Kind of based on a prompt by TheShinySnivy? Just me dropping hybrid headcanons really
The way people reacted to hybrids would vary greatly from server to server. Bigger ones like Hypixel were usually more relaxed. Its populace was naturally diverse, the presence of non-humans as mundane there as the changing of the seasons was. Aside from the occasional side glance or muttered remark, most hybrids went by unnoted.
And after Technoblade started rising among the ranks of the arena, it wasn't like anybody would dare insult him to his face anyway. They might whisper behind his back - attribute his victories to a piglin blood rage instead of tireless skilled training - but he didn't care. It was better to be feared than to be revered.
But his heritage did leave him with an inescapable sense of estrangement. He could never outrun the fact that he was different from those around him.
Even as far back as his most distant memories, this rang true.
The other piglin children in the sounder were endlessly fascinated by his more human features. They marveled over his ears, lacking the fuzzy and floppy qualities of their own, or the smooth upturned curve of his nose. They loved to play with his hair, tugging on it curiously until he showed his annoyance by pouncing on them in turn.
But it was still so easy for Techno to blend in with the piglin culture, being no more than another child of the pack. They would chase each other's tails around the bastion or engage in play fighting, wrestling while high-pitched squeals rose between them. And then they would fall asleep in a pile, bodies pressed together comfortably, with Techno not feeling any different from his littermates at all.
In the Overworld that wasn't the case.
Humans were much more intolerant, prejudiced to anything they perceived as other than themselves. The first village Techno had wandered into after leaving the Nether had chased him out again with shouts and thrown rocks.
Phil had taught him the ways of the world. His wings were easily hidden and he blended in with humans more often than not, a luxury Techno's appearance wouldn't allow. Phil told him how people would judge him for how he looked, for how he acted, for how he was born. They would assume things about him from a single glance.
They would hate him before having even met him.
Technoblade told himself he didn't care. He could defend himself in case they got violent with him and that was what mattered. But repeat something often enough and it became impossible for the words not to sink in to a certain degree, take root in his mind.
The butcher army was somewhat of a low point for him. Being hunted down for war crimes was one thing - Technoblade could admit he was guilty as charged on that count. But what they came for was hardly justice. There was no fair trial or the opportunity to defend his actions.
Just them chaining him up and dragging him off like a fucking animal, the execution more akin to a slaughter.
"Once a mob, always a mob. You'll die like one too."
They thought him a monster. A mindless beast incapable of controlling his feral urges. Technoblade promised himself he would never allow them to harness that insult against him, no matter how sharply the words could sting.
He carried the results of two days spent sleepless grinding into the house, starting the long-winded process of burning ore down to ingots. Tommy sat on a chest, absently munching on a gapple. His exile had left him frail, smaller and thinner than Techno thought possible.
Maybe that's why he didn't complain about the gapples either.
"Damn dude…" Tommy stared at him as he worked. "All that in two days? You're not human."
Technoblade stiffened for barely a second, playing it off with a roll of the shoulder. He was certain Tommy wouldn't notice at least.
"Nah," he agreed. "I'm not."