Archive of Our Own ^beta

Philza has two kids, and they’re both piglins. Some, particularly other avians, would wonder why his adopted children are not of the feathery kind. Avians have a very strong sense of flock, Phil knows. However, he doesn’t feel any differently flock-wise with two piglin children, than he would if they were avian. To be honest, Phil thinks piglins have rather similar nesting habits to avians anyway. He’s still learning every day though, and he promises to continue to do so. No matter how difficult or confusing it can get, he loves his kids, and he always will.

They’re twins, that many don’t know are anymore. Technoblade and Wilbur stand at the same height at 6 foot 5. They both have the same nose, red brown eyes, and both fangs and tusks from their mouths. The difference is in their hair, personality, and attire. Wilbur, ever the more sensitive one to the colder Overworld, piles himself in sweaters, cardigans, and layers upon cozy layers. He wears long pants and beanies for his head. His hair is a ruffled curly brown, that he grows only long enough for small braids.

Techno lets his hair grow long and he straightens it every morning without fail, and he always dyes it bright pink. He takes great pride in the length of his braids. Phil once asked him why the pink, and Techno tells him that he was sick of being mistaken for Wilbur when they went into the village, and also in a quieter voice that he just loved the color.

He wears equally warm clothing, but it’s the most formal and expensive clothing he could imagine. Like Wilbur, Phil prefers much comfier clothing, albeit lightweight for flying. Techno takes pride in ironed long ruffled button downs, flexible slacks, and leather boots. He wears furry capes and leather gloves. He takes pride in his appearance as much as Wilbur takes pride in his voice. They couldn’t be more opposite if they tried.

One thing they both hold similar is their love of gold, which makes sense as piglins. Phil himself is partial to gold, as a crow hybrid he adores shiny things and little trinkets. But it mostly satisfies the little bird part of his brain that goes ooh shiny coin, give, rather than anything else. Though he rarely indulges himself in his intenser avian instincts, not ever wanting to overwhelm his children.

From what he understands, gold for piglins is quite sacred and innate to them, rather than a fascination. It’s what made the two trust him when they were quite young. His golden hair made them feel safe and of need to protect him. Techno tells him the instinct to protect comes from several generations, to protect their Queen and bastions in the Nether. Wilbur tells him piglins are just silly little Nether crows in a pig disguise. He doesn’t know which one is true, and he’s not too concerned about it to ask.

He makes sure to adorn them with gold whenever they get the luxury. They both take part in piercings, rings, and bracelets and such. Techno much prefers crowns overall, and Wilbur is satisfied enough with his golden glasses and gilded sweaters. In return he gets more piercings than he ever planned on getting, and his fingers are heavy with the many rings fitted just for his hand.

And though Techno is silent a lot of the time, and Wilbur can yell loud enough for any bird in the sky to hear him, and though they both growl at strangers in public when they’re feeling particularly protective of their golden father, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if sometimes he feels that the flock could be larger, he wouldn’t ever discount his blessings. Nor would he ever push his kids, he’s happy where he is regardless of what his heart yells at him.

---

“Techno!” Wilbur shouts, “Hurry up with your stupid fucking hair. We need to go the Nether.”

Phil hears Techno’s eye roll all the way from the front door. “Right, why do you need me again? Oh yeah, because you suck at talking to the traders.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do, and you know it. Remind me again how much gold you lost in our last barter?”

“Fuck off, in fact I hope you die and the Overworld zombifies you.”

“Boys,” Phil says as sternly as he can without laughing, “Stop bickering and get over here. I need to get ender pearls and fire resistance potions, so I can get back home and tend to the bees.”

Wilbur gives him a fond look and shouts something sharp in Piglin to Techno. Phil knows a lot of words and sentences, but he can never quite mimic or understand all of it. Avians don’t quite have the vocal range for some of the sounds, but he tries the best he can. He’s sure he still has a lot of Avian to teach them too.

Techno eventually strides from the bathroom, his hair in two French braids. He has a new septum piercing with an emerald in the center. Wilbur’s eyes dazzle with curiosity at the site, but he eventually settles on a pout. “No fair, why do you always have to look the best, you pompous dick.”

“Because I try, brother.” Techno murmurs, “I take the effort instead of throwing on a beanie.”

“You’ve wounded me, and the only way you can repair it is to buy me a new piece of jewelry.”

Phil sighs dramatically and drowns out their arguing as they make their way toward the village portal. Their trek is easy, and they meet many of their close friends and traders in town. The Nether is always too hot for Phil, but he’s long since grown used to it. Even though his sons needed a family, he’s never kept them from their home realm. He always makes sure they get their days’ worth and interact with piglins and hybrids alike.

They make their way to their favorite outpost and Phil’s already adorning a gold chest-plate to avoid hostility. The traders know him well enough that he doesn’t have to, but he knows they appreciate the gesture, nonetheless. As usual, Techno takes the lead in the trades because he is the best at getting good deals. Phil is quite good too, but he’d never deny Techno when he asks. Techno hands him bags of pearls, fire resistance potions, nether wart, and golden hooped earring for Wilbur. As he’s finishing up, he sees Wilbur and Techno’s gazes harden at whatever the trader is saying.

Phil thinks he makes out the words child, piglin, and needs help, but nothing else. Techno doesn’t say anything, so he says, “Alright, thank you, and let’s go Wil, Techno.”

“Wait,” Wilbur swallows, “Just hold on. Can we maybe, uh, go on a walk?”

Techno looks furious and grips Phil’s shoulder. He recognizes the fury as possessiveness, more so than actual ire. Phil has no idea what’s going on. But, he wouldn’t mind or refuse a walk, so he smiles, “Sure Wil, lead the way.”

Wilbur turns stiffly and walks quick and nervous. Wilbur mutters to himself, and barks at Techno whenever Techno snorts this is ridiculous. Eventually Wilbur stops them at this cliff, that curls high over them. There’s a little underside to it that looks like it’s been dug out, like some sort of temporary shelter. Wilbur says something gentle in Piglin he can’t understand and all of a sudden, a little blond mop of hair pops out of one of the crevices in the cliffside.

The kid can’t be any more than 10 years old. His pointed ears flick at whatever Wilbur is cooing at him. His nose is a similar shape to his sons, and when he opens his mouth and Phil can see two little fangs on the top row, and then he knows he’s a piglin hybrid too. The kid seems severely in need of a bath, and probably a meal or two. His hair is so knotted and gray, that Phil is sure with some love and care it could be more golden than his. His eyes are also the bluest things he’s ever seen, bluer than even the trees in the Warped Forests. When his lip wobbles and he holds a terribly made wooden sword to his chest Phil feels a protective coo pull out of him. And oh, that’s his flock instinct. That’s his protect baby bird now feeling.

Calm down, Phil.

Techno must recognize the protectiveness in his chirp, because he growls a, “Not you too, seriously.”

Phil tilts his head. “Mate, just look at him though. He’s clearly in need of some help, and I think Wilbur wants to help him too.”

“That annoying trader,” Techno grumbles. “But fine, I can’t stop you. But don’t expect me to like the kid or anything, I’m just fine with my brother.”

From what he understands piglin flock, or sounder, are small. To add a new member is a long process that takes some trust building. Wilbur’s always been a little more open to people, whereas Techno has always taken a more reserved route when it comes to their family. He’s certain that the kid will be perfectly fine, even if they don’t keep him long. He probably has a family looking for him anyway.

Then, Wilbur is approaching with the kid at his side. Wilbur says, “That’s Phil.”

“Hi,” The child says, blue eyes round and scared. “Do…know…Piglin?”

Phil coughs, “Little. Not good. Common better.”

“Oh,” He says in Common, “I know Common okay. Traders from my sounder taught me.”

Phil beams. “Wonderful, mate. Where’s your sounder?”

The kid flinches, a growl ripping from his tiny lungs. Wilbur chuffs instantly to calm him down and gives him a look that says do not ask again. Phil tucks his wings tighter, to appear smaller. “I’m sorry, I won’t ask again.”

“Wilby says I can come with you?”

“Sure.” Phil nods trying not to awe at the nickname. “I have an extra bed, and some warm food out in the Overworld.”

The kid scrunches his nose. “But isn’t the Overworld cold?”

“I have sweaters,” Wilbur says quickly, “They’re very warm.” He seems placated by the offer.

Phil claps his hands together. “Then it’s settled. And oh, before we go, this is Wilbur’s brother, his twin, my other son, Technoblade.”

The kid crosses his arms. “What a dumb fucking name.”

“Who taught a little one like you to curse like that?” Wilbur huffs.

The kid pouts. “Not telling.”

Techno seems less than pleased with the whole exchange. In fact, Phil is worried what he’ll even say. Techno shoots him a look, and in his most intimidating voice says, “Technoblade is one of the most feared names in all of the Nether and Overworld. I have a great reputation in swordsmanship and could very easily cut the tail between your legs before you even blink. You’d do well to respect me, runt.”

The kid squeezes his fists but takes little time to hide himself behind Wilbur. He says something in Piglin that sounds fearfully apologetic. Phil will scold Techno for that later. He just presses on to the task at hand, helping this lost kid. “So, what’s your name, mate?”

“Theseus,” He says carefully, peering from behind Wilbur, “But my sounder called me Tommy.”

Techno’s eyebrow twitches. Phil thinks he’s going to break and adopt this kid before they can even say the word son. Techno loves gold, Wilbur, him, and most of all Greek stories. Something tells him little Theseus is already worming his way into his heart. He doesn’t show it though, and he is the one that leads them back to the portal. Tommy clings to Wilbur’s side the entire time, and they whisper to each other in Piglin. Phil has to try his very best not to shove Tommy into his wings as they enter into the Overworld. He has to remind himself to not be so smothering and just get the kid something warm to eat.

Tommy flinches at the sunlight and takes a bit to open his eyes again. Wilbur wraps him in a trench coat before he can even begin shivering. Techno keeps his cape billowing behind him and makes no move to turn around. Techno enters the house first, boots slipping off and then he runs into his bedroom. Wilbur takes his time to put Tommy in front of the fireplace. Tommy is adorably curious as he looks around the house in appreciation. He pauses at Phil’s nest on the couch. He knows it must look very similar to piglin nests, with the blankets, but he’s sure the clothing there probably confuses him. And Phil’s a tad embarrassed by it, with how big his flock is and appears to be getting, he’d really like one a little larger. But he doesn’t want to take too many items, or too much space.

“Is this a nest?” He asks.

Phil nods excitedly, resisting the urge to make it bigger at that very moment. “Yes, sure is, mate.”

Tommy bites his lip, little fangs poking through. “Okay.”

Phil takes his time to distract his instincts by making Tommy potato soup and handing him the warm bowl. Phil himself sits in his nest and takes in the scent of his family. Wilbur isn’t there to join him, so he’s certain he’s talking to Techno at the moment.

Tommy just sips the soup slowly. Phil has no idea what to ask the kid, so he says, “Welcome to my home. You are free to stay as long as you’d like, and we can always help you get back to whoever you need to get back to.”

Tommy sets the bowl down and a much more mature expression crosses his face. “I don’t have sounder. They’re gone.”

Phil’s heart aches at that, remembering how Wilbur and Techno were when their sounder died in a skirmish. He opens his arms, and Tommy stands up and runs into his chest. Phil curls his wings around him and scratches his hair. Tommy cries softly into his shoulder and curls close to his warmth. Phil lets a safe chirp out, which stops Tommy’s sniffling. Tommy pulls back and pats his cheek with a gape on his face.

“What was that?”

“A chirp,” Phil coos safe again, a little embarrassed this time.

Tommy looks amazed, “Woah.”

“I’m a crow hybrid, have you ever seen a crow before?”

Tommy shakes his head, eyes still a bit red. Phil whistles, and through the open window one of his crows flap and nestle on his shoulder. Tommy’s eyes widen and he backs up further, as if he’s afraid the crow will bite him.

“He won’t hurt you, mate,” Phil chirps safe again. “You’re safe. Just reach out your hand and scratch his cheek.”

Tommy does and his petting becomes more relaxed when the crow coos at the ministrations. Tommy looks so awestruck that Phil thinks he wants to wrap him in the nest forever and never let him go.

Tommy eventually sits back again, an easy smile on his face. “You know, safe in Piglin sounds like safe.”

It’s a gentle sound, two syllables and soft. Phil didn’t know that, but he’s definitely heard Techno and Wilbur say that to him when they get into hoarding moods or sit with him when he’s nesting. Phil mimics it, though the pitch hurts his throat a bit. Tommy giggles, “That sucked.”

“Well, I tried. Guess you’ll just have to keep trying to teach me.” Phil chuckles.

Tommy scoots off his lap then, and Phil figures he should give the kid a bath and show him his room. Tommy goes easily into a bath and even goes easily into Phil adding a braid to the side of his very golden curly hair. Phil gives him some of Wilbur’s old PJ's and shows him the spare bedroom. It’s far too empty for Phil’s liking, always has been. But with Tommy there making his mark, it feels a bit fuller.

Maybe what’s been missing is another member to the flock.

He tucks Tommy into bed and bumps his forehead with his, because he knows it’s what older piglins do to the younger. He’s been told it means many things. In this context it means sleep well, I’ll be there when you wake, little one, but it can also mean goodbye and don’t leave me. Tommy buries his face into the blankets after he does it, and Phil waits until he hears his breath even out into a restful one.

When he carefully closes the door, Wilbur is there with questions burning in his eyes. Phil rolls his eyes, “We’re definitely keeping him. He says his family is gone, and he’s very sweet. He already sat in the living room nest.”

“New brother?” Wilbur’s eyes sparkle.

Phil huffs, “Sure, probably. Depends on what he wants, and if Techno’s okay with it.”

A growl wells from Wilbur. “Fuck him, Techno needs to get over himself. I’m not letting that gremlin go.”

“What makes you like him so much?” Phil asks.

Wilbur shrugs, a frown on his face. “I don’t know, I just took one look at that golden hair and blue eyes and was a goner. And the first thing he says to me is ‘who are you, silly tall man?’ And it’s just so cute, you know? And he asked me about my sweater, and he told me he thinks my shoes are cool. And then he called me Wilby and I melted, Philza.” Wilbur pauses for a moment, voice softer, “And he kind of reminded me, of myself, you know. When you first found us, I felt just as lost and scared. I don’t want another kid to feel that way.”

Phil squeezes his shoulder. “That’s very noble of you. Is there anything else I need to know about him?”

“Tommy’s 9 years old,” Wilbur hums, “And so that means you’ll have to deal with more piglin shit than you had to deal with when it was just me and Techno. We were 14, so a lot of growing up already happened.”

“Like what?”

Wilbur nods, “Like tusks, hoarding and sounder days are going to be more intense until he’s our age. He’ll have a lot of mood swings, anger and all that. I mean it won’t be too bad, but tusks are going to be difficult. Piglins are their most vulnerable emotionally and physically when tusks come in, and it hurts fucking bad.”

Phil nods, not worried at all. “I mean, sure, but I have two wonderful sons who will be able to help me.”

“One, if Techno never gets on board.” Wilbur grouses.

“Oh, he will.” Phil says, already recalling how lost he looked when Tommy told them his name was Theseus.

“How do you know?”

“Just wait,” Phil assures.

---

Tommy fits in surprisingly easy and well into their little flock, so much so that Phil has quite practically adopted him. He became quite talkative once he opened up, and he adores learning everything he can about the Overworld. He picks flowers and even helps Phil start a cow farm. Tommy makes him promise they’ll never kill the cows, especially his favorite, Henry. Phil promises, especially because they have plenty of other meat and crops to sustain them. Plus, piglins generally don’t partake in a lot of red meat from what he understands, though they do eat it when Phil provides it for them.

Wilbur just adores him, and he’s taken his role as older brother well. He speaks to Tommy in Piglin constantly and tries teaching him to sing late in the evening. Wilbur has more hoarding moods and often wraps Tommy in blankets and gold jewelry, shoving Phil right next to him with a protective growl.

Techno adjusts poorly. He rarely comes out of his room, or visits when Tommy is awake. The kid is also terrified of him at first. Techno only begins hanging out with the family when Phil enrolls Tommy in the local elementary school and hands him off to the instructor every morning for his classes. Techno never explains why, only growls whenever he asks. Wilbur calls him jealous, yet Phil isn’t assuaged by that. He worries he’ll never come around.

Things change when Tommy comes home quiet. Tommy is bold and loud, he screams, and he laughs with his whole chest. His curiosity and humor know no confine. But today, he’s deathly quiet. Phil assumes he must be getting ill, but he has no fever or fatigue. He does have a few scrapes on his knees, that he quickly cleans, but it’s nothing unusual for the reckless and adventurous Tommy.

He’s weirdly reserved, he barely plays. He only goes outside to feed Henry, but even then, it sort of feels more like he’s doing it as an obligation more so than out of want.

The tension in Tommy carries him until dinner. He barely eats his food. Wilbur tries to coax him to eat and laugh by mimicking a train with the spoon, but Tommy just flinches away from him. To Phil’s surprise it’s Techno who speaks. He snaps, “What’s with you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Didn’t ask if you were fine or not, asked why you’re acting weird.” Techno huffs.

Wilbur pulls Tommy closer to his side. “Just leave the kid alone Techno, he doesn’t need to be teased right now.”

“I’m not teasing him,” Techno says, much softer, “I’m just wondering why the loudest person in this house has suddenly lost his voice.”

Tommy’s eyes go round and wet. He looks close to crying. He mumbles, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Even so, I want to know, little one.” Techno supplies. Phil isn’t sure what was it that caused Techno to decide to start worrying about Tommy, or talk to him, but he’s proud of him for taking the step, nonetheless. The little one warms his chest.

Tommy makes a scared sort of sound in the back of his throat. He thinks it’s a word in Piglin, but he’s never heard something so terrible in his life. Phil almost coos at the very thing, but he doesn’t want to interrupt him. Tommy leans forward so they can all hear him. “There’s this dumbass at school. He’s some kid’s older brother. He’s mean.”

“Mean?” Techno pushes.

Tommy shrugs, nonchalantly. “I’m perfectly big and strong, I’m not scared of him.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“But he,” Tommy continues, “He’s just so intimidated by me that he tries to test his fighting skills out. Today he pushed me, because he wanted to see how big and powerful, he was, I guess. It’s not the first time.”

Techno’s face twists for a moment, but then the anger seems to fade. “Did it hurt?”

“I guess so, I mean I have some scrapes.” Tommy squeaks.

Wilbur looks horrified. “He just pushed you? And this isn’t the first time? Does he say anything to you?”

Tommy shrinks into himself, and Phil wants to pluck the offending person from the ground with his talons for making him feel that small. “Nothing serious. Sometimes he makes fun of me not knowing a lot of Common. He told me today that my family doesn’t love me because I’m some Nether stray.”

“Who?” Techno’s voice goes a little dark.

Tommy’s voice cracks, “Um, his name is Dream.” Phil recognizes the name, he thinks that’s one of Techno’s classmates, the one he always has a rivalry with. His brother is Foolish, a little totem kid that was adopted a few years ago. Phil knows their mother quite well too, Captain Puffy. He’s surprised with such a well-mannered family, and set of friends, that Dream thought it would be good idea to go after his new son.

Techno stands abruptly pupils narrowed and hands shaking. “Thank you for telling me, Tommy. I promise you he won’t bother you anymore. In fact, he won’t even be picking up his brother after school anymore, his friend will. You’ll be safe.”

Wilbur matches his energy with a snarl. “Anyone that touches our gold our brother will fucking pay the price.”

Techno gives a scarily sadistic grin. “Meet me at dawn, Wil.”

Phil would never stop his kids from protecting their brother. He’s mostly pleased Techno views him as such even though he seemed to be having trouble adjusting to Tommy. But he has to be a bit responsible, his chaotic past can’t just allow them to terribly hurt the kid.

“Don’t get caught, and don’t do anything unnecessarily horrible, I don’t want to get a call from Captain Puffy about her kid being hurt.” Phil warns. Wilbur and Techno give him a brief nod, but he can already see that they’re not entirely listening.

True to their word, Dream doesn’t bother Tommy again.

Tommy comes home happy and normal each day. He talks about this kid named Sapnap that takes Foolish home with no Dream in sight. They even seen Dream later that week when they make their trades in town. Techno and Wilbur pull Tommy close to them, a growl bubbling in their chests. Dream flinches, no visible injuries to Phil’s knowledge. He doesn’t seem so willing to bother Tommy again based on his reaction, though.

Puffy does call him though, but it’s mostly to apologize for Dream’s behavior. Phil half apologizes for his son’s actions, to be polite, but he’s happier his newest son is safe again.

Ever since the event though, Tommy has taken an interest in clinging to Techno at every turn. He follows him mining, farming, and even to when he’s sleeping. He climbs all over him, more often than not taking refuge on his shoulders. When Techno tries to cook dinner, he hangs from his biceps and giggles when Techno tries to shake him off.

Techno feigns annoyance, he calls him a brat, and tonight, even claims they aren’t brothers. Wilbur just rolls his eyes. “Sure, as if you weren’t the one telling Dream to back off from your precious gold.”

“Not true,” Techno grumbles, Tommy’s hands clinging around his neck, “I don’t even like the kid. I just don’t appreciate tyrants like Dream is all. Nothing more.”

Tommy pulls back from Techno’s chest and makes his face as sad and open as possible. It’s the same look Tommy gives him when he’s begging for chocolate before dinner. “You don’t like me, Techie?”

Techno’s face goes from shocked to mortified, a flush over his ears. “N-no, I mean, no. You’re just a gremlin is all, little one. I don’t hate you.”

“Yay!” Tommy coos and hugs him tightly. Techno curses in Piglin under his breath, and Wilbur falls over laughing at the sight. Phil huffs out a little laugh himself. He knew Techno would break, eventually.

“This means nothing.” Techno says desperately, at him this time. Phil doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince.

Phil just raises his hands. “Sure, mate.”

And Techno keeps on the this means nothing trend, until Phil catches Techno in a hoarding mood nestling Tommy into a mound of blankets. He measures Tommy’s tiny fingers for gold rings that he spends the day making. He speaks only in Piglin that day, as he usually does. Wilbur joins the nest, per Techno’s request, and he watches over his three children until they’re sleeping.

Tommy is snoring against Techno’s chest, with Wilbur protecting him from the side. Their purrs fill the empty night and Phil takes a photo, or maybe two or three. After that, Techno doesn’t say that his relationship to Tommy is nothing. Though, he still formally calls him Theseus. When Phil asks Tommy if he’s okay with it, all the kid says is, “Well, when Techie does it, it’s okay.”

Techno doesn’t cry, at all, but Phil supplies him a few tissues just in case.

---

Per Wilbur’s warning, Phil faces the wrath of a very in pain and angry piglin child. When Tommy turns 12 his tusks begin growing in as does his claws. He also begins to grow taller and bulkier. It begins with some mood changes, and more nests than Phil knows what to do with, but it then develops into deep seated anger. Tommy’s jaw is sensitive and aching, often bleeding. Wilbur and Techno assure him it’s normal and fine, and they all give Tommy ice chips to chew on. He always spits them out and Phil recognizes the Piglin curse he receives as fuck off.

Phil’s avian instincts always call for him to soothe his son whenever he’s in pain and shield him from the world. But, his attempts make Tommy growl at him and run outside to punch trees or run around to let his energy out. It reminds Phil he needs to try not to be so smothering. But then sometimes, Tommy whispers love in piglin and curls up next to him in his nest. When he’s feeling clingy enough, he begins to purr. It’s a wonderful sound, as he learns how to properly do it. He never comments on it or embarrasses him and just accepts the wondrous sound as he does with all his sons.

Wilbur and Techno are the much-needed help through all of this. They train him, comfort him, and chastise him when his anger gets out of hand. Tommy always grumbles, but he always listens to his brothers.

It’s discordant, between the distance, chaos, and the cuddliness, but Tommy pushes through just fine.

He measures every milestone, with photographs and praise. When Tommy’s tusks begin to peak from his bottom lip a year later, he allows Techno and Wilbur to give him his first piercing, as is tradition. His twins are terribly excited, and Phil watches them from the bathroom door as they slip the needle through. They are reverent and careful, and they make sure to go as quickly as possible. Tommy receives a septum piercing, like Techno, and it jingles with the lapis dangled on the end of it.

Tommy is 13 now, and he’s a big man as he likes to say, just as big as the tusks that peek from his bottom lip. But when his brothers show him the piercing he says, “Thank you Wilby, Techie,” reminiscent of his old nicknames for them. Wilbur and Techno embrace him without any teasing and allow Phil to come up behind them to wrap them in his wings.

Tommy’s also settled into his instincts well, and he’s developed his own sets of quirks just as his brothers have. Techno adores piercings and making jewelry, and Phil tries his best to reserve areas for new gifts, though his ears are pretty much full at this point. Wilbur loves tending to hair and preening wings more than anything. His braids are always the most beautiful and are often full of flowers and gold chains. And Tommy, is strangely protective. He’ll puff out his chest and stand in front of his brother’s rooms. When Phil asked him about it once, Tommy glared at him and growls protect, in Piglin. And so now, when Tommy clings to his brothers’ arms, he will step in front of them and let out the cutest little hisses he’s ever seen whenever someone they don’t know gets too close.

Tommy reminds him that it isn’t cute nor endearing, though Phil always reminds him that it is when he is subjected to his protection.

Tommy’s protection lends itself to being very aware of his surroundings. He can always tell when someone is in danger, or an animal needs help. And that’s what leads them to an alleyway in town one afternoon. Tommy drags them desperately, even as Techno tries to coax him back to the shops with the promise of a snack. Tommy doesn’t listen, his worry dragging them with a tightly clawed grip.

When they make it to the alley, Phil sees a cardboard box. It’s quite soggy, and falling apart, but what’s inside makes him pause. Inside looks to be a boy about Tommy’s age. He’s a goat hybrid. He has tiny horns, not yet to their full maturity, long fluffy ears, and equally long hair. Two hooved legs stick out onto the cold concrete, with a short, matted tail curled behind him. Oh.

“Not again,” Techno curses.

Tommy says, “Are you okay?”

The boy looks up to them and brushes his curling hair out of his eyes. He pouts, “What’s it to you, dickhead?”

“Oi! I’m trying to fucking get you out of here, don’t call me a fucking dickhead.”

The boy jolts at that and looks up to meet Phil’s eyes. “Out of here? Like, uh, like I wouldn’t have to be here, anymore?”

Tommy grins, tusks protruding proudly. “Exactly.”

“But I don’t know any of you.”

“Mate,” Phil starts, “Sorry about my son’s brashness. But, knowing that you’re here, I can’t in good faith let you live in a box. You’re free to leave whenever you want, but why don’t you at least let me run you a bath and serve a few nights of good meals.”

The boy’s tail twitches, and if his horns were any bigger Phil would fear being rammed. “And how do I know you’re not going to murder me.”

“Because Phil saved me when I was all alone. He’s a sappy old crow.” Tommy says, fondness creeping in his tone. And then he turns to Phil with that look. It was the same look Wilbur gave him when they found Tommy. Phil gives him a small smile in answer.

“Wil?”

Wilbur beams, “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t know you were here, but no one should be stuck living in a box. We can help you.”

“Techno?”

Techno grunts. And then Tommy bites his lip, fang peaking over the edge of his top lip. “Techie?”

Techno covers his face and lets out a long sigh, “Sure, whatever, the kid can come with us. Just don’t expect me to get all attached or anything.”

The boy takes Tommy’s hand and hesitantly stands to his hooves. He looks skittish and afraid, and Phil wants to murder whoever let a kid get to this state. He should be frolicking and climbing trees, not shivering at night in some dingy old box.

“My name’s Tommy, by the way.”

The boy tilts his head. “T-tubbo.”

Tubbo is hollow on his walk home, even though Tommy tries to coax a conversation out of him. Phil gets the idea he doesn’t really trust them, and Phil doesn’t blame him. Though Phil’s instincts are going a little haywire with pride for his flock member protecting a new kid. He wants to create a giant nest and be preened, and he also very much wants to preen Tubbo and hide him underneath his wings, away from even his other flock members. He resists though, as he always does. He never wants to scare anyone, especially a kid who barely trusts them.

Tommy is polite enough to give Tubbo a tour, with Wilbur and Techno trailing behind in deep curiosity. Eventually Tubbo worms his way out of the curious and clingy piglins and back to Phil. He wrings his hands together and Phil asks, “What’s wrong, mate?”

“What do you need me to do, Phil, uh, sir?”

Phil just shakes his head, “Nothing. You don’t owe me anything. My son found you, wants you to be safe, and so do I. You seemed in a really bad place.”

Tubbo hums, “Your sons are all piglins.”

“That they are.” Phil trails, not sure what Tubbo’s trying to say.

“Are they all adopted?”

Phil answers easily, “Of course. They all needed places to stay, and they wound up just finding that place here.”

“You don’t mind they’re not avian?”

Phil wonders if he’s just met other arrogant avians, or if he’s come from a family that didn’t believe in hybrids adopting other kinds of hybrids. “Of course not. I love my sons for who they are, even if sometimes they give me a heart attack with the things they get up to. But I imagine that’s more a kid thing, than a piglin thing.”

Tubbo giggles, and it’s the first relaxed sound he’s heard out of him. Phil resists ruffling his hair and wrapping him up in the living room nest. Instead, he offers Tubbo the direction of the bathroom, soap, and a warm plate of food when he gets out. Tubbo shuffles himself next to Tommy, who’s looking a little starry eyed for whatever reason. Tubbo is quiet, scarily polite, but Phil gets the feeling he’ll be opening up very soon.

---

It takes a solid two weeks, before Tubbo is even more talkative than Tommy. He’s still a little hesitant around Phil, Techno, and Wilbur, but he’s open and free. He helps Phil with his bee farm with a great fascination. What isn’t so great, is how reckless he is. Phil should’ve done his research on goat hybrids before taking one in, because he has no idea how to encourage him to be able to play safely. Tubbo climbs trees, their backs, and the roof more often than not. He’s dangerously curious, so much so, Phil once had to stop him from consuming an unmarked poison potion for the fun of it.

His energy rivals Tommy’s, which is quite the feat, seeing as that he’s been the most energetic of all of them until Tubbo’s arrival. For a piglin, Tommy hibernates a lot less than his brothers. Wilbur tells him it’s because he’s young, though Phil thinks he just stays awake out of shear spite to his own biology.

Tubbo’s energy goes into productive things though, as time goes on. He’s very bright, and more often than not is helping Phil fix things or build things around his home. So, with every tail wag he gets when a project his complete, Phil has to resist cooing. And unlike with Tommy, Techno warms up to Tubbo quickly. When asked, Techno just tells him that anyone who’s nice to Tommy is good in my books. And Wilbur is a clingy sap, so it doesn’t surprise Phil too much that he adores the kid.

“Dad?”

Phil turns from the repairs on the house he had been working on today. Wilbur sounds concerned. “Yes?”

“Have you seen Tubbo today?” He drawls.

Phil hasn’t, though he didn’t find it unusual. Tubbo is free to wander where he pleases, as everyone is in the house, as long as it’s nowhere Phil thinks is unsafe. And even then, he’d never be mad, just terribly concerned.

When Phil shakes his head, Wilbur hums. “How about Tommy?”

“Isn’t he getting ready to hibernate for a few days?”

Wilbur tilts his head, earrings clinking against his cheek. “Oh. He is, isn’t he? That explains why my blanket is missing.”

Phil gapes, some pieces coming together in his mind. His blankets had been missing too. “Aw you don’t think that it could be that could you? Go get my camera.”

Wilbur dashes off to find his polaroid, and Phil drags Techno from his room to go investigate. When they enter Tommy’s room, a wonderful and honeyed purr fills the room. Tubbo is cursing and struggling under mounds of blankets and pillows. Tubbo already has a few rings on his tiny horns, and a braid over the left side of his hair. Tommy is clung around him with a sappy smile. His first true hoarding day, his fatherly brain supplies. A nest, the bird one supplies.

“I hate to say it,” Techno whispers, “But I think this might be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

Wilbur juts out a wobbling lip. “He’s gotten so big. No longer a little one, is he?”

“What the hell is going on?” Tubbo hisses, muffled by a particularly fluffy blanket.

Phil chuckles, “It’s, uh, a piglin thing. Tommy’s still young, and it seems like right before hibernation he’s taken to creating his very first nest and bring you here for his hoard. It means you’re trusted and cared for. A, “welcome to the family”, so to speak.”

Tubbo grimaces, but then he turns his head to Tommy and melts. “Well, I suppose it isn’t too bad.”

Tommy snorts awake for a moment. His eyes are bleary and confused. He checks on Tubbo first by pressing a hand to his forehead and asking what Phil makes out to be sounder okay? Tubbo doesn’t seem to understand the Piglin, but he doesn’t move away. Tommy snaps his head towards them, and eventually his bleary face turns mortified and red.

“Oh my fucking god.”

“Toms,” Wilbur coos, “You’ve gone and made a hoard. We’re so proud of you, even Techno thought it was cute.”

“’M not cute.” Tommy muffles into his hands.

Tommy eventually, and definitely not adorably, peeks through his fingers he meets their gazes again. Wilbur is bouncing on his feet, and Techno’s clinging to his arm. Phil hides his own burst of excitement in little twitches in his wings. Tommy sighs, “You want to join the thing, don’t you?”

“Of course, child, let us in.” Wilbur demands.

Tommy looks annoyed, but he opens his arm in welcome. Wilbur wastes no time jumping into Tommy’s arms and rubbing his cheek over his neck. Phil still really doesn’t know what the gesture means, but he knows it’s a good thing, much like when felines mark you as their friend or family. Techno takes his time and sits on Tommy’s other side, he rubs his cheek over his head and checks over his hands for any scrapes or injuries. Phil prides himself on not being clingy or stifling and just sits on the edge of the bed. When he does, Tommy begins purring again, with the low frequency of his brother’s joining the tune. Phil offers a protective chirr from his mouth.

Tubbo scrambles his way out of the blanket, voice small. “I’m so lost right now.”

Phil ruffles his hair and fixes the crooked strands over his ear. “Basically Tommy, Techno, Wilbur, and I all see you as part of the flock, or family, or sounder. Nests are only reserved for family. I realize it can be a bit overwhelming, so if you need to leave, you’re free too. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about this. It doesn't help Tommy is hibernating and truly hoarding for the first time.”

“Uh no, it’s alright, it’s not that, I just…” Tubbo looks down, “I’ve only been here for little over two weeks. You don’t know if I’m worth keeping.”

Phil offers a wing for him to lean on. “You are. I believe Tommy found you for a reason, and there’s no way we can let you go. We enjoy having you around.”

Wilbur beams, wrapping an arm around Tubbo’s other side. “Yeah! It feels good having you around, and you’re so nice to our gold. I’m definitely excited for another brother. Right Techno?”

Techno pauses his purrs for only a moment to say, “Sure.”

Wilbur scoffs, “Don’t listen to him. He’s already begun measuring your fingers from afar for some new gold rings.”

Tommy seems too embarrassed to speak, but he does pat Tubbo’s head to show his agreement with everything. Tubbo surprises them all by letting out a quiet bleat. Phil gapes at the sound, and chirps in answer. Tubbo doesn’t cry, but he does let out a mixture of bleats and laughs at the sounds.

Phil embraces his family close then, wings blocking them from the light of the room. His flock is ever bigger as is the fullness in his heart. He wouldn’t trade these kids for anything.

---

“Tommy, um, can I talk to you?”

The words concern him, because that’s Tubbo’s oh no voice. It’s the same voice he had when he almost blew up their house after learning how to craft his own TNT. He hasn’t heard it very often, after all the years with them together.

Tubbo is 17 now, Tommy 16, and their other two brothers in their twenties. Techno and Wilbur have built their own extensions on Phil’s house for their own privacy while still being near their sounder and nests. Piglins remain in familial units for as long as the universe allows, and avians are similar. He gets the idea goats are too, but Tubbo is even more embarrassed to talk about his hybrid side than Tommy is.

“Sure?” Tommy answers, drawling on the ‘e’ in question.

Phil doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but he can’t help feeling a prickle in his wings. His brain is chanting protect baby bird and he can’t really ignore it. So, he doesn’t follow them, but he does settle himself to take his house cleaning in their direction.

Tubbo mutters, “So you know that guy I’m friends with?”

“Yeah, that dumb husband of yours?”

“We aren’t married…, and I told if we did marry, it’d be for tax benefits. I don’t want to have to give up my money when I turn 18.” Tubbo grouses, and Phil has to conceal a chuckle.

Tommy’s ear flicks in annoyance, “Fine, fine. What about him?”

“Well, you remember when I told all of you how I ended up in that box?” Tubbo is whispering now, and Phil can just sense his fear. Phil remembers that conversation too, which is why Tubbo though they wouldn’t keep him around. Phil will never forgive Tubbo’s family for abandoning him.

Tommy seems to recognize it too, a growl forming in his throat. “What of it?”

“Well, Ranboo is in a slightly similar situation.”

Ah, so they’re talking about Ranboo. Tommy is hopelessly jealous of Ranboo, but Phil has always garnered that it’s lighthearted. Tommy is a piglin through and through, hesitant to form larger sounder. But something in his expression almost gets Phil to pause his dusting. Tommy must care about Ranboo more than he lets on, because that’s the same look Techno got when Tommy was being bullied by Dream.

“How slightly?” Tommy snarls.

Tubbo flicks his eyes towards Phil, and Phil snaps his attention back on his cleaning. “Um, so, he started manifesting the other day. A late bloomer hybrid, I guess, and his family never knew because he’s adopted. He started growing like a weed and his ears sharpened, and all that fun stuff. He’s an enderman.”

Phil’s heart freezes. He’s well aware of how both some humans and some enderman feel about hybrids, and neither is good. One is of disgust, and one is of fear. And Ranboo’s parents are very human, and likely very afraid. He can imagine Ranboo is probably even more so. Phil has that feeling, again, that feeling he got meeting Tommy and Tubbo. He just hopes Techno and Wilbur don’t mind.

Oh, he’ll have to read up on endermen hybrids and their manifestation.

Phil must’ve let out a protective coo after Tubbo said that because both his sons go deathly silent. Tommy eventually snorts, “P-Phil?”

“Did I just…uh sorry mate, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“Clingy crowfather,” Tommy says, “So if I maybe dragged Ranboo here, you wouldn’t stop me?”

“I’d never.” And he really wouldn’t perhaps against his better judgement. Tommy jumps to his feet, tail swishing excitedly as he dashes off towards the front door. Tubbo’s lip wobbles and then he’s receiving a very painful headbutt to his stomach.

Luckily for his piglin children, they adore that Tubbo headbutts. They definitely have thicker bones and skulls than he does. His poor aching and hollow avian bones don’t always love him when it happens, but his heart does. Goats headbutt each other when they’re grateful, happy even. He hopes Tubbo does it all the time, if it means he’s okay. He can suffer a few bruises for that.

Phil scratches a talon behind his ear, and Tubbo bleats out a tone that Phil has begun to recognize as love and maybe even thanks.

Phil murmurs, “You’re welcome, little bird.”

He isn’t sure if Tubbo knows that particular line still, but his son still flushes, nonetheless.

Tommy and Tubbo drag Ranboo into his house in the middle of dinner. Techno is mid bite into his potato when his eyes squint at a more enderman looking Ranboo. “Not again.”

Ranboo flinches, a small and hesitant vwoop coming out of him. Tommy cackles, “God, mate. Do you have any idea what you just said?”

“You understand Ender, Tommy?” Phil asks.

Wilbur huffs, “We mostly all do, piglins I mean. There are enderman in the Nether. Dialect’s a tad different, but we’ve been in the Overworld long enough to learn the differences between them.”

Tommy offers him a silly grin. “This fucking man just said soup, fucking soup. What’s your problem?”

“I can’t help it,” Ranboo whines, “I’m still manifesting, I have no clue what’s going on, or even what I’m saying. Just came out of me.”

Tommy offers him an amused but calm look. “Well, that’s why you’re here. We’ll help you, get an Ender tutor. I can speak some to help you for now.”

“We?” Techno’s voice keens. He glares at Phil. Did Phil forget to tell him Ranboo was coming? Perhaps, he was spending all day making his nest a little larger.

“Yeah, we.” Tommy grumbles, “What? You have a problem with Ranboo?”

“No, but I need to know how long he’s going to stay here.”

Tommy pulls Ranboo close in protective Tommy fashion. “For as long as he wants. Right, Phil?”

Phil gapes with the whip of Techno, and surprisingly, Wilbur’s head. “Um, well, I did say he could come take refuge here. His family didn’t react well to his hybrid manifestation, and he is Tommy and Tubbo’s friend. I can’t just let him go out into the cold evening, alone and in pain.”

Techno and Wilbur both look unconvinced but then Tommy whispers something in Piglin. Phil makes out Ranboo’s name and one word and one word only, gold. Is Ranboo Tommy’s gold? Techno and Wilbur soften, and Wilbur says, “Alright. But don’t expect us to nest with him or anything.”

Tommy nods, but his eyes tell a different story. “Sure, sure, come on Ranboob my nest is perfectly comfortable. You can join me and Tubbo, and I can braid your hair, and Wilbur and Techno can go rot in their cold little house, alone.”

“Oi, wait a fucking minute.” Wilbur hisses, jutting out his tusks. Tommy and Tubbo giggle as they drag a very confused Ranboo to his bedroom.

Techno groans into his hands. “Phil, please tell me our sounder isn’t getting any bigger after this.”

“I promise,” Phil huffs, “And not because I don’t want to help anyone else but because our house is pretty much full at this point now that your old bedrooms are taken over.”

Wilbur hums, “Maybe we could sell some of our land. Make our own little commune. Then you’d have a real big flock. We could be a haven from the fucking idiocy of world.”

“Right, that would be cool and all, but didn’t two seconds ago you agree with me that our sounder was too big?” Techno grunts.

“It wouldn’t be sounder,” Wilbur tuts, “Because they won’t be in our…It’s like, neighbors. And it will satisfy our father’s dear old crow brain.”

“I’m not, old! And what was that word you said, our…what?” He tilts his head. It’s a word he’s never heard before.

Techno and him look bewildered. Techno coughs, once he realizes Wilbur isn’t going to answer, “Uh, god, it’s kind of embarrassing. And I’m not really sure how to translate it. I guess it’s roughly home, but it means so much more than that. It’s like, permanence, and love, and all that annoying stuff. It's much larger than sounder. Maybe community, is an accurate translation.”

Avians don’t have a similar word, relying so much more on body language and their wings to communicate strong affection. But Phil understands, so he finds himself tearing up. Wilbur curses and comes closer to him, “Dadza stop, don’t be gross and sappy and disgusting and awful, did I say gross? Oh, and old, yeah, stop being old.”

Phil takes a moment to breathe and look off into the hallway where his two other sons took Ranboo. He stares into the eyes of his two eldest. “I know I must seem clingy, adopting four kids and quite possibly a fifth. But out of everything, I am glad you two have found a permanent home here. I love you both dearly, and my only goal as a parent was to make sure you were loved and safe here.”

Wilbur squints, and Techno looks away. It’s Techno who says, “Yeah, whatever. Love you too, I suppose. And I guess Ranboo isn’t too bad, I’ve met him before. Good kid, poor memory, kind heart in his ribs.”

Wilbur doesn’t answer except to touch their foreheads together.

Phil doesn’t regret his little crow instincts one bit, just this one time.

Ranboo’s manifestation isn’t too painful, compared to Tommy’s as well as Tubbo’s growth spurt with his horns. His teeth ache as they sharpen, and his jaw is sensitive as its hinges becoming more flexible. The scales come slowly enough that it’s only mildly itchy. The tail comes in the middle of the night unnoticed, as do the claws. The biggest pains are water and the instincts.

Apparently Ranboo’s always had a bit of a water allergy, just no one thought to think hybrid as opposed to a rare human problem. Tommy tells him endermen in the Nether would use soul sand to dust themselves to wash, especially since there is no running water in the Nether and that endermen don’t sweat or really need water to be clean. Tommy quickly assures him that yes, they technically did have water, as the shroom lights are very water dense for those that needed water to survive, like piglins. And endermen do drink water, as they just have to be careful with contact to the outside of their body.

They get soul sand for Ranboo and he seems to do fine with it, though he does say he'll probably miss a warm bubble bath now and then. Phil then makes sure to heat up the sand, which helps his missing of something warm and comfortable.

The instincts are the hardest, especially because none of them are educated enough to teach him how to adjust to it. Phil reads a million books, and Tommy travels with Techno to the Nether to converse with the local endermen by their main trader outposts. And it helps, but it’s not enough. Tommy is the only one of the brothers who can speak Ender fluently, as Techno and Wilbur can only read and listen, their old sounder not spending much time trading with local endermen.

Apparently, it’s because Tommy’s old sounder was from the Warped Forests, which is mostly endermen dense, as opposed to Techno and Wilbur who hailed from the piglin dominated Crimson. Tommy’s problem is that he’s too hot-headed to be a patient teacher, and he struggles to match some of the intonations that Ranboo is capable of with his newly formed vocal cords. So even though teaching is going as well as it can until they find an Overworld teacher, and they’ve consulted a million sources, Ranboo still finds ways to surprise them.

Ranboo loves blocks, particularly grass, but he also very much loves carrying people. Phil often finds himself being taken away from his crops as Ranboo happily takes him to his living room nest. Like today.

“Why’d you bring me here, mate?”

Ranboo flushes, “Um, not sure. Just felt right. Felt comforting, and also it felt wrong where you were standing.”

Phil is understanding, but he really does need to tend to the crops. He waits until Ranboo begins carrying Tubbo around to make his escape back to the garden. Tommy serves as translator when they ask some of the local endermen in their neighboring forest for help on the matter. Tommy tells him that he’s told it’s a comfort thing, and there’s not really much rhyme or reason to what feels right to a particular enderman. Phil is fine with it, but he wishes he could help Ranboo feel more comfortable.

But he develops well, and Ranboo is eventually beaming every day, even on days he talks about his family that left him behind.

Tommy and Techno are curled up in his living room nest today, with Tubbo laid across Tommy’s lap. Tommy’s hair is in the middle of being braided, and he thinks he hears Techno mention wanting to give Tommy yet another ear piercing. Wilbur is helping him cook, and Ranboo is staring out of the window. It’s not unusual, he’s figured out that endermen are quite curious and do spend a lot of time observing. And Ranboo usually does this day to day, so he doesn’t think anything of it at the moment.

He begins to grow concern, when a shriek like hiss escapes his mouth. Ranboo looks embarrassed, “I’m sorry.”

Tommy mumbles, “Why’d he say danger?”

“Not sure.” Techno supplies.

“Danger?” Phil pipes in.

Tommy sighs, “Ugh, I miss when I could have private conversations, you fucking twat, learning our language. What kind of father are you, Phil?”

“Huh?” Ranboo spins back around from the window.

“You said danger, in Ender,” Wilbur says, “Everything okay?”

Ranboo scrunches his nose, tail swishing low and angrily. “Yeah.”

Tubbo opens an eye, “He’s lying you know. That’s his lying face.”

“You don’t know what face I was making, you’re asleep.”

“I can see all Ranboo.”

“No, you can’t, you’re a goat.”

“Goats are very much omnipotent.”

Ranboo splutters, “What? Well, fine, okay, I did lie, but I mean, it’s not a big deal. I’m being weird.”

Tommy looks just as lost as he is and so they all go back to whatever they were doing. Ranboo doesn’t hiss again, until the doorbell rings. Wilbur looks excited, which makes Phil think its this friend he’s mentioned he was going to invite over the other day. Ranboo teleports and stops him from opening the door, before Wilbur can even react. Ranboo opens the door and unhinges his jaw. Phil meets the eyes of a very scared and very confused young woman. Phil’s about to say something but then she’s stepping back and lowering her head.

“I am so sorry! I had no idea this was your haunting,” She says quickly, “My apologies. I am here on official business to deliver your hauntling Wilbur baked muffins. May I have your permission to enter your haven and deliver them? In offering I can give you mycelium grass.”

Ranboo closes his jaw, and his typical easy smile returns on his face. “I accept your offering gratefully. Please come in.”

Techno huffs a moment, “I forgot about that. We should’ve prepared.”

“Oi,” Tommy snorts, seeming wistful, “Don’t act so fucking calm. I know you’re just as happy as I am that he considers us a part of his haunting.”

Wilbur looks equally starstruck and he pouts right at Ranboo. Ranboo sighs and opens his arms. Wilbur embraces him and rubs a cheek over his neck. He murmurs, “Brother,” in the sweetest voice Wilbur can offer.

“What’s a haunting?” Tubbo shouts, taking the question right from Phil’s mouth.

Ranboo flushes purple, and the girl smiles. “Oh, well, I think it’s very similar to flock, and uh, whatever the Piglin word is…”

“Sounder,” Wilbur supplies.

“Sounder,” She repeats gently, “Yes. Anyway, endermen are fiercely protective of their haunting and each little hauntling within. There’s usually one endermen that is the lead protector per haunting, and they are very territorial. As I am a stranger and didn’t ask the proper permission, he was being very understandably nervous.”

Ranboo splutters, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just manifested, and I still don’t know what’s going on.”

“Oh no, it’s fine! I completely understand. And it’s normal, and natural, you didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t even scared, more mortified at myself, really.” She chuckles, and Ranboo visibly relaxes.

“Now that all that sappy shit is over, give me the baked goods Niki!”

Phil watches his flock surround Niki and share in the muffins. Tommy clings to Niki’s arm, shouting something about replacing Techno with her. Techno keeps a respectful distance, but his smile is wide and genuine. Wilbur is ranting about his day, Piglin mixed within and Niki nods along with Tommy helping her translate. Tubbo is still half asleep, clung over Tommy’s shoulder, hooves swinging absently from Tommy’s arms. And Ranboo, seemingly overwhelmed, skirts his way to Phil’s side.

“I’m sorry, Phil,” His tail brushes against his arm. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to be rude. And or, overstep. I know you care, but I suppose a haunting is a bigger step up from just care.”

Phil clicks his throat, and wraps Ranboo under a wing, as he watches the family in front of him. “I’m honored, mate. You’re another one of my little birds.”

Ranboo, like all of his sons, doesn’t seem to know that little phrase. But the tone of it must be gentle enough that Ranboo knows it’s good. Because Ranboo’s claws clench around his wrist and his chin nestles on his shoulder.

Phil feels complete.

---

Philza is an avian with five children. Three piglins. Two twins, who are complete opposites, semi fluent in both Avian and Ender. A third with golden hair, blue eyes, and the softest purrs he’s ever heard, and a heart big enough to teach Ender classes to anyone who asks, even if he tries to scam them out of money or even as he tends to get impatient. He has a goat child, who still headbutts him as hard as he can, even though his horns are large enough to curl around his ears now, and he could very well break a rib if he’s not careful. And lastly, an enderman who still picks him up and settles him in the weirdest places, and also is the gentlest of his children when it comes to preening.

He stares outside at the houses that have slowly cropped up on the land he’s sold. He’s begun fulfilling his flock instinct with what Wilbur suggested, to start a commune of hybrids and lost humans alike. He’s in the midst of watching a demon, Bad, and his friend Skeppy move into the very modern looking mansion among the more cozy and rustic builds. Tommy told him that he thought Skeppy was going to be their token human friend, that was, until today when Skeppy washed off his makeup and showed that half his face is crystallized into diamond. Phil’s crow brain really wants to stare, but he resists.

What’s much harder to resist is the thrum of flock beneath his skin. Now that he’s started this little safe hybrid commune, he’s been getting the urge. Phil nests, and he’s a crow in every way that counts, but he always resists completely bird-braining. And now that he thinks about it, he always has.

At first, it was because he was alone, and would rather resist than give in to the loneliness. Then, it was because he didn’t want to overwhelm his children, especially the new ones, while he tried to be a rock through their needs. And now, it’s because he’s not sure how embarrassing it’ll be, now that he’s gone so long without indulging.

He manages for the day, and even finds the strength to help Bad lift furniture into the upstairs of his house. It isn’t until Niki, who turned out to be a freshwater mer, pops her head out of the river and gifts him a large shell collage with signatures on it. She says, “I made this today and I had everyone sign it! It’s a thanks for all that you’ve done and the safe space you’ve created here. We thought you could hang it up in your house, or wherever you deem fit.”

Gifts are a crow’s weakness. And with the steady screaming of flock in his head, he even more so appreciates it. He isn’t sure if he’s coming off as completely weird, because Niki doesn’t say anything when he says goodbye. Or chirps it, he isn’t quite sure.

He thinks he has the urge to comfort his family for the rest of his day.

Phil spends the rest of the day making the living room nest very big. He shoves the couch outside and surrounds the living room with pillows, blankets, and futons. He arranges it for each of the people he wants to take care of. He puts weighted blankets and soft pillows for Techno, a yellow blanket for Wilbur, a million pillows for Tubbo and Ranboo, and of course, a cow pillow for Tommy to curl against. He also steals as many sweaters as will satisfy his brain until he feels like the nest is family enough by scent and comfort.

He feels himself chirr excitedly, and then he takes his energy to the kitchen. As the leader of the flock, he has to take care of his family, and that is what he’ll do. He begins baking cookies preparing a stew that he can feed his baby birds. As the stew is simmering, he shuffles himself under his nest and waits. And he waits. When no one arrives he feels himself chirp brokenly, an alone, scared, where is flock?

The second time he does it, the door slams open. Ranboo is there and chirrups a questioning hauntling? Phil beams and reaches his hands out for Ranboo to come into the nest. Ranboo gapes a little, tail swishing as he does when he processes something. And Phil would usually ask him politely, but for some reason Common is hard. Because all he wants is for his son to sit next to him, so he can preen his hair and massage his paws. He must’ve chirped his thoughts, because Ranboo closes his jaw and says, “Right, uh, let me get the family, for a meeting. I’ll be right back Phil.”

Phil panics when he leaves, face in hands as he tries to clear his foggy head and stop chirping so loudly. The door bursts open with his familial flock, and it’s only then he can stop shrieking. Wilbur squints, “It’s hard to make out, because he’s like slurring his Avian, but I think he’s like really freaked out. He’s like asking for his flock and wondering why we’re avoiding the nest.”

Tommy’s eyebrows scrunch, “That’s odd. He’s never done this before. At least not since I was adopted?”

“Uhh,” Techno starts, “Yeah, I mean, not for us either. I mean, it seems like one of our hoarding moods, but I could be wrong. I’m not an avian, and Phil doesn’t talk about it often. He always been pretty reserved with his instincts, though I don’t have many avian friends to ever see if that was norm.”

Tubbo takes this moment to jump on his hooves. “Oh! OH! I have a great, so very amazing, genuis idea. Quackity’s an avian! He just moved in with his husbands. We could ask him or them what this is. So, we can best support Dad.”

“Suck up,” Tommy mutters, and Tubbo shoves him. Usually, Phil thinks he’d be able to softly say come on boys, don’t fight. But seeing his flock seem irritated with each other is stressing him out and he begins to pick at his talons. He must seem distressed because Wilbur curses in Piglin and approaches him.

“Dadza? Don’t pick at your claws. Tubbo’s going to go get Quackity and we’ll stay here, okay?”

“Flock?” He tilts his head hopefully.

“Yeah, Phil,” Wilbur nods, “Flock.”

It’s not long when Tubbo returns with the duck hybrid. Quackity enters gently and takes a quick look at the living room. He locks eyes with Phil and lets out a harsh sigh. Phil doesn’t like that another one of his greater flock looks so pained so he begins picking at his talons again. Quackity jolts and immediately plants a smile on his face. He feels relieved by that and settles himself.

“Alright, uh, so Phil’s never done this before?”

Tommy shakes his head, “Nope, not at all Big Q.”

Quackity’s expression is blank. “That’s, god, hard to hear. How much do you all know about avians, and their instincts?”

Techno says, “Dad’s a crow. So, he likes shiny stuff and gifts. He likes when we wear shiny stuff. He makes little nests and enjoys when we make nests or sit in his. He is very doting. We preen his wings. He’s always been very accommodating of us too. He also loves adopting and being surrounded by people, he’s a Dad at heart with the whole flock thing”

Quackity makes a sound in his throat. “Jesus Christ, you self-sacrificing bird man. Look, okay, avians are very, and I mean very, social. We need flock to feel comfortable, else we can get very isolated or distressed. Avians surround themselves in main family units and then have a greater flock that they look over or are a part of, if they’re not the head of the flock. And avian instincts are often quite intense, especially when they’re not looked after. The fact he's never done more than what you said is shocking to me."

“So, like,” Ranboo tilts his head, “He’s been repressing his instincts, or something?”

Quackity shrugs, “That’s my only guess. Because this is, well, quite an extreme nesting mood. Avians have constant nests, but there are days or weeks that avians get extremely in the urge to dote and take care of their flock. Preening is common to bond during that time. They aren’t extreme periods, if the avian has been serving their instincts on a constant basis.”

Wilbur frowns, “Shit. Is that why he’s been doing that with his talons? Is he distressed?”

“Yeah,” Quackity looks tired, “You’ll have to be patient with him. It looks like he hasn’t done this in a long time. Let me know if you need anymore help, okay? Though, I won’t enter the familial nest, because he might fight me.”

Techno offers a half smile, “Thank you Quackity. It’s times like this I think, huh, maybe I don’t hate that guy.”

Quackity scoffs and Phil feels a little more relieved when he leaves. When he does, he clicks nest, get in, nest. He's almost worried they don't like it, or something.

“Sure, where should we sit?” Tommy offers. And Phil is so glad he asked.

He takes his time arranging his family into the nest pile, and he wraps as many blankets as he can around them. Whenever Tubbo tries to pull one off he hisses and does it again. When he’s sure they’re comfortable he begins checking them for injuries and harm. He thumbs their cheeks lovingly, and inspects every horn, tusk, and fang. When he’s sure they’re okay he sits himself down in front of them.

When they just stare, he feels irritated. He trills, “Preen?”

They all seem to have a silent conversation with each other. It’s Wilbur who stutters, “S-sure. But, uh, Phil, we don’t have wings?”

Phil just huffs and ruffles his hair. “Silly little bird.”

“Don’t laugh at me Tommy.”

“Silly, hah, that’s so fucking funny.”

“I said don’t, you annoying little runt!” Phil flinches and Wilbur immediately coos, “Oh no, I’m sorry Phil. I was just joking. I love Tommy, he’s my gold, my little one. Flock member, if you will.”

“Sap.”

Wilbur conceals his glare. “Yeah, so, how do you want to do this preening thing?”

Phil demands them to preen his wings first, as he is their father, and Techno takes the time to braid his hair since the wings are a little crowded. Techno also inspects his talons and seems relieved when they are uninjured from his picking. Once his wings feel lighter and he feels some of the fog lift, he takes his time to preen his flock members. He scratches behind their ears until they are either purring or bleating. He adjusts their crooked hair strands, and even fixes the hair knotted around Tubbo’s horns. He even puts in a small braid or two. And then he gets a nail file and works on their blunt and semi broken claws, from the months of clumsiness or roughhousing.

When he feels like they are all in order he murmurs, “Dinner.”

Tommy, surprisingly, looking awestruck says, “Sure Dad.”

“Who’s the suck up now, Tommy,” Tubbo huffs. Tommy doesn’t shove him, because Phil is already giving him a look. Tommy just flushes and says, “Maybe I am.”

Phil returns to their nest with cookies and stew. He has a large bowl and offers a spoonful to each of them. No one moves, and when he begins to chirp loudly, Ranboo takes the first bite. Ranboo makes an exaggerated nod, “It’s wonderful, Phil.”

Phil fluffs his wings happily and feels calmed that he can provide for his flock. They eat his stew happily, and he occasionally rubs their cheek when they praise him. Once they’re all full he then scoots in the middle of the nest and lays on his stomach, wings pulling them to lay down. He feels so warm, and at peace, for once. He feels so much lighter, now that he’s finally taken care of his flock. They love him, and he adores them.

Before he fades completely, he hears a voice say, “We love you, Dad.”

---

When he wakes, he feels a little stiff, and also very warm. Piglins run hot, and with three by his side he’s a little overwhelmed. He awakes and sits up, braid falling apart in his hair. His flock, or family, is still there. Awake, and whispering to each other. It’s not until he processes the braids in their hair, and the blankets around them that he gets embarrassed.

“Oh my god,” Phil hitches, “I’m so sorry. Shit, I must’ve overwhelmed you.”

Techno sits up, and he’s luckily smiling. “You did, but only because we were worried.”

“Oh, good.”

“Dadza?” Tubbo asks quietly.

“Yes, Tubbo?” He reaches a hand out, in case something is wrong.

Tubbo’s ear twitches. “Don’t do that again. Don’t suppress your instincts. You take such good care of us and let us have our silly hybrid moments. And we want you to, as well. I was scared.”

Phil’s eyes sting. “I’m sorry, mate. I just, I don’t know, always feared overwhelming you. So, I settled on what little I could do, so as to not suppress all of it.”

“You could never overwhelm us, I mean, Ranboo carried me into the middle of the woods once where he absolutely could’ve murdered me. But he didn’t, because he’s a sappy stupid enderman with weird strength.” Tommy grumbles.

His chest blooms. “Oh, uh, then I will make sure not to suppress them. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank us, Phil.” Wilbur grunts.

There are murmurs of agreement. And Ranboo adds, “Yeah, and we also want to say you’re a good dad, and a great flock leader. You took very good care of us.”

“Thanks little bird.”

Wilbur awes, “So adorable. You know, with all the sappy shit you chirped we have enough blackmail for decades.”

Phil groans, “Yeah, and don’t get me started for what you snorted in your last hoarding mood. You kept calling Ranboo your little one for the first time, and gave him so many rings that his paws don’t know what to do with them.”

“Oi, no! I don’t like Ranboo.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to Ranboo,” Tommy growls, “Else you’re a fucking wrongen.”

“Everyone shut up, I’m still sleeping,” Techno mumbles. Tommy gets a silly smile on his face and takes the opportunity to curl close to his chest. Techno grumbles a few Piglin curse words then his purrs fill the nest. Phil feels so happy that his family is here and together that he clicks, “My little birds,” before he can stop himself.

“What does that word mean? You've said it a few times I think.” Wilbur asks.

Phil sniffs, “Um, I guess it’s equivalent to little one. Like, baby bird, or little bird.”

No one answers him and he’s worried he’s completely overwhelmed them now. But then Wilbur is hugging him and rubbing his cheek over his neck. Ranboo curls his tail around his ankle, and Tubbo headbutts him softly on the shoulder. Tommy and Techno merely smile at him, ears flicking in curiosity, both too comfortable to stand.

“Safe.” He chirps.

Tommy grins with his full teeth, “That’s what you said when you first brought me home. Thank you for keeping us safe, Dad.”

He blinks back tears. It’s an honor to be a father of a large family such as his. But it’s a greater honor to be the flock leader and to have kept his flock protected. He loathes all the avians that told him he was crazy, that he was going to miss out on so many things by not adopting avians. He loathes that they told him other hybrids would never fill the hole in his heart, and nor would they appreciate his clinginess or instincts. But now, here he is, with a greater flock building homes on his land, and a family shuffled into his nest. He hopes those avians look upon him in jealousy, of what they’ve missed out on being so arrogant.

He's so unbelievably grateful.

---

“There he goes again,” Techno scoffs.

Tommy shoves him, “Don’t be rude to our pack leader.”

“You’re always so formal,” Wilbur snorts by his side, “I’m Tommy, don’t be mean to pack leader it’s rude! Look at me I’m a suck up to Dad!”

“I hate you both, Ranboo’s my new favorite brother.”

“What about me?” Tubbo whines.

Tommy merely rolls his eyes. Though he doesn’t want to be rude, it is rather ridiculous to see this every morning. Ever since Phil had his big nesting moment, they’ve helped him ease into having his instincts more managed. They’re not anything surprising for an avian, just a little bit clingier than Tommy remembers Phil ever being. It’s nice, and he’s not complaining. What is the most entertaining affair are the mornings. Phil will tend to them and then go out to tend to his greater flock. They watch him stumble through their growing commune and praise everyone around them. Phil always has to find a way to embrace them, or hug them, and it’s frankly embarrassing to watch. Tommy adores how loving he is, but they’ve all taken to making bets and poking light fun of what their silly avian father will do.

Tommy wishes he could follow Phil and protect him from some of the people here, but Wilbur has to remind him to not be so possessive when their father’s heart is so large and welcoming. He always tells Wilbur to shove Phil’s giant heart up his ass, but nonetheless he stays behind with the family.

Here he was, an orphan. His sounder wiped away from a lava disaster in the Nether. He spoke little Common, and thought he’d stay alone forever and then join the Brutes to protect the Bastions or something. But then he met Wilbur, Techno, and Phil. Without Phil bringing him in and welcoming him, he’d never have the family today. He’d never have the neighbors and friends he’d have if it weren’t for this. He’s especially glad it was this family that he found. They helped him grow his tusks, adjust to instincts, and find Tubbo and Ranboo. They helped protect him from rude people at school too. It’s sounder in every way that counts, and he’d never change that for anything.

“You’ve gone quiet, Theseus,” Techno murmurs, a claw gentle on his neck, “What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking shit. Feeling overwhelmed. Uh, do you ever get like this. Like, just, surprised about having a sounder such as this?” He pushes, insecurity welling in him.

Techno’s hand is gentle, and his smile is easy. “Of course. I know I said I hated you, and I grumbled about Ranboo and Tubbo, but you’re my pack, my sounder, my brothers. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Not to add onto the sappiness,” Tubbo grins, “But you feel like flock. I was left behind by my own people, other goats. And I had no idea how I was going to find that again. But here I am with you lot, and frankly it’s not so bad.”

“Hauntlings loved.” Is all Ranboo chirps in response to that, and Tommy cackles out loud. Ranboo only gets like that when he’s in a particularly enderman mood, and too overwhelmed to say anything more. Tommy merely smiles at him and then he pulls himself into Wilbur’s side. He feels himself purring not long after his brother’s hand grips through his curls.

Phil returns soon after their little moment. He looks at them shuffled against each other, eyeing Tommy’s claws that are picking at Wilbur’s sweater. He ruffles his feathers, amusement coating his lips. “I see something happened. And I see that one of you is in a hoarding mood too.”

“No,” Techno flushes, “Wait. Oh, uh, you meant Tommy.”

“Make that two of you. Anything else we want to mention?”

Tubbo jumps, “Yeah! Ranboo you owe me twenty emeralds! I bet that Phil would give Niki one of his feathers and he did, pay up now.”

Phil leans back and cackles in that way Tommy loves about him. Phil laughs at everything they do, and it makes him feel most appreciated in the world. Phil merely shakes his head, “Of course you all bet on me, your silly old bird father. How will I cope?”

“By joining me in the nest?” Tommy pouts, “And braiding my hair?”

Phil eyes him, “Are you sure Techno’s okay with you making it this time?”

“I’m fine with it.” Techno hurries and Wilbur merely mutters sap. Phil still doesn’t know that particular word in Piglin, and frankly he’s glad, so as to save them all the embarrassment.

And so, shoulder by shoulder, arm in arm, they walk back to the house. Phil is at the helm, and the sun makes his wings as golden as his hair. Their gold.

“You’re purring bossman, and we’re not even inside yet,” Tubbo teases. Tommy doesn’t have the heart to yell at him. Because this is what Phil created. This is his family. And he’d take a thousand preening sessions every day if it meant he got to keep this. Phil turns to let him in the door, a gentle smile on his lips.

The Overworld was never warmer in that moment.