Chapter Text
Tommy doesn't know how he ended up in this position.
"Let me go! You motherfuckers! I'll knock your teeth in!" Tommy shrieks, kicking his legs ineffectively. The piglin holding him just chuffs and adjusts his grip around Tommy's waist.
Shroomlights. He came here for some fucking shroomlights. That's it! He has no idea what he did to piss off these piglins. He didn't go near their shit! He was even wearing gold! Admittedly it was just a shitty ring landed to him by the merchant that had wanted the shroomlights but it was something.
But that didn't save Tommy from being surrounded and gestured at and eventually scooped under one arm like a toddler.
The piglin pack paid Tommy no mind when he screeched his displeasure. Nor did they react when he tried to pummel his way out. He lost the ring at some point. It had already been loose on his finger, designed for someone with larger hands. Yet, despite all the horror stories of piglins turning violent on goldless trespassers, these ones didn't even seem to notice.
Tommy finally receives a reaction by sinking his teeth into the arm of the piglin holding him. Surprisingly though, the piglin doesn't seem angry. He grunts in pain and Tommy can feel the arm around him tense, but there is no following snarl. The piglin reaches towards Tommy's face with his free hand. Tommy can see it coming in the corner of his eye.
For a moment, the fear of pain overcomes his anger. The hand is much too large. The piglin could pop Tommy's head like a fucking grape. He instinctively detaches from the piglin's arm, wrenching his face away from the approaching hand. Tommy braces for a fist or a claw or something .
A touch to his scalp and Tommy jerks, a fish caught on a hook. He curses, reacting to pain that…doesn't exist. The piglin grunts something as he presses his hand into Tommy's hair. Then, the touch disappears. Tommy opens one eye and sees the piglin has simply continued their trek like nothing happened.
Tommy keeps up his fight as long as he can, alternating between cursing out the mobs and screaming for help in case an overworlder happens to be nearby. The piglins don't react to the former and Tommy stops doing the latter when all it seems to do is get the mobs worked up. They keep drifting closer to the one holding him, reaching out to touch his hair and the nape of his neck. Having them so close to such vulnerable spots and no way to defend himself is nerve wracking. He focuses on cursing out the piglins and their mothers and their mothers' mothers and so on.
None of the piglins answer Tommy's demands to know where they're taking him either, but it turns out they don't need to. Tommy knows the second he sees the bastion appearing through the treeline.
Fuck.
"Hey- hey! Wait let's- come on! Let's talk about this! Look, I don't- if it's a gold thing, I can get you some! Let's just talk this over like the big men we are and - just- would you fucking stop for a second?!" Tommy begins his struggles anew, thrashing desperately in the piglin's hold. He might as well have a curse of binding on for all the good it does him.
The piglin holding him snorts and chuffs again. That's all he seems to fucking do. His large hand reaches over and strokes through Tommy's hair. Again. Like it's any sort of comfort.
There's two brutes guarding the entrance of the bastion. Tommy can see their white eyes focusing on him even from this distance, tucked under the piglin's arm. The piglin pack stops and one steps forward, approaching the brutes. She snorts and gestures back towards Tommy. Oh gods.
Tommy doesn't say anything. Piglin brutes are aggressive at the best of times. Tommy has never been stupid enough to go near a bastion. Not with these monsters guarding it. They make any normal piglin look like a fucking wimp. Tommy's never actually been this close to one. If he was standing up straight, he's pretty sure he would only come up to their chest.
Thankfully, brutes mostly stay in their bastions. Guarding it from any outsiders.
Of which, Tommy remembers, feeling the brutes' gazes boring into him, I am one.
The brutes are listening to the piglin but their attention is focused on Tommy. He keeps still and silent, trying not to draw their ire as well. Tommy knows any sudden move, any noise at all, could trigger the two and Tommy will end up just a smear on the netherrack.
They really don't like outsiders.
He doesn't know what the piglins are saying to each other but after a few minutes of conversation, the brutes exchange glances and then step aside. They grunt and snort but nothing else. Not even when the piglin carrying Tommy steps forward, passing them by. Tommy very wisely keeps his mouth shut, and his gaze focused on the floor. He swears he can still feel the brutes' eyes burning into him as they travel deeper into the bastion.
It doesn't stop there. Piglins of all sizes and shapes stop to stare at the traveling pack. Tommy finds himself quietly grateful that the pack is keeping him in the dead center of their group. He doesn't know why, but at least he's not being paraded around like a trophy. Letting any old piglin wander up and poke at him.
The twists and turns they take are impossible to keep track of. They go up and down a ridiculous amount of staircases. Tommy's starting to see why these piglins are so fucking buff. Getting out of bed must be a work out on its own for them.
Eventually, they come to a single door at the end of a long hallway. The hallway is narrow, forcing the piglins to travel in a single file. There's another brute guarding the door. This one is also staring Tommy down.
Trust me, I don't want me to be here either! Tommy tries to broadcast. He doesn't dare voice the thought, though. He's not an idiot.
The piglin holding him snorts and tilts his head forward, a submissive action Tommy recognizes. The brute snorts and grunts and the piglin must take that as some sort of permission to raise his head. He starts grunting low and quick, communicating with the brute. Tommy is jostled suddenly as the piglin shifts his arm, causing Tommy to squeak in surprise. He forces himself to freeze, silently cursing himself for making noise.
Just as he feared, the brute's gaze snaps to Tommy. He quickly shifts his own gaze down to the floor. His heart is beginning to thunder in his chest. Any moment, Tommy is convinced it's going to burst free. He waits for the offended snarl. For daring to meet the brute's gaze. Piglins always seem to become more upset if you try to lock eyes with them. Tommy can only assume a brute would be worse.
Yet, there's no angry snarl or threatening growl. Just…another chuff.
What?
He doesn't have a chance to process that confusing action because the brute is turning away and opening the door. The lock is loud and booming through the hallway. Tommy sees him lifting a wooden plank like some old medieval door to unlock it.
Wait. Oh fuck, is this the dungeon?!
But the room that they enter doesn't look like a prison cell. Far from it. It's…gold. The walls are all gold. Either some kind of plating or pure gold, Tommy doesn't know. But it still shines under the torchlight, regardless.
The floor is covered in blankets and pillows and other soft objects of a variety of colors. He can see an impressive amount of hoglin pelts mixed in as well.
The piglin holding Tommy snorts and the brute grunts and then the door shuts with…an odd lack of boom. Huh. This room must be more insulated than the outside.
Which means no one is going to hear your screams.
Tommy shudders at the thought. The piglin chuffs again. He…still doesn't seem like he's going to hurt Tommy. Maybe they aren't going to kill him for trespassing? Besides the insulation, the room doesn't exactly scream "torture" vibes.
The piglin holding him kneels down on the blankets and then…he lets go. Tommy is free. He lays on the floor for a moment, staring ahead in shock. The piglin is silent beside him.
Tommy risks a peak up at the mob. The piglin is staring down at him. He blinks slowly, like he's exaggerating the action. A rumble begins to roll out of the piglin's chest. Tommy's breath catches at the noise but it doesn't sound angry. Is he…is the piglin purring?
Okay, this is getting too fucking weird. Tommy needs to get out of here. He slowly starts to sit up, not wanting to suddenly piss the piglin off but he just keeps purring away.
It's only when Tommy starts trying to crawl that the piglin moves. The purring comes to a halt and he grunts a quick repetitive tone. A hand curls around Tommy's waist, making him freeze. Yet there's no painful slash of claws. The piglin just applies the barest amount of pressure, guiding Tommy back to his side.
Okay, what the fuck? What does he want??
"H-hey…um. What's- can you tell me what's-" Tommy doesn't know what he's trying to ask, and it feels hopeless to do so when the piglin is staring at him with that blank expression. Fuck. He obviously doesn't understand Tommy. Talking isn't going to get him anywhere.
He doesn't know what to do. He's trapped in some sort of gold room with a piglin, after being abducted for…what? Collecting shroomlights? But, if they were angry about that, why is he not in a cell? Hell, why didn't they just kill him right then and there? Why all of this?
At least they're alone now. The rest of the pack hasn't joined them for some reason. Not that Tommy's complaining. It's less mobs to watch him, giving him a better chance to escape.
Tommy just needs to wait this out somehow. The piglin will have to leave eventually right? There's no bathroom in here, piglins still have business to do! Yeah! Tommy will just…wait for the piglin to go…piss…
"I'm so fucking screwed." Tommy groans.
The piglin chuffs.
***
He doesn't know how long he's been in this room for sure, but Tommy thinks it must have been a couple hours by now.
Unfortunately, the piglin did not go piss, giving Tommy a chance to escape. He just stayed by Tommy's side, rubbing his back and purring. It was really weird, and only became weirder when the piglin seemed to get more upset as time went on.
After a while though, the piglin had let Tommy up and he was able to scoot away and gain more distance between them. He tried to ignore the whine and coaxing chuffs the piglin made in response. He still didn't reach for Tommy though, so whatever.
Tommy took advantage of this new freedom to try and pace around the walls of the room, feeling for any secret passages. The front door was a no go, but piglins are a paranoid lot and everyone knows a bastion is a fucking maze. Tommy would be very surprised if there wasn't a single hidden passage attached to this room.
At one point, his foot catches on something, sending him stumbling. He only saves himself from completely eating shit by using the wall for balance. Glancing down, he discovers what looks like a random lump of gold? It's nestled in the blankets enough Tommy couldn't see it at first. He reaches down for it without thinking, only freezing once it's in his hand.
Fuck, piglins are anal about their gold. How could Tommy forget that? He glances up, dropping the nugget back to the bedding, wary of how the room's other occupant will react.
The piglin is still sitting in the center, snorting to himself. It's a new sound though. Different from the snorts Tommy has heard before. His shoulders are shaking a bit but it doesn't look like it's from anger. It almost looks like- like-
The fucker is laughing at Tommy. Laughing! Like Tommy is a joke!
"You're a bitch." He growls. Maybe it isn't smart to insult a piglin keeping him captive, but it's not like the fucker could understand Tommy anyway.
He returns to his investigation but it becomes apparent that he won't be finding a hidden door. Whatever. Tommy can try again later. It isn't like he could escape with the piglin watching him.
He resolves himself to sit in the far corner and wait the piglin out. That plan lasts shorter than his investigation had. Almost as soon as Tommy sat down, the piglin began to grunt and whine. Apparently, exploring the room for escape routes is fine, but sitting in the corner and ignoring the piglin was out of the question.
One embarrassingly short chase around the room later and Tommy is back squished into the piglin's arms.
No amount of squirming makes the piglin release Tommy either. He gives up when it becomes clear he is well and truly stuck.
It's honestly really fucking boring. He doesn't even have fear to distract himself. The piglin is purring and nuzzling Tommy like he's a gods damned stuffed animal. It makes it kind of hard to be afraid.
About an hour after the mandatory cuddle session begins, Tommy hears a clicking and scraping sound. He lifts his head from the piglin's chest, trying to pinpoint where the noise is coming from.
Oh, it's the door, he realizes.
…
Oh shit, it's the door.
He sits up, the piglin allowing the action. Yet, he's pulled back with a soft snort when Tommy tries to crawl away, ending up settled in the piglin's lap. He can feel his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. The feeling only grows when the door begins to swing open. Fuck, he is not going to let whoever that is see him used as a living doll for this piglin to cuddle.
But the fucker is unfairly strong, even if he's gentle about it. That doesn't do much to make Tommy feel any better though. It only hits home just how screwed he is at escaping, again .
He doesn't have any more time to wallow in his misery, because the door is open and a new piglin steps in.
It's a brute. But that already feels like an understatement. The brute is huge. Bigger than any of the ones Tommy has seen before. He freezes on instinct, staring wide-eyed up and up and up to meet the brute's gaze-
Fuck, wait what is he doing?! He snaps his head back down at the last second. Barely catching a glimpse of that chilling white-irised gaze.
The brute rumbles a questioning sound. His voice is so deep that it sounds more like a growl. Tommy can't help but press into the piglin holding him, even if it is futile. There's no way this piglin would be able to protect him from a brute that big. That is if the piglin would even want to. He's probably more likely to just chuck Tommy at the brute as a distraction if the latter did attack.
He doesn't though. Throw Tommy, that is. The piglin lifts a large hoofed hand and brushes it gently through Tommy's hair. Like he's trying to reassure him. He's snorting again, but Tommy thinks he's talking to the brute. Tommy is proven right when the brute grunts his own response.
They go one like that for a few minutes, communicating in a language Tommy has no hope to understand. In response, Tommy returns to the only tactic he has right now to stay alive: shut the fuck up and don't move.
It's working so far, at least. The mobs are lost in their conversation. Suddenly, the piglin's hand lifts off of Tommy's head, drawing Tommy from his thoughts.
He glances up and freezes, his breath catching in his lungs at what he's seeing.
The piglin is displaying his arm out. The arm Tommy had bit . The arm that has a very obvious bite mark on it.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. They're going to kill him. The piglin is using it as some sort of evidence against Tommy. Fuck, Tommy is so stupid. He thought the piglin liked him but it was a fucking trick. Tommy let himself be lured into a false sense of security, and now he's about to pay the price.
The brute kneels down onto the blankets, leaning in to get a closer look at the bite. Tommy is as stiff as a board. His heart is pounding so hard, he wouldn't be surprised if the piglins could hear it.
The brute traces one of his hoof…fingers? Claws? - Tommy has no idea what he's supposed to call them - around the outline of the bite mark. Other than a quick inhale, the piglin restraining Tommy makes no complaint.
The claw suddenly stops at a certain part of the mark, tapping it twice. The brute huffs and the piglin snorts.
Then the brute shifts his gaze to Tommy.
He can't move. Can't even bring himself to look away from that white gaze. Even kneeling, the brute looms over Tommy. It's terrifying. The brute rumbles something low and quiet. When there's no response from the piglin, Tommy realizes the brute must be talking to him.
He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what the brute is saying. How is he supposed to reply?!
He's saved from having to figure it out, when the brute leans forward. Reaching for Tommy.
Wait.
Oh- oh gods- wait -
The world is slowing down. Tommy's chest expands, inch by inch as he inhales. Those hoofed hands come closer and closer. That white-irised gaze not wavering in the slightest from Tommy.
His pounding heart slows in his ears. He feels the piglin chuffs his hot breath onto the back of Tommy's neck.
Tommy watches the claws approach his arm. A foot away. A few inches. One inch. A centimeter.
The hand touches his arm.
Tommy comes alive. Electrified.
He screams, his body rebooting and remembering how to move. It's only through the element of surprise that he manages to break free from the piglin holding him. He scrambles away, hearing both mobs squealing in shock behind him.
Tommy claws desperately across the floor, kicking up blankets and chucking pillows behind him blindly. His knee bangs into something hard - another lump of gold? Why do they have them just laying around?! - The mobs are grunting frantically, to each other or to Tommy, he doesn't know, but fuck if he's just going to sit here!
He makes it all the way to the corner of the room, pressing his back against the wall.
The mobs haven't moved. They've stood up, but they haven't come any closer. Still in the same spot from before. The piglin that was holding Tommy coos a soft whine, hunching down a bit as if to make himself look smaller. The piglin takes a step forward. Tommy presses further into the wall, throwing a hand up as if he could ward the piglin back.
"Hey! Hey, back off! Get- stay away! Stranger danger, fucker!" Tommy bares his teeth. He doesn't have tusks like a piglin, but it's a pretty universal fuck off signal.
It works. The piglin stops approaching, staring at Tommy with a sad look. His ears are drooping a bit and…Tommy does not feel bad. This dude fucking kidnapped him.
"So you do speak common."
Tommy gasps, gaze snapping up towards the brute. Did he just…? But no, he couldn't have. Right?
"Did…did you just…?" Tommy doesn't know what he'll do if it turns out he's just hallucinating. Cry? Maybe. Scream? Definitely.
But he's saved from having to figure it out because the brute speaks again.
"Yes. I know common. What? Think piglins are too dumb for it? Racist." The brute snorts and Tommy sputters.
"What the fuck? Don't put words in my mouth, bitch! I've just- I've never heard a piglin speak common before."
"Why should we learn? Why don't overworlders learn piglish?" The brute shrugs.
Tommy's mind is reeling, trying to keep up with this new turn of events. "I…you know what? That's very fair. You are so, absolutely, incredibly right. In fact, you are so right, I think I'll go fix my mistake ASAP! No more ignorance for me! No sirree! So, if you don't mind, Mr. Piglin Brute Sir, I'll be on my way to go educate myself-"
"Technoblade."
Tommy paused his awkward inching around the perimeter of the room. "...huh? Gesundheit."
"My name," the brute rolls his eyes, "it's not 'piglin brute.' It's Technoblade. "
"Um…okay?" Tommy bites his tongue to keep himself from blurting out how stupid that name is. He's not about to insult the brute that could very well snap him like a twig.
…Ignoring that he called the bru-Technoblade a bitch already. Shit.
"This is the part where you introduce yourself," Technoblade drawls. Tommy scowls at the dry tone. Fucker is way too condescending for Tommy's liking.
"Look, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I didn't- all I wanted was some shroomlights. I didn't touch any gold or go near your shit-"
"Bruh, are you really not going to introduce yourself-"
"Come on, big man! I swear, I wasn't doing anything- okay, that- the bite mark wasn't even my fault! I was defending myself!" Tommy stumbles over his own pleas, remembering how the piglin had presented it to Technoblade.
That does seem to do the trick. Technoblade stops and raises a brow. "You…think…" He glances down at the piglin beside him. The piglin looks up at Technoblade. They share a long look.
"Alright, how about you join us over here and we can talk. Like ' big men.' " Technoblade gestures to the blankets by his hooves. Tommy narrows his eyes. The brute can't be serious, can he?
Technoblade stares at Tommy, saying nothing else. Wow. He really is serious.
"I'm uh- I'm good. Over here. I'll just sit here, thanks."
Technoblade narrows his eyes. Uh oh.
"You said you wanted to talk. Let's talk. I'm not yellin' halfway across the room."
Perhaps it would be smart to play along with his captors. He won't be able to do anything to protect himself if he angers the piglins. But Tommy still can't bring himself to close the distance between them. He stays plastered to the wall, feeling the tension rack up his body the longer he disobeys the clear demand.
Technoblade…doesn't look mad . Definitely annoyed, but nothing more. He rolls his eyes and snorts derisively. "Runt, come on. We don't have time for this."
Tommy frowns. Runt?
"The fuck is a runt?" He blurts out without thinking.
Technoblade gives Tommy a long look. Then, he shakes his head. "Fine. Whatever. A runt is…something precious. It's- hm, it's difficult to explain in common." He glances at the other piglin grunting a repetitive sound for a moment.
"Runts are piglins that are smaller than average. Much smaller. They're meant to be cared for. Healthy runts mean a healthy bastion. They're meant to me cherished," the brute pauses before adding on, "they're a good thing."
Tommy is skeptical. It sounds like a runt is a piglin born too small to do anything so they have no use. Maybe Technoblade is trying to cover the insult so Tommy won't question it.
"Then why the fuck are you calling me that? I'm not a piglin," he decides to call out Technoblade's comment. Just to see if the piglin will come forward with the insult.
He doesn't. Technoblade just exchanges another glance with the other piglin. The latter nods with a determined look in his eyes. Technoblade sighs as he turns back to Tommy.
"My friend here is of the opinion that you're a hybrid. A piglin hybrid."
Tommy stares. He blinks.
"Ha!" The laughter bursts out unexpected, but he can't help it. What the fuck?
Neither of the piglins laugh.
….What the fuck.
"I'm not. I'm- You can literally see- do I look like a hybrid to you?!" Tommy gestures down at his very human body.
Technoblade just shrugs. "Apparently, you smell like one."
"What does that-?! No, you know what? I want to know why the fuck that matters. Even if I was a hybrid- which I'm very fucking clearly not- that doesn't explain why I'm here."
Technoblade fixes Tommy with an unreadable look. Damn piglin features are already difficult to read. They relied too much on body language for Tommy's comfort, their expressions earily blank of anything Tommy is used to.
"Well, I'm not just about to give you our secrets. Overworlders are untrustworthy. But," Technoblade raises his voice for a moment when Tommy opens his mouth to yell, "if you come over here and let me check, I can tell you if you're a hybrid. If you're not, no harm no foul. You'll be free to go and that's it."
That….sounds too good to be true. There must be some trick here.
"And…if I am a hybrid? Which I'm not," Tommy presses, quickly adding on the last part.
Technoblade shrugs. "Then I'll explain why that's important. Fair?"
This has to be a trick. There's no way it isn't. But Tommy can't figure out how.
"I prove I'm not a hybrid and you let me leave, yeah? No attacking me - no other piglins attacking me. I leave. Unharmed. That's it."
Technoblade sighs again, " yes. You can leave. No funny business. But you need to actually come over here for me to do that."
Tommy still hesitates. Technoblade is agreeing way too easily. But he can't figure out what the brute is planning.
Though, he does look half bored of the situation. Maybe he really does just want to get this over with. Plus, the sooner Tommy sucks it up, the sooner he can leave.
Tommy takes a deep breath, "fine."