

Against his will, one of Techno’s eyes slide open. 

The child is sitting crisscrossed on the ground, staring up at his hanging form with wide eyes. A slow smile creeps across their face when they see the fleeting annoyance playing across Techno’s face, but they refuse to look away.

The bat grits his teeth and weighs his options.

Nobody really knows Techno’s name, and the people that did know his name are dead now. Nowadays, nobody asks for his name unless they’re upset with him (to which he never responds), but this kid doesn’t look upset—

Why does the child want his name in the first place? To get to know him? To spread lies about him? To annoy him?

“Technoblade.” He grumbles, his wings lowering to cover the lower part of his face.

The child lights up as if Techno had revealed something far more precious than just a name.

“Tech-no-blade.” The child sounds out, face twisting as they try to pronounce his name. “Nice to meet you! My name is Tommy, but you can call me Big Man.”

Techno stares at the kid— Tommy— dumbfounded. He will not be calling Tommy “Big Man,” but the sentiment is appreciated. Sort of.

When Techno fails to give a reply to his clever proclamation, the child nods to himself before looking up at Techno once again. “How old are you?”

Techno snorts and indulges the kid. “What is this, twenty questions?”

“No, it’s one question, stupid.” Tommy scoffs, squinting his eyes up at the bat-hybrid. The child throws a glance to the storm happening outside. “And we are both stuck in here, so we might as well get to know each other—”

Ignoring the fact that Tommy doesn’t know what the game “Twenty Questions” is, Techno rolls his eyes and hides in his wings, steadfastly avoid the kid’s gaze.

Thunder rumbles through the earth once more. Tommy groans loudly.

“Fuck, my dad’s gonna be pissed.”

Techno nearly flinches at the curse words, withholding the urge to stare at the child in incredulity. He peeks through the gap in his wings to peer at the boy, seeing the kid stacking pebbles on top of each other in boredom.

A large crack of lightening, the world lighting up bright, for a moment, and then a large bout of thunder follows after, echoing through the cave. Techno flinches in on himself, burying himself into the warmth of his wings. That must’ve been close— super close to the cave for him to hear the lightning strike. Techno’s ears press against his head as he tries to block out the wind’s howling, sounding like a mournful wail.

Tommy turns to look up at him.

“Do storms scare you?”

Techno doesn’t answer, closing his eyes. Maybe Tommy will shut up with the storm blowing in.

“It’s okay if they do. I mean— I’m not scared of storms, and I’m a big man— but Floof is scared of storms and he’s also a big man, er, dog—”

Techno makes a point to shut his eyes very tightly, hoping the younger boy will get the hint and back off. Techno isn’t against hissing at him again, ethics be damned.

Unfortunately for him, the storm continues on, and Tommy keeps talking in that strange way of his, fishing for answers yet never following through on his questions. Through his tone of voice, it’s clear that the avian is aware that his chattering is annoying, and is doing it for the sake of mischief or something.

Techno does not appreciate this in the slightest. He is thinking of moving out.

“You know, you never answered my question.” Tommy remarks loudly, dragging a stick down the cave wall. “I’m seven, almost eight. How old are you?” And then, without waiting for an answer— “I bet you’re real old, ancient even—”

Screw the storm. Techno is leaving.

Technoblade lets go of the ceiling, letting himself freefall for a moment before snapping his wings out. He drifts for a moment, his ankles absorbing the shock of the impact as he lands. He hears the other boy gasp and pays no mind to it, beelining to the crevice in the wall— the exit.

“Wh— Hey, wait!”

Movement next to him, a hand reaching out—

Techno’s ears flick as he swiftly dodges the incoming hand, a hiss rattling through his teeth. He can see the other boy clearer now that his vision isn’t upside down, the boy’s wide eyes and upturned eyebrows causing him to falter, just the tiniest bit.

When Tommy’s hand reaches out again, another hiss spills through his lips.

“Why are you leaving? We were getting along!!” Tommy whines, grubby, muddy hands reaching out for him, “Won’t the rain mess up your echo-lo-kay-shun n’ shit?”

Techno pauses, head swiveling to look through the crevice outside. He chirps, the sound bouncing through the crevice and back outside. His vision turns almost staticky when the sound bounces back to him, vibrating through his ears and turning his brain into spaghetti.

If he goes out into the rain, he’ll get lost. Tommy is right.

Wait—

Techno’s head snaps to glare at the avian boy. “How did you—”

Tommy snorts. “I’m not an idiot, I know what that is. Dad says it’s because I’m super, super smart.” He pauses. “You… do use echo-lo-kay-shun, right?”

Slowly, Techno nods.

Tommy deflates in relief. “See, so, you can’t go out! You could get lost, or sick! So you have to stay with me!”

“I don’t get sick.” Techno retorts, but steps away from the exit regardless. The other boy relaxes at that, going back to poking at things with a random stick.

Seeing as he’s not going to be rid of this stranger anytime soon, Techno crawls to the opposite side of the cave and huddles up, watching the other through his ears. Tommy glances at him and wordlessly follows, almost exactly like a baby bird. Tommy settles adjacent to him, closer than Techno would like, but at least he’s not directly in front of him anymore.

It’s like a truce, Techno muses, ears flicking atop his head. A temporary truce between two individuals that are trying to avoid the rain.

Techno should sleep.

That plan immediately goes out the window when Tommy reaches into his pocket, and Techno tenses. Is this where the strange truce between them ends? Is Tommy going to hurt him, take a knife from his pocket and slash at his wings? What if he has a rope, or a match? What if he screams for his caretaker to come and do the job for him? What if—

A bag is thrusted in his direction.

“Want some?”

A nervous warble falls from Techno’s mouth, one that Tommy doesn’t seem to pick up as he holds the baggie out to him. The baggie is small and clear with a ziplock on the top, filled with various nuts and granola.

Is it birdseed or something?

Tommy is a bird, after all.

“Trail mix!” Tommy shouts elatedly after seeing Techno’s confusion, shaking the bag a bit. The boy does not need to shout, but he does so anyway. “Dad makes me carry some in case I get hungry. Want some?”

Techno squints at the birdseed— trail mix.  Same thing. A various combination of nuts and grain, along with some brightly colored discs mixed in the bunch. It smells as normal as nuts could be. Not Techno’s favorite, but—

Against his better judgment, Techno holds a palm out, and Tommy pours a bit of trail mix in it before shuffling away and eating his own pile of trail mix. Techno sniffs at his cupped palms, hesitantly eating a peanut.

There’s a few non-nut pieces, small little discs in colors of red, blue, and green. Seeing Tommy eat the unknown pieces with hums of delight, Techno tentatively tries a piece.

Oh. It’s sweet— chocolatey.

Techno can’t remember the last time he had chocolate.

And just as soon as the flavor truly hits him, it’s gone. He can almost feel his pupils swell in size as he digs through his palm for another piece, popping that one in his mouth too. Flavor explodes over his tongue once more, and a chitter escapes his lips as his deft fingers search through the pile rigorously, ignoring the salty almonds and peanuts and only focusing on the bits of chocolate.

Techno gives up on his fruitless search and instead stuffs the pile of trail mix into his face, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk. He can still taste the sweetness of the chocolate, the sugar making a part of himself preen.

(sugar-sugar-sugar-!)

It’s been so long since he’s had chocolate!

He doesn’t notice the way Tommy creeps closer, eventually settling next to him, watching him wolf down the trail mix until there’s nothing left in his palm.

When he notices the lack of sweet chocolate in his hands, a sad warble falls from his mouth without permission, pupils deflating from their inflated size. The high the small amount of sugar gave him quickly fizzes away, leaving him crashing back into his surroundings.

He jolts at the warmth next to him, warble turning into a hiss at the boy next to him.

Tommy doesn’t back away, despite the bat’s intimidation tactics.

Tommy gathers every chocolate piece and wordlessly places them in his palms, watching in awe as Techno’s pupils blow wide once more. And Techno can’t even complain, because multiple pieces is so  much better than the chocolate mixed with the salty peanuts!

He hears the avian giggle as he eats the pieces of chocolate, welcoming the fuzz that runs over his mind at the flavor.

“The chocolate is the best part! I’m glad someone agrees with me!”

Techno chitters, palms full of Tommy’s chocolate discs. Candy— some kind of candy Techno neglected to enjoy for some time now. He stuffs another handful in his face before he hears Tommy’s chirp of alarm— a chirp that makes him freeze.

“Wait, wait, wait— if you eat them that fast, we’ll have none left!” The younger boy cries, peeling the rest of the chocolate pieces away from Techno. The bat lets go of the pieces willingly, still in shock from the loud chirp, one that isn’t as high-pitched as his own, but still a chirp nonetheless. When he finally comes back to his senses and realizes that all the chocolatey goodness is gone, he pins a glare on the boy and hisses low in his throat.

Tommy pouts at him in an attempt to be intimidating. “You’re being a bitch, I wanted some too. You have to share with me.”

Techno hisses. Tommy draws the bag away.

Techno stops hissing.

The pink haired bat huffs, pushing aside his pride and thrusting both hands cupped out in front of him, a nasty glare covering his face. For added effect, his fangs jut out past his lips in a snarl.

With a roll of blue eyes, Tommy picks up two— only two, Techno notes to his disappointment— and places them in his palms. Techno hisses once more at the stifled laugh he gets and reluctantly pops the pieces into his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting Tommy to immediately give him two more pieces after eating two of his own.

“They’re called MnM’s.” Techno feels Tommy’s eyes tracing him, his words said with a smile. “It’s a type of candy.”

Techno shoots the avian a dirty look.

“I know what candy is.”

“You didn’t even know what trail mix was.” Tommy teases, handing Techno two more ‘MnM’s’.

Dumb name.

And so it goes on like this. Tommy gives him two MnM’s, and Techno eats them. Tommy gives him two MnM’s, and Techno eats them. Tommy occasionally asks questions, to which Techno will absentmindedly answer, too focused on the chocolate to care for the answer that slips out of his mouth.

“How old are you?” Tommy asks.

“Eleven or twelve, dependin’ on what season it is.” Techno says in between bites of chocolate, letting the words flow between his fangs. “What season is it?”

“Beginning of fall.”

“Twelve then, I think.”

Tommy goes abruptly quiet, and when Techno looks over at him, his face is scrunched in annoyance. “Not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You’re older than me.” Tommy pouts, popping two candies in his mouth after giving Techno two more pieces. “That’s wrong. Just— fucking terrible.”

Again, Techno blinks at the curse word before shrugging it off and eating his candy.

“Who knew that candy of all things would make you talk to me?” Tommy asks the thin air, tossing two more pieces to Techno. “You’re being bribed by candy.”

Techno snorts, finding that hard to believe.

(sugar-sweet-sugar)

Maybe not so hard to believe.

Tommy asks him another question, about what kinds of candy he prefers, and Techno shrugs as an answer. If it’s sweet, then he likes it. Sour candy is alright only if it has a sweet aftertaste. Spicy candy is gross.

Of course, fruit, while not having as much sugar as candy does, gives him more energy and fills his stomach up for longer. If he were to survive in the wild for a day and he only had one option for food, he would choose fruit all the way. Like watermelon, apples, mangoes—

Techno bites into one more MnM, eyes wide and dilated.

Maybe Tommy isn’t so bad. He keeps giving Techno all his chocolate, after all. Techno would never complain about free sugar.

When no more MnM’s drop into his open palms, Techno frowns. He nudges the boy next to him with a questioning pout.

“I don’t have anymore. You ate them all.” Tommy glares, shaking the plastic baggie slightly. “Although I do have peanuts, if you want those.”

A hiss leaves Techno’s clenched teeth.

Tommy nods in agreement. “Peanuts suck.”

As the taste fizzes off of his tongue, the grip that his instincts had on him finally loosens, and Techno is thrust back into the real world. There’s less panic this time as the black of his pupils recede back to their normal size, and Techno warily notes that it had stopped raining while he was distracted, a light drizzle being all that’s left of the (frankly short) storm. The taste lingers on the back of his tongue, and his chest tugs mournfully.

He wants more chocolate.

“You good, big man?”

Tommy is still here.

Techno slowly turns his head, ears perked and eyes wide and unblinking. Tommy gives him an unsure smile, squinted eyes flickering between his two wide ones. Techno’s large ears flick as they pick up on sounds in the forest.

Vibrations travel through the floor, large ears flicking before the shout arrives.

“Tommy!! Where are you?!”

“Fuck, that’s my dad.” Tommy grumbles, standing quickly and shaking out his wings. “See ya, Tech-no-blade!”

“Goodbye.” And good riddance.

With those last words, Tommy squeezes himself through the crevice, twisting himself in an awkward position before popping out on the other side. Round aquamarine eyes meet stark blood red for a moment, and then the avian child is gone.

And Techno is alone.

He’s been alone before.

The setting sun streams through the crack in the wall directly into Techno’s sensitive eyes, but he doesn’t do much more than huff and look away. The day is gone, wasted by a buffoon with soft wings. Techno’s sleep is ruined.

Oddly, he isn’t too upset by this.

Rolling his back and stretching out leather wings, Techno gets ready for a hunt. The stars start to filter in as the sky gets darker, crickets beginning to chirp through the nighttime.

The bat wonders if the avian is asleep right now, or trying to go to sleep. He wonders if Tommy would find it funny if he went and disturbed his sleep in revenge. After all, Techno’s sleep was ruined by the kid. It would be fair game.

Techno shakes his head, knotted pink hair falling into his face. He needs to forget Tommy, forget the only friendly conversation he’s had in forever.

It doesn’t matter. He will never see him again, anyway.

Chapter Text

The fly darted and zipped around the cave, only annoying Techno further. Last night’s hunt hadn’t been very successful, with absolutely zero fruit hanging from the tall pines surrounding the area, and too many bugs flew away from his reach. Techno had cornered a small rabbit in between the rocks of his cave, but he didn’t have the heart to drink the blood of the small thing. He would rather eat a big than kill the poor thing, so small and vulnerable.

He’d rather not hurt the animals of the forest. They haven’t done anything to deserve it. They have enough predators to deal with without him hunting them as well.

This fly , on the other hand—

“Stupid-!” Techno jumps and slaps his hand against the wall where the fly was resting for a moment. He opens his palm to nothing, of course, and then that damned thing is back to circling around his ears. Taunting him. Mocking him.

“Fly-!” The fly dodges out of reach again, Techno’s ears tracking the faint buzzing as it zips past him. Techno’s stomach growls, and he echoes the noise in annoyance, eyes tracking the small bug.

How hard is it to catch one measly fly?

Frustration buds in his chest like a hot flame, making him want to stomp his feet and yell loudly until the feeling goes away. He doesn’t, but the thought is appealing.

Techno has to be the worst hunter of his kind. The worst. His dad used to bring so much food home to feed not only himself, but their entire  colony, single-handedly. Techno can’t even catch one  thing for himself. It’s pathetic.

The fight drains out of the bat’s body as he slumps, wings draping across the floor as his shoulders fall. Feeling a tad bit lightheaded, Techno opts for sitting down, his head hanging dejectedly as his instincts rebel against him.

(hungry-hungry-hungry)

Techno rolls his eyes at the gnawing in his stomach. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Another buzzing, this time closer. Techno goes completely still, almost as still as a rock, as the buzzing comes closer, circling around his ears. The fly lands on his head for a moment before taking off, circling in front of his face. The bat resists flinching at how prickly his face has suddenly become.

It lands on the bat’s upturned nose.

Techno all but smacks himself in the face as he catches the prey within both of his hands, victory lighting a small flame in his chest. The fly buzzes angrily in his cupped palms, and Techno lets a smug grin take over his face.

He did it. He hunted.

Maybe he’s not so pathetic after all.

The fly squirms in the palm of his hands, and right as he is about to put it out of it’s misery, a noise brings him pause.

Rustling. From outside. Bouncing from the outside and into the shell of his ears.

Everything goes to a standstill as Techno zeroes in on the noise, blood red eyes blown wide and ears perked up. Sunlight streams through the cave entrance, the narrow crack of light making Techno’s weak eyes wince as he searches for movement. Even the wind halts as the rustling grows louder and louder until—

A head peeks through the crevice of the cave, blocking the sunlight streaming in. Blonde curls bounce on the head of the person, the sunlight giving them a golden halo, blue eyes wide in mischief. Is that-?

“Techno!” The avian calls out happily, waving a hand through the sliver of the cave. He is wearing a red and white hoodie with a small kiddie backpack slung across his chest, avoiding silky red wings. Certain feathers shine blood red in the sunlight, dust particles dancing in the breeze.

“Tommy?” Techno blinks in shock. “What’re you doin’ here??”

“‘Big Man’, not Tommy.” Tommy corrects.

He thought his first interaction with Tommy was an accident, a nice occurrence that would likely never happen again. Techno thought that Tommy’s face would become a passing memory— the memory of someone who was once kind to him, a bit annoying, but nothing more than that. The kid has a caretaker, after all— a caretaker that would probably not want their kid to be hanging out with Techno. Adults never like their kids hanging around Techno.

But here he is again. For some reason. He came back.

A small part of Techno lights up at that.

Tommy ignores his question as he does his best to squeeze through the opening, wings flapping erratically. After a few moments, the young boy holds his breath and squeezes through the gap, coming out on Techno’s side with an exasperated gasp. “You need to, like, widen this entrance or something. You could get stuck!”

Tommy’s hair is golden. Techno stares at Tommy’s bright figure, his eyes glowing brightly and wings standing proudly behind him.

The last time they’d met, Tommy’s hair was blonde, but more of a silvery blonde. Likely because of the light, Techno deduces.

He looks so much younger like this.

Techno shrugs, watching Tommy stumble further into the cave. “I’ve never gotten stuck.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s because—” Tommy motions to all of Techno’s crouched form. He’s standing above him, and for some reason, it makes the bat part of him extremely nervous. “—of that.”

“Of what?”

“Your ribs are like, sticking out and shit.” Tommy says blatantly, like it’s obvious. “And your cheeks are all—” Tommy pulls on his own chubby cheeks, stretching the skin until his eyes bug out grotesquely. “That’s not good.”

Techno flushes all the way up to his ears, hunching in on himself insecurely. What does the younger boy mean by “not good”? Techno thought his body was fine— the humans only really seemed to care about the unnatural bits, not about how skinny he was or the scars that painted his skin. He’d received criticisms about his face, his nose, his eyes, his ears— but not about the human parts of his body. What’s so bad about his ribs showing?

Tommy’s eyes widen, wincing at himself as if realizing his words. Techno can’t imagine what for— his ribs have always been like this. They’re bones, he’d be concerned if they suddenly changed. His body has always been a bit scrawny, but he hadn’t realized his ribs showing was such a cause for concern.

The bat feels the bird sit down next to him, tension plaguing the air. He hears the shifting of fabric as Tommy squirms, as if uncomfortable in his own skin. Techno stays still, uncertain.

The fly in his palms has gone still, but Techno doesn’t release it.

“Sorry, I was mean.” Tommy apologizes shyly, and Techno’s ears flick in his direction. “Dad says I shouldn’t point those things out. He says it’s rude.”

Techno curls a hand around his middle. His ribs do poke through the skin a bit. “Why’s it bad, though?”

“Because it means you haven’t eaten much. When— When Tubbo, my best friend got rescued from the meanie hunters, he was all skinny too. And he was super hungry!” Tommy replies, and Techno sees the feathery plumage puff up on his back, concern in his voice. Meanwhile, Techno’s own hackles rise at the mention of hunters, and the mention of another boy in danger. Who’s Tubbo?  “Are you hungry, Techno?”

He is. He is really hungry.

But not to worry! He finally caught food for himself! He says as much to the bird.

“Yeah, but I have food right here.” Techno grins with his fangs, smiling at his cupped hands. Almost as if the fly knows the topic of conversation, it begins buzzing erratically in his hands. He feels the bird’s curious eyes as Techno slowly moves his fingers until the fly is stuck between his palm and two fingers, cornering the fly until it has nowhere else to go but between the bat’s claws.

With a proud grin, he shows the younger boy his catch. “Caught it myself.” Techno says with pride curling in his chest, feeling the little housefly flutter between his two clawed fingers. It’s funny— Techno could literally end its life by moving his fingers a smidgen, and yet the little thing fights on. It reminds the bat that there is a thin line between bravery and stupidity. In this case, the housefly is both.

Tommy gasps in awe. “You caught one?! Without killing it?!”

Feeling his chest bubble at the praise, Techno nods proudly.

Tommy inches closer, ever so slightly. “Can I see it? Can I hold it??” The avian boy holds his hands out to mimic a cup. “Dawww, it’s so tiny! Can we keep it as a pet? I’ll name him Keith. He looks like a Keith.”

Techno flinches back slightly, almost losing his grip on his food. “Heh? Keith?”

Tommy nods dutifully. “A strong name for a strong fella.”

“It’s a fly, Tommy. It’s not strong.” Techno stares at the idiot of a kid, disgust running over his features. “And I was just about to eat it, so no you’re not keeping it.”

Tommy gasps, suddenly looking horrified.

“You were going to eat Keith?!?”

“Yeah?”

“No!! You can’t! You can’t eat him, Tech-no-blade, look at him!” The avian child gestures wildly to Techno’s captive. “He’s sad, you can’t eat him!”

The fly buzzes pitifully against Techno’s fingers.

“I feel like I really can, actually.” Techno deadpans, daring to squish the fly between his fingers a bit.

The small action causes Tommy to shriek loudly. “NO NO NO, DONT!!”

His yelling is so loud that Techno nearly drops the fly, again. It echoes around the cave and into Techno’s sensitive ears, making his vision go from blurry to crystal clear, then to fuzzyfuzzyfuzzy—

“Tom— stop.” He gets out through gritted teeth, head spinning and ears pressed shakily against his head. “Stop.”

Tommy goes quiet. Slowly, Techno’s ears stop ringing as the scream ebbs away, his chest feeling lighter by the minute. His large ears unfold themselves slowly, as if bracing for another scream. When there is none, Techno opens his squeezed eyes.

The first thing he sees is Tommy’s apologetic face.

“Sorry.” Tommy whispers. “Please don’t eat Keith.”

The fly twitches between Techno’s fingers. At this point, it’ll probably die out of stress.

“But I’m hungry.” Techno argues back.

“Uhm, uhm— how about this—” Tommy digs into his Dora themed backpack, looking around for a moment before pulling out a plastic baggie. “You release Keith, and I’ll give you some of these. Like a— like a trade.”

Intrigued by the offer, Techno leans closer, ears flicking to see what exactly is in the steamed bag.

Cookies.  Three or four stuffed in a little plastic baggie, similar to how the “trail mix” was stored in. Techno barely remembers the last time he had a cookie, stolen right from a baker’s hands. The baker had been none the wiser as Techno swooped in and stole the cookies that they were bringing to the garbage, for some reason. Techno remembers eagerly biting into the sweet treat, only to recoil at the ash that filled his mouth. The cookies were burned, about to be tossed away, and definitely not worth the beating he got for them.

These cookies appeared to still be warm, though, not a hint of blackened edges surrounding them. Steam wafts up from the bag, coating the air in a sweetness Techno could practically taste on his tongue. He doesn’t know what kind of cookies they are, but whatever they are, they smell delicious.

“I made cookies with Dad today.” Tommy says while taking out two cookies. “So I snuck some to give to you.” Then the cookie is being extended to the bat. “So. Keith for the cookies, yes or no.”

Who is Techno to say no?

(sugar-sugar-sugar)

The fly is released a moment later. Tommy whisper-shouts a goodbye as the fly darts off towards the sliver of sunlight, just narrowly avoiding inevitable death. Techno doesn’t notice, too busy holding his warm sugar cookie close to him.

The cookie is sweet . Incredibly so, his teeth crunching into pure sugar, causing the sweetness to go straight to his head. He can practically feel the way his pupils expand on the first bite, finishing the cookie with the ferocity of a starving man. He hears Tommy giggle at him, taking smaller bites of his own cookie.

At Techno’s dilated glare, the bird gives the bat a second cookie.

Tommy grins, all boyish and childish whimsy. “You like it?”

Techno answers by sticking his fangs through his cookie.

(sugar-safe-safe-safe)

Tommy laughs with a chirp laced through his words, wings smoothed down— relaxed. He finishes up his own cookie, and Techno laments the fact that he ate the sweet treats so fast that he didn’t have enough time to enjoy them. Strangely enough, the sugar rushing through his veins sits in his stomach heavily, causing a warmth to stir up in his chest.

“Thanks.” Techno whispers as soon as he can find his voice.

Tommy nods absentmindedly and stuffs the rest of his cookie in his mouth, cheeks puffed out as he finishes the cookie as fast as he can. His feathers are puffed up, and the bird eyes the entrance of the cave once more, blue eyes flickering. His shoulders raise— apprehensive.

“I’d better get back now.” Tommy whispers, brushing the crumbs off of his pants. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“You’re leavin’?” Techno can’t help but feel disappointed. “Why?”

Tommy’s face drops, suddenly looking very guilty. His blue eyes go wide, face ducking in shame.

“Uhhh… I may have.. snuck out.” The child utters sheepishly, “Don’t tell Phil.”

“Who is Phil?”

“Anyway!” Tommy ducks, spinning on his heel and heading towards the cavern exit. “See you tomorrow, Techno!”

Techno blinks, and then Tommy has miraculously shimmied himself through the exit faster than before.

He’s gone before Techno can truly process his words.

Techno’s tail curls around his ankle, staring after the boy. The bird is bathed in sunlight after exiting the cave, his red wings glowing pink in the daylight. He looks like an angel compared to Techno, bathed in the sunlight while Techno hides in the shadows. His form slowly grows smaller, covered by the foliage of the forest. Techno watches him until he’s out of sight.

Tommy is coming back tomorrow.

He’s coming back to see Techno tomorrow, for some reason.

With a huff, Techno twists on the ball of his foot, turning back into the comforting darkness and letting the shadows cover him. He was planning on moving further away, still too close to the last village for comfort, but that means moving away from Tommy and Tommy’s cookies and trail mix.

How is he supposed to leave if Tommy is expecting to come back?

Shrouded by the darkness of the cave, Techno turns toward the light, a chirp escaping his lips and giving him some very much needed clarity. The sky outside has begun to darken, turning into bright oranges and reds as the sun slowly descents. The day is nearly over.

If Techno gets a head start now, he won’t have to face the consequences of living so close to the last village. He won’t have to face the consequences of leaving Tommy. He won’t have to go through the terrible pain of getting attached.

Techno steps out of the cave, shimmying his wings a bit to fit through the small crevice.

He should leave. He really should. Tommy was nice and all, but it’s too dangerous for Techno here. He should run before he gets too attached, following the promises of kindness and sweet treats, lured into a trap.

Techno takes another step away from the cave, and yet his heart tugs him back. Tommy said he would come back tomorrow. How upset would he be if he came back and Techno wasn’t there? How angry would he be if Techno left without saying goodbye?

For a moment, Techno imagines the little boy’s face crumpling into tears at seeing an empty cave, a little baggie of sweet treats dropping to the ground.

Techno takes another step forward.

But Tommy has people here, right? A dad, he had said. He’ll be fine without Techno, surely. He’ll get over it. It’s not like Techno’s ever been missed before, after all. But maybe—

The bat stops in place, turns around, and heads back to the cave.

Maybe Tommy will miss him if he leaves. Maybe the village will forget about him, and Techno can live in his small cave in peace. Maybe he can pretend that his heart rate doesn’t shoot up to the sky with every stray branch out of place, every footstep that comes too close, every single flickering memory of his past repeating itself.

Maybe Tommy will bring him more sweets if he stays. If that’s the case, then—

Techno shuffles back through the entrance of the cave, his heart squeezing with anxiety.

—then maybe he can pretend for a little bit longer.

Tommy’s visits become a regular thing.

Techno will get a few hours of rest in the morning before the avian child comes knocking at his (metaphorical) door, accompanied by a sweet treat and a bright smile, ready to spend the afternoon together. The bat is usually tired and grouchy during the avian’s visits, but he tries his best to be alert and aware as possible. The various sweet treats Tommy rewards him with is worth ruining his sleep schedule for.

With Tommy coming during the daytime when Techno is supposed to be sleeping, it makes it harder to catch up on sleep at all. His body won’t let him sleep during the night— his instincts won’t allow it. Tommy’s visits disrupt a few hours of his sleep, but by the oblivious smile the boy wears, it’s obvious he doesn’t know any better.

Techno refuses to tell him, instead opting to brush the sleepy dust from his eyes and face the boy with a smile.

Tommy brings various cookies, biscuits, and other sweet treats to tide him over in their time together. Sometimes he’ll bring fruits for him, like sliced apples and oranges, and other times he’ll bring parts of his own desserts from the night before.

(Tommy’s family has dessert every night.  Techno can hardly imagine it.)

Techno remembers the one time Tommy attempted to bring him a piece of apple pie, explaining that he had to hide it from his dad so he wouldn’t get suspicious. It was very obvious that the little piece of pie had gone through hell and back. The pie was smushed in some places, crumbled in others, and gooey apple stuck to the inside of the plastic baggy Tommy kept the pie in. It may have been gooey and messy to eat, but it was delicious.  The perfect mix of fruit and sugar, finally filling his empty stomach up.

It has been a total week of these visits from Tommy. A complete week of a full stomach and happy instincts for Techno.

Begrudgingly, Techno was starting to like the kid. That little warm light in his chest would dim every time the boy left to go to his father, only returning when Tommy came back. Tommy would laugh when he sees Techno’s perked ears and bright eyes, but Techno wouldn’t care, immediately scanning the boy over for injuries.

He couldn’t deny the way his instincts would flare up protectively every time the boy came back with a new scrape or bump, covered in a sparkly bandage. Tommy insisted that the little injuries were from his many attempts at flying, but Techno still bristled at the idea of someone hurting the pup— kid. Not— not pup.

Today, Tommy brought what he calls “jelly donuts.”

“They have jelly in the middle.” Tommy points to Techno’s donut, ignoring how the bat’s claws mess up the frosting a bit. “They’re super good, trust me.”

Techno rolls his blood red eyes and takes a bite of the jelly donut. Of course it’s gonna be good— anything sweet is good in Techno’s opinion.

(sweet-sugar-sugar)

Techno sighs happily, chewing the bite of jelly donut. It is   really good. The jelly mixes with the dough of the donut sweetly, making Techno immediately want more.

“You like it!” Tommy crows in victory, a wide grin growing across his face. “I knew it!”

“Obviously I like it.” Techno deadpans while swallowing a piece of the donut. “It’s literally pure sugar.”

“Oh! Do you think you can, like— suck out the jam with your fangs?” Tommy asks with wide, curious eyes. “That would be so cool!”

A chitter falls out of the bat’s mouth as he considers the idea for a moment, before deciding to give the avian child a show. With lips curled up to display sharp fangs, Techno bites into the donut, far enough to feel the jelly meet his fangs. Then, with a mischievous glimmer in his eye, he sucks the donut dry.

(It’s just like biting into human skin. The memory of the man in the village makes him hold back a flinch.)

Tommy’s mouth hangs open in astonishment. The stars sparkling in his blue eyes would be endearing if it weren’t for the horrific words that poured out of his mouth next.

“You’re almost like a mosquito!”

Techno snaps his fangs at him in irritation, jam dripping down his chin. “I eat mosquitoes like you for breakfast.”

Tommy looks like he’s trying to hold back a laugh. “You tried to eat Keith, so I don’t doubt it—”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Techno shrugs, hiding a grin into his donut. “Flies are very nutritious, I’ll have you know—”

For some reason, Tommy bursts out laughing at that, the melodious sound echoing throughout the cave. Unlike the scream from the first time they met, the sound doesn’t hurt his ears. It’s loud, but infectious. Infectious enough to have a warmth lighting his chest like a match.

Subconsciously, a grin creeps over the bat’s face at the sound, revealing jam-stained fangs.

(cozy-dark-safe-pup)

Tommy doesn’t stop laughing. Actually, he does stop laughing, but only for about a second— a second used for looking at the pink-haired bat’s signature practiced deadpan— and then promptly breaking down into laughter once again.

The atmosphere is so warm, Techno almost doesn’t notice the feeling of eyes on them.

Almost.

Someone is staring at them .

The hair on the back of his neck prickles up, a wave of nerves rolling down his back. Techno nearly snaps his neck with the force it takes to turn around, making direct eye contact with the individual.

Red pinpricked pupils meet deep sea blue.

Blue, blue, blue eyes, peering through his soul, hidden by the sliver of the entrance. Wide pupils thin out, making the blue brighter, more unnatural—

Tommy had stopped laughing. That’s what really snaps Techno back into reality.

In seconds, the bat shoots up to the ceiling, claws digging into the stone to hold him steady. His wings flare out, covering his body and camouflaging him into the darkness.

Hiding is useless. They already saw him. They must’ve followed the sound of Tommy infectious laughter and found the cave.

Tommy. Tommy is still down there, staring at the person with an unreadable expression, frozen still. Techno left Tommy down there to fend for himself, with nothing but a stick in his hand and a will that could beat the gods.

The clambering of instincts nearly forced him to unroot himself from his spot.

Tommy is by himself.

Techno bites back the horror that grows at that thought.

They already saw him.

Found him.

Caught him—

It’s not safe here, it’s not safe— how could he have ever thought that it was safe here?! He  knew he hadn’t gone far enough from the village, he knew they’d only try to hunt him down—

A high pitched whine— hopefully high enough to pass by human ears— slips past his lips.

Techno is so stupid.

Tommy casually tosses a glance up at where Techno is hiding before turning back to the eyes watching them. “…Heyyyy Dad!” He yells in false bravado.

“…Hello, Tommy.” The new voice says, sounding uncertain. Their voice is lighter and accented, so sudden that it makes a small squeak fall out of Techno’s mouth. “..You made a friend?”

Techno squirms.

“Uhm.” Tommy (very obviously) looks from the new person and up to Techno. The bat curls in on himself, sending the younger hybrid a glare. He’s supposed to be hiding here!

Techno flinches when those new eyes— bright blue and piercing— roll up the wall to look at him. Realistically, he knows that there’s no way they can see him, not when he’s shrouded himself in darkness, covered in his wings, but the near eye contact makes him shiver regardless.

Tommy’s dad raises an eyebrow before sticking his hand into the cave entrance, squinting through the darkness in confusion. “What are you doing in there anyway? That can’t be safe, Toms.” His eyes shift upward again. “For you or your friend.”

Techno’s breath hitches.

“It’s safe!” He hears Tommy argue back. Techno squeezes his eyes shut and buries himself further into his wings, holding his breath. “It’s hard to get into, but it’s super duper safe! Promise!”

“Uh-huh.” Tommy’s Dad replies. “Why are you in there, anyway? I don’t like being unable to help you if anything happens.”

“Uhhh— it’s cool in here. And Techno doesn’t like the sun very much.”

Techno resists rolling his eyes, because if he doesn’t feign annoyance, then he’ll cry. Just because he’s nocturnal doesn’t means he hates the sun. Sometimes he wonders if Tommy still holds the belief that he’s a vampire.

Maybe Tommy is just dumb.

Tommy is dumb, revealing his location to a stranger. His name to a stranger. A stranger that could hurt the both of them.

A pause from outside the cave.

“Techno? Is that the person in there with you?” A shifting. “You know I always love meeting your friends, Toms—”

“He’s— uhhh—” Tommy looks up at him again , giving away his position. “He’s shy..?”

“Not shy.” Techno hisses as quietly as he can.

“Yes you are!” Tommy yells up to him, a little goblin grin growing over his face. “You’re so shy! Very shy! Shyer than Ranboob! And they’re super shy!”

Techno grumbles, cheeks burning. He wonders why he cares about Tommy in the first place. All the avian boy does is cause him misery.

(pup-protect-pup)

At least it seems like the seven-year-old can hold his own against the unknown foe pretty well.

The unknown foe— Tommy’s dad, apparently— chuckles.

“Well, it’s time for dinner, mate. We’re having spaghetti and meatballs.” Tommy’s Dad chuckles, before pausing. “Your friend is invited too— if they want to come, that is.”

Techno goes stiff.

“Techno?” Tommy calls up to him.

Techno doesn’t answer, he refuses  to.

“Techno, my dad wants me to go home now. Do you wanna meet him?” Tommy calls up earnestly, making Techno open an eye to glare down at the avian. Tommy seems to interpret this in a different way, expression lighting up. “He’s the one who makes most of the sweets I bring you! But— but he only helps me. I do most of the work because I’m a Big Man.”

“So that’s why you’ve gotten into baking all of a sudden—”

“Shh!” Tommy flushes and glares at the man outside of the cave. He looks up at Techno once more. “Come down? Please?”

With a wary chitter, Techno skitters down the wall of the cave.

Those blue eyes slide over him again as soon as he’s in view, curious and watching. Techno hisses at those prying eyes, shelled ears pressing against his skull.

His instincts push him to take a protective stance against the person, standing in front of Tommy and spreading out his wings. He hears Tommy curse behind him, but he couldn’t care less. Tommy can’t get hurt if the figure can’t see him.

“Techno—” Tommy peeks around a leather wing. “Techno, it’s just my Dad—”

Techno grumbles stubbornly, moving his wing to cover Tommy more. “You don’t know that—”

“Yes I do! It’s just Phil!”

“I appreciate the concern, mate.” The new guy adds his two cents, regarding them in amusement as Techno tries to shuffle a squirming Tommy out of view, “But I really am his father. I would never hurt him. Or you, for that matter.”

“See!” Tommy yells, ducking around Techno’s wing.

Techno hisses, his heart flying into his throat as Tommy runs toward the man. A clawed hand drops onto Tommy’s arm and pulls, thankfully not hard enough to drag the boy to the floor, but hard enough to make him stop in place. Tommy sighs and turns to Techno, a truly irritated expression on the seven-year-old’s face.

“I wanna go to my Dad, Techno.” Tommy emphasizes, pulling on the bat’s wrist. “Why are you so scared?”

“Not scared.” Techno grumbles, heart beating out of his chest. “It could be a trap.”

A sad coo comes from outside the cave, making Techno’s ears prickle. He can’t stop the hiss that rumbles from his chest at the obvious eavesdropping the man is doing.

“You’re a scaredy cat.” Tommy huffs, glaring. “It’s not a trap, it’s my Dad. Let me go!”

(danger-danger-protect)

Techno’s heart nearly breaks in two at the frustration in Tommy’s voice. He reluctantly let’s go of Tommy’s hand, a whine peeling out of his throat without his permission. He’s failing at keeping Tommy safe.

But if that really is Tommy’s Dad out there, then..

Tommy huffs, taking a few steps back. “I swear he’s safe. Super duper safe. Dad is a big man, the only man ever. If anyone tries to get you, he’ll fuckin’ kill them, I swear.”

Tommy’s Dad sighs in something akin to disappointment.

Now, Tommy is the one to pull him forward, grabbing his hand roughly and yanking him with all his might. “Come on, let’s go!”

Techno’s heels skid across the floor as Tommy pulls with all his might, and Techno resists with all his own. His chest squeezes with fear at those ice blue eyes staring through his own, glowing and piercing straight through his soul, as if they could see every thought and horrible deed he’s done. Tommy pulling him by the hand to the stranger feels like Judgement Day, like an axe swinging over his head.

“Tommy, wait—” Techno digs his heels in until Tommy finally slows. “I can’t—”

“Yes you can! Please, Techno—”

A warble falls out of his mouth without permission, making his face burn red again. Tommy’s face drops at the sound, and he lets go of Techno’s hand as if it burned him.

“Sorry.” Tommy takes a step back. “Sorry, I was forcing you to come with. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I really want you to meet my Dad. He’s safe.”

Another stupid warble slipping through fanged teeth as Techno makes eye contact with Tommy’s Dad again, who looks strangely sad, for some reason. Another flinch as the man tries to smile at him, which strikes fear into Techno’s heart.

Was Tommy really right about him being safe? What if it’s a trap, and Tommy’s Dad is a lure? What if there are hunters behind him? There’s too much risk in going out in the daylight.

Techno is terrified.

But Tommy isn’t.

Tommy is staring up at him with hopeful puppy eyes, the blue in his eyes so much warmer than the stranger’s. The hope in his eyes tugs on something painful in Techno’s chest, making him hold his breath and grit his teeth.

He could keep Tommy safer this way. He could protect Tommy easier if he sticks next to him, so that way he’ll face the threat head on instead of waiting for it to come to him. And it would make Tommy happy. That’d be worth it. Hopefully.

A bated breath, another. Techno’s heart thunders horribly in his chest as he finally makes up his mind with a nod. “Okay.”

Tommy grins at him, feathers on his back fluffing up with happiness— or at least, Techno thinks it’s happiness. Maybe it’s satisfaction at getting his way. Maybe his feathers are just ruffling to ruffle. Either way, Tommy keeps a firm grip on his hand as they squeeze out of the cavern.

Techno bites back a hiss as he steps into the sunlight, his pupils contracting into thin slits before evening out again. His eyes water as his vision whitens. He hates this part of stepping out into the daylight, hates the way the sun assaults his vision. He’s nocturnal, for crying out loud, he isn’t even supposed to be awake right now.

Tommy’s Dad takes a few steps back, which Techno refuses to admit makes him feel a little better.

“Hiya, mate.” Tommy’s Dad’s eyes squint up, picking him apart bit by bit. It’s scary— his eyes are too knowing, like they can see right through his brain and pick out all his thoughts. He doesn’t like that.

Techno hisses at him, baring his fangs.

Tommy’s Dad only smiles. What old man smiles at someone literally hissing at them?

“I’m Toms’ Dad, but you can call me Phil.” The man smiles, crows feet growing by his eyes.

With a hesitant chirp, Techno squeezes Tommy’s hand harder and squints at Phil. He has blonde hair and blue eyes, looking almost like a carbon copy of Tommy, aside from the wrinkles on his face as the bits of gray in his scruffy beard. He wasn’t lying then, about being Tommy’s Dad.

He also has wings. Silky black wings drape across his back like a magnificent cape, large and intimidating. The tips of the wings drag across the ground, laying amongst the grass.

For a fleeting, hopeful moment, Techno had thought that they might’ve been bat wings— wings like his. That hope was crushed with the sunlight shining onto a patch of iridescent feathers.

“So, are you from the village?” His attention is quickly pulled back again, ears flicking distrustfully at the grown avian. “Or did you move in nearby? I feel like I would’ve known if we had neighbors.” The bird man says, muttering more to himself than to Techno.

Tommy brightens, squeezing Techno’s hand and nearly attaching himself to his leg. “Techno lives here, in a cave! It’s like camping, but all the time! I wanna do that!”

Phil smiles in confusion, nodding along to what Tommy is saying. “What?”

“Yeah, uhm.” Techno backs up, closer to his cave. “I live here.”

“Here?” Phil’s face is all pinched and wary, his voice choked for some reason or another. “In that cave-?”

When Techno fails to respond, Phil looks him over a second time. Techno feels the way his eyes flit over his form, lingering on his scars and his middle, where the gap in his shirt is most noticeable.

Phil’s stupid happy-go-lucky expression dims, some sort of realization falling over him. And then for some stupid reason, his expression pinches slightly as he stares at Techno. It makes the bat feel itchy and squirmy, narrowing his eyes at the elder avian. Adults always stare at him weirdly before hurting him in some way.

“Mate..” Phil steps closer. Techno’s hand slips out of Tommy’s to put some distance between them. “Do you have family nearby? Anyone looking after you?”

Techno grits his teeth and glares.

(colony-lost-missing)

Phil casts his eyes over Techno’s form again, and the answer is obvious. And when the pity crosses over his face again, Techno turns tail and slips back into the cave— his safe haven.

“Wait, Techno.” A soft voice calls. Techno pauses at the sound, his limbs faltering.

Tommy, of course it’s Tommy. Tommy is safe.

Said child peeks his head through the crack in the cave, giving him some very-much-needed space. Every move of his is calculated and slow. “Do you want to come with us? To my home?” He asks. “Please? I really want you to. Even— even if it’s just for a little bit. Like a sleepover!”

Techno’s heart jumps to his throat.

“I don’t know..”

“We have muffins.” Tommy entices, leaning towards Techno. “With chocolate chips in ‘em. We also have a lot of blueberry muffins, if you like those. I like the chocolate ones more though.”

Techno thinks he’s had a muffin, once. When he was younger, with a mother who cared for him and a father who shared his sweet tooth. Before the fire, before he lost his colony. He misses it— he barely remembers how it tastes.

Hmm.

Hmmmmmm.

If he goes with Tommy, he’ll be putting his blind trust in the younger boy (and Phil) not to stab him in the back. He’ll be in an unfamiliar place, with no clue of any dangers in the area. He’ll have the disadvantage.

On the other hand… muffins. Muffins, and being able to keep an eye on Tommy.

He’ll be able to see where all those scrapes and bruises come from. He’ll be able to stop them from happening.

”Fine.” Techno huffs. “But I better be gettin’ those muffins.”

Tommy’s grin brightens until he’s positively beaming. Phil also grins, not as bright as Tommy’s victory, but still bright nonetheless, tinted with relief. Even as Techno’s vision blurs again, he can still see their warm smiles through the fog in his eyes. It lights something squeamish in his chest, something that makes his heart beat just a bit faster.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Tommy grabs onto the bat’s hand abruptly, pulling a squeak from the hybrid. “Come on, come on, come on!”

“Muffins?” Techno asks, just to make sure the younger boy will remember his promise. He slides out of the safety of the cave and into the sunlight.

“Yes, and muffins.” The avian rolls his eyes petulantly, and Techno squints at him to catch the motion.

An amused chirp from behind the two causes Techno’s ears to swivel towards the sound, seeing Phil start to usher them forward with amusement. His iridescent wings shine against the daylight sun, and Techno thinks that he’s never seen something more beautiful.

He hisses at the man to put distance between them, but stalks forward anyway, guided by Tommy.

Phil isn’t deterred by it. He’s never deterred by it, only smiling at Techno’s hisses.

“Let’s go home.”

Home.

Techno risks a glance back at his cave, and steps towards home.

Chapter Text

Tommy lives in a tree. A really big tree.

Correction— Tommy lives in a treehouse. A tree wrapped around a wooden house, integrating inside of each other. Crossed glass windows dot the trunk of the large oak tree, window sills with colorful potted flowers jut harshly out of the bark. Vines drape from the canopy of leaves atop the tree, concealing the tree from outside view. In fact, the entire tree seems to be covered in green foliage, from vines to ferns to leaves. A spruce door decorated with vines around the entrance sticks out like a sore thumb, set at the bottom of the tree trunk for easy access. Various blue and yellow flowers decorate the bottoms of the tree, adding a splash of color to the hidden treehouse. At the top of the tree is a balcony, partially hidden by foliage and leaves.

Throughout all the greenery, it’s obvious that the treehouse isn’t a regular tree. It’s larger than the spruce and pine surrounding it, and the leaves are a lighter color, like the oak trees’ leaves or the birch trees’ leaves.

(It makes Techno a bit uneasy. Trees are very flammable.)

For some reason, Techno thought that Tommy would have lived in a regular house, like the ones from the village. He had to remind himself again that Tommy and Phil definitely weren’t regular people. Regular people didn’t pick up random kids from the wild.

The treehouse didn’t seem very spacious from his view on the outside, but looks can be deceiving. As soon as Phil lets the both of them inside, Techno finds that the treehouse is a lot bigger than it seemed from the outside. On the outside, the trunk that made up the first floor was thick, but not thick enough to house entire rooms. A chitter lets the bat map out every escape route available, from the cracks in the wood to the open windows.

“This is the living room!” Tommy dances in front of him, dramatically sweeping an arm out. A wing follows the movement. “Over there is the kitchen—” He points to a doorway connecting to the living room. “Bathroom is across the kitchen, and there’s another bathroom by the guest bedrooms and the nest, which is up the stairs!” He points to a winding stairway, set on the far side of the living room.

Techno can only blink. Everything is so big, he can’t process it all at once. The mineshaft his colony lived in was never this big.

Luckily, Tommy and Phil don’t seem too upset with him standing dumbfounded in their living room, looking everywhere from the soft carpet on the ground to the bookshelves leaning against the wall. They let him watch and observe, his ears twitching with every creak of wood.

The inside of the house is also wooden. This doesn’t help his anxieties at all.

“Oh— Tommy, did you tell him about Floof?” Phil suddenly speaks up, eyes going wide. “Sorry, are you afraid of dogs? Allergic at all?”

Tommy’s eyes go comically wide. He throws himself onto Techno’s front, just barely clinging dramatically onto his shirt. Techno stops himself from tumbling backwards.

“Techno, the bravest man ever, please don’t tell me you’re afraid of dogs. Dogs are fucking awesome, and Floof is even more awesome.”

Techno bites his cheek and flaps his hand, resisting the urge to shove Tommy off of him. “I.. I’m not allergic to dogs? I’ve never had one before…”

Phil relaxes at that. “Oh, that’s good. If Floof overwhelms you at all, just tell us and we’ll put him away. He can be very hyperactive. I think he’s taking a nap in the nest right now, otherwise he’d be barking his head off by now.”

“Floof‘s a little rat dog.” Tommy sneers, a fond smile on his face. “A fucking floofy monster. That’s why I named him Floof. Because Brian is stupid.”

Phil smacks the back of Tommy’s head at that. Open palm.

Techno’s heart jumps into his throat, breath hitching and eyes wide. Did Phil just—

“Brian is an amazing name and you know it.” Phil scolds lightheartedly, moving to pinch Tommy’s cheek.

Tommy yelps, swatting away the offending hand with a pout, unhurt. “It’s a stupid name, Dad!”

“And ‘Floof’ isn’t?” Phil says with a raised eyebrow.

Tommy’s mouth flies open at the perceived insult, mouth suddenly running a mile a minute as the little boy rants and raves about the injustices of life and how old people suck and yadda yadda yadda.

It doesn’t really matter as the two bicker playfully.

The breath Techno was holding is slowly released.

Phil isn’t mad. Okay. And Tommy isn’t hurt. Okay. It looked like they were.. play fighting. Bickering jokingly. Okay.

Now that Techno thinks about it, Phil didn’t smack Tommy that hard. It was a light swipe, a brush through the hair. His palm was open, the opportunity to grab his hair and yank being there— but he didn’t take it. He didn’t hurt Tommy.

Techno takes a deep breath.

He’s okay. Tommy’s okay.

That’s good. Good.

As the father and son duo continue to bicker, a jingle of bells sounds from somewhere above. A person, another threat. The previous panic that Techno had calmed tears up again at the sound of a shrill sound echoing from the top of the stairs, his heart lurching back into his throat. Techno’s ears prickle at the noise, vermillion eyes searching for the threat—

“Ah, there he is.” Phil sighs.

A little white dog flies down the stairs, tongue out and panting. A red collar sits around its neck, golden tags glinting in the brief sunlight, interrupted by shadows.

A puppy.

A puppy running straight towards him, with no sign of slowing down.

“Oh fuck—” someone swears, but they’re too late.

With a crash of weight into his legs, it knocks Techno over.

Maybe that says something about how weak Techno is. He knows he’s pretty small for his age because of his hybrid type, but such a little puppy shouldn’t have been able to knock him down to his butt so easily—

“Floof! No!!” The dog climbs on top of him, dark nails pinning him to the ground. Hands come into his peripherals, trying to get the dog off but then—

Techno feels a stripe of saliva across his face. Then another. And another.

Techno’s red eyes fly open with a shriek as Floof begins waterboarding him with kisses, licks across his entire face as the bat fights to get him off. For some reason, despite being pinned onto his back while in close proximity to another animal’s sharp teeth, he doesn’t feel like he’s in danger.

The dog is soft.

“Floof! Bad dog!” Tommy scolds, hands fluttering to pull the puppy off, “You can’t just..—”

Techno laughs.

The scoldings go silent.

He can’t even help it. Techno laughs, avoiding little slobbery licks as he sits up, letting the puppy sit on his lap rather than stand on his chest. His chest literally bursts with admiration when the little fluffy dog stares up at him with those giant black eyes, practically begging him to pet him.

Techno does so without question, already smitten with the puppy.

He hardly feels the ache of his smile on his cheeks as he is too busy feeling soft fur gather underneath his fingers, gently giving the puppy some love. Floof yips, his tail wagging so hard that his butt wiggles with it. The puppy leans into every touch the bat gives it greedily.

“What the fuck.” Tommy says in all his seven-year-old pissed-off glory. “What the hell. How does he like you more than me?!”

Phil sighs in relief. “You like Floof, mate?”

Techno looks up at them, red eyes shining in joy, fingers buried into Floof’s coat. He wordlessly nods, gathering the puppy up to his chest and letting the dog lick his cheek. If anybody hurt this dog, Techno would kill everyone in this room and then himself.

Floof isn’t scared of his sharp fangs or bright eyes. The dog hadn’t even looked at his abnormal features before deciding to befriend him, barreling into him with the joy of meeting a new person. And while the barking is a bit too loud for Techno’s taste, it’s alright if it’s Floof.

Floof can do no wrong.

“Alright, c’mere, get off Techno—” Phil bends down to take the dog, rolling his eyes when Floof whines at the movement. “It’s time for supper, mate. No dogs at the dinner table.”

Techno casts Floof a sad glance.

Floof looks back similarly, tail wagging slowly.

Phil passes the white mass off to Tommy, who juggles at the weight before eventually letting Floof settle into his arms. “Put him up in the nest, and then we’ll come get him after supper.”

Tommy kisses the top of Floof’s head with a drawn out huff, but eventually does as he is told. He comes back in record time, flying down the stairs without Floof in his arms.

Faintly, Techno can hear a quiet bark from the top of the treehouse.

“Muffins?” Techno presses, wanting to make sure their promise was not forgotten.

“Muffins are for dessert, mate. You can have them after dinner.” Phil says, leading a pouty Tommy to a different room. Techno remembers Tommy had pointed it out as the kitchen. Techno follows, carefully two steps behind.

“We’re having spaghetti.” Phil says. “We made a lot, so help yourself.”

Techno takes that as a challenge.

Dinner goes by quickly. Techno inhales everything within reach, finally obtaining sustenance from actual food. His stomach fills to the brim with the homemade food, his tastebuds singing out in joy. He loves sweets and candy and fruit and the like— but that carnivorous human part of him craves food that will give him as much energy as possible, to keep his body running for as long as it can. To keep up his endurance and gain weight.

Tommy eats at a similar pace, eating messily and ravenously. Sauce spills off of his plate and gets all over his fingers and cheeks. There is a spaghetti noodle stuck in his hair. The pup looks well fed, so Techno assumes it’s because of his higher metabolism. Growing boys need lots of food, especially being as high energy as Tommy seems to be. Phil eats at slower paces, chewing his own food and regarding them in amusement.

Techno doesn’t care. He wants the muffins that were promised to him.

Once his plate has been wiped clean and his stomach full (with sustenance, with energy-filled food—), then he’s allowed to eat dessert. Phil gives him a blueberry muffin with a smile, going back to his own meal contentedly. Not even Tommy finishes his meal as fast as Techno does, eyeing the gifted muffin with jealousy.

The blueberry muffin is gone just as fast as the spaghetti.

Techno is full and warm for the first time in years.

(sugar-warm-warm)

When he looks up from his empty plate, he finds two bright blue eyes staring at him, boring into him ominously. Techno pushes down the instinct to look away from those captivating eyes, and tilts his head in question.

“Are you sure you’re not a vampire?” Tommy asks startlingly loud, the question coming out of left field.

Techno chokes on his spit, his heart suddenly skipping a beat at the question. Phil similarly chokes on his water, quickly falling into a coughing fit that he has to cover his mouth for.

“What? Where did that come from?” Phil asks, eyes darting from a curios Tommy and an unsure Techno.

“He looks like a vampire, but he says he isn’t one, but I think he’s lying.” Tommy squints, leaning across the table. The smile on his face shows mischief, but Techno fails to recognize it through the sudden rising panic in his chest.

“I’m not lying.” He defends himself, an argument he’s made a million times before. Never had he ever thought he’d have to use it on Tommy.

“You don’t go out in the sun.” Tommy lists, holding his fingers up and putting them down as he goes. “You have really sharp fangs and red eyes that glow in the dark. That’s vampire behavior, big man.”

“You saw me in the sun just a few hours ago.” Techno grits out, feeling the pressure grow in his head. “I’m not a vampire, I’m a bat.”

Techno wishes the boy would just drop it already, but he’s not just any boy— he’s Tommy, silly, naive, pushy Tommy, with a burning curiosity in his eyes, excited by the fantastical idea of vampires even though Techno is uncomfortable with it.

“But vampires can turn into bats!” Tommy yells, eyes wide with thrill. “And you have bat wings!”

“I’m not a vampire! Stop sayin’ that I am!” Techno feels his chest squeeze, past memories assaulting him. “I’m a bat hybrid!”

“But—”

“Vampires aren’t even real!” Techno snaps.

Tommy gasps, falling quiet. His blue eyes go wide, filling with disbelief.

Phil, who had been listening to the argument quietly, finally decides to step in.

“Boys.”

Techno’s breath squeezes out of his chest at the man’s tone of voice, all the blood in his body turning to ice. Tommy freezes similarly, eyes going wide and lip jutting out in the perfect image of the words, “uh oh.”

Only an hour into his visit, and Techno has already screwed up by arguing with Phil’s kid. Not one of their joke arguments either— an actual argument, one that made Techno’s face feel hot and his chest tight. If Phil wasn’t going to hurt him before, he would now.

“You both need to take a deep breath.” Phil says, and Techno braces for the words that come next. The “get away from us” that usually follows these types of interactions. It never comes. “Tommy, if he doesn’t want to be called a vampire, then don’t call him a vampire.”

“But— but vampires are so cool, and—”

“Techno doesn’t like being called a vampire, so even if you think they’re cool, you’re not going to call him a vampire, okay?” Phil says firmly, cutting off any and all argument.

Tommy pouts, obviously disappointed. Techno is just glad that the little boy has finally stopped questioning him about vampirism. He feels a bit bad about putting a stop to the boy’s curiosity and interests, but this is something Techno refuses to budge on. No matter how many puppy eyes the pup gives him, he will not be referred to as a vampire when he is so obviously not.

“How about this.” Phil proposes, hand on Tommy’s head to keep the boy grounded. “You ask him a question, and if he’s comfortable enough to answer, then he’ll answer it. But if he isn’t comfortable enough to answer, then you leave him alone, okay?”

“No vampire questions?” Tommy asks sheepishly. “Not even to ask why?”

Techno hisses as an answer.

Phil shakes his head in confirmation. “No vampire questions.”

“Fineee.” Tommy groans, but relents.

And that was that. No punishments, no hitting, no mocking or goading. Phil didn’t even scold Techno for being loud and arguing back. Tommy wasn’t mad at him for his outburst— in fact, the avian boy seemed apologetic, embarrassed of himself. Techno should really be the one embarrassed, panicking over being referred to as a fictional being, especially when his kind has been compared to vampires hundreds of times before. Coming from random strangers, Techno usually feels a sense of resignation. Coming from Tommy, on the other hand, feels like a betrayal.

Maybe it feels like that because Tommy is more important that a random nobody on the streets. His opinion weighs more heavily. And if the boy really thinks of him as a monster, then who is Techno to refute it?

Techno takes a deep breath in, and out. In, and out.

“Sorry for yelling, Tommy.” Techno says, hands twisting against each other. “Please don’t call me a vampire. It’s a personal thing, I think.”

Tommy’s eyes go wide. “Oh. Didn’t think about that. It’s okay, sorry for pushing.”

Techno deflates. Okay. That wasn’t so hard.

Slowly, he smiles at the kid, letting the tips of his fangs peek through his lips. Tommy grins wide at seeing the little smile, eyes brightening up with childish curiosity as he completely forgets the past argument.

Techno should’ve known that he would be assaulted with questions in the next moment.

“How do you fly without feathers?”

“Why do you eat bugs?”

“Can you see in the dark??”

At the continued questioning, Techno finds himself slowly relaxing. The questioning is familiar territory, reminding Techno of all the times he entertained his younger siblings’ constant questioning. Tommy talks a mile a minute, allowing Techno to answer however he wants. He accepts the answer and moves on, not a single ounce of judgement in his eyes.

There wasn’t any judgement in the first place, only curiosity.

The answers to his questions are mostly “no’s”, but that doesn’t deter Tommy from asking more and more questions, attempting to quench his curiosity. At some point, Techno feels himself begin to feel amused. Tommy is just like his siblings with his never-ending questions.

Techno remembers how annoyed he had been when Tommy was blathering questions at him from inside the cave. The difference between then and now is that Techno could clearly tell that Tommy was trying to annoy him into answering, which was more annoying than the questioning itself. Now, however, Tommy asks out of pure childish curiosity, no underlying intentions.

Techno indulges him.

Eventually, Tommy yawns, right in the middle of asking another question. Phil stands up at the sound, gathering the pup into his arms. Tommy fights the man’s hold with saucy hands, smearing sauce all over Phil’s shirt. The man doesn’t blink at the mess, subduing Tommy with a strangely pitched chirp. 

At the sound, Tommy’s pupils inflate three times their size, making the boy’s limbs turn to jelly. Tommy chirps something back at Phil before burying his spaghetti sauce stained face into Phil’s already dirty blouse, a coo coming from his lips.

So that’s how they calm Tommy down.

“Alright, off to bed, you two.” Phil sighs fondly before turning to Techno. “I’ll show you where the guest rooms are.”

Falling quiet once more, Techno nods and slides out of his chair.

At least he’s full.

Tommy whines and chirps in a sleepy matter about how badly he wants to stay up, pupils still twice their size, as Techno follows Phil up the stairs. Techno has to bite back a snort as Tommy insists through a yawn that, no, he’s not sleepy, and very much awake.

Yeah, the pup isn’t fooling anyone.

They stop on the second floor. Just as wooden as the floor below, and probably just as wooden as the floor above. A spiraling staircase sits in the middle of the second floor, winding around the trunk of the tree and leading up to the third floor.

“Here’s a guest room for you. If you need either of us, we’ll be in the nest, okay?” Phil chirps, gently stroking a sleeping Tommy’s head. Tommy drools on his shoulder in his half-sleep. “Just go up the staircase and we’ll be there.”

Hesitantly, Techno nods, and Phil seems to take that as an answer. The hand not holding Tommy reaches out, and Techno barely holds back a flinch as the man pats his shoulder.

“Night, mate.”

“…night.”

And then they’re gone.

Techno is alone again.

He’s not tired. At all.

Do they know he’s nocturnal..?

With a shrug of his shoulders, Techno opens the door Phil led him to, assuming it must be his “guest bedroom.”

A single bed sits in the middle of the room, flanked by two windows. A single candle (covered in a glass sphere-like cup) flickers on top of a bedside table, recently lit and illuminating the room. A few white blankets spread neatly on top of the bed, looking more pristine than cozy. Other than that, the room is empty.

Techno frowns, pushing down a distressed chirp.

There is nowhere to roost.

The ceiling is flat, and no matter how much Techno searches, there isn’t a spot for him to roost on. No crevices or cracks in the ceiling to grab purchase on. Adding to his growing unease, the bat vaguely sees the moon begin to rise through one of the windows. 

Moonlight streams through the windowpanes, silver dotted across the floor. The bat looks up to the moon, the light source of the night, and feels the way his eyesight sharpens, burning red. He should be out there right now, on the hunt. He should be gliding between spindly trees, fluttering his wings and baring his fangs. He should be hunting.

Instead of listening to that instinctual desire, the bat sits gingerly on the bed, tucking himself in. He lies down, swallowing heavily. He doesn’t want to cause any problems for the avians. Even if he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t want to disturb their sleep.

Techno tries his hardest to get comfortable on the bed, but his wings and his instincts make it a difficult challenge. Laying on his stomach lets his back be exposed, and laying on his sides puts an uncomfortable weight on his sensitive wings. Laying on his back causes his instincts to make a fuss, thoughts of danger and being unable to fly away (even though he can’t fly) plaguing his every thought like poison.

He isn’t meant for sleeping in a bed.

Techno groans and stuffs his face into a pillow.

(danger-danger-roost)

How is he supposed to fall asleep in these circumstances?

(colony-hunt-dark)

Every noise stands out to him, no matter how hard he wrenches his eyes shut. He balls up his blankets, pressing them against his ears.

(hunt-hunt-hunt)

Tossing and turning, Techno tries his hardest to fall asleep.

It doesn’t work.

…He can’t take it anymore.

Despite being awake for the entire day, using up all his energy on being social, he can’t fall asleep . His entire sleep schedule runs on sleeping during the day and hunting during the night. Switching that up so suddenly wasn’t ever going to bode well for him. The paranoia of past wounds itches at him as well, causing his chest to squeeze.

The unease of being in such a flammable house eats at him, making his fur stand on end, sending shivers down his spine. The candle by his bedside flickers and flickers, the light creating shadows of flames on the walls. He watches the shadows dance across the walls, his breaths gradually speeding up. Techno can’t get the flame out of his head. Can’t get the thought of what if?  out of his mind.

What if he were to knock the lantern over? Would it spread throughout the house, flames crawling higher and higher up the tree? Would the house fall apart with him inside? Would the smoke curl around his throat and choke him out, just like it did to them—

Techno opens the window next to his bed.

The night air hits his skin like a slap to the face, but Techno welcomes it. His breaths are still too fast, so fast, but at least he has a different sensation to focus on. The chill combats the heat of the house, drives his attention away from the flickering candlelight behind him. Wind flows through the open window, sending a shiver down his back. 

The light goes out.

With the wind extinguishing the candlelight, Techno can finally breathe again. He takes his first few breaths above air, feeling washed out and dried like a wrung out towel.

He looks down, chittering a bit to see the distance from the window to the ground.

With a snap of his wings, Techno leaps out of the window.

Gliding to the ground is the easy part. Getting used to the rushing wind is not. Techno nearly free falls the last few feet to the ground when the wind pushes him in the opposite direction, as if trying to send him back to the treehouse. When Techno’s bare feet reach the damp grass, a full body shiver hits him before he’s running, trying to remember the way Phil had led him earlier.

The path to the cave is almost muscle memory. The bat runs between trees and bushes alike, his wings giving him a bit of a boost. He runs and it feels good.   Chirps and chitters escape him as he hops over a tree trunk, running faster, faster, faster.

When he sees the familiar sliver of darkness imbedded into a rocky plane, he slides through.

The cave is a safe place. Safer than creaky wood and unstable trees.

His heart calms slightly as he skitters up the wall, his claws slotting into place as he finds a place to roost from. Sleep evades him, but he wants to rest regardless. Darkness envelopes him like a warm hug.

Techno breathes.

The chill of the cave heals the blisters of lingering panic. The bat’s chest slowly relaxes, taking longer, deeper breaths. His instincts coo in the back of his head, settling themselves.

(colony-lost-dark)

The cave is better than being in that wooden house. It has to be. Even if he’s.. alone.

Better alone than dead.

(colony-missing-colony)

Techno burrows himself into his wings, muffling the croon that peels itself from his lips, making that little piece in his chest tremble and warble in distress. An ache deep in his core when there is no responding croon, a sharp pain deep in his heart.

(lost-lost-missing)

A sharp whine peels from his lips. His chest aches.

He misses them. So much.

The cave isn’t safe anymore. He can’t run away from himself.

“Techno?”

A voice. Techno stiffens, eyes flicking open and pupils narrowing.

Someone is outside his cave.

“Techno? You in here, mate?” Striking blue eyes peek through the opening of the cave, and a tiny chirp peels from Techno’s mouth to see who it is. “Oh.”

It’s Phil. Phil’s blonde hair, shining silver from the moonlight, hangs from where he pokes his head through the opening of the cave. Phil’s blue eyes are unnaturally bright in the darkness of the cave. From what Techno can see, poking his head through the entrance is as far as the older man can go without getting stuck. Even though the man can’t reach him, his wings relax upon seeing him, shoulders dropping in relief.

“What are you doing in here, bud?” Phil asks, pitching his voice softly. It isn’t enough to stop it from echoing around the cave. “Tommy’s worried about you. He said he saw you jump from the window.”

The bat stills, and the crow tilts his head, staring up at him.

Techno risks a glance out of his wings, immediately locking eyes with Phil. He stiffens, and Phil frowns.

“Was the bedroom not comfortable enough?” The older man asks, genuine concern in his voice.

Techno’s chest hurts with foreign emotions.

“It was fine.” Techno whispers, not sure if Phil can hear him or not. “…Couldn’t sleep.”

“Okay.” Phil doesn’t press on it. “Next time, please tell us so Tommy doesn’t freak out. He woke up and thought you were running away.”

Well. He technically was running away. He needed out. He needed a place to latch onto. He needed to get away from the overwhelming warmth.

That stupid flickering firelight.

Techno’s head whips up at Phil’s words, red eyes growing wide. “Next time??”

Phil chuckles at that. “Well, I’m assuming that this is going to happen again, given our differences. I don’t know much about bat instincts, but I’m assuming you have a connection to caves and stuff, like how avians have a connection to high altitudes. Right?”

Techno doesn’t know. He just likes the dark. It’s safer.

Apparently taking his silence as an answer, as he often does, Phil extends his hand. “Can you come out? Please?”

Techno drops to the ground. He tilts his head at Phil’s inviting figure, willing for the hurt in his chest to go away.

Moonlight streams over his leather wings as he steps out of the cave.

Phil’s dark (dark-dark-dark) wings droop lowly as he creeps out in an attempt to make himself less intimidating. The man smiles at him, and that irritating hurt in his chest flares up. When Phil reaches a hand out, Techno hisses, baring his fangs. Phil’s hand draws back, his smile turning into something sadder.

“Come on, mate. Let’s go home.”

Phil’s arms open up. An invitation.

A hug.

Techno hasn’t been hugged in so long. The last time he was hugged was when— when his mom told him to leave them. She hugged him goodbye. She was the last time he got a hug.  

Pressure builds underneath his eyes at the thought, a burning sensation that he harshly wipes away.

With a thundering heart, Techno steps into his arms stiffly, shoulders next to his ears. Phil’s arms wrap around him slowly, giving him time to back out of the hug if he needs to. A shiver goes down Techno’s back as Phil’s arms bring him closer, awkwardly pressing his face against the older’s chest. He can’t tell if he likes the feeling or not.

Then Phil’s wings come to wrap around them, encasing him in darkness.

Techno melts.

Phil’s wings exude safety. They’re dark and cozy and warm, settling the itch in his hindbrain. They feel just like the darkness in the cave did, cradling him closely and letting him burrow into the safety.

(dark-dark-safe)

They go home.

Techno refuses to let go of Phil. His hands dig into the avian’s clothes, his claws ripping the expensive cloth. Phil doesn’t scold him as Techno expects him to, instead letting him latch onto him like a parasite, and carries him home. Techno’s ears twitch with all the sounds Phil makes— little coos and chirps vibrating in his throat as he picks dust out of Techno’s hair.

The bat has never felt so cared for.

Instead of going back to the barren guest room, Phil takes him up the second flight of stairs until they reach the nest. Or, what Techno assumes is  supposed to be  a nest. The floor is covered in many different blankets and pillows, all arranged in a donut-like shape.

A lump in the middle of the blanket-nest twitches, and a mop of golden hair pops up, eyes searching until they land on Phil and Techno. Tommy visibly relaxes when he catches sight of Techno, wings lowering in relief. His blue eyes widen at the sight of Techno clinging so desperately to Phil, sticking to the older man like a limpet.

Phil clambers into the nest as Tommy crawls towards them, carefully maneuvering around Floof’s sleeping form to reach them. “Techno? You okay, big man?”

Techno nods, voice caught in his throat. Tommy sighs in relief.

“Good. That’s good.” The avian child murmurs sleepily, a yawn following after.

Techno feels the drop in elevation as Phil squats and lays down, keeping Techno within in his arms. A chirp peels from the bat’s lips as he’s lowered into the nest, clinging onto the front of Phil’s shirt to keep the darkness close.

Luckily for him, once Phil has him lying down in the nest, those dark wings are around him once more. Techno relaxes, well and truly, for the first time in months.

(safe-safe-safe)

“Techno’s sleeping here?” The soft voice of Tommy asks. Techno’s ears flick at his voice, a soft grumble in his throat.

Phil murmurs an affirmative, and Techno hears Tommy shifting closer, curling himself next to Techno. Techno appreciates the way the pup gives him space to escape if he wants to.

Phil’s arms wrap around him. The sleepy haze of his instincts is enough to pull a yawn from him. Even though he hates sleeping on his back, Phil’s wings around him make the position tolerable. Maybe even tolerable enough to make it through the night.

The house is a lot safer with Phil there.

Chapter Text

A week passes, and Techno has yet to leave the treehouse as promised.

Can you blame him? Life with Tommy and his family is easier than life on the run will ever be. They accept him as he is and make accommodations for him, answering his every question kindly and never asking him to leave.

Techno should leave. He’s not sure where the treehouse lies in proximity to the village, but it can’t be as far as he wants it to be. For his own safety (for the others’ safety), he should leave.

(He only causes problems, after all.)

But he doesn’t. He procrastinates, claws itching to leave everything behind and use flightless wings, but at the end of the day, he lets himself be tucked into Phil’s side. His instincts are a bother, screaming at him to take flight, to roost, to leave— but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t know why.

Or, maybe he does. An inkling of a feeling, a certain warmth trickling in his chest whenever he catches either of the avians’ eyes. They’re nice to him. They give him candy and sweets.

Whenever he clams up and goes quiet, they don’t expect words he cannot give. They accept his silence and move on, sending him kind smiles. Any time the world is too loud for him, they leave him be, allowing him to cover his ears and close his eyes, breathing deeply in private. The privacy that he did not seek out, but given to him freely. Respectfully.

They treat him the way humans treat each other, not in the way humans treat hybrids. They treat him like a person, and Techno doesn’t think he can part with that. He doesn’t think he can go back to being ignored and looked down upon, now that he’s seen what it feels like to be treated as a person, not a pest.

On that first morning, waking up in the nest feels like a haze. His limbs are encased in warmth, an arm wrapped around his stomach and holding him to someone’s chest. A trill slips out of Techno’s mouth without thinking, calling (colony-hello-love) .

He nearly jumps out of his skin when there is a response.

A responding trill, more loud and throaty, a meaning he cannot decipher. Not a bat trill.

He quickly finds that Phil was the one holding him, and therefore the one who made the sound. Techno would be more embarrassed by the situation if his mind wasn’t running circles around him. He had really thought that his colony was holding him, that his mother was holding him close to her chest, roosting in synchronicity.

In the days after, waking is easier.

Eventually, they make him take a bath.

Honestly, Techno would call himself a clean person. He takes baths regularly in whatever stream or lake he passes by, using mossy rocks to scrub dirt off of his body. He combs his hair as often as he can, wrenching his fingers through the pink strands until they either fall loose or become unknotted. Too much dirt stuck on his hands bothers him to an annoying level, his instincts screeching at him to keep clean.

Then Tommy wakes up screeching in the middle of the night, awoken by a bug crawling on his face. A bug that is found in Techno’s hair an hour later.

“Ewww! Techno has bugs in his hair!”

“Heeehhh?? No I don’t-!”

“Uh.” Phil grimaces, picking through Techno’s hair carefully. The amount of convincing it took to even look  through Techno’s hair was not worth this outcome. “Sorry Techno, but I think we found where the bug came from. You’ve got lice.”

“Eww!” Tommy shrieks, throwing himself away from Techno. “Gross!!”

Slowly, Techno stares at the boy with a deadpan, hiding his smile when his staring causes Tommy to visibly look uncomfortable. Then slowly— very slowly— he reaches up into his mop of pink hair, fingers fishing around until he finds one of the “lice” Phil mentioned.

In a swift motion, Techno pulls it out and puts it in his mouth.

Surprisingly, Tommy is not the only one that screams. Phil screams too, horror on his face.

It is on that day that Techno finds out that Phil is also not a fan of him eating bugs. He then bans him from eating any and all bugs.

What a killjoy.

Needless to say, they had to “decontaminate” the nest, meaning they had to take it apart and wash everything, checking everyone’s heads for the critter, and then put everything back. All while Techno had the lovely displeasure of getting olive oil rubbed into his scalp.

After that disaster, it was very apparent that Techno needed a bath.

Techno grumbles as he sinks into the bath, letting his long hair soak in the soap the way Phil showed him. Maybe that’s why Techno got lice. He never had access to soap.

At least the water is warm. He doesn’t remember the last time he had a warm bath. Or a regular bath that wasn’t just rainwater or a dip in a stream.

The bath isn’t so nice when he eventually leaves the warmth of the water. His hair sticks to his forehead and back as he trips out of the tub, water sloshing everywhere. The texture of the towel they had given him was soft at first glance, but his shriveled fingers recoil in disgust at the texture now. It makes him want to shake the feeling out of his hands and toes, the shriveled feeling suddenly taking up a large portion of his brain.

Techno opts for skipping the towel completely, instead deciding to throw on the spare clothes the avians had given him (Phil’s old clothes) and air dry. His hair instantly soaks the shirt he was given, which isn’t a fun feeling either, but it’s better than the towel.

Phil finds him like that, glaring at his mop of hair and soaked clothes.

“Hey, Techno?”

Techno’s ears swivel at the soft call, pointy and alert. Techno’s head follows them, finding a hesitant Phil with a hairbrush lying loosely in his palm. Phil smiles softly when their eyes meet, raising the hairbrush.

“Can I braid your hair?”

Techno stills, a hand coming up to unconsciously touch the dampened locks. Phil catches onto his hesitance and quickly utters out a, “You can say no.”

Techno has never had his hair braided before. He’s seen humans with braided hair— little girls with twin braids and taller women with braids woven into their hair, contributing to some intrinsic style. He’s seen men with teeny tiny braids dotting the back of their heads. He’s always liked the style.

He likes it, has always wanted to repeat it to his own hair.

So when Phil asks for confirmation, Techno nods shyly.

The avian beams, motioning for Techno to turn around so he can begin brushing his hair. After gaining permission to touch him, Phil does just that— gathering up Techno’s wet hair, squeezing a bit to get the excess water out, and getting to work. Techno jumps at the first stroke to go through his hair, shivering at the feeling. Phil chirps behind him, unconsciously relaxing his tensed shoulders.

“Tell me if I pull too hard.” The older avian says, and Techno tries to ignore the shiver that goes down his back at the brush dragging through his wet hair.

The brushing becomes more bearable the more the knots are combed out, easier to pass through, slipping through the strands like butter. Phil chirps every time a strangled hiss slips out of his clenched teeth, and immediately goes softer, trying his best not to hurt him. When the brushing is over, Techno’s scalp slightly tingly, Phil separates his hair into three strands and begins weaving.

A damp braid is tossed over his shoulder a minute later.

“All done, batling.”

Techno’s ears go embarrassingly warm at the nickname. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Phil says, setting the brush aside. “You hungry?”

Phil is determined to get him back to a “regular weight.” He feeds him three times a day, with large portions of breakfast, lunch, and dinner meals. He’s also allowed various snacks between mealtimes to make sure he never goes hungry. Techno has eaten so much ever since Phil picked him up. His stomach doesn’t hurt anymore, which is pretty surprising, because he’s used to it hurting all the time with dull aches and sharp pains.

When he tells Phil of this, the older avian’s feathers puff up on his back. Then his face goes all pinched and concerned before he turns around and invites Techno to bake cookies with him.

Of course Techno accepted.

Phil also forces them to go outside a lot. Says it’s important for them to get fresh air and Vitamin D (whatever that means). He’ll shoo them out the door, Techno included, and then Tommy will drag him into a game.

Techno doesn’t know many games. He’s never had anyone around his age to play with, only knowing the games his younger siblings would play to pass the time. They were pups, so as the oldest, it was easy to play with them. Their games were simple. Tommy, on the other hand, likes to play more advanced games.

Games that Techno doesn’t understand.

“Come on, Techno!” Tommy yells, wobbling a bit on the tree branch he sits on. “We have to make it to the top!”

“How is this relevant to chess?” Techno calls up, watching with rising nerves as Tommy scales the coniferous tree in front of the house. “I thought it was a board game?”

“That version of chess is for losers.” Tommy calls down, “This is a better version of chess. The best version, some might even say.”

The higher Tommy climbs, the more Techno’s anxiety rises. He stays firmly grounded, two feet on the floor beneath Tommy in case he were to fall.

(pup-danger-protect)

“What does chess have to do with climbing a tree?” He asks, voice pitched in worry.

“Gods, I’m getting to it!” Tommy yelps as his foot catches against the tree, seconds away from plummeting downwards. He steadies himself with a breath, and Techno has to pretend that he didn’t just have a mini heart attack from the slip-up alone. “Whoever gets to the top of the tree first is the King, and then they get to shove the other person off the tree as they fight for the crown! Chess has a king in it, so this is the less-boring version of chess!”

Techno doesn’t move to climb up the tree, only tilting his head as Tommy climbs up higher. “…Isn’t that called ‘King of the Hill?’”

“Shut the fuck— woah —” Tommy’s weight shifts to the heel of his foot, just barely clinging onto the tree. His arms begin pinwheeling, his fledgling wings flapping uncontrollably to correct his balance—

He falls and smacks his head on a stray branch, arms flailing to try to catch himself—

“AHHHH-!”

Techno’s heart drops. Tommy is falling.

In a matter of seconds, Techno positions himself underneath him, arms spread out to desperately try to catch him. The tree is tall, tall enough for Tommy to break all the bones in his little body. Even if Techno manages to catch him, the speed at which Tommy falls at is enough to hurt Techno.

What does he do? What does he do??

Once he’s out of the main brush of branches and leaves, Tommy extends his wings.

Then he falls slower.

Tommy’s scream slowly tapers off as the boy begins to float to the ground, wings and arms spread out wide. He still hits the ground hard enough to topple over, but there is no snapping of bones or screams of pain. Instead, Tommy rolls over, an expression of vague annoyance on his face.

“Owwwww—” Tommy groans, rubbing his elbow. “My fuckin elbow, man—”

(pup-hurt-protect)

“Tommy!” Phil’s voice echoes from the treehouse. Techno snaps his head over to the sound, seeing Phil in all his winged glory, standing tall on the balcony. “You better not be jumping from the tree again-!”

“Daaad! Do we have anymore bandaids?!” Tommy shouts back, ignoring Phil’s words and Techno’s ears pinning back at the volume.

A pause from Phil. Techno can’t exactly see it with his blurry vision, but he can tell that Phil just facepalmed by the way the smack echoes from across the forest.

“Goddammit, Tommy.”

Techno sinks to the ground, his heart flipping in his chest. He feels like he just rode a terrifying rollercoaster with the way his adrenaline spiked, shooting to dangerous degrees. His instincts war at the front of his mind, shrieking and screaming about the cut on the pup’s arm, or about how Techno hadn’t managed to catch him in time—

Tommy stares at him obliviously, already getting onto his knees to climb up the tree again. Techno lunges forward, grabbing Tommy’s wrist to pull him back down.

“Don’t.” He breathes, trying his hardest to get his heart rate under control. “Please don’t.”

Tommy squirms, but eventually leans into the touch, arms wrapping around Techno to give him a hug. Techno doesn’t pay much attention to the action, more focused on the wound on the pup’s elbow, sluggishly bleeding.

“Does it hurt?” Techno asks, clawed fingers poking around the scrape.

Tommy poorly hides a hiss.

“Nope!”

“Liar.” Techno squints, ears pulling back. “Don’t do that again. Ever.”

“But it’s fun!” Tommy whines, kicking back and away from Techno. “And it doesn’t hurt that badly! Who doesn’t like climbing trees?”

Techno wrinkles his nose, staring at the child in disbelief. “How did you just— float down?”

Tommy looks at him blankly.

“Because I did?”

“How though.”

“Are your bones not hollow?” Tommy asks in childish stupidity. “Tubbo says his bones aren’t hollow either, so he falls faster than me n’ Dad.”

“I— no? How are your bones hollow?” Techno asks with wide eyes. “Is that just an avian thing?”

“Maybe.” Tommy shrugs. “But I’m okay. I thought you would’ve had hollow bones too, because of your wings.”

“Ehhh,” Techno looks down to his skinny arms, flexing the joints and watching them move through the thin skin. “My mom always said that our bones are thinner near our wings, but not hollow.”

“Oh.” Tommy gasps. “Cool. I want thin bones.”

Techno snorts— he can’t help it.

Phil comes down with the bandages, matching all the other various scrapes Tommy has earned from his tree-climbing adventures, and Techno realizes that maybe, Tommy isn’t as fragile as he thought he was.

At the end of the day, they will all go to the nest, Techno included, and sleep. As much as Techno yearns to roost above the nest, he doesn’t fight Phil as the older avian curls up next to him, draping his wings over Techno and his fledglings like a dark blanket. The bat’s sleep is always a bit uncomfortable because of this, but he can deal with it. Adjusting to the avians’ daytime-nighttime schedule is proven to be difficult for the nocturnal bat, but slowly and surely, his instincts have started to wire themselves to sleep during the night and wake during the day.

Techno knew that some bats could become diurnal after enough time sleeping during the night (fruit bats specifically), but he never thought that he’d ever become diurnal. Out of his entire colony, only his Dad was diurnal— working through the day, providing for them, and then sleeping at night. The rest of the colony was nocturnal, often sleeping during the day and most active at night.

It’s still strange to feel so tired, yet so restless as the moon reaches its peak. The restlessness has Techno squirming in the nest every night, exhaustion plaguing his mind and his body refusing to succumb to sleep. An eternal sleepless limbo.

He wants to roost . He wants to hang above the avians and let the blood rush to his head, to enclose his wings around himself as a security blanket. He wants them up there with him, all roosting together and clinging to each other, hidden within Phil’s wings, hanging onto his front.

What an uncomfortable revelation.

Tommy peeps as he climbs into the bed, Phil following with a chirp on the edge of his lips. Techno shifts uncomfortably, still not used to being surrounded by pillows and blankets— still not used to being in a nest. Bats don’t nest, they roost.

Every time he tries to tell them that, his throat dries up and his tongue twists, swallowing the words back down. If he points out their obvious differences, he’ll ruin everything.

Tommy cuddles right up to Techno unabashedly, knocking him out of his thoughts. “Story?” Tommy asks Phil, eyes hopeful.

“Sure mate, in a second.” Phil hoists himself into the bed, a ringing following his motions as Floof hops up behind him, collar jingling and jangling. 

Tommy squeals when Floof jumps onto him with all his little puppy energy, excitedly licking across Tommy’s face, ignoring the boy’s shrieks. After killing Tommy with kisses, the white fluffball moves onto Techno, who can do nothing but laugh. Floof smothers him in wet kisses, but Techno easily combats them with affectionate pets that easily gets Floof distracted. What can he say, Technoblade never dies.

Floof settles down quickly, rolling onto his back for Techno to give him a belly rub, to which he complies easily.

Phil chuckles, settling down into the nest and shaking out his wings. “How about some Greek Mythology for today?”

“Greek Myth—Mythola-gee?” Tommy wrinkles his nose in distaste, borderline sneering. “But those stories are always so boring! All their names are long and stupid and they always die at the end.”

“The gods never died.” Phil cocks his head, absentmindedly fixing the pillows around them, giving the two a steady place to sleep on.

“Yeah, but— but the heroes are so much cooler.” Tommy frowns. “And then they die.”

“What heroes?” Techno asks, and then his fate is sealed.

Tommy groans, a long suffering sigh, while Phil smiles knowingly.

“Have you ever heard of Achilles?” He asks, ignoring Tommy’s muffled scream of frustration.

Techno shakes his head, and Phil begins to explain.

A hero who was dipped in the River of Styx when he was just a baby, rendering everywhere the water touched with invincibility. Everywhere expect his heel, which his mother held into with such a strong grasp, that no water was able to touch it. A hero that was almost immortal, a beast on the battlefield and a major piece in the Trojan War. A hero that died after avenging his lover who had taken his place in the war, shot with an arrow straight through his heel.

When Phil finished explaining the story, the moon was high in the sky, and Tommy and Floof were half asleep. Not Techno, though. Techno’s eyes sparkle as Phil finishes the retelling, turning the tale over and over in his mind, his heart filling with elation.

“The End.” Phil ends off, opening his eyes, unnaturally blue, to look at him. “Did you like that?”

Techno had to close his gaping mouth in order to nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, I like it. I like it a lot.”

“That’s good, mate.” Phil grins. “Tommy doesn’t like them very much, but we have a ton of books downstairs about them. I’d be happy to lend you a few.”

Techno beams, sleepiness finally catching up to him. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, mate.”

With that, Techno lays down to sleep.

Techno grumbles, a light of satisfaction in his chest when Tommy curls under his chin with a soft sigh. His baby wings are lax, dripping off his back and gently onto Techno’s stomach.

Techno rolls his eyes and brings the pup closer, ignoring the instincts that rise to the surface at the two avians being so close to him.

(pup-warm-protect)

Then Phil’s clawed hand wraps over Tommy to clutch onto Techno, a black wing following its movement to cover both the boys in dark feathers. Immense safety nearly has Techno floating, any sense of anxiety immediately taken away by the darkness of the wings.

Phil has never failed to make him feel safe.

(safe-dark-pup)

Floof releases a tiny bark, snuggling into Techno’s shirt. He kicks Tommy in the process, which makes the avian child wake up and glare at Techno, as if it was his fault Floof kicked him.

Tommy mutters grumpily into his chest, red wing whacking against his arm. “Sleep, bitch.”

“Okay, P- Tommy.” Techno bites his tongue, nearly letting the nickname out.

(pup-pup-pup)

“Goodnight, sweet dreams.” Phil’s voice says from above Tommy, and Techno relaxes again.

Sleep finally holds him, and holds him gently.

“…Night.”

Techno goes to sleep, surrounded by warmth.

(colony-colony-colony)

“Where are you going?” Techno asks, half hidden by the flight of stairs.

It is midday, and he would usually be outside playing with Tommy, but Phil made them stay inside today because of the chill in the air. But now Phil is putting on his boots, which means Phil is going outside.

Phil wraps his coat around his back, concealing his wings and wrapping a scarf around his neck. He looks up at Techno’s question, surprise painting his features before being corralled into something much more controlled.

“To the village.” Phil says. Those three individual words send ice through Techno’s veins, the bat freezing in place. “We need to stock up on food in time for Migration, and we don’t have enough to last the entire trip to Origins.” Phil buttons up the last button of his coat, throwing a cape over his shoulders when his wings twitch from underneath the coat. That cannot be comfortable. “You also need better clothes, mate. Ones that’ll fit your wings, and not my old clothes.”

It’s only when iron floods the inside of his mouth that Techno realizes that he’d bitten his cheek.

“Can—” Phil turns to him curiously at the sound of his voice. “Is there.. any chance I can stay here?”

“I mean, I’d prefer if you came with..” Phil says, brows turning up in thought. “It’d be easier to get clothes for you if you were there to try them on, y’know? But if you’re uncomfortable going to the village, then you can stay.”

Techno can’t control the way his ears automatically pin against his head, anxiety broiling in his chest.

Phil is going to the village full of humans despite being a hybrid to get him clothes that will fit him. While Techno appreciates the notion (Phil’s old clothes were really swamped on him, despite all of the adjusting to fit his wings—), he isn’t very fond of showing his face over there again, especially after his instinct-induced mess-up.

It’s not safe over there. Techno doesn’t understand why it’s so important that Phil needs supplies for the “Migration .” Winter is coming, shouldn’t they be staying inside?? Why is he willingly going out into hostile territory?

The thump-thump-thump of little feet barrel around the corner as Tommy runs into the room. The pup skids to a stop at seeing Phil all bundled up, eyes growing wide as he abandons whatever game he’d been playing.

Floof, who had been running on Tommy’s heels, nearly crashes into the boy at the sudden stop.

“You’re going to the village?” Tommy asks, wings flapping on his back. “I wanna go!”

Phil sighs, wings rising on his back. “It’s just a quick trip, Toms, I’ll be back in no time—”

“Bring me with!” Tommy jumps at the opportunity, little red wings fluttering with excitement. “I wanna— I  really  wanna see the market!”

Phil’s careful smile drops into a frown. “I don’t know…”

“I’ll be sooo careful!” Tommy pleads, jumping up and down with excitement. “Please?”

Techno frowns so hard it almost hurts his face.

If he stays home while Tommy and Phil are so adamant on going, then how will Techno know that they’ll be safe? How can he keep the other two safe if they’re at the human-infested village and he’s back in the treehouse?

It bothers him more than it should. He imagines humans surrounding Tommy and Phil, picking at their feathers and threatening to cut off their wings. He imagines threats of cutting off talons and removing flight feathers. He imagines every single twisted word he’s heard over the years turned onto the family of avians.

He needs to protect them.

“I’ll come.” Techno says firmly, interrupting the bickering between father and son.

Tommy gasps as Phil’s resolve noticeably weakens. Phil gives him a raised brow, to which Techno waves off. He needs to be there, especially if Tommy is so intent on tagging along. Gods know that the boy won’t sit still, especially surrounded by unknown dangers.

He’ll protect the pup.

Phil’s face gets pinched as he considers him, but then sighs. “Alright, fine. But you have to stick close to me, alright? No talking to strangers, at all. And no taking off your coats, even if it gets too hot. This town isn’t very friendly towards hybrids.”

Tommy tilts his head at that, brows furrowing. “They’re not like Origins?”

Phil snorts, but it’s a bitter sound. “Nowhere is like Origins.”

Techno wonders what Origins is. He doesn’t get the chance to ask before various articles of clothing are thrown at him with directions to hide his hybrid features.

Phil says that because it’s getting colder, now would be the most optimal time to risk going to the village, because people would start wearing big coats and jackets. They would be able to wear the same to cover their hybrid features, and blend right in.

Tommy squirms and fights Phil as he secures a hat over his head. A jacket is put over his back, covering his wings, while Phil helps drape another coat over his own back, earmuffs hiding the feathers by his ears.

Phil tells them that Floof needs to be left behind if they want to get this trip done and over with as fast as they can. Apparently the little puppy has a history of causing mayhem wherever he goes.

They give Techno a mask to hide his fangs in and a hat to put over his ears. A long cloak is used to cover his awkwardly hanging wings, and they tell him that he’ll need to be careful about moving his arms, lest he expose his valuable leather wings.

Out of the four of them, Techno looks the most ridiculous.

With his cheeks burning red, Techno glares at Tommy, who is poorly hiding his laughter, cheeks puffed out and shaking with amusement. The bat’s ears pin back, a rattling hiss being muffled by the mask.

“You look so—”

“Shut up, nerd.” Techno growls. It only serves to send Tommy into a laughing fit, unable to hold back his giggles.

Phil tuts disapprovingly, tugging slightly on one of Tommy’s feathery ears. “Don’t make fun of him, mate. He looks fine.”

Tommy scrunches his nose, then. “But he looks funny.”

“You look funny.” Is what Techno shoots back at the child.

“Why, thank you.” The six-year-old grins, opening his mouth to tease him in the way only six-year-olds can—

“Alright, enough.” Phil sighs, looking every bit his age. “Let’s go, before it gets too dark.”

They leave.

Techno steels his nerves as he follows after Phil, his hands clinging onto his jacket tightly.

His heart hammers painfully against his ribcage as he does something he has never done before— re-enter a village that hates him. Every single time he gets chased out of a village, he always goes to the next one, never lingering for long. He’s been to so many villages— villages with big names, and villages that are so tight-knit that they aren’t written on maps. Going back into the village after he messed up last time, after the threats they dished out last time, is like trekking into the lion’s den.

The village looks the same as he had left it, if only just a bit chillier. The paths are still cobblestone, the buildings are still wooden. Lampposts dot every corner, turned off for now, but will illuminate the night. The townspeople look just as happy as the last time he saw them, milling around with smiles on their faces. Still, Techno can see the effects of his visit to this particular village, despite the calming aura.

There is garlic hanging from every doorway. Garlic. To ward off vampires.

Techno scowls, hidden by his mask.

He feels Phil squeeze his hand as they enter the village, and suddenly he remembers every single word spat from the villagers’ mouths, every single threat, as he steps into enemy territory. A shiver crawls down his back, tingling the base of his wings, as he prepares to flee the moment the villagers recognize him and begin to wave their pitchforks around—

Except… nobody notices them. No one does as much as glance in their direction, eyes taking in their bundled-up forms for less than a second before deeming them unthreatening.

A part of Techno thought that they’d be thrown out as soon as they stepped foot back into the village (or, maybe only he would be thrown out, his wings uglier in comparison to the avians’ wings—), but that doesn’t happen. They’re allowed in, with nothing but passing glances. They don’t even have to hide in the shadows to sneak by! Someone even smiles at them, watching (what they assume to be) a father and his two kids, visiting the market.

It’s odd. It has tension disappearing from Techno’s shoulders and reappearing in the back of his brain, reminding him that he’s safe— for now .

Phil said they’d still have to be careful.

“Alright. Can you repeat the rules again?” Phil asks the two kids, voice muffled by the fur trim on his jacket.

Techno raises a brow. “Do we have to?”

“Stay close!” Tommy replies eagerly, “And no talking to strangers!”

“Very good job, mate.” Phil praises the pup, his smile turning soft. He turns, gloved hand holding tightly onto Tommy’s. “Let’s go get Techno’s clothes first.”

And so they do.

The tailor shop is warm when they enter, and the tailor is nice enough with their greeting, just as warm as the shop. They stay behind the counter as Phil leads them to the children’s clothes section, knitting and sewing a pair of jeans.

Techno’s eyes go wide at the sheer amount of soft materials hanging from every hanger, hands running down fabrics and shirt sleeves. Tommy wanders to the other side of the store, looking at various boots and mittens with loud, curious noises, always making sure to be within Phil’s field of view.

The tailor seems amused by the child’s loud noises, rolling their eyes once before going back to their stitching.

Not the first time they’ve gone to this town, then.

“What do you think of this one, mate?” Phil holds an article of clothing up to Techno’s chest and squints at it, picturing Techno actually wearing it. “We could probably cut some slits in the arms to accommodate your— hm. Yeah, that will work. Do you like it at all?”

Techno presses the exposed skin of his wrist to the fabric, feeling it rub against his skin. He immediately bites back a shiver, curling away from the clothing with disgust.

Phil snorts. “That’s a no, then. Come on, let’s keep looking—”

They end up with an entire bag full of clothes that fit Techno’s sensory needs and his wings. Pants and shoes and socks and so many sweaters. Phil seemed to just look at him and then immediately gravitate towards soft things, the end of a muffled chirp getting caught between his lips as he threw soft clothes upon soft clothes onto Techno.

Techno huffs, accepting yet another sweater that Phil piles onto him.

The most practical clothing that fit Techno would be tank-tops and short-sleeved shirts. Phil let him have many of those, as well.

When they leave the tailor, it’s with half the shop’s wares and less pocket money than before. Phil waves off his concerns, telling Techno that money never mattered to him. It’s not like Techno could pay him back anyway. A lingering sense of guilt still weighed over his head as Phil began the actual shopping process, looking through various vegetables and foods.

Tommy constantly tugs on Phil’s hand, trying to drag the older man further and further. Elderly humans smile tenderly at the scene, seeing a father shopping with his two kids, one energetic and one quiet.

Techno stares back at them, watching them avert their eyes from his red ones.

Tommy eventually lets go of his hand to go skip in front of Phil, eyes brightening at the joy of the town. The avian kid plays a game of “Don’t Step On The Cracks” as Phil stops at a stand, running around in circles. Techno drags behind slightly as Phil skillfully barters with one of the vendors for the price of a sack of potatoes.

No matter how much Phil talks to fill the air, his voice does nothing to hide the scent of sweets from Techno’s nose.

Techno wanders a bit from Phil’s side, driven by his instincts and the way his eyes catching on the delicious fruits lining the stands. Mangoes, apples, bananas, oranges— so many. A lemonade stand on the corner of the road, a child licking a lollipop as his mother drags him by the hand, the sounds of feet meeting cobble over and over and over —

It’s too much. It’s so much.

(sugar-sugar-sugar)

Techno flinches hard at the rush of instincts, hand balling up at his side to smack himself in the head a few times, trying to knock himself out of that mindset. The last time he let his instincts get the better of him didn’t turn out so well, after all.

He won’t succumb to them here. Not now. Not this time.

Techno bumps into something— someone, an apology on the edge of his lips. The person he bumped into raises a hand to steady him, and Techno looks up into their eyes to thank them.

Bright red eyes meet cold gray. Choppy beard, bad breath, sunburnt skin and broad shoulders.

He recognizes this guy. He recognizes those eyes. They’re the same pair he’s been running from, the same person who threatened to turn him into a pair of boots.

The same guy he’d bitten  on his way out.

“You seem familiar.” The man says, squinting at Technoblade. Slowly, a smile grows over his face. “Oh. I know you. Little vermin.”

A chitter slips from his clenched teeth (scared-help-scared).

The man’s grip becomes bruising.

“Remember this?” The man hisses, grey eyes widening in anger. He raises his arm, showing off a shoddy bandage, peeling off his forearm. The bite wound. “Remember?”

Techno can do nothing but stay silent, the man’s grip on his shoulder growing unbearably tight. He does remember. He remembers the way his fangs sunk into flesh, his glands releasing a substance that would clot the wound and make it easier to drink from. He’s been told that it usually makes the wound super itchy, but it’s not like he can control it. He remembers feeling the blood fill his mouth before abruptly pulling away, likely ripping the wound in the process.

“It got infected.” The bearded man grits out through the smirk on his face. “‘Was a fuckin’ bitch to deal with.”

Techno’s vision grows hazy, a panicked whine peeling from his lips, luckily unable to be heard by human ears. The bastard smiles anyway, baring his teeth.

“You’re gonna come with me.” He says, pulling on Techno’s shoulder to move him into motion. “And we’re going to go see our hunter friends, and then they’ll decide what to do with you. They’re very used to exterminating vermin like you.”

Techno chokes behind his mask, his legs stumbling behind him as he’s forced to keep up with the man. What the hell is he supposed to do?? His fangs are covered by his mask and his hands are being forced together, so there’s no way to take off his mask and use his teeth to fight back.

He’s not going to let them take him. Not when Phil and his family are still here.

Phil. He needs Phil.

If he can’t use his arms, then he’ll use his legs.

Techno twists in the man’s grip, using the leverage gained to send a swift kick to the man’s gut. It’s a weak kick, barely pulling a grunt from the burly guy, but the surprise is enough for the grip on his hands to loosen just the tiniest bit. Techno breaks free, a shriek of echolocation bursting from his lips.

Then he can see.

The sun flashbangs him, making him stumble, but he searches regardless, red eyes flickering. People, people, more people, food, sugary food, not what he’s looking for—

There. There they are.

Safety.

Phil and Tommy, worriedly gathered together and calling someone’s name. They’re standing by the stand of oranges, the bright color of the fruit contrasting their rather dark frames. Then there’s the pounding of footsteps behind him, angry yelling.

His pupils shrink to slits with his target acquired. 

Techno runs.

Footsteps behind him. The turning of heads. A “watch it!” from someone he cut in front of. None of it matters when he crosses the distance between him and salvation.

Techno  rams  into Phil, nearly sending the avian off his feet. Phil startles, eyes going wide and hands pulling Techno closer when he sees him.

“Oh, Techno-! Don’t— Techno?” Phil asks, concern bleeding into his voice as Techno shakes, shakes, shakes. “What’s wrong?”

Techno’s mouth opens and closes, trying to get the words out, but it’s like choking on air. His hands scrabble on the back of Phil’s coat, trying to get to those dark wings that exude safety, because even now  he can feel the man’s eyes burning into him, dissecting him piece by piece.

Techno shakes his head, pressing closer, physically trying to hide himself.

He knew this was a bad idea, he knew it was! When did he get the gall to step foot into a village that would obviously remember who he was? When did he get so stupid to even consider shopping like a normal human, hiding within plain sight? What happened to all of his survival skills?

What happened to him?

“Techno?” A hand on his cheek, tilting his head up to meet blurry blue eyes. “What happened?”

Techno tries to fight how hungrily he leans into the touch, he really does. A choked sob escapes him, saliva soaking through his mask. It’s gross, it’s wet, it’s uncomfortable, and Techno wants to leave.

Phil seems to pick that up by his teary eyes. “Okay, okay, we’re going. We have mostly everything we need, so we’re going to get going, okay batling?”

With an exaggerated puff of air, Techno nods, hiding his face in Phil’s coat as the avian calls out to Tommy. He feels they way he’s forced to shuffle backwards as Phil corrals them out of the village, hearing Tommy’s whiny voice cry out in confusion.

He goes silent pretty quickly at seeing Techno tucked into Phil’s coat, trying to burrow closer, closer, closer. Every single footstep of every single person in the square is blended together in a symphony of sounds, and yet Techno can hear the man’s footsteps with a dreadful clarity.

“Hey, you.”

Techno freezes, heart dropping into his stomach.

It’s the man. He followed him right to Phil. He led him straight to Phil .

At the sound of a stranger’s voice, Phil jolts, hands automatically going to shield Techno. Tommy clings tighter to his hand, giving his best death glare to the man that followed them.

“Hi, mate.” Phil quickly recovers, a polite smile on his face as the man saunters closer. “How are you?”

“Been better.” The man with the choppy beard says, eyes locked on Techno’s form. “There’s been a bit of a… vampire problem, recently. I had just managed to catch this one, but it escaped. Could you hand him over?”

The air grows cold.

Techno can’t breathe.

His red eyes blur in and out, a choked whine coming out of gritted fanged teeth. His leather wings twitch underneath his cloak, making the man with the choppy beard survey him more closely.

“What do you mean?” Phil asks coldly, shuffling Techno’s weight in his arms so that his form shields Techno. “I haven’t seen any vampires around here. Last I’ve heard, they’re just a myth. And—” Phil looks back to Techno, “He’s not a vampire, mate.”

Choppy Beard guffaws at that, a deep, belly roaring laugh. “Well—” he laughs, “Whether it’s a vampire or a demon, or some kind of freak hybrid—” Choppy Beard levels his gaze down to Techno’s, red eyes meeting cold gray. “—it needs to be disposed of.”

Techno’s breath hitches in his chest.

This is it. This is the moment they throw him out, realize that a bat isn’t worth taking care of when you have one other son with colorful wings. This is the moment they realize that he isn’t worth it, that he’ll only drag them into trouble. He is a lost cause, a sinking ship destined to bring them down with him.

Instead of giving him to the man, Phil pulls him closer.

“What are you implying?” Phil asks carefully, eyes narrowing.

“That is not a child, sir.” The man says blatantly, “That’s a hybrid.”

Techno fucked up. Oh, holy shit, he fucked up bad. He was supposed to protect the avians, not lead the hunters straight to them!

A pitiful whine escapes his lips, feeling the way his ears press against his head from under his hat.

“You’re accusing my son of being a hybrid?” Phil asks indignantly, voice raised and arms gathering Techno to his chest. “Why in the world would you think that?”

“Your son?” The man snarls out, face wrenching in disgust. “That thing nearly bit my arm off a few weeks ago! He’s a danger to society—”

“He is my son.” Phil interrupts firmly, embracing Techno further. The bat feels Tommy get pressed into his side, meaning that Phil probably pulled him into his embrace as well. “You’re threatening a child, mate. What is wrong with you?!”

His voice is loud in Techno’s ears.

More people begin to look over, attention peaked by the situation. Whispers arise, faces turning distrustful as the crowd takes in the scene and the shouted words. In their eyes, they see a father protecting two children from a kidnapper, someone who wanted to take the eldest child for themselves. Unrest arises and whispers turn into angry murmurs, defensive mothers bringing their own children closer to them.

The man visibly falters. A bead of sweat drops down his neck as he clears his throat, likely feeling the pressure of the many eyes on him.

“I… apologize.” He says, face turning red. “But.. are you sure that thing is your son?”

“Fucking positive.” Phil snarls, grabbing Techno and Tommy’s hands as he prepares to leave. “Have a good day.”

And then he’s being dragged away. With a wary glance downwards to where Phil’s hand holds his, he can see the older avian’s gloves unraveling at the seams, talons breaking through the thin cotton. Tommy holds his other hand, his stubby claws also ripping through the fabric, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Now, wait a damn minute, you can’t just—”

“Have. A good. Day.”  Phil snarls and turns on his heel, leaving the burly man and the crowd behind.

Techno’s vermillion eyes glance back, a chitter falling from his lips.

The man stares at him, his gray eyes peering through him with a narrowed glare. Even as they get farther away, and the crowd separates them, he keeps staring , gaze growing darker and darker.

Techno is helpless to those eyes. He lets Phil drag him out of the village, and yet he  still sees them.

“This isn’t the last time you’ll see me”,  his eyes seem to say.

Techno is inclined to believe him.

Once they’re out of the near vicinity of the village, something strange happens to Phil. The older man twitters and chirps, rushing them through the well-known path to the treehouse. Phil drags them to nest as soon as they reach the treehouse, pupils enlarged and chirps replacing words. As soon as the restrictive coats are off of their bodies, Phil’s wings come flying out, black feathers coming away and coating the living room floor.

Phil chirps, his pupils so large that Techno can barely see the blue of his irises. When the elder avian meets his eyes, his wings fluff up, and a long, drawn out coo comes from his lips.

“Oh, gods.” Tommy bemoans as Phil grabs him (gently) by the arm. “He’s in birdbrain mode now.”

“Birdbrain mode..?” Techno questions as Phil grabs at him as well. The immediate warmth makes Techno want to squirm out of his skin, but the sight of Phil’s big eyes makes him hesitate.

After securing Techno to his chest, Phil snags the back of Tommy’s shirt. The avian kid is snatched up with a yelp, thrown across Phil’s shoulders and left to hang on for dear life. Then, using the arm around Techno, Phil picks him up. Embarrassingly enough, a squeak slips out of the bat’s lips as Phil hoists him high enough to be carried on his chest.

“Birdbrain mode.” Tommy says despairingly, sitting casually on Phil’s shoulders.

Between one blink and the next, Phil drags all three of them up to the nest. Tommy and Techno are forced to watch as Phil painstakingly switches between fixing up the nest and comforting them (the both of them, but for some reason, he had a strange focus on Techno—), eventually settling down enough for a long trill to escape him, his wings finally relaxing.

Floof jumps onto the nest, tongue lolling with excitement. With little kissy noises, Tommy eventually gets the puppy to go to him. Phil reaches a hand out to thread dirt out of the puppy’s hair, an absentminded task as he continues reconstructing the nest.

Then he starts to preen Tommy’s wings.

Phil begins preening his wings almost immediately, and Tommy rolls his eyes at the action. No matter how much Tommy fights it, though, he is eventually brained by the babysauce. Techno watches with big eyes as Tommy leans into the hand arranging his feathers hungrily, falling limp with a coo. Phil coos back lovingly, and it causes Techno’s heart to hurt.

Then, Phil turns to Techno, who freezes. Phil’s talons are sharp, fingers poking gently at Techno’s leather wings, a long, drawn out coo when Techno flinches. The bat only flinches again at the sound, drawing his wings close to himself.

Phil can’t preen his wings. He doesn’t have feathers.

Phil reaches out with those sharp claws again, and Techno squeezes his eyes shut, just in case—

Only to feel his gentle claws begin threading through his hair.

Techno slowly opens his eyes, hearing more than seeing Phil coo at him. It’s a sad coo, accompanied by a brush on the cheek and more detangling of his hair. Phil gently pulls out every knot and snarl, trilling to himself quietly. Phil then takes a hair tie off his wrist and begins braiding his hair.

His instincts must have calmed down. That’s.. good.

Tommy must have drifted off to sleep at some point. When Techno glances over, he only sees Tommy’s wings splayed across the nest, the angle of his arms suggesting that he is cradling a sleeping Floof to his chest.

Techno’s heart hurts. Overwhelmingly.

That familiar, warm pressure starts under his eyes again. Oh no. Techno really doesn’t want to cry. Not when Phil’s like this.

Phil coos again, the finished braid settling heavily against his back. Techno bites back a sniffle as Phil practically manhandles him into laying down, carefully averting his face when Phil pulls him close to his chest. The instinct-driven avian buries his face in Techno’s pink hair and sighs contentedly.

Phil falls asleep. Techno cannot.

(danger-danger-danger)

(run-bad-run)

He’s fucking pathetic. He didn’t protect anybody.

All Techno really wanted was to be alone. He didn’t want to be dragged into the nest (he didn’t—) no matter how nice it felt to sleep with them, to be with them, to be defended by them.

It’s wrong. They’re everything good in the world, with their bright feathers and shiny eyes, and Techno is everything bad in the world. This will never work out.

He shouldn’t have eluded himself into thinking that it was safe here.

Chapter Text

They didn’t talk about it.

Or, well, they tried to talk about it, but any attempt at conversation about the village was immediately vetoed by Techno, who was more than ready to forget the incident all together than explain how he knew that man in the first place. It was upsetting to see Phil’s face crumple in concern, but it was worth it when the avian stopped pushing the matter.

Tommy, on the other hand, didn’t know how to stop pushing. After that first night of preening and sleeping, the other kid had confronted him headfirst, first thing in the morning. Straightforward questions of “who was that guy?” and “how did he recognize you?” and, the most damning of all, “are you okay?”

Techno clammed up, ears pressing back against his head and heart twisting. Tommy’s too-concerned, too-calculating eyes look him head to toe, piercing through him just as that man did.

An anxious whine peeling from the back of his throat was the only thing that made the other boy back off fully.

Since then, the days have passed in a blurry silence filled with awkward tension. Techno is left alone more often than not, no longer being dragged outside with Tommy to play games. He stays in the nest, reads books, eats dinner, and sleeps, trying to ignore the restlessness underneath his skin.

Techno saw Tommy be led away from him by Phil, with hushed words to “give him space,” that were clearly meant for Tommy’s ears and Tommy’s ears alone. Phil probably would’ve tried to be quieter if he knew that Techno’s hearing was a lot better than a human’s, or even avians, for that matter.

He can tell the others have been worried about him. Phil gives him soft smiles and tender touches, and Tommy fills the silence with jokes upon jokes, even if most tend to fall flat. But behind those acts of affection is worry and concern, an eager hopefulness in their actions that makes Techno recoil, ears pressing against his head.

Every night, Techno listens half-heartedly as Phil recounts a Greek Myth in hope of bringing him out of his mind. Techno latches onto him, letting the story pour through his ears and distract him for a moment or two.

“…and because of his fatal mistake, Eurydice was sent back to the Underworld, and Orpheus was doomed to live the rest of his life in eternal mourning. The end.”

“Philll, that was sad.” Tommy whines, splayed amongst the nest. His leg presses into Techno’s arm, shockingly cold. “Why do all these stories have to be so sad?”

“It’s supposed to teach you a life lesson, Tommy.” Phil closes the book with a swift snap, setting it to the side. “What did this story teach you?”

Tommy’s little brows furrow in concentration, thinking over the story again. “Everyone I love will leave me and then I’ll die alone?”

Technoblade’s eyes widen, darting over to meet Phil’s in horrified eye contact. They both look back at Tommy, who is waiting hopefully for an answer, blue eyes bright and oblivious.

“What the fuck??” Phil stares at his son incredulously. “No???”

Tommy deflates. “Awwww.”

“Don’t look back?” Techno asks, voice rough from his limited speaking. “Is that the.. moral of the story?”

Phil blinks, startled at his voice after the long stretch of silence on his part. “I mean— you could interpret it that way, I guess. There’s actually a lot of morals you could take away from Orpheus and Eurydice. I was thinking more along of the lines of ‘trust.’” Phil taps his knee, brows furrowed in thought. “If Orpheus had trusted that Eurydice would be right behind him, then they would’ve made it out of the Underworld. But yours would work too, mate.”

Tommy perks up at that. “Would mine?”

Phil’s face scrunches up, looking very constipated. “Still a no, mate.”

Tommy deflates again. “Man.”

Techno nods. “Man.”

Phil stares up at the ceiling in exasperation, sighing deeply. After a moment or two of closing his eyes, he claps his hands twice. “Alright, you little shits, bedtime.” Phil claps his hands again, and Floof takes that as his cue to jump onto the nest. “Chop chop.”

Techno has learned over his time living with Tommy and Phil that when Phil refers to them as “little shits,” it’s meant in an affectionate way.

While it’s been hard getting used to the way the duo jokes with eachother, Techno thinks he’s slowly gaining an understanding of it. They make fun of each other, swear at each other, mock each other— all things Techno had considered to be negative things that eventually lead up to violence— but they say it in a joking way. They don’t pick at insecurities the way humans do. They joke about the little things with mischievous glances and laughs intertwined.

Techno stifles a snort into his arm as Tommy gets tackled by Floof, a muffled chirp escaping his lips. Floof is a very routine-oriented dog. He knows what time he should wake up at, be fed at, go outside at, and go to bed at. One part of his very important routine is to tackle Tommy right before bedtime. It’s tradition.

Tommy glares right back at him, feathers bristling. It would be more intimidating if Floof wasn’t trying to murder the boy in kisses.

After deciding that Tommy’s face has enough puppy drool on it, Floof bounds over to Techno, who has little time to prepare before he himself is subjected to Floof’s slobber. He fights back with a squeal and a laugh as Floof knocks him down, laying on top of his stomach to lick his chin.

He hears Phil sigh deeply before picking Floof up and off of him, finally allowing Techno to catch his breath.

Phil squints at the puppy, tapping his nose. “Behave.”

This time, when Floof is let down, he licks at Phil’s hand before going to curl up in his alleged spot. He knows when playtime is over and when it’s time to go to bed.

A very routine dog.

Tommy flops onto Techno, making all of his breath leave him in an instant. A strangled sound leaves him when Tommy rolls over, crushing Techno’s arm and cuddling up to his chest, head tucked underneath his chin. At least he can breathe again.

“Goodnight.” Tommy whispers against his skin, eyelashes brushing him as they close.

Phil curls up next to them, a fond sigh leaving him. “Night.”

“Night.” Techno whispers, something warm in his chest.

And as Phil and Tommy fall steadily asleep, Techno finds himself unable to, as always. By now, Phil and Tommy have accepted that Techno usually falls asleep after them, so they don’t give him too much grief about his sleep schedule.

It’s moments like these that make Techno’s heart tug painfully, conflicting feelings of happiness and confusion broiling near the surface.

He doesn’t want to be left alone. He wants hugs and reassurances, a shoulder to cry on and a body to cling to. He wants his colony.

Techno loves them, he realizes sullenly, the only company being the moonlight as it drifts over their forms. Tommy is tucked up to his neck, squished between Phil and Techno. He loves Tommy like a little brother. He loves Phil like— like a—

Techno swallows his words, staring up into the moon, eyes burning.

(colony-safe-protected)

It’s so wrong. He’s a bat, and they’re avians. His colony— his rightful colony— was all bats. He fit in with them. They don’t deserve to be replaced by anyone.

His mother isn’t replaceable, her red eyes and platinum blonde hair making her a one-of-a-kind gem. His father isn’t replaceable, his determination and competitiveness matched with bright pink hair making him the colony’s endeared treasure. His siblings aren’t replaceable either with their conflicting personalities, his shy brothers and loud sisters.

He shouldn’t be moving on from them. He doesn’t get another colony, that’s not how this works. He fucked up by losing his colony, he doesn’t deserve another one.

Phil’s wings rustle in his sleep, coming up to cradle Techno in darkness. A whine pitches tightly in his throat before he shoves it away.

The incident at the village had proven enough. It’s not safe here for him, or for them, and staying here selfishly just so that he can be happy will only put them in danger. That man— the man with the choppy beard, the only one to recognize Techno— will see them again. Will look for them again.

And all Techno is doing is putting Tommy and Phil in danger.

That night, the bat makes his final decision. Techno needs to leave. He needs to go, to get as far from the avian family as he can. For the good of everyone.

The next day, Techno wakes up to find that he’s the only one in the nest. Sunlight streams through the leaves making up the ceiling, dotting him in golden light. He’s alone.

A thump from the middle of the room makes him jump, head snapping to where he heard the noise come from. His ears prickle, a cheep coming from his vocal chords sharpening his vision enough to see a person bent over a bag, stuffing it with different items.

It’s Phil.

Phil hums lightly, folding one of Tommy’s shirts before putting it gently into one of many duffel bags. He moves onto a pair of pants, squinting at it for a moment, only to chuck it aside. There’s muffled excited yelling from outside— Tommy must be playing with Floof.

Normally, he’d invite Techno.

Techno frowns.

“What are you doing?” Techno asks, voice rough from a deep sleep. He cringes at the feeling of his dry mouth, biting his lip when Phil turns to him, startled from his packing.

“Good morning, Techno. I’m packing.” Phil chirps, stuffing another shirt into the traveling bag. “For Migration.”

Techno’s head tilts on its own accord. “Migration? What’s that?”

“Oh.” Phil blinks, as if he hadn’t even considered that Techno might not know what Migration is. “It’s..— Migration is an avian thing. Whenever the temperature gets too cold, like during the winter, us avians migrate south into warmer territory. Then, when winter passes, we migrate back. I’m trying to make sure we have enough clothes for the trip.”

“Oh. That… makes sense.” Techno breathes, trying to hide the way his hands shake. “Winter isn’t for another few weeks, though?”

“Yup.” Phil hums, squinting at an oddly colored shirt before chucking it over his shoulder. “With the incident recently, I think it’d be better for us to start migrating early.”

Oh. So they’re leaving the treehouse to go down South. They’re migrating together. But— but Techno doesn’t migrate. He’s not an avian. He’s a bat. He hibernates. How is he supposed to protect them if his body shuts down while they’re migrating? How is he supposed to hunker down and hibernate with them if they don’t hibernate themselves?

If Techno can’t come because he’s hibernating, and the avians can’t stay because they’re migrating, then that means they have to separate. Neither of their instincts will allow otherwise.

Which means—

Which means they’re leaving him behind.

…That’s fine.

He was planning to leave anyway, right? It— it doesn’t matter if it happens on its own accord or not. It doesn’t matter.

If Phil notices how Techno falls silent, he doesn’t say anything about it. He just continues packing all of Tommy’s clothes, humming lightly under his breath, oblivious to the inner turmoil and plans brewing in Techno’s mind.

Techno slides out of the nest, a pit growing in his stomach. He quickly walks down the stairs before Phil can see the tears springing into his eyes, a pressure building in his head that makes him want to sob and scream. He stayed too long— he knew this was going to happen eventually. And now he’s paying the price for his stupidity.

With a sniffle, Techno wipes his eyes and quells the shaky thing in his chest, beginning his own packing. The first and second floors are completely empty, so he gets to work quickly. He yoinks the clothes Phil bought him from the marketplace, along with some granola bars from the kitchen cabinet and a jug of water. He steals a Greek Mythology book from one of the shelves lining the treehouse, hoping that Phil won’t miss it too much.

His items are meager, but it’s more than he’s ever had before.

He’s a leech.

Technoblade steels his resolve, a muffled warble getting caught in his throat. He doesn’t dare hide his items in the nest upstairs— instead, he hides them outside, underneath a bush. That way he can retrieve it on his way out.

Floof yips, spotting him. Tommy gasps, a grin lighting up on his face. They race toward him, an excited question on the tip of Tommy’s tongue.

“Wanna play?”

Techno plays with them one final time, unable to conceal the bittersweet smile wracking his facial features.

He leaves tonight.

Techno stares up at the ceiling, eyes wide and ears prickling.

He lays in the nest just as he does every other night, head laid gently on Phil’s chest and Tommy clinging to him with his sharp little fingers. Floof snoozes at their feet, kicking in his sleep.

The moon glistens through the ceiling of leaves, leaving crystallized patterns dotted like stars across their faces.

Techno sighs, basking in the warmth for a moment longer.

(safe-safe-colony)

He has to leave now. There’s no other option.

Slowly, he lifts Phil’s wing up, exposing himself to danger. The limb twitches a bit, making Techno still, but when nothing else happens, Techno sets it aside. He then carefully— oh, so carefully— undos Tommy’s tight grip on his shirt, moving chubby fingers to clutch onto Phil instead.

Phil’s brow twitches as Tommy automatically latches onto him. Techno holds his breath, watching as Phil’s eyelids flicker, a frown pulling at his lips, before his face smoothens out. His arms come up to cradle Tommy close in his sleep, sticking his nose into the blonde curls.

The bat sighs in relief.

From there on is a matter of stepping out of the nest.

As soon as Techno shifts to climb out of the nest, a soft jingling makes him stiffen, heart stopping. Floof stares back at him, eyes big and wide, head tilted and tags jingling with every motion.

“Floof—” Techno whispers, trying to calm down his heartbeat. “Stay.”

Floof’s tail wags at the sound of his voice, whacking Phil’s leg. Techno stops breathing, watching as Phil shifts his leg—

And falls back asleep.

“Floof.” Techno whispers sternly, setting his jaw. “Stay.”

A low whine and sad puppy dog eyes. It’s almost as if Floof knew that Techno was planning, and was trying any way he could to stop him.

Slowly, the puppy sets his head on his paws, staring at Techno with unblinking brown eyes.

Techno sighs in relief.

His feet land on the floor with a silent thump. He releases his breath slowly, ears flicking atop his head, looking for movement. He relaxes when there is none.

Quietly shuffling over to the balcony in his fluffy socks, Techno prepares to leave. He can’t fully stop himself from taking one last look at the family, all cuddled and close together. Phil’s wing wraps just Tommy, only Tommy, safe underneath his wing, as it always should have been. There was never room for one more.

Floof’s tail wags once, ears perked high on his head as he stares at Techno. Thankfully, he’s very good dog, so he stays glued to the nest.

Techno stifles the urge to cry at their peaceful faces. Never again would he be treated so wonderfully. Never again would he ever be so loved.

The bat wants to stay. He wants to stay so badly that he wants to cry. He wants to bask in their love, let his instincts call out (colony-colony-colony) and pretend that it’s reciprocated. That it actually means something to them.

Techno’s resolve hardens.

If they’re leaving him behind to Migrate, then Techno will leave first. It’ll hurt less that way.

Just as he had so many weeks ago, Techno jumps.

His wings catch the wind as he choppily glides downwards, a gust of uncontrolled wind pushing him up over a crookedly standing tree. He angles his wings back down, nearly dropping himself the rest of the way down before quickly catching himself again.

A shock of pain reverberates up Techno’s ankles as he lands clumsily, tripping over his own feet and into the grass.

The fur on the back of his neck raises as the wind passes by him, gathering his hair and throwing it about. It’s unusually windy tonight, hence the trouble Techno ran into while trying to glide down from the treehouse. With a huff, Techno adjusts his loose pajamas over his torso, trying to cover more of himself.

It’s cold.

(colony-protect-where)

Grinding his teeth, Techno turns for one last look.

Techno looks back at that stupidly flammable treehouse, a salty tear releasing itself from his eye.

They’d wake up soon. Tommy had become accustomed to clinging to him in his sleep, and would soon rise when his body eventually grew cold without Techno’s warmth. Then they’d realize that he’d left, leaving all those nice things they bought him behind. And they’d be sad. Maybe. Probably.

Techno doesn’t allow himself to think about that possibility that they might be happy that he’s gone, that they’re finally rid of the parasite sucking up all their resources. He has his one bag of items he packed earlier, and that’s it.

Techno turns away and doesn’t look back.

He moves as fast as he dares, trying to make sure he covers his path as well as he can, just in case the others know how to track. He scampers into the forest, wings held close to his body to avoid the trees that reach out for him at every turn.

Then he sees a familiar place.

Nostalgia hits him hard when he walks past the entrance to his cave, knowing he cannot stop to say goodbye. If the avians decide to waste their time to search for him, they’ll definitely check the cave first. That where Phil found him every time he ran.

Techno walks past the cave and into unfamiliar territory, his heart pulling him in the opposite direction.

The forest thickens, growing colder and colder the farther Techno moves. A stray branch scrapes him across the arm, drawing a hiss from his gritted teeth. Yet Techno presses onwards, determined to make as much distance between him and the avians as possible.

Phil has wings, and even if Techno has never seen him fly with them before, he knows the man is an adult. His wings are fully developed, which means he must possess the ability to fly at least a little bit. He’ll have to go even further to make sure Phil doesn’t try to look for him by flying.

Techno huffs and continues on.

Colder and colder and colder and—

Techno’s stomach swoops as his feet are swept out from under him. A shriek bursts from his lips as he suddenly finds himself disoriented and airborne, hanging above the ground. A lined crisscross pattern encases him fully, leaving him to scramble against the awkward sides of the thing he’s suddenly stuck in.

Techno tries to wrestle his way out, his heart pitching in his throat, only for his knee to fall onto a sensitive wing, drawing a hiss from him. The pain grounds him for a moment, allowing him to still and truly take in the contraption that caught him.

He’s in a net. A net.

Oh, goddammit. No, no no—

“Gotcha.”

Techno screams as hands are suddenly forced underneath him, lifting both him and the net into someone’s arms. He scrambles claws, panic forcing hisses and whines out of his mouth before he can stop them.

Because he’s stuck. Someone caught him like he’s an animal—

Techno stifles another scream into his fist at the sight of gray eyes, haunting him wherever he goes. The man with the choppy beard grins widely, his smile splitting across his face.

“We meet again, bloodsucker.” The man with the choppy beard laughs— a chilling sound.

The man holds him up with one arm, shifting his grip so that the area Techno is stuck in gradually decreases in space. Techno shakes, borderline hyperventilating, fangs on prominent display.

“You’re a monster.” The gray-eyed man sneers, true disgust washing over his features. “Yer lucky that ‘family’ of yours came to your rescue back in the town. Where is that family of yours?” The man hisses out, shaking the net a bit. “Where are they now, huh?”

(colony-missing-colony)

“I don’t know.” Techno whimpers, claws digging into the net. “Lemme go.”

“You know I’m not gonna do that.”

Pinning his limbs to each other, the man with the choppy beard carries him somewhere, his grip tighter than it should’ve been. Techno can already feel the bruises around his arms and stomach, struggling against the man being useless.

The net is cut away, but the nails digging into his skin keep him still as the man hefts him over his shoulder. Techno desperately tries to keep track of his surroundings, but it becomes a blur of green and brown as his breaths come shorter and faster. His panic reaches its peak when he hears another voice, just as gruff as the man carrying him.

“Finally, you’re here. Is that it?”

Techno’s ears flick as he chirps. The sound of his echolocation bounces around him, giving him a full view of the new person’s face despite not being able to see him properly. He stifles a grunt when the bearded man lugs him over, all but throwing him onto the ground in front of the other person.

“..That’s it?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it?’ This thing is a menace to society. It’ll suit you guys well.” The bearded man snarls.

Techno shakes, trying to struggle out of his bonds. The ground is harsh against his bruises, and the bearded man pins him to the dirt with his boot on his back until all of Techno’s breath dissipates.

Now that the bat is pinned to the earth, he can see three people above him, all staring down at him with clinical eyes.

“It’s pretty young. It’ll be good to train, but not many people will wanna buy it with that human-ish face.”

“So are you thinking a farmhand or..—”

“It’s kinda skinny, it might not last long as a farmhand. Maybe a servant, then?”

“Servant is a generous term, but sure.”

“I doubt anyone’ll wanna buy it for display. People usually pick the prettier ones for that.”

The bearded man clears his throat, and the light conversation goes quiet.

“My money?” He asks with a drawl to his voice, pressing harder into Techno’s back. Techno stifles a whine from deep within his chest.

“Sure, we’ll sort that out in a second.” One of the hunters says flippantly. “Jen, can you get the hybrid?”

One of the female hunters grabs him by the bonds, forcing him to his unsteady feet. She kicks his heels to bring him forward, his head spinning all the way. There’s a wagon. A wagon with two horses and two more people— hunters— waiting for him.

Techno bites. He claws. He screams. And yet they still force him onto that wagon with the two horses, tying him up until the rope around his wrists begins to cut off blood circulation. They tie his ankles together when he kicks them, the sensitive skin there easily getting rope burn.

“Good riddance.” The man with the gray-eyes says, grinning around his choppy beard when he finally sees Techno tied down. “Vermin like you don’t need to be infectin’ my town. Taking up space..”

Techno hisses, spit flying between his fangs as he flails as best as he can. A growl bubbles out of his throat as he glares daggers at the man who startled all of this, his pupils slitting even further with ire.

“Have a good trip!” The man with the choppy beard says, grinning widely while counting his cash.

Techno’s chest collapses on itself, tears coming to his eyes as he stares at the man in disbelief, ignoring the hunters situating themselves next to him in the wagon.

CRACK.

Techno flinches at the sound of the whip, eyes squeezing shut and ears pressing against his head.

Then the wagon begins moving.

Horseshoes clip-clop against the ground as the horses pull the wagon further and further away. The gray-eyed man stares at him, slowly growing smaller the further they move away. The further they tow Techno away.

(colony-help-help-!) 

“Phil!” Techno screams as loud as his vocal chords will let him as the hunters load him into the wagon. “PHIL! Please!”

“Hey!” One of the hunters riding a horse sneers at him. They have a scar in the shape of claw marks on his cheek, all the way across to their other eye. “Quiet back there!”

“Tommy!!” Techno screams through a sob, scrambling in his binds. “ TOMMY!!”

“Shut up!” With a steel-toed boot, the hunter kicks him in the gut.

Techno cries out at the kick, tumbling into the barrier of the wagon at the force of the it. Pain blooms in his gut as his stomach lurches, a hiss ripping out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“Fuckin’ freak—”

The hand reaches out again—

The second the hand gets close enough, Techno lunges.

Iron fills his mouth as he hears the hunter scream, which only drives him to dig his fangs deeper. His fangs drag into the human’s skin as they jostle their hand, making more blood bubble out of the wound. Techno glares at the hunters, a hiss rattling his teeth.

The human’s hand raises, smacking him across the face. Techno refuses to let go.

He refuses to let go.

“A little fighter.” One specific hunter murmurs— the one with blue eyes and gray-tinged blonde hair. “Fangs, claws, and an affinity for blood.”

“Get it off of me, you idiot!” The hunter flails their hand, unable to unlatch it from Techno’s iron grip. “Ramble about the Pit later, nobody cares! Just help me!”

The blue eyed man rolls his eyes, making eye contact with the bat. Blue eyes meet stark red, making Techno growl through the hand in his mouth, hackles rising and pupils slitting into spikes. The hunter grins widely at this, and Techno notices that a few of his teeth are gone, likely having been knocked out at some point.

Both the silver-haired hunter and the foolish hunter manhandle his face, fingers digging painfully into his cheeks as they try to literally pry his mouth open. Stubbornly, Techno bites down harder, moving his head away from those hurtful fingers. He hears a hiss coming from gritted teeth, and the next thing he knows is his jaw being wrenched open, fangs slipping out of shredded flesh.

The foolish hunter slips his hand out of his mouth with a curse on the tip of his tongue, his hand shredded into oblivion.

Techno licks the blood off his fangs, growling low in his throat.

“Fuckin’ animal.” He snarls, cradling his bloodied hand close to his chest. “Yer gonna regret that.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will.” The silvery-blonde hunter smiles. “Regardless, it’s perfect for the pits. Look at that fighting spirit.”

Techno jumps when the man’s voice is too close for comfort, heart beating rapidly in his chest. The pounding of his chest matches the rhythm of every rock and crack the wagon crosses over.

“It’s ‘fightin’ spirit’ almost killed me!”

“No it did not, you moron.” The person steering the horses calls back, a roll to their eyes.

“Shut up, Kenny!”

The silvery-blonde haired man stares at the bat with a large smile, splitting across his face in a way that sends a shiver down Techno’s back. The bat resists crying again at that look, his cheeks already blotchy and tear-stained.

He doesn’t know what they’re going to do to him. That fact alone is enough to scare him into a mess of instincts bubbling under the surface.

(danger-danger-danger)

The silver-haired hunter reaches one hand out.

(run-run-run)

Slowly, his incoming hand closes around Techno’s jaw, moving his face to make eye contact with him. Blue eyes sparkle with something sickening, something that sends Techno’s gut flipping. The hunter grips his jaw hard enough to bruise.

“You’re perfect.” The hunter whispers.

Techno sobs.

Chapter Text

Tommy wakes up cold.

Immediately, something in his brain pings this as wrong. He isn’t supposed to ever be cold— ever. The baby bird side of his brain demands that it is a crime for him to be cold, and as much as Tommy hates the baby bird, he also hates being cold. The cold sucks.

Origins may be warmer, but it’s never been this cold in the treehouse. Dadza always made sure.

It’s not only the cold that’s bothering him, either. There’s a missing piece in his chest, a cavity of loneliness that forms whenever his flock is too far away from him. The baby bird rises to the surface, forcing him from his slumber to blearily sit up and take in his surroundings.

Something is wrong.

(flock-missing-where?)

The feathery plumage on Tommy’s back stiffens, suddenly on high alert. The darkness is blinding, so Tommy has to feel around with his hands for his flock’s forms, just to make sure that they’re still there. For a moment, he wishes he had Techno’s night vision. If he had Techno’s night vision, then maybe he’d be able to locate his flock a lot faster than he is currently.

His hand rustles around, feeling the softness of pillows and blankets, then large feathers, trailing up higher until he bumps his Dadza’s nose. Dadza shifts, stirring, but luckily not waking.

Tommy then pats his other side, looking for long hair or featherless wings. Instead of finding those things, he meets a wet nose and soft fur, awake and panting.

Tommy squints into the darkness, just able to make out Floof staring at him— completely awake. “Floof?” He asks through a whisper, trying not to wake Dadza up. “Where’s Techno?”

Floof whines quietly, panting anxiously. He stands up from his sitting position and prances over to where Techno would normally sleep— except, he’s not there.

Techno isn’t here.

Tommy gasps, suddenly realizing why the baby bird (and himself) are so freaked out.

Techno is gone.

Oh fuck, oh no— Did Techno say anything before he left? Did he wake up Tommy to tell him that he’s going to the cave before leaving, and Tommy just didn’t remember? Did he wake up Phil instead?

“Dad.” Tommy shakes his Dadza more forcefully, that shaky thing in his chest growing more. “Dad!”

Phil wakes up with a snort, one of his loud ass snores getting caught in his lungs. “Fucking— what, Tommy.” He coughs, still somewhere between dreamland and reality.

Usually, Tommy would be sorry about waking his dad, but this is an emergency!

“Techno’s gone.” He says, not bothering to muffle his volume. The flare of his instincts erases any and all sleepiness he had left in him.

Phil seems to wake up more at that, a hand coming up to blearily wipe at his eyes. “Did he tell you he was leaving?” He mumbles, sleep stuck in his voice.

Tommy shakes his eyes, eyes going wide.

Dadza frowns, finally sitting up, feathers ruffled. “Did he go to the cave?”

“I dunno.” Tommy answers, the feeling in his chest growing worse by the minute. “He usually tells us, first.”

Phil nods, a grimace coming over his face. “He might’ve been spooked by the incident a few days ago. Has he been acting off since then?”

“I dunno.” Tommy answers, shrugging. Techno has always been Techno to him, not matter when he’s withdrawn or outgoing. He’s flock.

(flock-brother-where)

“He might’ve gone to the cave.” Phil admonishes, a definite note in his tone.

Tommy frowns, feeling horribly empty without his flock to fill the space next to him. He doesn’t know what happened to Techno before Tommy found him, but Dadza says that he has ‘trah-ma’ or something from wherever he came from, and that it makes him skittish and flighty. Dadza says that he should be patient with Techno in order to allow the bat to express himself, and sometimes that means giving him space.

It also means that there’s moments where Techno will run, where Techno will flee to the cave Tommy found him in whenever he gets overwhelmed. Moments where Techno could potentially put himself in danger, too driven by his emotions to notice.

And while Tommy thinks Techno has to be the bravest man ever— he also thinks Techno doesn’t deserve to be alone when he’s scared. Which is why the bat goes to the cave— he’s scared, and he doesn’t want to go to Tommy or Phil for help.

“Bundle up.” Phil sighs, his brow furrowing. “We’re looking for him.”

They’re out of the house within minutes, Tommy wrapped in bundles of coats and Floof left safely behind. The first place they decide to check is the obvious one— the cave.

Tommy remembers how often he’d bring Techno little snacks and treats, back when the boy had first shown up in their territory. The older boy had been in horrible shape, his hair long and unruly, eyes sunken and dark. His shoulders were tense, eyes bright and wary of any threats around him. He had hidden in the shadows as if the darkness was truly apart of him, which was what led Tommy to originally believe that he was a vampire.

That, and all the vampire-esc features the older boy possessed.

Tommy remembers walking this exact path as he snuck away from Dadza during playtime, excited to see Techno’s reaction to the sweets he brought every day. That first day, when he shared his MnM’s, was the day Tommy found the secret to the older boy’s heart. Techno had a sweet tooth, and Tommy took full advantage of it to get closer to him.

Tommy’s feet find a familiar path as he sprints the rest of the way to the cave, ignoring Dadza’s yells to slow down. He doesn’t stop until the cave comes into view, his heart rapidly lifting, excited to see his brother again.

Tommy rounds the corner and peeks his head through the little crevice.

The cave is empty.

“Dad..” Tommy warns, eyes wide. “He’s not here.”

Dadza cocks his head. “He’s not?”

“He hasn’t even been here.” Tommy says in confusion, his voice echoing among the cave.

Just to be safe, he looks to the ceiling, searching for any lurking forms of darkness that would usually hint at Techno’s presence. There are none.

Phil comes up behind him, also searching through the darkness. Phil’s eyes are so much better than Tommy’s, so when Phil sucks a strained breath through his teeth, he knows he’s run out of luck.

“He hasn’t even been here.” Dadza confirms, looking more troubled than before.

“Did he run away?” Tommy asks, voice wavering.

(brother-where-lonely)

“I don’t see why he would.” Phil ponders, a troubled expression on his face. “I don’t think we’ve done or said anything to upset him— wait.”

Tommy watches as Phil’s eyes go wide, an abstract horror showing on his face.

“I never specified.” He whispers to himself, absolutely horrified. “I never specified that he could come with— I didn’t even tell him that he’s considered flock to us—”

“Dad?” Tommy warbles in confusion, the baby bird in his chest rising to the surface at his Dad’s distress. “What are you talking about?”

“He saw me packing for Migration, and I said that it was an avian thing— he must’ve assumed that we were leaving him behind because he’s not an avian.” Phil gritted out, hand over his face. “Gods, I fucked up.”

“Why would he think that?” Tommy asks, a chirp of distress getting caught in his throat. “We’d never leave him behind, he’s flock-!”

“He doesn’t know that he’s flock to us.” Dadza says harshly, although Tommy knows he doesn’t mean it. “Gods, he must’ve felt terrible about what happened at the village already, and now this—”

Phil spreads his wings, obsidian feathers raising majestically above his head.

“We need to find him and explain.”

Tommy nods frantically, allowing Dadza to scoop him up and bundle him close to his chest, adjusting the fabrics around him to cover his feathered ears and downy wings.

(flock-brother-flock)

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

Tommy loves flying with Dadza. Back at Origins, where the air is warmer and tropical, his Dadza will let him fly with his wings out, holding him just below himself as Tommy’s wings go through the motions. Here up North, however, is a lot colder. So cold that the wind bites through the swaddle of blankets Phil wrapped him up in to protect him from the temperature.

Phil is flying fast, faster than he ever dared to go when Tommy was younger. His grip on Tommy is super tight, so Tommy knows that Dadza will never drop him.

“Do you see him?!” Tommy shouts over the roaring wind, peering over Phil’s arm to squint at the passing blur of trees. “I don’t see anything!!”

“He went this way!” Phil yells back, his wings catching the wind. His eyes scan the earth, easily seeing through the tracks in the ground, locating places where bushes had been sorted through and where the environment has been disturbed.

Tommy wishes his eyesight were as good as Phil’s. Phil says that he’ll get better eyesight once he’s fully fledged, but for now, he has to make due with these dull human eyes that can’t even see in the dark. It sucks.

Suddenly, Phil swoops into a dive, wings folding behind him. Tommy’s used to the motion enough by now that his stomach doesn’t drop like it used to. So when Phil’s wings snap outward to let them glide down, Tommy is prepared for it.

Dadza lands smoothly in a dark clearing, the wind blowing dirt away from their landing. After a moment to steady himself, he looks down to Tommy.

“This looks like the last place he went to.” Phil says, helping Tommy stand on his own two legs. “Something’s off.”

Off is definitely the word to use about the clearing.

For one, it’s strangely empty, the air filled with stagnant and brittle emotion, like the feeling an empty battlefield gives off a few hours after a war. Tommy turns in a circle, feathers raised and nerves spiking.

Tracks in the dirt, multiple pairs of footsteps. Tracks left from a wagon or some mode of transportation, trailing off into the denser part of the woods. The remnants of cut rope and a switchblade.

And the most damning of all— a ripped net.

“Hunters.” Phil whispers, a shaky hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Oh, gods. Oh gods.”

Tommy shakes, tears burning his eyes. That shaky piece of his heart has been ripped away, leaving nothing but broken remnants behind.

Techno is gone.

“Techno, wake up. Techno, wake up please.”

Someone shakes him roughly, yanking him from his deep sleep. Techno groans, batting away the hand and curling into his wings once again. He’s way too tired to deal with his siblings’ antics right now. Maybe later.

The hands keep shaking, though. Techno swipes an arm out, hitting the person back sluggishly.

Then the hand shakes his knees, wobbling his only support, and Techno finally relents to the will of this person. When he opens his eyes, he sees the upside down face of his mother, panic in her blood red eyes. She’s strikingly pale in the darkness, her face cloudy and soot-dusted.

“Mom?” Techno rubs the sleepy dust away from his eyes, his jaw creaking from a yawn. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“You need to leave.” His mother says urgently, her voice strangely… rough. “Get out of the mineshaft and run as far as you can. You need to survive—” She breaks off with a cough, her lungs rattling through her chest. “Please, Techno.”

Techno wakes up a bit more at that, eyes blinking in alarm. There’s a crackling in the air, echoing in his ears. “Wh— Mom?? What’s happenin’?”

His mom doesn’t seem to hear him during her next move, reaching beside her to grab a cup of water. In all of his sleepy delirium, he belatedly thinks that she’s trying to hand him the cup of water, only for her to rip her hand away from him and splash him with it.

Techno gasps, waking up with a startling clarity. Water drips down his nose, the wet patch of his shirt sticking to his skin. Suddenly, he can see and smell much clearer.

Why does he smell smoke?

“Mom?” He quickly flips over, landing onto the floor of his room with his vision righted. Heat drifts in the air, accompanying a smoke that stings his eyes painfully. His body is hit with a chill from the water soaking into his shirt, dripping through his hair and down his back. The two conflicting temperatures makes his hackles rise.

(danger-where-colony)

“Fire. Hunters.” His mom says for clarification, hands quickly directing him to put the collar of his wet shirt over his mouth and nose. “You need to get out of here, honey.”

Techno’s heart stutters in panic, suddenly feeling the heat seeping through the cavern floors. Their mineshaft— the one his father had found abandoned and rebuilt well enough for his colony to live in— was on fire? By hunters?

The mineshaft was made of wood.

(danger-colony-danger)

“What about you?!” Techno cries, doubling back for her even as she pushes him to leave. “Where do I go?!”

“Go outside, I have to get your siblings! Wait outside for your father!” His mother hisses, red eyes wide in panic. “Hurry!”

She shoves him out of the room, and then he can do nothing but follow her directions. When he looks up, all he can see is smoke.

Smoke. Smoke everywhere. Gathering near the tops of the tunnels and filling the cave system in, having nowhere else to go. His colony is being smoked out.

Behind him, stalactites start to crumble and fall. Techno cries out, heart pulling him towards the opposite direction, knowing that his colony could be in eminent danger. When breathing in causes his mouth to fill with smoke, he heeds his mother’s warning and runs, ignoring the sound of more stalactites falling behind him.

Techno runs through the smoke, gasping through the wetness on his shirt. The tunnels thin out until his bare feet meet wood instead of stone— part of the mineshaft. Fire crawls up the wooden support beams, eating everything in its path. The platform behind him bursts into flames and crumbles, wooden support beams failing with a low screech.

A scream falls out of his mouth as the platform pitches forward, only the iron chains from above saving him from falling to his death. He can hear the shuck-shuck-shuck of the chains above him shift, sending a fearful warble up to his throat.

(help-colony-scared)

Techno gasps through his wet shirt, feeling the way the broken platform wobbles underneath his weight. The growing heat behind him pushes him forward, stumbling away from the growing fire licking at his heels.

Another chirp lets him see past the flickering lifts, recognizing exactly what part of the mineshaft he’s in. Moss crawls up the walls, vines dotted with pink flowers accenting the green. He’s on the bridge above the Lush Cave, a place he’d gone to many times to escape the chaos of his siblings.

The iron chains holding up the burning bridge creaks, sending the entire bridge dropping down a few inches. Techno muffles a scream into his damp shirt, his eyes stinging from the smoke surrounding him.

The thing that truly breaks him is seeing the Lush Cave in flames. What once used to be his sanctuary, now charred and destroyed. Everything was on fire— this must’ve been where the fire started.

Which means—

There’s people down there, armored people with shiny weapons. Not a single trace of any bat features on them, only round human ears and small eyes. They’re laughing, pouring liters of flammable alcohol along the sanctuary, waving flaming torches around and turning the Lush Cave into ashes.

Hunters. These have to be hunters— the people responsible for tearing apart his home.

One of them spots him on the perilous platform and shouts, making all their hunter friends look up at him.

“There’s one!!”

“Get it!”

And then suddenly, their weapons are being pointed at him. With the threat of the fire looming closer and the hunters targeting him, Techno takes his only option. He runs.

Waiting for his family isn’t possible anymore. Techno can only hope that they can get out.

An arrow flies past his head. Techno runs faster, nearly tripping over his feet in order to get past the bridge.

With the shouts of the hunters left behind, the bat dives through the threshold separating the Lush Cave from the rest of the mineshaft, hearing the bridge give one final groan before the fire consumes it. Techno gasps, falling to his knees as he watches the bridge lose its support, fire melting the iron chains and snapping in half.

Techno coughs, deciding to leave before he suffocates. He stumbles away, trying his hardest to find the stairs through all the smoke, avoiding flickering flames.

(He hears the bridge collapse from a mile away, along with the hunters’ screams. He hopes they were crushed in the process.)

After what feels like hours of smoke inhalation, Techno finally sees the exit.  He sprints for it, letting go of his now dry shirt, tears springing in his eyes. The darkness is so close, he just needs to—

A burning support beam suddenly cracks in front of him, catching him in the shoulder. The bat hisses, pulling away and ducking underneath the beam, ignoring the flames licking at his hair and the sudden white hot pain in his shoulder.

Techno flies out of the cave, finally tasting fresh air.

Oxygen. Pure H2O, running through his veins. He wants to dunk his head in cold water.

He isn’t safe yet, however— a chirp shows him two more people with horses stationed near the cave, likely waiting for the other hunters to join them. One of them startles at Techno’s sudden appearance, but the ten-year-old scampers into the woods before they can chase him, running on pure adrenaline.

It’s only when the cave is out of his range of echolocation that he finally collapses to the ground, passing out.

A few hours later, he wakes to the sunrise.

The morning birds sing above him, allowing Techno to sluggishly get to his feet, his shoulder smarting at the motion. He finds an ugly burn there, stinging and pulsing with the beat of his heart. He hopes that it won’t get infected before he can reunite with his colony.

When he makes it back to the cave, he finds the hunters and their horses gone. There’s nothing left of them, and if it wasn’t for the slight trail of smoke drifting from the cave entrance, Techno would think that nothing had happened at all.

Where’s his colony? His dad, his mom, his little sisters and brothers— did they make it out?

Techno takes a tentative step forward, preparing to go back down into the mineshaft, before he remembers that going back down there after the fire would definitely be a death sentence. Who knows how much unstable ground is in there?

His mom told him to wait, so he’ll wait.

Techno sits, wincing as his shoulder stings at the motion, and waits. And waits. And waits.

They don’t come out of the cave.

.

…

.

Techno wakes up to a splash of wetness on his face, a gasp ripping from his throat. He sputters as water gets caught in his mouth, shooting upright to choke it out.

The first thing he notices is that he’s cold— uncomfortably so. The second thing he notices is that he doesn’t recognize this place.

Someone is laughing at him, watching as he struggles. Techno’s ears perk, drinking in the sound to observe his surroundings while he blinks water out of his eyes.

“Did you really have to wake up it with it’s only glass of water? The ringmaster said we need to keep it hydrated.” Someone else says, silencing the bout of laughter.

“Ringmaster, shmingmaster. He can stick anything he says up his ass.” The first voice snarks back, that mean laughter in his voice.

Techno wipes the water out of his face, dread coiling tightly in his stomach.

He remembers running away. He remembers— because Phil and Tommy were going to leave him behind, so he left first.

Look where that got him. Stuck in a net, cornered by hunters. The man from the village had sold him out.

Techno takes a gasping breath, ears flicking around his surroundings. The hunters’ voices fade into the background as he focuses on the present. There’s a draft somewhere, and various noises coming from above. A casual dripping from the ceiling, collecting into a puddle that echoes with every drip. Something— a rat?— scuttles in the cell across from his.

He must be underground then.

A gentle clacking of metal on metal as he moves his arms. Techno looks down and swallows a scream of horror.

There are chains on his wrists. Chains. On his wrists.

“Hey, vampy.” The loud hunter crows, knocking on the iron bars separating them. “If we find ya tamperin’ with those at all, its instant punishment.”

A spike of fear shoots down Techno’s spine, his pupils splitting into sharp edges.

“Where am I?” Techno glares, fear covered by bared fangs. Water drips from his nose, to which he steadfastly ignores.

Suddenly, a fist launches through the bars and grips tightly onto his shirt, thrusting him forward. Techno’s head hits the bars directly, a loud crack ringing through the corridor. His vision blacks out for a moment as his head explodes with pain.

“No talking!” The loud one barks, spittle flying at Techno’s face. He drops the bat without a care, and Techno falls to his knees, head spinning.

(hurt-scared-hurt)

Techno blinks stars out of his eyes, his forehead burning with pain. An earthquake splits down the middle of his head, making him bite down a whine. His ears ring as the world spins in circles around him.

One of the humans speaks in a startling loud voice, not helping Techno’s sudden headache at all. “Ben, if you gave it a concussion before it has the chance to go in the ring—”

“It’ll be fine, get off my fuckin’ back—”

“It won’t be fine when it collapses during its first fight.” The other one argues, way too loud for Techno’s taste. “The boss invested big bucks on it— he’d kill you if you ruined its first battle.”

“Whatever.” The loud one grumbles. Techno hears the human’s boots echo in his shelled ears, growing farther and farther away. “It’s fuckin’ creepy, anyway.”

The other hunter laughs, following the first hunter as they leave. “That, I can agree with you on.”

Ten raspy breaths later, the men are gone. Techno is alone, his heartbeat a bit too fast to be comfortable. His instincts screams out, his chest ripping in half from the fear.

(run-danger-run)

His breaths are too fast and shaky to regulate, and his heartbeat only helps to further his blind panic. Techno’s ears twitch, a whine peeling out of his throat when he realizes that he can’t hear anything besides his own heartbeat, warping his vision dizzily. At first he thinks it’s because of the growing bump on his forehead, but then he realizes that it’s because he isn’t breathing properly.

It’s a breathing attack. Fuck.

Fuck, what does he do?? He hasn’t had a single breathing attack since meeting Phil and Tommy all those weeks ago, and now he’s out of practice. He tries his best to remember how to ground himself like Mom taught him, but her words float away like embers. All he can remember is all the times he failed, passing out from the lack of oxygen.

The world stretches farther away from him. Techno does his best to force himself to— to—

Breathe.

Breathe in.

Techno takes a stuttery breath in, his wrist flicking to hit his thighs when his lungs spasm and fail him. The sound of the chains around his wrists makes him lose his breath again.

Breathe out.

His breath shutters as he does his best to breathe out, losing air halfway through. He sucks in another weak breath, holding it, and then letting it out.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for his breathing to finally even out, but after repeating the process enough times, his heartbeat slows. He slumps against the wall, another tear slipping out of the corner of his eye, thoroughly exhausted.

Techno scales the wall of his cell, finding a nice place to roost on in the far left corner of his cell. The cuffs around his wrist bite into his skin at the motion, and the chain holding them together droops slightly at the change of elevation. It’s awkward, and Techno almost loses his balance several times.

After a few moments of struggling, Techno lets himself drop, his talons digging into the grooves of the damp ceiling. His long hair, dirtied and tangled from the journey, brush against the ground, dipped within a puddle of dirty water.

Techno can’t find it in himself to care.

He wants Phil, his protector. He wants Tommy, his pup. He wants Floof. He wants his colony.

He shouldn’t have even thought of running away. He hadn’t protected them at all, only endangering himself in the process.

Techno’s chest shakes, a warble being muffled by his fist as his hides within his wings. He wants Phil’s wings around him, not his own. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

The bat cries, screaming out (colony-help-colony).

Nobody answers.

He’s alone. For good this time. He doesn’t see a future where he can leave these iron bars behind and run to them. It’s hopeless.

A bat stuck in a bird cage.

.

.

It’s dark.

Just how Techno likes it.