Chapter Text
Wemmbu is twelve when he meets the Technoblade for the first time.
He’s barely made it out of the END, his purple wings are adjusting to the cold, and growing used to the pleasures and pains of the Overworld already. His hair is short, purple looking like the purple particles of the Endermen plaguing the END and present in the Overworld. They are a comfort in a new world, a forced home from when he fell through the portal. He’s tall for a demon his age, but would later realize he didn’t grow that much taller, especially for an END demon. Much to his frustration, Nether Demons grew taller than END demons, but more on that later. He appeared in some random tundra, wearing a rag that barely covered his body, and seeing how he naturally ran cold— this was bad. His dark golden eyes— the blacked out sclera adding a dramatic effect to the darkness of his eyes— were scanning anywhere for a place to hide when—
“Um, what the hell are ya?”
Wemmbu didn’t know who Technoblade was, considering he could barely speak the common language, and mostly spoke Ender. That was his native tongue after all, and therefore would give him a sort of accent as they got older. But for now, his shoulders raised like a cat, and backed up before realising they were not getting out of here alive when there was a— a piglin in the fucking overworld. He was tall, probably at least seven feet tall, maybe eight, and his eyes were a deep, devastatingly terrifying red. He wore this regal cloak, red was the main color, but the white fur around the neck, which contrasted the pink of his skin, and it sent a thread of jealousy down his spine from the fact he was wearing barely a cloth.
“Yer just a kid… ugh, Dream would kill me if I left them here…” the piglin trailed off, his eyes wandering over his frame, as if catching something particularly interesting, red eyes trained on his horns, “‘specially considerin’ he’s from the END—”
Wemmbu’s eyes snapped up at the mention of the END, this piglin knew someone from the END? Here in the Overworld? Excitement blazed under his skin in an unfamiliar warmth at the idea of seeing something familiar, someone familiar, and they couldn’t help but whisper, a little timidly, and voice a little glitchy from the endermen, “⊬⍜⎍ ☍⋏⍜⍙ ⌇⍜⋔⟒⍜⋏⟒ ⎎⍀⍜⋔ ⏁⊑⟒ ⟒⋏⎅?”
The Piglin’s lips were twisted down in what could only be described as discomfort, and chopped, poorly spoken words came from his mouth, tusks apparent as he spoke, and their red eyes were trained on the smaller and in a sort of netherian accent grumbled, “⊬⟒⌇. ⍜⋏⟒ ⌿⟒⍀⌇⍜⋏. ☊⍜⋔⟒ ⍙⟟⏁⊑ ⋔⟒.”
Wemmbu’s body was still rigid with fear, but… but this piglin promised someone of END descendence in this scary, new place. Maybe even food? Maybe even somewhere safe? So they approached the piglin with hesitation, eyes looking the piglin up and down and trying to understand if he could trust the piglin. Why would he help? The piglin moved slowly, as if not to startle them— and it made something warm light up in their chest. They blinked their eyes slowly at them, as if noticing for the first time the black sclera— just like his own. They blinked at the piglin, who just raised an eyebrow at the smaller, wondering what he could be thinking. It sent a thread of familiarity into their chest, and made them want to trust the other.
“⟒⊬⟒⌇,” as if that explained everything, at least they hoped it did. The piglin nodded, looking closer. He hummed, and waved him to follow like they hadn’t just met. Relief overcame him when the piglin picked up on it.
He didn’t even know the piglin’s name.
-
The two approached a group of four or five cabins, and the one they were heading to clearly was meant to hold more than one person. It was beautiful, there was nothing like this within the END. There were the END cities, of course, and the ships— but this was made from some kind of plant-esk material (dark, like the overgrowth around them, but Wemmbu didn’t know the type of overgrowth it was yet. Wemmbu had overheard players talk about the overgrowth here— about trees and flowers and grass. Wemmbu, now that he was here, wanted to know it all. He didn’t even know what the specific overgrowth was, not really). There was love put into this building— unlike the End cities, which had been there for a long time, untouched until the first of them had appeared— and time, and effort. It made Wemmbu’s lips part with awe, eyes wide with excitement— sparkling which made them look like liquid gold— at the idea of seeing what was in here. To see the Overworld. To be somewhere new, even if it was scary.
“☌⌰⏃⎅ ⊬⏃ ⌰⟟☍⟒ ⟟⏁ ☍⟟⎅,” the piglin nodded towards the door, and without the change in face, another man exited the house.
This one, however, was much more comforting to look at. There was a familiarity to the dark, expansive wings coming out of his back, and the black horns that reminded Wemmbu of the dangerous mother of the END. An Enderdragon-hybrid? Absolute Cinema. But the coolest part is the other’s eyes. A mix of green and gold, and— ah. They look like the coveted Eyes of Ender that allow the players to enter the END dimension and attempt to defeat the mother. Fascinating.
“Gods, you really are turning into Philza!” the other man’s laugh is warm and feels like warmth over his cold body— so different that the way warmth typically made him feel— and without further preamble turns to Wemmbu with all the kindness that wasn’t permitted within the depths of the END, “⊑⟟! ⋔⊬ ⋏⏃⋔⟒ ⟟⌇ ⎅⍀⟒⏃⋔, ⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⟟⌇ ⏁⟒☊⊑⋏⍜⏚⌰⏃⎅⟒. ⎅⍜ ⊬⍜⎍ ⍙⏃⋏⏁ ⏁⍜ ☊⍜⋔⟒ ⟟⋏?”
That’s where it all began really.
-
“Ugh, Techno you are way too good at fighting, bro,” Wemmbu groaned as he flopped down on the couch, causing Dream to hiss something about body awareness. Techno, the bastard, didn’t even look winded, from where he sat on one of the loveseats. Red eyes sparkling in amusement as he put the Orphan Obliterator back in his inventory with little fanfare. Dream, after hissing about getting mud everywhere (Techno snapped up and grabbed Wemmbu’s cuff and brought them over to the entry way to take their shoes off. Thankfully, they did so to make sure to check the floor for any residue mud. Wemmbu was greatly amused by the whole interaction, served with a glare from the blood god), brought the blood god some herbal tea and handed Wemmbu a cup of hot cocoa, making something warm appear in his chest, “Thanks, Dream,” his voice changing into something lighter for a moment, and then almost pleading, asked as nonchalantly as possible, “When do I get to see you two spar again? I swear it’s like watching gods clash.”
Wemmbu was now fourteen and was both living with two living legends, and training under one of them (Dream taught him a few tricks, but they quickly learned that Techno was better suited for him surprisingly. Dream still taught him Ender culture, which meant more than Wemmbu was willing to admit). He had been living with the couple for about two years now, and had begun to truly understand who they were— both inside their legends and outside them too .
Technoblade. The Blood God. The Strongest to ever fucking live, bro. Wemmbu was in awe of him every time he laid eyes on him. But watching him with a sword? Invigorating. It was like watching Dream with an axe, both they moved like they were extensions of themselves. He also used a trident like it was a scepter to destroy his enemies. He carried himself with the confidence of the strongest.
But, Techno was loyal. He carried himself like his heart was cold and he cared for no one. He carried himself like he was above everyone else— but…
( “Techno!” Dream’s voice sang walking inside the living room. Wemmbu looked up from his book, gold eyes trained on Dream’s newest jewelry— was that fucking Netherstar studs?! How fucking rich are these guys!? He turns his head over to where Techno is bent over the fire, adding wood easily and effectively, before snapping his head up, as if he were set on fire, “There you are, and Wemmbu! Aw, my two favorite boys.”
Techno scowled, but didn’t disagree, glancing over at Wemmbu and raised an eyebrow in hopes he would say something. Wemmbu hummed, “Hi Dream.”
”Hi Wemm,” Dream comes up to Wemmbu, squeezing his cheeks affectionately, making a purple blush blossom over his cheeks, and his gold eyes snap away in annoyance, “my sweet winter child. Now! Techno, dear.”
Techno groaned, as if he knew where it was going, “What do you want now Dream? More money? My soul?”
Dream’s eyes twinkled, the gold a little more evident than usual, as he reached down, holding the god’s face in his hand, and Wemmbu saw the shift in the other’s eyes immediately as his red eyes trained onto the white length of Dream’s hair, and leaned into the cold hands that were Dream’s. “Now, now, Tech, you can’t do something for me?”
Techno hummed, suddenly much more in tune to the other, red eyes trained on the curve of Dream’s face.
”And I’m done!” Wemmbu stood, trying to keep the dopey grin off his face as he turned in false annoyance, turning towards his room Techno built for him two days after he moved in. Sure, they were disgusting, but there was something special about being raised somewhere where there was love— true and real, and shared.
As obsessed with Dream Techno was, he didn’t hoard all his love. Neither did Dream. They were hesitant with it, but they were also so giving once the person earned their trust, their love.
And how lucky Wemmbu was to be loved. )
( “Yooo, kid c’mere,” Techno’s voice is monotone, but there’s an air of excitement in his voice.
Wemmbu looked up from the journal they were writing in (a gift from Dream, who told him that they should write down what they remembered, telling him there was something beautiful about knowing how to write in both Ender as well as the common language. So Wemmbu practiced, and made sure to treasure everything Dream taught him), and kept it under his arm as he followed Techno down the hall.
They stepped into a room they hadn’t seen before. There were limited decorations, but a few things that reminded Wemmbu of the END. There were shulker boxes (rare items that acted like chests and could be carried around easily, allowing for easier travel), chorus fruits, item frames allowing for anything whoever was going to stay here wanted, and a bookshelf filled to the brim with books— books on enchanting, END history and lore, and— and fighting techniques.
Wemmbu snapped his head up to look at Techno, golden eyes wide and gleaming with excitement, “Techno—“
”It’s fer ya,” Techno’s wild grin grew wider, “There are places for ya to decorate it yerself, but we figured ya missed home. We know ya don’t wanna go back, but we wanted to add a little home fer ya. We want ya here, and can’t imagine it without ya now.”
Wemmbu didn’t cry— he swore up and down that there weren’t purple globs falling down his face as he turned to look at Techno, relief and gratitude falling from every pore. Techno’s eyes softened, before pulling out a pair of golden earrings. He handed them to Wemmbu, whose eyes snapped up to the other’s eyes again.
“Piglins aren’t the best at… showin’ emotion, as I’m sure ya know, but… we give gold to those we… are fond of, t’s why Dream’s covered in it. His hair used to be gold too, before it all happened. He’ll tell ya someday, with time. This is my first gift to ya, a room and these earrings—“
Wemmbu snapped, and rushed forward, wrapping the piglin in a hug. He’d seen them do it before, and tried to mimic the hold, wrapping both his arms around the piglin’s middle, shoving his face into his chest, trying to hide his tears. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Technoblade.”
The piglin froze for a second, before wrapping his arms around his shoulders, squeezing him once before stepping back with fond eyes, and ruffled his purple hair like he hadn’t spent thirty minutes brushing and styling it this morning. “Yer a good kid. Even if Dream weren’t so fond of ya, I woulda wanna keep ya around, now c’mon, Dream’s done with dinner.”
”Okay,” his voice hoarse from an unfamiliar feeling, placing his journal down— in his room.)
So, Wemmbu became decent with a sword, became decent with a trident, but he doesn’t think he’d ever get that good, that level of skill that took years of dedication— and when Dream would tell him stories in Ender, mostly so Wemmbu wouldn’t forget it, he’d tell him of how old Technoblade was. Hundreds of years old, hundreds of thousands had died under his judgement, under his hand— and Dream was his first equal, ever. Dream just shrugged, a tiny grin on his face when Wemmbu asked curiously.
Sometimes, Dream spoke of the server where they met the first time. He thought it a little narcissistic that it was called the “Dream SMP”, but when Dream explained that he had created it, that he had forged it out of his own soul— that the mobs were from his soul (his deepest, darkest thoughts and fears), the lakes were reminiscent of his freckles, that the weather was based on his mood. He spoke of his parent, a God named XD. How XD preferred to stay on the outside of conflicts, of the world, of life— but would interfere if necessary. How he had a fondness for a man named George, someone who used to be a friend of Dream’s. When talking about George and some blaze-hybrid named Sapnap, he’d get this far away look that made Wemmbu think they were dead
(Techno just said they weren’t around much anymore, and that they didn’t want to be. That made Wemmbu ache even more).
Dream talked about his lust for power, how he lost himself to the struggle of greed when it came to control, how he needed it like the air he breathed. How it eventually became his destruction— and how Technoblade dragged him out of both that prison, and his despair. He put Dream back together like a puzzle, methodically and perfectly, until Dream was unperfectly perfect. Techno would hum, before pressing a kiss to the side of his head, muttering something about loyalty.
(When Dream shared what happened in the prison for the first time, Techno was visiting Phil, and Dream was a little wine drunk. Wemmbu was sitting next to Dream, leaning against the arm of the couch, eyes wide with interest as Dream got a faraway look in his eyes.
”You really want to know?” His voice is soft with something dangerous. Eyes are glazed over before taking a deep breath, “I’ve told you about how I wasn’t… the best person in the previous SMP we were on?”
Wemmbu hummed in agreement.
”After I lost it, I was put into a prison I made with a… friend— er, we’re not friends anymore, of course— but… we were friends at the beginning. George, Sapnap, BadBoyHalo, Sam, and Ant were my friends. George and Sapnap— we weren’t friends again for a long time. I lost… I wasn’t... who I am for a long time. I was a shell of who I truly was. Because of what I did, I was sentenced to prison time. I was there for nearly a year. Nine months later, Technoblade came and visited me and was stuck with me for three months. I was being tortured— I will not describe what happened— but it did lessen after Techno’s presence, because Q-Quackity was scared of Techno, everyone was. But, he, of course, had a plan where he teleported out. He left, and— it was bad. I think if how I feel about Quackity… is people feel that way about me, then I understand. I’ve done a lot of work on myself, had difficult conversations that sucked, but I’ve gained so many relationships back. Except with Sam— I don’t think I can ever be emotionally… I can never see— anyways, my dear, don’t lose yourself, okay? Keep who you are in your soul, and remember that.”
Wemmbu’s eyes were teary as he looked at someone he began to see as a parental figure. Purple tears began to bubble up at the corner of his eyes. Dream’s eyes softened at them, and scooted forward, grabbing his face softly, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs.
"Hun, I’ve long healed from this, there are things that will haunt me till my dying breath, but— but… Techno has healed something in me that, well, I will be okay,” and scooted back, but Wemmbu reached out to hold the other’s pinky, and his face continued to soften, “it made me stronger. Just as hard things will make you stronger.”
Wemmbu grabbed the other's hands, “I’ll get strong, and then I’ll kill him. Quackity or whatever the fuck his name is.”
Dream snorted, eyes glinting, “Bold of you to assume he isn’t already.”
Wemmbu’s eyes sparkled, “Good.”)
That was another thing Wemmbu learned from Technoblade— loyalty was to be returned tenfold. Betrayal meant death. Dream hummed during those rants, mending some shirt of Techno’s, so painfully domestic sometimes Wemmbu didn’t believe his stories of madness. But then he’d watch a spar between the two gods, and would see it. The glimpse of madness that had once driven him to the brink at one point. And Wemmbu? He was fascinated.
“Not my fault ya suck, kid,” Techno’s voice was filled with mirth and fondness, so deep that Wemmbu just rolled his eyes, false annoyance adding to his teenage angst. Dream was snuggled up next to Technoblade, eyes heavy with delight, and seemed to enjoy every moment of this conversation, amusement flowing out of every pore as his partner hummed, “Yer definitely getting better though, the sword doesn’t seem to be yer speciality. I’ve heard of this recent findin’, these trial chambers with interestin’ weapons. We could go check it out fer yer birthday, see if it works better.”
Wemmbu doesn’t actually remember his real birthday, which apparently was some big celebration in the Overworld, and while he didn’t really care for it, it made the two people who have become… like parents to him happy, so he was happy to oblige. Wemmbu straightened up, but this sounded like it would be cool as fuck, “Sure! Are you coming, Dream?” His head snapping to Dream so quickly his ponytail smacked him in the face, “Ugh!”
Dream hummed, tracing a scar on Techno’s arm as if reminiscing, and Wemmbu would bet that was from Dream himself; and after snorting at what Wemmbu assumed was from him hitting himself in the face, grinned in that challenging way he liked to when he wanted to rile up Techno, “Oh so now I get to tag along on your little adventures?”
“Bruhhhh,” Technoblade draws out the “h” longer than he probably needs to, giving Dream a sideways look, false annoyance in his voice as his eyes filled to the brim with devotion stayed true on his face, and once again Wemmbu fake gags, “you know damn well you’re always invited. You’ve just been domesticated. Also you,” pointing at Wemmbu with a what should have been a terrifying clawed finger, “shut yer trap should I remind you how many spars I won out of 30 today?”
Wemmbu grumbled under his breath, but didn’t argue further as Techno grinned in false pride.
Dream’s eyes sharpen as he levels Techno with a glare that makes Wemmbu snort. They’ll always say they’re rivals, but Techno is wrapped around Dream’s tiny pinky. Who would have thought? An Enderling and a creature of the Nether? How fun. Techno’s smile drops suddenly, and throws his hands up in surrender, causing Wemmbu’s grin to widen, “I mean, what? My big bad, scary partner is always a threat, how do I sleep at night?”
“Better,” Dream hums, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before getting up, black wings spreading as he stands, shaking a little with the space given, and Wemmbu watches in awe; thankful his wings were finally growing with him, “By the way, I invited the commune over for dinner.”
Wemmbu straightens up excitedly.
There were four other people in the commune.
Ranboo. An Enderman-hybrid, who was lanky and tall, with mitch-matched eyes, one green and the other red. His face was a mixture of the familiar black of an enderman, with patches of white, reminding Wemmbu he was a hybrid. He had another home with his husband, platonic, and their child, a zombie piglin named Michael. Ranboo was kinda forgetful, but was genuinely sweet. Philza would whisper to Wemmbu theories about how he was Techno and Dream’s love child, sending him into a cackling fit.
Philza Minecraft. Apparently as old as Technoblade himself, had wide black wings, much more feathery than Dream’s. He was an Avian hybrid, and married to the Goddess of Death. It was the coolest thing ever. Well, and the fact Dream was the son of the God of Creation— Wemmbu isn’t exactly sure how he got here, in this weird group of people who were connected to the Gods themselves. Phil had two sons— a man named Wilbur Soot (married a fish and had a fox-hybrid son named Fundy, Wemmbu doesn’t even wanna know how that shit happened) and Tommy (Techno called him “Thesus” with a bitter tone). Dream’s eyes always softened when it happened, grabbing his clawed hand and rubbing comforting circles over his palm.
(Wemmbu would later get the story of Tommy Minecraft— how he was toyed with by Dream, how he betrayed Techno, how they had come to the agreement space was the only remedy.)
(They would later make up, and Wemmbu would glare at him, and Tommy would question how they had a fucking child. This would cause Dream to snort in delight— something about nostalgia, and how they used to call Tommy a child all the time. Tommy just squawked in offense.)
Wemmbu thinks romance is cringe, but they make even him believe in it.
Niki was a nymph, who Techno had taken in. She had long, pink hair and could pack a punch. She was monstrous with a sword, and Techno had clearly trained her. She often smiled with a kindness Wemmbu had only recognized in his dads, but she told great stories. Of a country she used to love, L’Manberg. How she fought and loved that country. She spoke of a corrupt leader, who loved the country more than any other person in his life, and when her eyes landed on Wilbur when he visited with his son… well, Wemmbu wasn’t blind.
And as for Connor… Wemmbu didn’t know jack shit about him except for the fact that Dream seemed very fond of him.
(And those eyes were hard to fake.)
“But Phil’s the only one who can make it, heavens knows the rest of them are busy,” he hums before going up stairs, something about feeling tired, leaving Techno and Wemmbu alone.
“Well kid, wanna hear a story?”
“Yes!”
-
Phil was the first person to never betray Techno, and therefore they were what Techno would call best friends. He was the only person to ever see Techno, before Dream, before Wemmbu.
Wemmbu meets his Phil when he’s sixteen.
“Sending me on this godawful mission,” Wemmbu grumbled, his mace— Gambit attached carefully on his back as it was easily accessible that way. It had been a gift from Techno and Dream for his fifteenth birthday. They helped him get the enchants Density V, Wind Burst III, Fire Aspect II, Unbreaking III and Mending. Techno grinned a little wildly while Dream meticulously taught him how to create the best combination of enchants to ensure a job was well done. Wemmbu never let this mace out of his sight— he’d rather die than lose it. Not just because it’s the best weapon suited for him (surprisingly, the mace is dense and heavy, and Wemmbu is slightly lanky, but he wields it like Thor wielded Mjölnir, one of the many stories Techno had told him throughout his time with them) but also because it’s sentimental, the first of the gifts his dads had gotten him.
He’s looking down at the ground, his hair long grown out, now being held in a long ponytail, golden, intricate jewelry decorating his hair and pointed ears. Dream snorted the first time Techno awkwardly handed Wemmbu something gold, and whispered in Ender later that Piglins showed love through gold. Wemmbu brought him the best he could do later— a collection of different yellow flowers from over the server, using his wings to fly around to gather only the best. He just didn’t like the Nether all that much, and that would change with time, but he digressed. Techno looked on the edge of crying when he returned from his self-appointed mission, and pulled the enderdemon-avian hybrid into a hug. Wemmbu was shocked, as they rarely hugged, but he returned it with fervor after he snapped it out of it.
What would I have done if I hadn’t met them? The thought is startling clear before he realises it. He tries not to on dwell it too long.
He’s wearing a black ruffled shirt to properly blend in with his lavender skin, and had a purple cape that looked ridiculously like Techno’s own red one.
Neither acknowledged it.
But, Wemmbu often saw Dream talking with Phil in amusement. Mother hens, the both of them. But Wemmbu couldn’t find it in himself to force any malice into the thought.
For his sixteenth birthday, Technoblade gifted him a golden tiara, similar to his own crown, but with purple jewels and eyes of ender attached like little pieces of starlight.
“Woah, you’re super dressed up.”
Techno’s gonna kill me for getting caught offguard, fuck me, and he snaps his head to where he hears the voice. He narrows onto a boy about his age swinging his legs back and forth, a halo sitting over a giant eyeball. He’s wearing a black hoodie, and leggings of the same color, two white wings emerging from his back. An angel hybrid, how interesting. “And what of it, bro?”
Angel hybrids were rarely hostile, from what he had read, but Techno would kill him if he found out he hadn’t been on the top of his game, so he stood at the ready, hand already reaching for Gambit and another hand reaching for a golden apple. Dream would just chastize him for being so rude, but Wemmbu didn’t have time to dwell on either of their advice.
“Woah woah!” his eye widens— which how the fuck— “I don’t mean any harm! I was just curious. Enderlings, especially Ender-Demons don’t wander this way very often. I saw you leave the tundra, you with the blood and chaos gods then?”
Chaos god, yeah that was oddly fitting for Dream, now that he thinks about it, gridding his teeth, he keeps eyes on the angel hybrid, trying to see what the hell he’s gonna do. The other jumps down, and now he can see a bow and arrow slung across his back as well, a slew of arrows on his hip. “Want some company?”
Wemmbu should have said no.
But like Techno, he always wore his heart on his sleeve.
-
He’s eighteen when Dream and Technoblade (finally) get married.
He’s sitting at the very front, on Dream’s side for family, next to a goat-hybrid named Puffy (which explained how he had been in the Overworld as long as he had been), Conner (who ended up being his biological son— fucking mpreg was INSANE and Wemmbu hated that he knew it was canon now), another goat hybrid named Tubbo (his cousin), and some ghost named Schlatt (Wemmbu would not get that story out of Dream for a long, long time).
The Blaze-Hybrid he had heard so much about stood up there as Dream’s best man (he remembers when the blaze hybrid and mushroom fae had come to their home, demanding to see Dream, and were shocked when Wemmbu opened the door. Everything worked out, but it was an… experience.), the mushroom fae and another netherian demon standing behind him.
Next to Technoblade, stood Phil as his best man, with Niki and Ranboo behind the Avian. The men, Wilbur and Tommy, sat in the family area, even if the tense aura remained. Wilbur was… well, he looked like he had been brought back to life through other means of a totem (Dream would tell him of the revive book later. Wemmbu learned it, and hated himself for learning it, but he wanted something from Dream, because even Wemmbu knew he’d leave soon. Not because any of them wanted it but because Wemmbu needed to experience life outside the Tundra. There was a SMP forming he wanted to join— the Unstable SMP. Dream had snorted, muttering of course under his breath, but supportive nonetheless, and Techno just grinned, wild and feral, and real), which made him uneasy. The other kid, blonde and blue eyes and looked so similar to Phil it ached, was staring at Dream as if he’d grow another head and eat him— but Dream’s eyes were trained on Techno, and as they listened to the vows, and Wemmbu could feel something settle inside of him.
This was love.
And if Wemmbu was going to be cursed by it someday, he hoped it was like theirs.
-
Wemmbu is nineteen when he leaves.
During his last training session with Technoblade, he noticed. Techno was tense, and Wemmbu knew. But unlike the future betrayals, at least Techno said goodbye. Perhaps that’s why it wasn’t goodbye, just like when the bird leaves the nest, leaving something behind that feels suspiciously like fondness.
“Dude, c’mon, you aren’t even trying,” Wemmbu whined, standing back a little, Gambit securely in his right hand, the shield in the other as Techno jumps back, his sword, Orphan Obliterator (“Techno, I’m an orphan.” “Nah, we adopted you.” “Oh glad you guys bothered to tell me, thanks.” “Your welcome, son.” “Shut the fuck up.” “Cringe.”), had the tip in the ground, with one hand leaning on it while his axe, Axe of Peace (which he had gotten the entire lore on that, and Techno was the biggest aura farmer ever, him and Dream both. Maybe that’s why they worked so well), over his shoulder.
“Kid, I’m old. Can I just go get started on my retirement already?” His voice is fond, joking, but Wemmbu knows him well enough there’s an air of seriousness as well. Red eyes are trained on him, searching for any twitch of an expression to indicate a change of emotion.
Wemmbu wants so desperately to say let’s go home. Home to Dream. Instead he rolls his eyes, whining, but with another hint of ego he had learned from Techno, “Bruhhh, romance is overrated.”
Techno’s lips twitch at the familiar voice tic, “You’ll get it someday, nerd. Thought I wasn’t cut out for this shit either, went hundreds of years without feelin’ nothin’. Then, this shit hit like it was world shattering. There’s nothin’ wrong with livin’ yer life, but when yer as old as I am, there’s something soothing about peace, about freedom.”
Those words would resonate so deeply someday, he just didn’t know it yet.
Wemmbu, however, was stubborn, and just rolled his eyes with a vengeance, crossing his arms, leaning on the bottom of his mace, Techno and his fucking freedom rants, “Romance is overrated, cringe ass. At least you don’t have bad taste,” a twitch of his lips revealing how bittersweet the moment was. His golden eyes remained trained on the piglin, trying to memorize his features because he was suddenly achingly aware he wouldn’t see Techno for a long, long time.
Techno, naturally, missing nothing, “Bruhhh, I know. He’s my lover and my rival, rivals to lovers or rivals and lovers is the superior trope by the way,” his tusks on full display near his snout, making Wemmbu groan and throw his hands up about how obnoxious his father figure was. Voice a little reverent as he spoke about his lover, before switching back to proper fondness when referring to Wemmbu, “Now, c’mere. I got one more gift fer ya.”
Wemmbu frowned, and tried to bite back the tears that were building up. He had already said bye to Dream when they left for their final training session, knowing he couldn’t handle saying bye to both of them at the same time. Wemmbu now towered over Dream because he had spent longer time in the END, and was now about 6’5, still shorter than Techno, naturally, but taller than Dream.
Dream had held his face with such fondness, and as much as Wemmbu hated feminizing men, it was so maternal Wemmbu was brought to tears. Dream wiped the tears with his clawed hands, fondness flowing from his eyes, the familiar scent of the END (endstone and a chill that couldn’t be explained) came off of him, and— and suddenly Wemmbu was twelve years old again, lost in the snow after being teleported somewhere due to some stupid ass player, and— and he was saved.
In all the ways he didn’t know he was needed. Dream had been there, teaching him about END lore, helping him figure out they were some sort of Enderdemon/Avian hybrid, then learning how to fly, and teaching him about the language from a grammatical tone. Then, of all things, he taught him domestic shit too. Cooking and how to tame dogs, and— no, I said bye separately for a reason! This is so not auraful. He blinked, bringing himself back to Techno, whose fond smile on his lips made Wemmbu bite his lip, to keep it from quivering, and was surprised when Techno handed him a mirror.
Wemmbu looked up at him curiously, raising an eyebrow instead of voicing his question, because he was two seconds from bursting into tears.
“Got this especially enchanted by XD themself. Basically it’s a way for us to see each other and yap when ya need us. We’ll always be yer family, nerd, distance doesn’t change that,” Techno dropped his hand on Wemmbu’s shoulder, pulling him into a tight hug, the heat coming off the piglin-hybrid making Wemmbu hum, so different than the chill of Dream and himself, and when he pushed back to look at them, ruffling their hair for the last time in a long time, “Now put that shit in your e-chest Phil got for ya because that was a gift from a God. That shit was super annoying to get.”
“I’m sure…” Wemmbu looked down in awe, golden eyes sparkling in excitement, and he was reminded not for the first time he was loved. By them, bye Eggchan, and wasn’t it a wonderful feeling to be loved? “Woah…”
“This just in— Child realises his family actually cares about him—”
“Shut up, Techno,” and he’ll deny it till the day he dies, but his voice cracks as he snaps his eyes up to see Techno moving back. He knows them so well, that if he doesn’t leave first, Wemmbu won’t leave at all. To be loved is to be known, but to be loved opens a wound that can bleed you dry.
“Anyways,” he steps back to the nether portal leading to the frozen tundra that had been his home for seven years, red eyes a little sad, but the proud smile on his lips was enough to make Wemmbu hum in acceptance, “keep in touch kid. Call if ya ever need to come home, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waves the other off, in hopes of keeping the heavy weight in his chest from exploding, trying for that nonchalance Techno had tried to teach him, but the weight of emotions he shared with Dream always overcame him, “enjoy retirement, blood god.”
“Oh don’t you worry, Wemmbu, I am going home to my husband with no child in the house for the first time in years,” his eyes twinkling, causing Wemmbu to fake gag, because ew, did not need to know that about his dads, but his voice softens as he reminds him for the final time, “feel free to come visit when yer not a menace.”
Wemmbu made an offended squawk, eyes narrowed in offense— the audacity of this menace, and a bit exasperated snaps, “YOU TRAINED ME TO BE A MENACE?!?!?!”
“Oh yeah. Oops. Bye kid. Text when you get to USMP, yeah?”
“Okay, whatever, bye Techno.”
Techno shook his head fondly, but didn't say anything else, and as he disappeared into the nether portal, Wemmbu feels like a part of him left with his dad.