DSMP Kids but I added Timothy (refers to characters only, not ccs)
Order, from left to right;
- Michael Underscore-Beloved (Tubbo and Ranboo’s son, adopted whilst Tommy was stuck in prison with Dream (listed as a canon child))
- Michelle (What’s Puffy’s last name?) (Puffy’s daughter, adopted as a companion for Michael but rejected by Tubbo and/or Ranboo (listed as a canon child))
- Foolish “Junior” Gamers Jr. (Foolish’s son, eldest of the two (listed as a canon child))
- Finley Gamers (Foolish’s daughter, youngest of the two (listed as a canon child))
- Timothy Manifold (Jack’s son, adopted and died during the beginning of the Egg arc/Tommy’s exile, but we’re going to ignore he’s dead lol (listed as a canon child))
- Yogurt (Dy? Soot? Idk) (Fundy’s son, adopted at some point during Fundy’s time in Las Nevadas (listed as a canon child))
- Skeppy (Halo? XP?) Jr. (Bad’s son, a diamond block gifted to Bad by Niki, which Bd decided to deem his son (listed as a canon child)) - petition to call him “JR” (Jay-are) since Junior’s already taken
- Rosie (Watson? Za? lol) (A sheep Philza was forced into adopting by Chat, I like to think of her as the de facto leader for the Syndicate in a hypothetical future scenario (non-canon, just a fun theory))
- Shroud Innit (a spider Tommy adopted, currently fucking missing wtf (non-canon, just a fun theory))
HMU if ya’ll want some head canons on them or smthn
(Original Image - don’t mind that I miscounted how many kids there were)
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“When the hell do babies go to bed, anyway?” Phil was sitting on the kitchen counter, watching Michael run circles around Techno’s armchair, waving around his little golden sword.
“Same time as you, old man.” The pig himself, Technoblade, was sat in his armchair, darning a sock. “And he’s not a baby, he’s a kid.”
“Kind of irresponsible for Tubbo to just drop him here and run off for the night.” Phil muttered. “He’s not your kid, you shouldn’t have to take care of him.”
“Tubbo’s having a rough time, Phil.” Techno looked up at Phil over his glasses. “Parenting shouldn’t exist in a vortex. I told him to take off for the night, go kick it with Tommy or just have a mental breakdown in the woods. Michael will be fine, and Tubbo will too, eventually. With help, he can heal faster.”
Phil almost looked guilty, but just huffed and turned his head instead.
“But,” Techno continued, grumbling his way to his feet, “it is time to start getting ready for bedtime!” He was talking to Michael now, who instantly attacked Techno’s legs with the sword. Techno chuckled and scooped Michael into his arms. “Alright Michael, my dude. You’ve been running around that chair for like an hour, I have no idea how you haven’t collapsed in a state of exhaustion yet, but that’s okay. First up, you need your cozy jammies.”
“Cozy jammies?” Phil snorted with laugher. “Baby talk is real, ain’t it papa Techno?” Techno hummed in answer, helping Michael find his pjs in his overnight bag. Michael toddled into the bathroom to change, and Phil spoke again. “Techno, you know, I never thought you and kids were a good mix, what with the whole orphan jokes. But you should have had kids, it looks like. You’re a natural.”
Techno snorted. “No, no, I don’t want to get involved with that. I have a family already, here, and that’s all I need. I love being Uncle Techno.”
“Uncle Techno. Are you sure you didn’t get replaced with another pig guy? This isn’t the warrior I knew, my dude.” Phil joked.
“The pig you knew is, metaphorically, cold in the ground, and will stay that way.” Techno answered quietly. “Oh hey little dude. Nice jammies.”
Michael came back out, sporting some thermal pajamas with chickens on them. He oinked and squealed and did a quick series of moves that seemed like a clumsy imitation of some of Tubbo’s dance moves. Techno clapped, realized Phil wasn’t clapping, elbowed him so hard Phil fell into the sink, and Phil started clapping too.
“Alright.” Techno picked Michael up again. “Bedtime story time. You can pick aaaany book from the shelf for me to read. We have The Art of War, A Tale Of Two Cities, The Notebook, Phil’s embarrassing stories volume three…”
But Michael put his little hand on a bound picture album, tugging at it until Techno pulled it off the shelf.
“Technoblade’s photo album of awesomeness.” Techno read the cover, which he had carved into the leather centuries ago. It was one of the few things that had survived the life Techno had lead. “You sure, little man?” Michael bopped up and down in Techno’s arms in excitement. “Alright.” Techno put Michael down on the couch, onto a nest of blankets and pillows. “Where is that damn chicken.” He muttered, looking around until he grabbed the thing from where it was scratching at the floorboards under the table. Techno placed the chicken on the pillow nest, and sat down. Michael crawled into Techno’s lap so he could see the pictures. Phil came over to sit in the armchair next to the couch.
“Now.” Techno said importantly. “Uncle Techno has lived quite the life. Big main character energy. I’ve fought battles, seen lands beyond zombie pigman comprehension, and made new friends. This photo album has what I could get on film.” Techno opened up to the first page. “Ah, me as a younger pig.”
“Damn, Techno, look at you!” Phil, who had seen the album a few times, crowed.
The Techno on the page was hardened, made of mostly muscle, unlike the comfortable fat he had now. He was smiling brutally for the camera, bleeding wounds all over his body and some kind of bloody mass in his hand.
Techno flipped the page. “Oh, and there’s Phil! You looked so young and alive here!”
“Shut it!” Phil snorted. Phil and Techno, both smiling wide, had their arms around each other’s shoulders. “Damn, when was that taken? What had we been doing?”
“Probably something stupid between jobs.” Techno replied.
“True.”
The pages held decades in them. Pictures of friends long dead, blurry mineshafts that almost smelled of booze, flowers. Lots of Phil.
“L’Manburg era.” Techno muttered. One picture was of a narrow ravine, with a shadowy Wilbur playing guitar. He was looking right at the camera, not smiling, not frowning, but just looking. Phil shifted in his seat and let out a low noise.
Techno flipped the page. There was a selfie of Tubbo and Tommy, making ridiculous faces. There was one of Manburg, taken at night, when all the lights were on. The potato farms in Pogtopia. Niki, who smiled shyly at the camera.
Techno flipped the page. The cabin in the snow when it was first built. Carl in his stall. Blood on the snow. Phil building his cabin, surrounded by crows.
Techno flipped the page. Ranboo. Phil and Techno sighed sadly. In the picture, the boy was giving a thumbs up and grinning, standing in front of his house. A small hand came up to touch Ranboo’s face. Techno looked down at Michael, who was looking at the picture curiously.
“Do you remember your dad, little man?” Techno asked gently. “Because I do. And I always will. He was a hurricane in his own sense. A great guy.”
“I miss him so damn much.” Phil muttered.
They stayed quiet for a moment, watching Michael trace the burn marks down his father’s face. Michael didn’t look sad, just confused, and eventually he tugged at Techno’s hand to continue.
There was a selfie of Techno, Dream, and Phil before doomsday. A picture of the snowy foxes curled up in a ball. An empty spot where Techno’s birthday party with the syndicate selfie would go- for now it was framed on the mantle. A picture of Niki with a huge smile on her face, as well as a handful of flour. The next picture was Techno in a similar state.
“Never have a baking contest with Niki- she doesn’t fight fair.” Techno told Michael.
Techno flipped the page. There was Connor in his dirt hut on the mountain, waving at the camera. There was Tubbo with Michael on his hip, standing in the same place Ranboo had stood. There was a picture of Eret blowing a kiss to the camera, dressed in a light summer dress and laying on a picnic blanket. There was a picture of Techno’s house, and all the buildings around it, so cozy and colorful, even in the snow. And on the last page was a picture of Techno kneeling to hug Michael goodbye.
“The End.” Techno said quietly. Michael was asleep on his lap. He carefully moved the little guy next to his chicken, and kissed him on the forehead. “Good night, Michael.”
Phil waved goodnight to him and walked back to his own cabin. Techno put the photo book to the side- he’d put it away in the morning. He sat in his easy chair by the fire, smiling softly, a bit sadly. It was bittersweet. But the past always was, it seems.
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