Wilbur can't bring himself to tell Fundy. He just simply can't tell his son that his mother hurt him so badly. So.. he lied.. and lied.. and lied.
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Technoblade.
Technoblade, a very uncommon word. To him it was a word that existed everyday, everywhere. It was his name after all. Oh boy did he hate it, he dreaded his name, everytime he took attendance at school he'd want to bury his face deep in his wooden desk.
When he first started school, at the young age of 4, the teacher stared at her check list of names. She was fixated on his name, "Tech.. Technoblade?" Her voice came out unsure. Her voice was filled with question, his first teacher didn't know if she was pronouncing it wrong or if there was a horrible miss spell. But 4 year old Technoblade nodded and mumbled out a small, "here"
That was the first time he was ever embarrassed by his own name.
The confusion in the teachers voices carried along with him for years. Some would ask if the poor boy had a nickname, or if that was his nickname. The teachers always seemed wary of him, after all a name such as Technoblade was unique. A little too unique.
The tormenting started in secondary school. Kids would mock him relentlessly, for his name. A word he couldn't control. A word, that he would never have thought would make his life a living hell.
Sometimes he would think what kind of drugs his parents were on when they came up with the name. He meant that literally, some nights he'd lay wake wondering how shitfaced they were when they came up with his name. Just another reason to despise his biological parents.
Techno most definitely couldn't blame people for being confused everytime they read his name. It wasn't their fault, and it wasn't his.
Even Phil's eyebrows narrowed when first saying his name, he really couldn't blame him. He never got upset when people first met him, he more or less got embarrassed at his name. Sometimes he wished, no all the time he wish for a normal name. Like Dave, but Phil was one of the first people to reassure him that his name was, "very cool, never heard of something like it!" In Phil's o so wise words.
Most days he'd sit and think where his parents where, if they worried or even thought about him. Techno knew it was wrong to think this way, but he was glad that Child Protective Services knocked on his door in the start of fall. To his kid like brain it was all a blur of confusion, and to him now if was even more blurry.
He remembered, his house, a strange lady dressed in a suit that carried a clip board with her, then a car that smelt too sweet, the cold of a large court room, and finally the hard texture of the provided sheets of an orphanage.
A religious orphanage to be specific, days spent when, as he would describe, "weird blond ladies that would carry books around" would try their hardest to get him to believe in the lord.
He never understood it.
Now that he grown up, he understands now why people choose to believe in a higher power. To him it all felt unreasonable, he didn't want to be held back by words plastered on a page. At one point the strange blonde ladies had started to pray around him, they all laid a hand on him, singing a chanting verses from the "weird book". At the end they tried to convince 8 year old Technoblade that the Holy Spirit was speaking through him. They demanded he spoke in tongues, he didn't know what that was.
