Yep

*throws the TNT Duo Hollow Knight AU I’ve been keeping in my back pocket for months at you*

Hybrid/Foster AU where elytrian!Tommy, an endangered species, is fostered by the closest related species — avians.

Except there's a few... key differences between them. *Important* differences.

But Tommy's not going to make a fuss about it.

For one, he's weaker. More fragile.

It's clear from his first shopping trip with the Watsons, arms shaking under the weight of bags of clothes & toys. Things he didn't expect (or deserve).

Phil even offers to carry them. Tommy lets him.

And regrets it, just a week later.

"Why can't Tommy help?"

Wilbur's face is pinched, a crate of gardening tools in his arms, glaring at Tommy who's hunched on the back step.

And it pinches more when Phil waves him off.

"He's not strong enough, mate. Let him relax."

It's true. Elytrian's bones are hollower, their muscles thinner, their wings larger & harder to balance.

But only one of those differences is visible. And with how endangered elytrians are, there's little research for the Watsons to find.

They only know what Tommy tells them.

"Could I go fencing with you?"

Techno pauses at the door, fencing bag in hand. Tommy fidgets, clutching the wall to counterbalance his wings, desperately wishing, *Please let me spend time with you.*

"I don't think so. Dad said you're fragile—"

"That's a myth."

Techno pauses, and Tommy's heart soars.

"A myth?"

"Yeah," Tommy squeezes out. "We're... pretty much just avians with bigger wings. We're the same."

(A tiny part of him whispers, *We can be brothers.*)

The best (worst) part is, Techno believes him. Just like that.

And he's gentle when he takes jabs at Tommy with the training rapier, even helps him up no matter how many times he topples to the mat.

(Not gentle enough — for an elytrian, that is. Tommy's covered in bruises.)

But it's better than being left at 'home.'

Supper that night is perfect (even if the Watson's herbivore diet doesn't quite nourish an elytrian.) Tommy laughs like he's one of them. Like he's family.

And he's swiftly reminded when Wilbur corners him after.

"You lied to us."

Tommy goes still. (Not fight-or-flight, like an avian. Just... freezing.)

'You lied.' Maybe Wilbur knows about the bruises beneath Tommy's sweater (special-made for his sensitive skin. *Expensive.*) Maybe... maybe he's going to offer to help—

"You're not *weak.*"

"What?"

Tommy's whisper does nothing to calm the fury on Wilbur's face.

"You could've helped Dad unpack. You could do chores. But you're lying, so you can fucking— *sit around.*"

Tommy flinches. He wants to speak, but mind frenzied with fear & pain, only a clicking warble comes out.

An apology.

Wilbur's eyes widen as he reels back, suddenly silent.

And then he sneers, all curled lips and bared teeth.

"For fuck's sake, Tommy. Fine. I see how it is."

(But he doesn't. Neither of them do.

The clicking warble? An apology, in elytrian. A plea only used in utter desperation.

And in avian... a sound of scorn. Revulsion at even being *around* someone.

And Wilbur takes that to heart.

Maybe Tommy never belonged with them anyways.)

.

.

.

"When we get home, I'm telling dad."

Tommy's head snaps up, meeting Wilbur's eyes in the rearview mirror. The twins had picked him up from school, after Tommy'd fallen ill (yet again). A lie, Wilbur thinks.

And now he, too busy sneering at Tommy, swerves off the road.

It could've been worse.

The car could've flipped twice, not just once. There could've been fire, not just warning smoke.

But two out of three people in that car are fine, wings flailing as they dangle — bruises, scraped feathers, a bit shaken up.

One's *not* fine.

"Just unbuckle the fucking seatbelt, Tommy."

It's a good thing Wilbur's screaming. Tommy wouldn't have been able to hear him otherwise, ears ringing in agony.

Wrist. Ribs. Chest. They all burn, like the marks from fencing with Techno.

But these aren't bruises.

He passes out before the twins even touch him, fighting to drag his too-large wings through the shattered window.

Strange, that the last thing he remembers is Wilbur shouting, "He can get out himself, Techno."

And the first thing he hears upon waking is, "He could've *died.*"

It's Phil yelling. Tommy drifts, head buried in a hospital pillow.

"He had a fucking seatbelt," Wilbur yells back. "He should've been fine."

"He's *fragile,* Wil—"

"No, he fucking *lied* about that, Dad."

Silence. Enough to hear Tommy's heartbeat monitor, chirping far too slow.

"Lied?" Phil says quietly.

"He— he's not *weak.* He's just as strong as an avian, he's not made of fucking glass and we don't have to *coddle* him. He lied to—"

"Does this look like a lie to you?"

It's only then that Tommy manages to open his eyes, breath shuddering as he tries to force air into the broken cage of his ribs.

And the first thing he does warble an apology towards Wilbur.

Or, how it sounds to avians, pure scorn.

"*See?*"

Phil & Techno blink, expressions faltering.

But unlike Wilbur, who jumps to betrayed indignation (and... maybe just a little pain), they pause.

And gently clarify.

"What does that mean, mate?"

"It means I'm... 'm sorry?"

Wilbur goes still, understanding creeping across his face (slowly, slowly realizing that Tommy'd only lied to be loved).

But only he only freezes for a second. After all, he's an avian.

And when they're afraid (...ashamed, horrified, and broken with guilt)?

They choose flight.

At least Phil & Techno stay.

At least they listen when Tommy finds the air to speak, explaining himself — the truth, for once. They hold him as he sobs, hurting his shattered ribs that much more.

At least they tell the truth.

"When you're healed, we want you to come home."

(And at that home, Wilbur waits.

He'd immediately moved every single one of his nest's blankets & pillows to Tommy's room. Hell, he even bought *more.*

He forces his guilt-ridden tears to stop, only so he can do some research. *Elytrian* research.

He won't let Tommy lie anymore — that's stayed the same.

But now, it's out of a desperate, broken love, revealed the moment that car crashed and Wilbur quietly prayed, *Please let my brothers be okay.*

He won't let anything hurt Tommy.

He has Phil. Wilbur. The two Watsons, graciously letting him stay with them — offering food & warmth, even if Techno only allows himself the bare minimum. 

And then he wakes as Tommy, battered and bruised. 

Techno had almost forgotten what it was like. Waking up to pain. Huddling under thin sheets. Staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. 

Because Tommy is a foster kid, too. And his life is Techno’s waking nightmare. 

It’s everything he thought he’d escaped. 

It’s dangerous enough to navigate a new ‘home.’ It’s worse when Techno doesn’t know the rules, doesn’t know what to shy away from.

And he pays for it.

‘Tommy,’ whoever he is, had gotten himself — had gotten *Techno* — in trouble. 

No food. And, of course, the bruises across his skinny ribs. Thankfully, Techno avoids any more, patching up what he can and hiding in ‘his’ room.

And he waits. 

It’s not permanent.

Techno wakes in his own body, and nearly sobs in relief. Here it is. The soft blankets, the familiar ceiling, the cool rush of AC & gentle sunlight. 

And Phil’s voice from downstairs, accompanied by the smell of breakfast Techno’s allowed to eat. 

It’s heaven. Techno lets himself soak in it, letting the trembling die down. He’s not hurt. He’s… not loved, but not hated. It takes a while to pick himself up, to convince himself that he’s safe. 

There’s a note lying beside him.

The handwriting is shaky, the paper crumpled.

“Your family is nice.”

That’s it. Four words that make Techno’s eyes burn, heart panging hard enough to steal his breath. ‘Your family.’ A lie, but a pretty one.

And then Techno’s stomach drops.

*He'd* been careful. *He'd* kept himself safe, stayed silent, stayed out of sight. Stayed safe — at least, as safe as he could be.

Meanwhile, Tommy had been with Wilbur. With *Phil.*

And he could’ve ruined everything.

Techno practically flies down the stairs.

Phil looks up. Techno’s heart stutters at his smile, just like it always does.

And then stops, as Wilbur says, “Morning, bitch.”

Techno freezes.

It’s… not hateful. Affectionate, even.

And then Wilbur says, “What? Not going to call me a fuckin’ bitch again?”

Techno barely manages not to flinch. “No. No, never, I wouldn’t— I didn’t—”

But ‘he’ did. *Tommy* did.

And Techno pays for it. 

That’s how it goes.

Techno does everything right. Does every chore he can think of for the Watsons, patches up the wounds on Tommy’s body. Keeps his head down in both houses, silent, small, easy. 

And the second Tommy steals his body, he messes it up.

He’s loud. Reckless, snarky, getting hurt & testing the fragile love Techno had earned from the Watsons.

It’s terrifying. Neither of them can lose this, the only love they’d ever gotten.

And yet, Tommy seems determined to test it until it breaks. 

Techno’s fears culminate into a nightmare. 

A real one, brought on by fearful half-sleep & exhaustion, despite his soft bed. Hate. Insults. Closed fists, figures leaving him behind.

The Watsons. 

He’d go to them, he realizes, as the nightmare jerks him awake. He’d tell them everything. Cry into their arms, plead for forgiveness or at least some gentle end. 

He’d take their love. Just this once, because he *needs* it.

But he wakes to agony and an unfamiliar ceiling.

Something is broken. It has to be, because nothing else could hurt this much.

Techno can’t stop himself. He cries, ugly, stupid tears as he tugs the thin sheets off, exposing every wound freshly pounded into his — Tommy’s — skin. 

It’s too much.

Techno caves.

There’s only one place he might be safe. As himself, or as Tommy. One place he’d die to spend just a few more moments in. 

The Watson’s. ‘Home.’

So, still trapped in Tommy’s broken body, Techno runs to them. 

Tommy’s sleeping when Techno arrives. They’re still switched.

So when Techno shakes Tommy awake, it’s his own terrified expression looking back at him.

Techno shivers, but he still spits the words out.

“You need to stop.”

It’s all he needs to say. Tommy understands, bristling.

“Fuck no. I wouldn’t stop, even if I could. They’re *nice.*”

“Not if you keep—”

Silence. Tommy stares at him. Finally, he whispers, “Not if I keep, what?”

“What if they hurt us, too?”

Tommy flinches. So does Techno, his realization staining the air.

But he doesn’t stop, poking a finger into Tommy’s chest, right where he *should* be bruised. 

“I’m being *quiet.* I’m helpful. I’m being *good,* and you—”

Silence. 

Techno almost doesn’t say it. But he has to. 

He won’t lose the Watsons. He can’t. 

“So stop ruining it. Stop trying to get us hurt, because— because it’s going to happen.”

There it is. Techno’s worst fear, spoken aloud.

That this would change, that *Phil* would change. That all of Techno’s silence & helpfulness could be undone if he did a single thing wrong. 

That his only safety would change to achingly familiar cruelty. 

And Tommy must feel the same, paling as his voice wavers.

“They wouldn’t—”

“You don’t know that. *We* don’t know that.” Techno shudders. “So just— please. Be quiet, be *good,* and they’ll love us.” 

Tommy blinks. Stares at Techno’s arm, where bruises peek out beneath his shirt’s hem.

Then he whispers, “No. They— they already said they love me.”

Techno’s heart fractures right down the middle. 

Because that’s worse than every punishment Techno’s ever survived.

He’s never gotten that.

He’s been good. Helpful, quiet, easy, burying himself out of sight — and apparently out of mind & heart, too. 

Because he’s never earned an, ‘I love you.’

And Tommy — stupid, reckless, broken Tommy — has.

Techno had always wondered why they’d switched bodies.

But now he knows. Tommy’s with a family, safe and loved. And Techno is right back where he started, hurt and alone. 

And yet the Watsons let him communicate.

By… writing on a cheap plastic whiteboard.

It’s an incredible gift. 

He’s practically giddy with joy, scrawling out words that someone *finally* listens to. And not just anyone — the kindest, sweetest people the world has to offer. 

And selfishly, Tommy wants more. 

“Thank you.”

He holds the whiteboard out to Phil after supper. He’s eaten their food & thanked them, gave them so much power. As if his name wasn’t enough. 

Phil… smiles. At *Tommy,* the inhuman, unwanted creature.

And that makes the silence worth it. 

Almost. 

Because it hurts. 

To not be able to laugh during meals. To not banter with Wilbur or ramble with Techno. (Even when they say, “You’re a great listener, Tommy.” 

Because that’s all he is.)

And to know that if he ever said, “I love you,” it would be accompanied by the acrid stench of the marker.

And silence. Always silence.

That’s what makes him desperate enough to try.

“Hey, mate.”

Phil turns around, halfway through a sink of dishes. His smile falters to a look of concern as he sees Tommy’s hunched, shaking frame.

And that concern evaporates as he sees the message scrawled on Tommy’s whiteboard.

“Can I have my voice back?”

Tommy’s stupid enough to hope.

That maybe a year with the Watsons was enough. That maybe he’d gained their trust through his quiet help & shaky smiles. By being *easy.*

But Phil’s face tightens, grip tightening on the silverware in his hand. 

They’re thinking the same thing, Tommy knows.

Fae are dangerous. It’s a good thing there’s iron everywhere — if worse came to worse, they could ward off Tommy with it.

(What Phil doesn’t know is that Tommy would let them. 

That he’d take the pain and rejection silently.)

“We need to talk.”

It’s not said to Tommy. It doesn’t involve him at all. Just Phil and his sons who he’s called to the living room, voice quiet as Tommy eavesdrops.

That doesn’t make the words any less gutwrenching. 

“You can’t let Tommy speak.”

The twins tense, but they… they don’t even argue.

Phil’s jaw tightens. “He tried to ask me. You two have his name, too, he’ll go after you next. We can’t risk anything.”

What isn’t said is, *He’s too dangerous to trust.*

But they all know it. 

Tommy somehow gets quieter.

Because horribly, it makes sense. The Watsons can’t risk their family falling into a dangerous Fae deal.

And even if they did give his voice back, he’d be different. Too loud, too bubbly, too desperate for their love.

So he cuts his losses.

“Just for one day.”

It’s Wilbur he approaches, months after Phil’s warning. The boy looks up at Tommy, his incredible, undeserved fondness masked by confusion.  

“One day for what?”

*To have my voice back,* is the true answer. 

But there’s more. So much more. *To say I love you. To call Phil Dad, just once. To call you and Techno my brothers. Just one day to speak, and all I’ll say is how much I love you.*

*I’ll be quiet after that.*

“To have my voice back.”

In the end, that’s all he writes. There’s not enough space to write out all those vulnerable truths, the stench of the marker making him dizzy.

And Wilbur’s face falls.

“Tommy.”

He sounds… doubtful. Tommy’s heart dares to rise, hands shaking as Wilbur stands, face drawn tight with grief, pain, and… guilt?

It only takes a second for that last emotion to make sense.

Because Wilbur snatches the whiteboard from his hands.

“You can’t be trusted with it.”

That’s Wilbur’s explanation as he stalks down the hallway, Tommy clinging to his side, mouth desperately forming muted apologies. 

And when Wilbur hands the whiteboard to Phil, those damning words still scrawled across it, Phil says the same.

That’s not the end of it.

The notebooks around the house are taken. So are any scraps of paper, loose pens, pencils, or markers.

And Phil, voice thick with grief, orders, “Tommy, don’t try to talk to us again.”

It didn’t have to be an order. Tommy would’ve listened.

But the end result is the same. Tommy stays silent, buried in his room, unable to even cry out. To ask for *anything,* let alone the chance to say, “I love you.”

but also

Murder instantly in Tommy’s eyes. He is *nine.* (Techno mixed up age and grade level have mercy he’s never interacted with a child.) Tommy immediately starts cussing him out and Techno is just like. Blink blink. “Wow Phil I didn’t know they could talk at that age good job.”

Tommy fully chooses violence that day. The moment Dad's back is turned he is an actual devil. But Techno has no standards, he’s willing to beef with a baby. Just, not in a way that means he has to have a chat with HR. And so commences a secret war behind Phil's back.

Wilbur falls into a Candace roll where he’s trying to prove to his dad that this wacko coworker is unstable and unsafe (and what if you stop paying attention to us you already spend so much time at work with him make him leave). “DAAAAAD Tommy and Techno tried to blow each other up agaiiiiin!” But the proof vanishes every time.

No idea who could possibly fill the Peak dynamic of whatever Bufford and Baljeet have going on. I think Niki would be a funny Isabella going along and helping with the inventions, except she’s covertly team Techno. Instead of a crush she’s secretly just trying to attack Tommy, and gets thwarted by Shroud who is desperate to keep Tommy safe while not blowing cover. It’s secret war beneath secret war baby. Layer in a Pink Panther dynamic where Tommy obliviously causes problems for Niki while going about his own scheming. Wilbur tries to recruit her since ‘whatcha dooooing’ would be the perfect line for a mic, but Niki refuses bc if Tommy gets grounded she can’t get revenge. For what? It’s sort of a Doofensmirtz situation where it’s different every time. The ‘fireside girls’ thing is definitely just code for arson.

its about wanting someone to protect you and idolizing someone that will let you down despite the warning signs // support my art through ko-fi :P

Image Description under cut (It was too long to leave it above the cut - sorry!)

On C!Phil and C!Wilbur and hurt but with so much love also

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when a house is both hungry and awake: c!wilbur, pogtopia, hadestown, and for thine is the kindgom

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