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Piglins aren’t hard to find. They are literally everywhere in the Nether if you know where to look. Even if you don’t, you’ll more than likely stumble upon them by accident.
So why couldn’t Wilbur find any piglin hybrids in the Overworld?
He’s a runt. He is not meant to be alone for such long periods of time.
His stomach growls, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten in a while. He rubs a hand over his stomach to try and soothe the ache there. He doesn’t have anything to satisfy the acid inside it. He will have to suffer until he can find a restaurant dumpster that doesn’t have too much mold inside it.
Or a camera watching it.
Wilbur lets a tiny whine slip past his lips. It’s not like it will do anything.
He wishes Techno could be here. Techno would take care of him. Techno is a brute. Brutes are known for protecting their runts.
That’s how it had been for years. Techno and Wilbur against the world. Or… well, Techno against the world and Wilbur as his ball and chain that kept him back from his potential.
So maybe it was better that Techno wasn’t here.
Wilbur still didn’t understand why Techno had left him.
It hadn’t been that long ago that he had been snuggled into his twin’s side in the back alley behind a museum. He remembers Techno holding him tight.
He also remembers waking up alone.
And he has ever since. It’s been years since that awful night. Wilbur had only been thirteen. Now he was almost eighteen.
He got tired of you.
He hates you.
No one loves a useless runt.
Everyone hates you.
Wilbur whines again, pulling himself over the lip of a nearby dumpster. Empty. Again.
Why is there so many empty dumpsters? It’s like someone has made it their mission to make sure that Wilbur starves.
A deep part of him believes that he deserves it.
Wilbur whimpers, his tail wrapping around his left leg in an attempt to soothe himself. It doesn’t work. It never does.
He crawls out of the cold metal box. He doesn’t want to die. He wants to be comforted. He wants to be held.
He used to complain about his instincts, but that was when he had Techno. He’d taken Techno for granted.
Now that Techno was gone… Wilbur was alone. He had to take care of himself. He didn’t really want to do that anymore.
But these damned instincts insisted that they had to wait for a brute to come find him. Which is so stupid! Who wants a useless, worthless runt?
Most runts had golden hair, something that made them precious for a hoard.
What did Wilbur have?
He had brown hair and brown eyes. His fur was brown and his tusks were dull and brittle. One could theoretically argue that it was because of his years on the streets, but that wasn’t good enough in his eyes.
He was just Wilbur.
No good, worthless, stupid Wilbur.
Another whine slips out of his throat. Stupid and pathetic, just like him.
He walks out of the alley, his tail still wrapped around his left leg. He sneaks into a grocery store. Maybe he could just take a loaf of bread or a sandwich or something.
That’d be okay. Right?
Wilbur tucks the sandwich against his chest and grabs a bottle of water too. He is being greedy. He’s going to ruin some innocent person’s career.
But he can’t help it.
He’s hungry, and he’s too weak to actually get a job.
“HEY!” Wilbur doesn’t have time to dodge before a large armadillo hybrid barrels him over.
Wilbur’s head slams against the ground and a ringing fills his ears. The hybrid takes the sandwich and water from him before throwing him out into the streets.
Wilbur holds a hand to his head to try and stop the ringing.
He stumbles into an alley with a dumpster, hoping against hope that something would be in there.
“I hear they’ve got a bounty out for a piglin runt. The Blood God’s been searching for a runt he lost,” someone says at the entrance of the alley.
Wilbur hides behind the dumpster, covering his mouth to muffle the scared squeal that tried to escape him.
The Blood God? The piglin brute that broke out of the gladiator rings and established a mafia so powerful that the government praised it? That Blood God?
Shoot.
Wilbur’s a runt.
Wilbur is very obviously a runt.
If they find him… if anyone finds him…
He needs to hide.
“Did you hear that?” Footsteps.
Coming toward him.
Wilbur bites his lip to keep the panicked squeal that tried to leave his throat. He can’t let them find him.
Who knows what the Blood God will do to him? Is he going to eat the runts???
A hand reaches toward him and he lets the panicked squeal leave his lungs. He bolts out and down the alley.
“Hey! Get back here!” Someone shouts.
He doesn’t have time to think about that.
He takes off down the alleyway before he can second-guess his decisions. He can hear the two people chase after him. Their approaching footsteps signal that he is not as fast as he thinks he is.
He ducks into a crowd, hoping to lose them. He hunches over slightly so that his tall frame isn’t blatantly obvious in the crowd. He needs an exit strategy right now.
It’s hard to think around the din of the crowd’s chatter and the adrenaline pumping blood into his head at whatever rate it thought would help him escape.
And since he didn’t have brute instincts to help calm the adrenaline rush, he is stuck trying to think past the immediate thought to find brute, find protector and hide!
Neither of those was a good option for an abandoned runt. Who knows if the brute he stumbles upon would be a good one or not?
Maybe they’d abandon him like Techno had.
Wilbur bites his lip harder to keep the whine from billowing out of him. He tastes iron and winces when he realizes that he’s bit through his skin.
Crap.
Hopefully there aren’t any predators around.
Wait. No, he’s a hybrid. He doesn’t have predators.
He smacks his forehead to clear his instincts. Then again. And again.
Dangit! Why won’t they fade? Why are they so- so…
Wilbur shakes his head again.
A hand grips his shoulder and a sharp poke in his neck follows. He whimpers when he realizes that he’s been caught.
And there’s no one to miss him.
Wilbur wakes up in a cage. There’s a cloth over the cage. A thick one. No light is getting in, so he can’t even tell what color the cage is, or even where he is. He tries to stretch, but a cold metal on his wrists stops him.
There’s a muzzle on his face and a cloth in his mouth. Overkill, honestly, but whatever.
Wilbur feels whines and whimpers building in his throat, but none of them spill out. So he’s left to use his ears (as shot as they were) to try and figure out what is happening.
He hears the sound of people talking, and metal squeaking. More than that… nothing.
Until he heard a piglin runt squeal for their sounder.
An unclaimed (or abandoned runt like him) squeal will trigger a brute’s need to protect, but based on the fact that the runt kept squealing with no comforting chuffs nearby… it had a sounder.
The sound of feet on a hard surface skitters past him.
Crap. Were they letting the claimed runts go?
If only Wilbur was claimed. He isn’t, unfortunately.
“There can only be so many unclaimed runts in Hypixel,” an unfamiliar voice says, “how can you incompetent fools fail to find a single one?”
Wilbur struggles slightly in his restraints. He refuses to die here. He doesn’t want to find out what will happen to the unclaimed runts they seemed to be looking for.
A few more squeals go by, more claimed runts of various ages and genders that were let go to return to their sounders. Wilbur is starting to get the feeling that he is last in line for whatever is about to happen.
He is jostled around a lot, but he can’t even whimper or anything.
After who knows how long, the cloth hiding Wilbur is lifted and he flinches at the bright light. He lifts his legs in an attempt to help block it since he can’t move his arms very well.
“Why is this one muzzled?” The unfamiliar voice asks.
Wilbur turns to look and sees a blond-haired blue-eyed man with a green cloak. A shiny gold emerald earring dangles from the man’s ear.
“It kept whimpering like a kicked puppy. We didn’t injure it as best we could, as requested, but it fought like a feral cat.”
Wilbur glares at his kidnappers.
He hopes they have nasty bruises in every place that it can bruise.
The blond man chuckles. “Alright, well, we need to test him, so take it off.”
Wilbur immediately tries to bite them as the muzzle and cloth are taken away from his face. The kidnappers yelp and hold both sides of his face.
“Feisty, indeed.” The blond man grins. “Bring the hoglin.”
Wilbur pales. A hoglin? That… that is a natural enemy to piglins and hoglins will eat runts.
He snarls and bites at the blond man, snapping his tiny tusks at him. The blond man lifts a brow but says nothing.
A caged hoglin is brought into the large room. Wilbur feels his veins freeze.
Protector where? No brute, protector left.
Alone!
Wilbur can’t stop the terrified squeal that leaves his lips as he violently resists against the kidnappers.
He can’t let the hoglin eat him! He’s just a runt, he can’t even defend himself-
Wilbur’s head snaps up when he hears the sound of something breaking. He hears a familiar chuffing call.
His brute!
Wilbur squeals and squirms more, desperate to get to safety in his brute’s arms.
The familiar pink hair and large, ivory tusks come into view as Wilbur is picked up. His brute begins to purr, trying to calm Wilbur’s fear.
Wilbur relaxes into his brute’s hold.
He whines and whimpers, trying to bury himself deeper in his protector’s hold. His brute doesn’t stop purring, and vaguely, Wilbur hears his protector say something and start moving. But he doesn’t care.
He is being held and kept safe by his protector.
He had thought that his protector had abandoned him, and yet here he is! Just in time to save Wilbur!
He whimpers, squirming around in his brute’s hold. His protector’s arms tighten until Wilbur can’t squirm anymore.
Wilbur lets out a tiny purr.
Finally… this was what he’d been missing. This was what he’d wanted. He’d just wanted to be held and cared for. He was just a runt.
He wasn’t meant to be alone.
Wilbur purrs when his protector sets him down in a dark, enclosed den. He perks up when he sees a hoard pile nearby. Lots and lots of shiny, shimmering gold!
Wilbur reaches for one and his protector growls. Wilbur whines and retracts his hand immediately, he puts his hands under his thighs and squeezes his knees close to his chest. His tail comes up to wrap around his left calf.
He didn’t want to upset his protector so soon! He needs to be a good runt so his protector won’t leave again. And if that means that he can’t have gold, then that’s okay.
His protector pushes the hoard pile away from Wilbur and instead starts to inspect him. Wilbur lets the brute push and prod, doing his best not to whimper in pain when the brute finds a few bruises and scrapes from his time in the streets.
Wilbur just wants to act out. He wants to demand hugs and food and gold like he used to.
But he can’t.
Because if he does, then his brute will leave. And he’ll die if his brute abandons him again. He thinks he hears something, but winces when his ear moves. It feels like it’s been torn off.
Maybe it’s from when he got in a fight with that armadillo hybrid.
He feels his brute’s hand gently brush against his ear. Wilbur flinches with a pained whine. He freezes when he hears a thundering growl.
“Sorry! Sorry!” he whimpers, hiding his face in his knees and trying to make himself as small as possible.
He didn’t mean to upset his brute!
The brute’s hand pauses on his ear before ruffling his hair. Wilbur doesn’t move. Maybe the brute likes when Wilbur stays still. Maybe the brute will keep Wilbur if he never asks for anything.
The brute prods at Wilbur’s shoulders with a finger. Wilbur moves away from the touch. What does the brute want him to do?
He hears some muffled talking before he’s being picked up by someone who is definitely not his protector.
Had his brute given him away? Did he upset his brute that much?
“Easy, mate,” a voice says in his good ear, “I’m your caretaker. Your protector needed to go take care of the predator, remember?”
Wilbur subtly nods. Maybe his caretaker will like Wilbur more than his protector does!
Wilbur slightly comes out of his little ball and looks up at his caretaker. He sees his caretaker’s shiny gold hair and blue eyes. This is the man from earlier!
Wilbur makes a small questioning grunt.
“My… a smart runt. I suppose, you’re nearly what? Fifteen? Sixteen? How old is Tec-”
“A-Almost e-eighteen, s-sir,” Wilbur whispers, his voice croaking from how little he’s used it in the last few years or so.
The caretaker stares at Wilbur. Then, slowly, his tusks peek out of his jaw. He didn’t know caretakers could have retractable tusks!
“You’re so thin… and underdeveloped… gosh, even your tusks…” the caretaker gently touches Wilbur’s tusks and Wilbur whimpers in pain. “Poor runt…”
His caretaker lifts Wilbur up and carries him into a bathroom tucked behind the den’s large nest.
Wilbur shakes his head.
“W-Wait, I’m- where… where am I?” He blinks as his instincts start to clear up.
“Easy, mate, you’re-”
“Phil!? Where’s Wilbur?!” A familiar voice growls.
Wilbur’s eyes widen as Techno’s frame comes into view.
“Right here, mate. Want to bathe him? I can go get some food-”
“Please,” Techno practically shoves the blond man out of the bathroom. “Wil… Wilbur… I-”
Wilbur punches Techno in the face. “Y-You!”
Techno blinks in shock at Wilbur. “Wil?”
“Y-You l-l-left me!” Wilbur shivers. “I-I was alone! I-I almost d-d-died!” Wilbur’s limbs could barely support his weight.
“You’re almost dead now,” Techno gestures to Wilbur’s skeletal frame. “Now let me take care of you.”
“No! No, I refuse!” Wilbur backs away. He trips and starts to fall backward. Techno’s faster and catches him.
“Wilbur, stop it. Be a good runt and-”
“No! I won’t! You left me behind!”
“I didn’t mean to-”
Wilbur bites Techno’s arm that’s holding him. Techno doesn’t even flinch. Wilbur’s teeth don’t even make a dent in his twin’s thick skin. Wilbur whines as his teeth ache from the action.
Then he shakes his head to clear the stupid, pathetic instincts.
He can’t let them take over right now.
Techno huffs and scruffs Wilbur. Just like when they were younger.
“Whatever. We can deal with your insecurities later. You stink and I don’t want that stink in my den.” Techno carries Wilbur towards a bath tub that could easily fit them both if they felt so inclined.
But Techno just drops Wilbur, clothes and all, into the water.
“Hey!”
“You’re covered in at least two inches of dirt,” Techno gestures to the water that was slowly turning brown around Wilbur.
“And?” Wilbur huffs and turns away from Techno. He huffs as the iron cuffs on his wrists clink together. Didn’t even have the decency to take them off.
Techno sighs. “Wilbur.”
Wilbur ignores him.
If Techno wants to clean Wilbur, he can do it himself. Wilbur will not be helpful or cooperative in any way-
Techno growls harshly at Wilbur. Wilbur’s instincts immediately take over and force Wilbur to start squealing apologies.
“Sorry! Sorry!”
Protector huffs. “Really, Wil, I wouldn’t need to do that if you’d just listen to me.” Protector then starts to pour water on Wilbur’s head.
Protector was doing such a good job of taking care of Wilbur….
Wilbur had missed Protector. He’s glad that Protector found him again.
Wilbur purrs as his protector combs through all the muck and yuck that had piled in his hair.
“You really let yourself go, huh? I was fighting for my life and you were out there all on your own. I’m surprised no brutes took you in the meantime.” Protector’s hand brushes through Wilbur’s curls.
It had been so long since he’d been around sounder that he couldn’t really remember how to respond properly. So he elects to just purr and hope his protector would be okay with that.
Protector sighs. “Of course you don’t even remember proper sounder tongue. It’s just like you to remember sorry and nothing else.”
Wilbur whines. He tucks his tail around his left leg.
Protector gently unwinds the tail from Wilbur’s leg and moves it around his arm. Wilbur perks up slightly. Protector used to do that to remind Wilbur who would comfort him.
So would his protector hold him again?
Wilbur reaches his arms up to hug his protector, but his protector pushes his arms away.
“You’re all wet. I do not want to get wet.”
But Wilbur didn’t understand. His protector was supposed to always want to hold Wilbur. Why was he pushing Wilbur away?
Maybe Wilbur was a really bad runt.
He should stop trying to hug Protector unprompted. That will make Protector happy, for sure!
His protector leaves for a little bit and when he comes back, he doesn’t look the same. He looks a little different. But maybe Wilbur’s just seeing things.
Wilbur does his best to sit still for his protector, even when his protector accidentally got a lot of soap in Wilbur’s eyes and mouth, he sat still and didn’t complain. He was doing his best to show how good a runt he could be.
His protector seemed content with Wilbur’s change in behavior, so that means that Wilbur shouldn’t move. Got it.
Wilbur doesn’t move unless his protector moves him. And when caretaker arrives back with yummy food, Wilbur waits until they both are eating before grabbing a small grape.
He immediately puts it back when his protector growls at him.
No food. Got it.
So he doesn’t reach for any more food.
Caretaker and Protector started to fight a lot after a few hours. Wilbur’s ears weren’t really working all that well, and it was getting harder and harder to hear anything. So he didn’t.
If he didn’t move, then he can stay with Protector and Caretaker as long as he wants!
And that’s all he wanted.
So he stayed still.
He let his protector pick him up and carry him around. He let Caretaker feed him bits of disgusting food that didn’t taste good and made his stomach upset.
He doesn’t really keep track of time after that.
Caretaker and Protector leave a lot though.
They’re gone for really long periods of time.
Wilbur remembers passing out at one point and waking up to Caretaker force-feeding him water. What a good caretaker. Even when Wilbur doesn’t deserve to be taken care of, his caretaker comes to make sure he is alive.
One time, his protector and caretaker came in and they smelled… weird. Not like they usually did.
Wilbur shifted to make more room in the den nest for them, but that made them really mad. Like super mad.
They started hitting Wilbur, kicking and hitting him until he passed out.
There had to be a reason that they punished him, right? It must be because he is such a bad runt.
But Wilbur’s body is starting to hurt.
His legs don’t like to move very much anymore and his arms are stuck under his knees. His caretaker says something, but Wilbur can’t hear him. He feels the vibrations of his caretaker speaking.
Then he feels the rumble of his protector speaking and then he sees them both leave in a hurry again.
Wilbur doesn’t mind. He does his best to not move. Just like his protector would want.
He isn’t sure how much time he spends in the drifty space in the den, but one day, a small gold shoat wanders in. Wilbur thinks he makes a soft call to the shoat, letting them know this space is safe.
The shoat tilts its head at Wilbur and crawls in beside him. The shoat grabs one of Wilbur’s arms and moves it so that it can snuggle against his chest. Wilbur whimpers at the movement.
Did his caretaker and protector adopt a shoat? Why weren’t they here to help care for it?
Maybe they didn’t know the shoat had left the nursery?
Wilbur shakily starts to move his limbs. He needs to care for the shoat while his caretaker and protector are busy. His limbs hurt with every movement, but he ignores it so that he can carry the shoat (who is surprisingly heavy for a little thing) out of the den.
He doesn’t like being out of the den, but he knows that there isn’t food in the den for shoats. Or any food, really.
His caretaker didn’t like to leave food in the den.
The shoat pokes Wilbur’s cheek. Wilbur flinches at the movement and almost drops the shoat.
He thinks he makes an apologetic sound to the shoat, but he really can’t hear anything anymore. His thoughts were the only thing he could hear now.
He isn’t really sure why though.
Maybe his protector took away his hearing because he had been a bad runt.
That made sense.
Wilbur stumbles around until he can faintly smell food. He pushes open the door and sees his caretaker standing in a large kitchen. He sees his caretaker spin to look at him. His caretaker’s eyes widen as he sees the shoat that Wilbur’s holding and Wilbur himself.
He sees his caretaker’s mouth move and then the shoat is violently ripped from Wilbur’s arms. Wilbur whines in confusion, but lets it happen.
He can’t really hear what’s happening, or what his caretaker says. His caretaker looks… mad?
Wilbur’s tail wraps around his left leg. He isn’t sure if he’s making sounds or not, but he can feel his throat moving like he is.
Wilbur watches his caretaker snap fingers in front of his face. Wilbur flinches, surprised at how close his caretaker was all of a sudden. He falls back and-
CRACK!
Wilbur feels pain shoot from the base of his tail and up his spine. He blacks out.
Wilbur wakes up to a faint beep beep beep.
He groans and startles. He hasn’t heard his own voice in so long…
“Wilbur?” A quiet voice nearby says. He turns and sees a blond man.
“W-Who are you?” He whispers. His voice sounds too loud. He can suddenly hear himself breathing.
There’s something weird on his ears. He scratches at it and finds… a hearing aid?
“Easy, mate… sorry about… all of this.” The blond man looks guilty. “We thought you were rebelling, we didn’t realize you couldn’t hear us.”
Wilbur looks around. Hadn’t there been a shoat? He remembers a shoat.
“Tommy’s with Techno right now,” the blond man sets a hand on Wilbur’s thigh, “I appreciate you trying to take care of him. I was so surprised when you walked out with him.”
“W-Who are you?” Wilbur whispers.
“Me? I’m Philza. Your caretaker, remember?”
Wilbur nods hesitantly, he looks around and sees tubes going in and out of his arms. There’s large bandages around his waist and shoulders.
“Your hearing’s been pretty damaged, and you’ve got a nasty traumatic brain injury on top of that,” Philza says.
Wilbur looks up at him. “I… the last thing I remember… other than the shoat- Tommy. Uhm… a cage?”
Philza blinks.
“Mate… you’ve been living with us for a year. That was a year ago.”
Wilbur blinks.
No.
No way.
It feels like yesterday! What… how…
“Gosh… we really shouldn’t have left you alone in the guest room,” Philza sighs, “clearly it didn’t do you any good.”
“Guest room…? It wasn’t… the den?”
Philza’s eyes widen. “You thought that was the den?”
Wilbur nods. Philza lets out an apologetic whine. Wilbur whimpers, unsure how he’d upset his caretaker.
He’s such a bad runt! He’s always upsetting his sounder!
Wilbur whines and tries to wrap his tail around his left leg. But his tail doesn’t move. In fact… he can’t feel it.
He squeals in fear and tries to look for his tail.
“Whoa! Easy, mate!” Caretaker holds Wilbur down. “Your tail had to be bandaged. When you fell, you broke the joints holding it to your spine. Of course, Tommy also decided to jump on you, which is why you have broken ribs. But how long has your arm and collarbone been broken?”
Caretaker starts to inspect Wilbur’s body. Wilbur lies still.
He remembers that his caretaker and protector liked when Wilbur didn’t move.
His caretaker pauses. “Wilbur, can you lift your chin for me?”
Wilbur hesitates, but he obeys.
“Good, now can you wriggle your fingers?” Caretaker lifts his right hand. Wilbur obeys.
He wants to be a good runt. Even if he doesn’t understand what his caretaker is doing, he needs to obey!
“Huh… you’re… oddly obedient for a runt. Most runts will ask for something in return, but you…” Caretaker’s eyes widen, “Wilbur, do you think that you’re a bad runt?”
Wilbur whines.
He can do better! He can be a good runt!
“Oh no… no no, crap. I didn’t even think about that…” Caretaker smacks his own forehead. Wilbur squeals an apology.
“Sorry! Sorry!”
“No, no, not you, moonlight, not you,” caretaker grabs Wilbur’s hand. Wilbur could die happy. He hasn’t been held in so long…
The door opens and Protector and the shoat walk in with two ice cream cones. Wilbur looks up at his Protector and sees the familiar brown eyes.
Oh no! He’s not in his runt position! He needs to be small and invisible so his brute will not be upset!
But he can’t move! These stupid bandages-
“Wilbur, don’t do that!” Protector scolds, stopping Wilbur from pulling the IV’s out. Wilbur freezes.
He made Protector mad.
He’s going to be thrown away.
He’s going to be left behind again.
Wilbur is such a bad runt.
“Tech, he’s spiralling. Like bad. We should’ve never put him in the guest bedroom. He needed to be around us and spoiled…. Why did we listen to those stupid “experts”? They’ve completely broken his instincts.” Caretaker was upset.
Wilbur made Caretaker and Protector mad.
“Damn it. I should’ve realized… he almost died, Phil,” Protector says. His hand comes up to pet Wilbur’s hair.
Wilbur so badly wants to hold onto Protector’s wrist to make sure the hand stays, but he isn’t allowed to move! His protector would be upset.
“What did they do to him while pretending to be us?” Caretaker asks.
“Based on how he is reacting… nothing good. And I think I’m going to need to take their heads. We are never trusting anyone with the runt again.” Protector hugs Wilbur.
Wilbur wants to hug his protector back. He wants to make happy noises and wag his tail. But he isn’t allowed to move, or his protector will be upset.
He didn’t want to get punished again.
“Wilbur… please… it’s me. It’s your twin, Techno.” His protector whispers into Wilbur’s neck.
Well duh! Wilbur knew that!
But he wasn’t allowed to respond, or his protector would get mad again.
“Wilbur… what did they do to you?” His protector sounded… sad.
Wilbur didn’t know how to react to sad. His protector didn’t get sad. Only mad. Right?
He wasn’t sure anymore. He remembers a time when his protector was patient and never mad. But then protector also hit Wilbur… right?
“Maybe if he realizes that the people we hired to take care of him wasn’t us, he’ll trust us?” Protector looks up to Caretaker. Caretaker is gently bouncing the little shoat on his hip.
“Maybe? But his eyesight still hasn’t fully recovered. I’m surprised he recognized us, honestly.”
Wilbur huffs. Of course he recognizes his sounder.
Or… he thinks he does.
He isn’t sure anymore.
He doesn’t trust what his body told him.
Someone new comes in and Wilbur casts a glance at the blurry figure. It looks like… Caretaker? Wilbur whines in confusion at how many caretakers there were.
“Yeah… whatever drug they’d been giving him has messed with his instincts,” a feminine voice says.
That wasn’t Caretaker!
“What do we do? He’s… he’s…”
Broken runt.
Useless runt.
Worthless runt.
“Well, we could give him a drug that would force him to re-imprint, or sedate him until he’s healed. Or both. Whatever you think is best as his guardians,” the feminine not-sounder voice says.
Wilbur isn’t sure why she’s here if she’s not sounder.
“The first…” Caretaker says hesitantly, “it won’t hurt him right?”
“No. Not at all. It may tire him out so that whatever drug is in him now will wear off before trying again. I would suggest sedating him until he’s healed more so that you can take him home for the recovery process.”
Wilbur looks around, his eyes hurt. He just wants to go to sleep. He’s tired of being confused. He’s tired of hurting.
He just wants to sleep.
So he ignores his protector’s whine and goes to sleep.
When Wilbur wakes up, he’s alone. It’s a dark room, darker than the last den he’d been in. There’s shiny pieces of gold scattered around the den-nest. He wants to reach out and pick it up…
But he can’t because…
Because…
Well, he can’t really remember why. He just knows that he can’t.
He looks up when he hears the door open. Technoblade walks in. Wilbur wants to grin. To perk up and run to his twin.
But something holds him down and keeps him pinned to the nest.
For some reason, he feels… so empty…
“Wil? Hey… c’mere,” Techno holds his arms open.
Wilbur wants to.
He so badly wants to rush to Techno.
But he can’t and he doesn’t know why.
He whines.
Techno softens and comes toward Wilbur. He picks Wilbur up and holds him tight.
“Are you in your instincts or do you want to talk?”
Wilbur looks up at him. He purrs hesitantly, unsure what his brother wants.
“Well… that’s better than you were before, at least,” Techno laughs softly. He rubs Wilbur’s back. Wilbur relaxes into Techno’s hold.
Wilbur tilts his head.
“You were so detached with your noises before, like you had been trained to do it. Now you’re more open…” Techno buries his face in Wilbur’s hair.
Wilbur hesitantly nuzzles back into Techno’s chest.
Techno’s chest immediately bursts out with a purr. Wilbur’s tail starts to wag and he nuzzles closer to Techno.
With every small request he made for Techno’s attention, his brother would reciprocate with a purr or a hug. It felt like validation for something he didn’t know he needed.
He isn’t too sure about these two blond piglins that Techno found while he was gone, but Wilbur supposes he can learn to play nice with them.
One day, he’ll learn what happened to him. And maybe he’ll learn to trust his sounder, but right now, he was content to be held.