#caving in arc

[dailyeca]

Facts about the Underwater Grotto

Fact 1: Though most of the entrances are underwater, humans can enter from the beachside through a small cave in the side of the cliff that connects to the underwater section of the grotto. When it's not raining, there's low tide pools and cool stepping stones and quartz crystals glittering in the cave walls.

Caving In Arc: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

[akanemnon]

Yeah, Kris is definitely NOT alright.

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[sangrefae]

mithrun + almost a tragic hero

[biancadavri]

Rook knowing that physical contact with Harding might be harmful to them, going for a kiss anyway, getting knocked the fuck out by her powers in about zero seconds, almost cracking their skull on the pavement and the first thing they do. The FIRST thing they do, before they even think of getting up, is to keep trying to reach for her while babbling like a lovestruck FOOL...

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS x ISAT part 2: Grandmaster of Time.

(Part 1)

[classygreydove]

Read a comment bashing lwj...

This is a very long rant about why I love lan wangji's character and why I think his behavior towards Wei Wuxian pre-sunshot campaign make sense. Some events I talk about might be out of order, because I'm rambling. Spoilers for scenes from Audio drama, cdrama, and the other mdzs canons.

So I accidentally read a comment bashing lwj and it made me so mad. Mostly because I found it incredibly inaccurate in interpreting his actions and his relationship with WWX. I can understand not liking LWJ just because his personality isn't one everyone would click with, but hating on him for inaccurate assessment of his character?! It feels like an injustice. So I'm going to share why his character is so fascinating to me, and why his actions make sense.

LWJ is one of my favorite characters for a reason, and there's a reason WWX likes this guy. Was LWJ's behavior as a teen towards wwx dumb? Yes. He was a teenager, lashing out because he had all these feelings and he was scared of being like his parents and scared of the idea that the things he'd been taught about the world was wrong, and he was angry because he couldn't control anything or make it align with that worldview, and he was so full of attraction and fascination and desire that frightened him, because the world and his clan had taught him it was wrong. And it was all happening because of this beautiful, bright boy, who wouldn't obey any of the rules LWJ had been taught made someone "good", but who was somehow so good anyway (which he learns from the Waterborne Abyss incident, when WWX rescues Su She). LWJ has been thrown into a hormonal, existential chaos.

He's never learned to communicate because he's never had a single friend in his life, and he hadn't had anyone to teach him all the ways love could be good, could be healthy, could be a blessing. Only that it was a sin, and that he was bad to have those feelings. He hadn't had anyone to teach him how to manage his emotions in a healthy way, or how to trust his own sense of right and wrong even over what others told him.

And here's this boy, who laughs at, disregards, disrespects LWJ's home and the wisdom he's been taught to look up to all his life. His clan's history and methods. And he's so beautiful, but it feels like this boy is laughing at him. And this boy is so charming, and every time he flirts or is friendly he must be making fun of LWJ because no one has ever teased him like this, or treated him in such a friendly way. Of course WWX doesn't actually want to be friends, or isn't really flirting. He has so many other friends, why would he want to be friends with LWJ? He just wants to get out of punishment, or be entertained. And he likes girls, so of course his flirting with LWJ is only to make fun.

And LWJ feels so vulnerable when WWX flirts, because he wants WWX to look at him and call him handsome, and maybe he's scared WWX sees that. So of course he's going to ignore him, avoid him. Of course he's going to respond with "Shameless!" and "Boring!" He thinks WWX is making fun of him. He thinks WWX is going to hurt him, if LWJ softens. And these emotions are so strong. What if they grow out of control, to the point his love becomes something that poisons, stifles, or hurts? That's a recipe for textbook anxious avoidant attachment style right there (I would know lol i am also this way).

And No wonder he reacted so strongly to the spring book prank. I think bro felt terrified/furious WWX had perceived, in some way, his own desires. And thought WWX was making fun of him. To me, this hits a lot more strongly in the cdrama, especially as the spring book cdrama!WWX used was of the cut-sleeve variety.

And when WWX knocks him over the wall, so sure LWJ will reveal that he's just like the rest of GusuLan, who just want to have rules to feel morally superior over others, enforcing them selectively but not applying them if it suits them (see: LQR) LWJ is determined to prove him wrong, and takes punishment along WWX for being outside the walls after curfew. And here's where WWX's (more negative) opinion of LWJ's character begins to change. He sees that LWJ is genuine in his desire to do good, to be morally righteous. And that makes LWJ stand out against so much of the rest of the cultivation world.

But LWJ still thinks WWX is teasing him maliciously, even when WWX announces that his opinion of LWJ has changed and he wants to be friends. LWJ is still heavily on guard, and again, WWX is approaching him when LWJ feels very vulnerable, given he's undressed in the cold spring, and WWX is also getting undressed in the cold spring. And then WWX says he'll introduce LWJ to girls. Again: he's vulnerable, feeling wrong, feeling made fun of, so he pulls away.

I don't think LWJ really starts to let down his guard until after WWX brings him the rabbits as a gift. Because WWX brought them, and even if he felt vulnerable and teased during that exchange, they were still a gift, proof that WWX had thought of him outside of just their exchanges during WWX's punishment. It is a much kinder feeling of being perceived than the spring book was.

And then WWX is kicked out of lectures, and LWJ doesn't see him again until indoctrination, but even though he was hoping-not-hoping with WWX gone the feelings would fade, instead he writes a love song because he can't get WWX out of his head. All his pulling away and guarding himself seems to be for naught. In the audio drama (the lotus seed pod extra) he even goes to a lotus pond to pick the seed pods with the stems attached because he missed WWX and was thinking about the things he'd shared about his home. He wanted to know about the things WWX liked, the things WWX experienced in his home, even if he wasn't brave enough to go to Lotus Pier directly. [EDIT: It was pointed out that this extra appeared first in the novel.]

And then there's the Discussion Conference, where WWX pulls off LWJ's forehead ribbon. I imagine this event caused LWJ to feel humiliated, ashamed, angry, (and even more horrifyingly to LWJ, pleased on some level that it was WWX) and exposed in front of the entire cultivation society. It might not "seem like a big deal" to a lot of fans because to us it's just a strip of fabric no matter how symbolic, but in this case it is very important that we imagine the gravity of this to understand where LWJ is coming from. For better understanding I would compare it to a lot of modern spiritual practices that use clothing in similar symbolic ways, and we would never want to disrespect someone by disrespecting that clothing, even if it is not a practice we personally follow. And WWX pulling the ribbon off in front of pretty much everyone (many of whom went to lectures at Cloud Recesses), including LWJ's own clan, who understand perfectly what it meant that WWX did that? Mortifying. And then his own clan reassures him that "it doesn't count" because WWX is a man, which must have been really invalidating to LWJ in its own way. So any progress on the friendship front/ideas of softening his guard on LWJ's part is gone. Toast.

And then his home has been burnt to the ground, his brother in hiding, and his leg broken. It's no surprise he's going to spurn WWX at indoctrination. He's grieving, stressed out more than he's ever been, in so much pain. LWJ probably feels really overwhelmed, overstimulated, and unsafe. He just cannot deal with All the Emotions About Wei Wuxian on top of that, and how would he even begin to tell WWX what had happened? He'd prefer to just avoid, avoid, avoid. (In the cdrama, I think he's also trying to distance himself so WWX won't draw the attention of WC.) And when WWX flirts with Mianmian, LWJ has had it up to here. He has no idea WWX is just trying to get medicine for him. And when WWX wants to carry him, the last thing LWJ probably wants is to be vulnerable with wwx in this very unsafe situation, where the Wens are constantly looking for weakness. So he brushes him off.

Then in the cave, LWJ is one of the first (along with JZX to resist the Wens and protect Mianmian. And then he stays behind with WWX and pushes him out of the way of the Xuanwu to get bitten instead. That speaks volumes about his character.

And then there's the whole debacle where LWJ is furious about the branding scar. I know he's of course jealous about the whole Mianmian thing, and WWX trying to lighten the mood/distract LWJ the way he distracts the Jiang siblings by going on about being a dashing hero protecting a maiden, but that just pisses LWJ off more, and I believe it's because LWJ is mad that WWX is treating the matter so lightly, because to him, love and devotion and self-sacrifically pushing people out of the way of danger is so powerful it feels like he's drowning, and WWX is over here like "haha she'll always remember me isn't that nice" and "it doesn't matter that i got hurt because it would have hurt her worse bc of beauty/reputation/the consequences of a woman losing her beauty" (which, kudos to WWX for understanding the ways women are affected by patriarchy, and beauty as a form of power/a tool for a future)

But LWJ is over here, viciously reminded he's not special and WWX would help and flirt with anyone and (seemingly) not think twice about it. Another thought process he could be having could be: but you got hurt. and that is unacceptable, and I hate that you're trying to say it like it is acceptable, bc it's like you don't care, and I care so much it feels like it could kill me. (I'm extrapolating a bit about this thought process here, but it seems plausible enough to me)

And then there's the whole thing where earlier WWX had made LWJ gay-panic hard enough to spit up blood, and then promptly reassured him he doesn't like guys. LWJ didn't need this on top of all the stress, and WWX just took off his headband to make a splint again, and so its presence isn't there to press him into restraint, and now the Mianmian thing, all the stress and adrenaline just come crashing down and bro just can't take it anymore and bites WWX bc maybe he he's mad that WWX has made the impact of a meteor strike in his life and it seems like WWX doesn't take more than a passing thought to those he impacts so deeply. So in all his deep and torrential emotions, bro is just like "I'll make you remember, even just a little bit, the way I remember you." I think in any other circumstance, LWJ wouldn't have lashed out in this way. It took so much for him to reach this point. Should he have bitten WWX? No. Do I understand why he did? Yeah.

And then LWJ tells WWX about Cloud Recesses and cries, for obvious reasons.

And so to call his behavior "abuse" towards WWX at any point in this timeline makes literally no sense at all (though unfortunately that was what the comment called it), and it tore me up to think about it. This is a very long post, and I have a lot to say about LWJ's actions during and post sunshot, but I'm tired so I'll just leave this here. Feel free to share your insights and what you love about LWJ's character. Also, if you have fic recs for favorite LWJ characterizations, please share! I'd love to read them.

TL;DR - Lwj's behavior and treatment of WWX pre-sunshot makes sense in context of his pov. He's flawed, but that's what makes him such a great character, and I love him for good reason.

[franzias-cave]

A Cristabel

[budd-ie]

The way it has JUST dawned on me exactly why Mu Qing is so smug all the time about Xie Lian. The truth is that any time someone does something good for others, it ALWAYS comes back to bite them. Nobody is grateful, nobody is thankful, and most of the time you get physically hurt even trying. Mu Qing’s conclusion about this is “there is literally no point in being a nice person because it will only get you hurt.” He sees this pattern and he knows he’s right, and he especially sees it with Xie Lian. Think about how fucking smug Fu Yao is in the sinners pit when he finds out about “General Hua” and Xie Lian’s “death.” This is just another instance of Xie Lian’s efforts for good only ever going to waste and him getting beat to death and back for thinking he can still save the common people. What’s his problem? Won’t this idiot ever learn his lesson? When he sees the dilapidated shrine and sad excuse for a living arrangement Mu Qing looks joyous. What joy could he possibly find in another man’s suffering? It’s because it proves that trying to play good guy gets you nowhere. Mu Qing left all those years ago to focus on himself and it got him to a top martial god spot in heaven. He’s clearly right about this! This proves it!

It’s so obvious he’s right. If you want to get anywhere in life, you have to stop worrying about being “good” or “kind” because it will never bring you good returns. That’s true….so why can’t Xie Lian understand that? If every single time he gets kicked down for trying to do something nice, why bother getting up and trying again? What is he trying to accomplish?

The difference is that Xie Lian is kind not for the returns but because it is innate to him. It’s not that he never thought about himself in the past, it’s just that he’s never had a second thought about people deserving kindness in the world. Getting shot down never breaks his spirit like it breaks Mu Qing’s. Mu Qing can’t fucking stand that. He can’t stand that Xie Lian is so genuinely selfless, that he was wrong about his perception of him all those years ago. He can’t stand that Xie Lian is still trying to help him even though he knows he won’t appreciate it. If he really was only doing it for merit and to feel good about himself then everything would be fine! But now he has to grapple with the fact that he’s looking at a really, genuinely, good person and he’s just another person who shot him down. He realizes he’s looking at someone who’s stronger than him, physically and emotionally, better than him morally, despite all his talk about how they’re not that different when really they’re leagues away.

(Some book 8 spoilers below)

It messed with the flow of the paragraph so I didn’t mention it earlier, but in that second paragraph, Mu Qing’s mindset sounds a lot like Jun Wu. Jun Wu is trying to prove to Xie Lian that his path of kindness and selflessness is stupid and that when people knock him down he can choose the other (lesser) path. I always say That Mu Qing is like a foil to Xie Lian (I think this is that explanation) but if Jun Wu and Xie Lian are connected in this way then it’s almost reasonable to bring Mu Qing along too. And it makes sense that he doesn’t shine as bright in this point of view between the three of them, just like he always has. There’s something here but it was a wake up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat and a revelation kind of thing so it’s not really fleshed out at all. We’ll deal with it later.

[xielianlover2]

Book 6 when Hua Cheng was acting mad sus, I thought he was an imposter or something. No... turns out he was stressing about his y/n x character fanart

Which is... understandable. My soul would straight up leave my body if someone I know from irl looked through my ao3 history or some shit like that. He was straight-up panicking and tried SO hard to hide it

After I saw the statue drawings and one of them holding a flower, I started cackling so hard lmaoo he really brought Xie Lian to his NSFW lair... the one that is dedicated to said god pfft

Also, at first, I thought it was a bit creepy and maybe obsessive... but really, I write about my favorite characters all the time. I've had obsessions that have lasted years. I have hyper fixations that will probably never go away. So, is it really that bad? Honestly, I think it's kinda understandable and normal. If you are obsessed with someone for 800 years... carving a hundred-plus statues and murals is not that bad honestly

[gomacave]

raises you sephiroth in victorian goth attire (from that ask with the juri robe)

Not quite goth and not completely victorian but this sparked some sort of animalistic desire to draw seph in house of worth coats in me. + bonus aerith

Love how i’ve been clocked as a fashion history liker lol 😭 i love rgu and anyone who mentions rgu to me gets +500 points in my mind. Also to me seph is a bit juri coded. Pathetic futch lesbian. So cool and good with a sword but secretly soooo sooo lonely and patehtic……

THANK YU FOR ASKING…!1!111!!!!

[flippinegg]

havent used this website in a bit anyways here are some more binding of isaac co op babies i made for fun and also a mod. once again im sorry for all the tags teehee. anyways back to being inactive bye!!!!!!

[dailyeca]

Facts about the Underwater Grotto

Fact 2: The walls hold an abundance of shellfish, most prominently abalone, a favorite of many mermaids. Depending on how much it rains, the water level can rise so these abalone are easier for water-dwellers to retrieve. Eca is the only mermaid who knows of the grotto.

Caving In Arc: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

[r0semultiverse]

Where in Beyond Canon is Arquisprite?

Took inspiration from the above post by @pastabaguette and decided to expand upon it due to The Plot Point update as well as some stuff seen even before Vriska’s arc started in The Point.

Let's examine some stuff that may tell us where Arquiusprite is at this time, seeing as we seemingly have only one chapter in The Point left. I think we've got a lead on his whereabouts already.

We've got horses and horse-adjacent creatures.

We've got a robot that looks like it's literally ripped from Equius' hive with a notable missing horn hole and a dent in the head.

There's also this twitter response from James Roach which could be interpreted as suggesting Equius' return in some way at some point in the future.

OP, I'm not saying you're right, but I am saying that if Dirk were to consult anyone on horses, it would probably be a mashup of his AI & Equius. Also Void player behavior apparently! Also Dirk has narrative reality warpy powers & we aren't sure as to the limits of those yet!

Below are some reddit notes about classpects that also lead credence to the idea that Arquisrpite is on Deltritus with Dirk at this time. Outside of the obvious fact that we haven't seen him in The Plot Point or the bonus comics with Jasprosesprite at all as of the Davepetasprite^2 feather chapter release.

Are the robots in case Terezi goes ultimate? Are they backup bodies for Rosebot? A metal body for Arquisprite? Who knows, maybe all three! 🤷‍♀️ Robots are being made by someone though (for some purpose) and they have troll horn slots on their craniums. The exact style robot that Equius used to make back on Alternia; so, make of that what you will!

Also maybe they just need a sprite to kick off whatever makeshift sburb/sgrub copycat they're trying to get running and seeing as Arquiusprite is a splinter of Dirk, it's fitting that he would accompany him. Plus the sprites can kind of just seem to be wherever & whenever the story needs them to be? Seeing as how Jasprose kidnapped Jane in the meat timeline, but in the candy timeline the sprites just kind of seemed to not do much or be absent entirely after a certain point.

There's at least a guaranteed non-zero chance Arquiusprite is on Deltritus.

[veveisveryuncool]

"you turned me into this. this is all your fault, pink demon!"

kirbytober day 15: favorite remake/arts and crafts

i think ssu was a pretty solid remake!! im in love with the pixel style they used in this era :]

[bugfeather]

moonpaw and her wife (ignore the background i got lazy and bored)

[angeart]

hhau mimic arc rambles - part III: aftermath

(~5,5 k words) // other parts & au masterpost here

After Grian and Scar reunite, they’re tucked away in a makeshift shelter—nothing too grand, but good enough for a small pause, a little bit of rest, a faint semblance of respite.

Except, turns out, it might have to be a more permanent place to stay than they’ve thought.

It’s almost in a haze that they deal with wounds and all the other immediate things, and then Grian’s curled up and pressed against Scar, asking if they’re safe. Are they safe? Can they rest? He hasn’t had a chance to rest for a week straight—a week of moving, of running, of adrenaline and stress and, literally, fighting for his life. He’s frayed, barely holding on. 

Scar assures him he can sleep. Despite the syrupy way everything feels, despite the disconcerting flicker of magic hue crawling across his skin, despite the lightheadedness that terrifies him because it reminds him of the weakness potions— He still intends to take the first watch. To guard Grian and let him rest. 

Grian doesn’t need to hear more than that little assurance. Scar is warm and he’s here and Grian finally—finally—feels safe. Hopeful, even. Like maybe things will start looking up now. Like as long as his arms are draped over Scar, holding onto him, things will be okay.

He blacks out pretty fast, slinking into a deep pit of dreamless sleep.

Scar tries, he really tries to be a good guard. To stay alert and ready for any potential threat. But as he’s slumped underneath Grian’s reassuring weight, feeling his small even breaths against him, he can’t help it. His own exhaustion’s gnawing at him, stripping him of choice, and he finds himself drifting in and out of consciousness.

Thankfully, nothing attacks them.

Grian sleeps for hours, and he wakes up dazed and disoriented after a much needed rest. It’s chilly, but not outright cold, and it takes him a moment to parse through everything to realise it’s Scar’s warmth and the weight of the cloak securely over his wings that make things so much better, curling a tentative, fragile safety behind his ribcage. 

His wounds throb and his stomach churns, running on empty, but it all feels distant as Grian shifts and looks up at Scar’s sleeping face. The familiar map of scars stretching across muddied skin. Long lashes fluttering gently as Grian lifts his hand and lightly touches the stubble on his jaw, feeling the flood of fondness and grounding at the familiarly prickly texture.

His gaze jumps higher, tracing everything, taking Scar in.

Until he snags at a patch of white.

Grian jolts.

He pushes himself up and with careful hands brushes through Scar’s hair, letting his fingers slip through the white streak that starkly contrasts with the brown. He makes sure it’s not just dirty from something; that the white is real, not smudging across his fingers; a permanent mark left on Scar, a touch that this world now left on him forever.

He waits with uneasy patience, pressed close to Scar, refusing to put any distance between them. (He needs to see and feel and hear that Scar is here. That this isn’t a trick of his mind. That this isn’t some wretched half-dream.) (Scar came back. Scar came back, he found him, and— And his skin pulsed in pale blue (something that’s now thankfully gone), and his wings were tattered, and he’s got a white streak in his hair.) (Grian’s insanely worried.) (He can’t take it. He can’t take it if Scar leaves him again after all of this, in any way shape or form.)

Once Scar’s awake, with a tense little bird curled in his arms, the first thing he does is kiss the top of Grian’s head. (It feels natural.) 

Grian squirms and looks up at him and he asks him, quietly, if he’s okay.

He gets back a grimace, a faltering pause, a clear hesitation.

He points out Scar’s hair, and notes how Scar’s equally as surprised as he was. 

Scar blames the magic. With an awkward laugh, he says he probably overdid it. It’s gonna be fine. 

Grian’s suspicious and still uneasy, but lets the explanation pass. Says they need to go find some supplies, food, maybe a better shelter.

Scar, usually eager to follow any plans that lead directly towards their survival, falls silent at that.

What falls eventually past his lips is a quiet, “I can’t.”

The sheer amount of weakness potions, the overextertion, the overuse of magic—it all culminates into an awful flare up, leaves Scar depleted and immobilised and incredibly vulnerable. And Grian’s seen a bad flare-up before. Only once when it was really bad, back in Boatem. 

But back then, there was a big bed, and safe walls, and a fridge stocked with food. All Grian really had to do at that point was to keep Scar some company and occasionally fetch things from the kitchen. 

Now? Now they have nothing.

They have a shelter that could barely hold upon inspection of alert eyes. They have a few sips of water left. It’s cold and harsh here, nowhere to really rest comfortably, and there’s nothing to eat.

Grian hates this. Feverishly, fervently, he hates this. He wants to make things better for Scar, but that means going out. It means losing sight of Scar and simply hoping he’ll still be there when Grian returns. (A fear that makes him feel viscerally nauseous.) (He thinks of returning back to an empty shelter, Scar and Juni both gone without a trace.) 

It also means leaving Scar behind when he can’t defend himself. 

The fate is stringing them up and playing with them as it twists their very first encounter and shakes it upside-down—back when Scar tucked Grian into a makeshift hiding place and had to tear himself away from him, leave him alone and defenceless without being sure Grian will still be there—or be alive at all—when he returns, as he had to go get supplies for their survival.

Now it’s on Grian to return the favour.

He pushes down the clawing edge of panic, gently brushes Scar’s hair aside with a shaky hand, and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. Asks him to sit tight for him. Promising he’ll be back.

The words shouldn’t feel like farewell, but they’re bitter on his tongue, and even worse in Scar’s exhausted mind. (He thinks about how he left Grian and didn’t come back to him. Leaving him completely alone, without a weapon or supplies. He thinks of the wounds that now mar Grian’s skin as a result, a reminder of a time when Scar should’ve been there but wasn’t.) 

Grian always felt like he’s the burden. Like he’s the beacon, the weak link, the one to constantly drag danger and doom to them. He wonders if now Scar’s mind awfully echoes those thoughts that always plague Grian. (A distant memory of Grian asking Scar to leave him behind because he’s nothing but a dead weight slithers and burns through Grian’s mind.) (He’s not going to accept or even entertain those words should Scar ever utter them back.) 

With a hastily put-together screen of dead branches and rocks, Grian tries to hide Scar away, telling him to rest. 

(They both try to ignore the spike of anxiety. The way it feels final. The way it feels like this is it, another cliff edge that crumbles beneath their feet and gives them nothing to hold onto to prevent the fall.) 

As Grian moves, he’s overcome with lightheadedness that threatens dark spots across his vision. His own body is depleted, barely working. Starving. He grits his teeth, takes mental note of where the hideout is, and delves deeper into the forest all on his own anyway. (He has to. He has to.)

There’s something absolutely horrible about the way he recalls the best ways to forage for food in a pinch. It’s something Juni taught him. An ironic thing, to be taught survival skills by a person who never cared whether Grian lives or dies. A person who abandoned him so very easily, leaving him in a way that almost guaranteed Grian’s demise. (And yet here he is, pushing on.) (And he’s going to keep pushing, until he’s back at Scar’s side. Until he knows Scar is okay.) 

The only reason why he can now finally gather some scraps of food is because he has the cloak, shielding the violet hues of his feathers, enveloping him in muted tones that match the wintery deadness of the world around. He’s still careful as he stumbles around on unsteady limbs, crouching through his dizzy spells, trying to keep track of directions.

He makes it back to Scar, instantly welcomed by needy arms pulling him closer. Scar’s heart was tearing itself to pieces every second that Grian was gone, terrified. (What if Grian needs him out there?) (What if something happens to him?) (What if Grian never was here actually, what if that was all a weird fever dream, a lingering effect of too much magic and weakness potions?) (What if Scar is alone, and Grian’s also alone, and nothing will ever be fixed?)

Scar is insanely clingy after being separated. (Grian is too, to be fair.) With a chest full of heartache, Grian is aware of why Scar’s like that—that he’s afraid and guilty—but it does feel nice. It’s so very needed. Grian’s been alone and barely keeping himself alive through the horrors—the wounds and scars are there to show it—so when he has Scar back? He’s so desperate to reclaim that tiny fragment of safety. He keeps thinking it’ll slip through his fingers. That the moment he looks away, the moment he stops holding on, Scar will be gone again.

This all makes Grian’s repeated foraging trips that much harder, for both of them. 

At one point, Grian finds a better hiding place, but doesn’t mention it, knowing Scar wouldn’t be able to make the trip. It doesn’t need to weight on Scar, that pressure of failure; the last thing Grian wants is for Scar to push himself more when he already came so close to a complete collapse. 

And then there comes a day when Grian doesn’t return for far too long. Scar is worried sick, mind spinning with scenarios, each more horrible than the last, the anxieties taking over. 

What if Grian doesn’t return at all?

But he does. 

He comes back at the brink of dusk, coated in blood which, for the most part, isn’t his. (>> bonus ramble about that titled hunted <<)

No other incidents beyond that occur as they try to recuperate, pulling themselves together and trying to slot back into a semblance of normalcy, curled against each other’s side in their little, barely-sufficient shelter.

-- please stay --

They spend a couple of days stay put, Grian attentively fussing over Scar, chastising him whenever Scar feels like maybe he should help with things. Once Scar sleeps less and is more aware and awake, their new dynamic truly settles into place: the over-eager clinginess underlaced with guilt and fear and endless stumbling for reassurance. 

One night, Scar whispers a soft, mumbled string of words into Grian’s hair. He’s thanking the worlds, the gods, the fate, anything and everything, that Grian is alive. His fractured, fragile gratitude spilling out of him in a string of half-formed sentences that aren’t meant to be heard by the sleeping avian in his arms.

Except Grian shifts and, turns out, he wasn’t quite asleep yet.

Scar shifts his words, redirects them to ones that belong to Grian and Grian alone: a string of gentle praises. That Grian stayed alive, he was so strong, so brave. Scar is so sorry. 

And somewhere amidst it all: “Thank you for waiting for me. I’d never leave you, never, never—” (Except he did, even if unwillingly, unintentionally, unknowingly, and the reality of it is killing him.) 

Grian has that But you did on the tip of his tongue. It tastes acidic. He doesn’t want to say it.

Instead, he just burrows closer and tightly shuts his eyes. Trying so so so hard not to think about just how long Scar didn't even realise that Grian wasn't there.

Of course Scar tried to explain, over and over. That he was weakened, dizzy, confused, scared. But it just feels like hollow excuses on his tongue. It doesn’t change anything about it, about the fact that it happened. That he didn’t even know it was happening, until it was almost too late.

In the end, Scar’s intentions and his promises amount to nothing.

He often trails off. He feels like he doesn’t deserve to cover up the searing guilt with a pile of feeble explanations, his eyes drawn to the wounds and scars that litter Grian’s skin, marks that might’ve not been there if only Scar was around. A dire reminder that Grian could’ve died, and Scar would be none the wiser. 

He swallows down the excuses and tries to make up for it, to show rather than to speak the volume of his feelings. The reverent touches to Grian’s scars, his affection, his tight hold and kisses pressed into Grian’s hair.

Grian doesn’t know how to feel about any of it. It’s a tangled mess that feels too heavy and painful to untangle. 

During his time alone, he didn’t know if he got abandoned, or if Scar got killed. Somehow, those seemed like the only options in his mind. To have it turn out that Scar was tricked away from him—tricked so easily—that he didn’t mean to abandon Grian, and yet failed to realise that Grian wasn’t by his side for days… 

Scar finds himself apologising frequently, quiet, somber. But Grian doesn't really want those apologies. They don't make it stop hurting. They don't put lid on that thick, overflowing uncertainty that took root in his soul. 

Whenever his feelings slip and spiral a bit too much, he keeps begging Scar to stay. He pleads for him to not leave him again, in a choked, broken, terrified voice. 

He tells Scar he won't be able to take it the second time. He won't, he won’t.

That breaks Scar’s heart. It’s suffocating, absolutely horrible. Scar can’t even vocalize a decent response. He just shakes his head, holds Grian tighter, and weeps.

-- a familiar face --

It takes Scar a while to realise just how traumatising the whole thing was for him. Because it was more than just being terrified of losing Grian or overexterting himself. He was basically kidnapped. Tricked. Poisoned. His trust betrayed in such an absolute, irrevocable way. And the worst part of it is that Juni used Grian’s face to do all those things to him. 

It keeps tripping Scar up, in unguarded, jolting moments. He finds himself sweepingly overcome with doubt, abruptly terrified that this is all a lie—that he’s still with the wrong person, being strung along, stuck in a trap he doesn’t know how to escape. 

When Grian offers Scar some water, Scar finds himself hesitating. Should he drink it? What if it’s dosed with weakness? Is this just another trick? — But he doesn’t know how to check. He can’t touch Grian’s feathers. He can’t ask.

He can’t admit he’s not sure.

Grian searches Scar’s eyes, confused why Scar wouldn’t take it from him. He calls his name softly, a question that goes unanswered.

But he thinks he knows. 

He knows, because Scar looks at him with the kind of unsure, frightened expression teetering on distrust that could only be rooted in one cause.

So in the evenings, Grian slots next to Scar and talks. About Hermitcraft. About past memories and plans that never came to be. About things only he would know.

He aches talking about it, but once he connects Scar’s hesitation to the fact that the mimic was wearing Grian’s face (a fact that he hates; it makes him sick to his stomach, he feels tainted, violated in ways he can’t express), he knows he has to.

First time, it all comes out wobbly and fragmented. He doesn’t get far. He can’t. The memories hurt.

But he keeps trying.

It makes Scar feel so much better. He holds Grian close and whispers an emotional little “thank you.”

-- anchor, memories, and self --

One evening, all that Grian offers is a quiet, sorrow-riddled “I miss Mumbo.” Just that. (It has to be enough.) (He doesn’t want to keep talking.)

It makes Scar choke-sob a laugh. It’s so sad, but it’s so honest, and familiar. (He misses him too.) He nods, and lets the confession linger, fill up the space between them where another person should be.

Grian curls against him, falling silent. Sad. Clingy.

They don’t say anything else that night.

But the issue persists. Of course it does, Scar himself still wrangling with the aftermath of everything, processing it and trying to find his footing. To look at Grian and really, truly understand who it is he’s looking at, without a sliver of doubt.

Grian hates that confused, searching look Scar gives him sometimes without meaning to. In little moments like when he’s tired, or just after waking up. Groggy from sleep that feels like a dose of weakness. 

It feels like something was stolen from him and Grian doesn’t know how to repair it. It just hurts. 

But he can’t keep talking about Hermitcraft to make it better every single time. It sets a vicious kind of pain alight within him, traps it in his ribcage for it to bloom and grow razor-sharp thorns, reminding him of everything they lost and aren’t getting back. He’s been avoiding thinking about Hermitcraft for so long, and now it’s here, pressing against the edges of his skull like wildfire.

It tastes like ashes on his tongue, like grief-drenched nostalgia, like everything he wishes to have back—every single person they lost along with their safety and home.

They’re never going to hear Mumbo’s awkward laughter again. They’ll never hear Doc grumblingly chastise them for being crazy and annoying. They’ll never see Pearl’s eyes crinkle in laughter, or Impulse’s eyes widen as they set some prank right at his feet. 

They’ll never again make silly meeting rooms and pointlessly huge builds constructed for no other reason than a whim. They’ll never run to each other with inspiration chasing in their footsteps, feeling free, toppling into their friends’ arms along the way. They’ll never again hear the sound of their laughter melding in with others’, mingling into one big melody that keeps them trapped in a mutual giggling fit.

Never, never, never.

It’s all gone, and remembering hurts.

He can’t keep thinking about that, day after day after day, even if it’s to keep Scar afloat. It would consume him.

So even though it seems like the best tool to prove to Scar who he is, and he’s always glad that it helps Scar feel calmer and more secure, ultimately making it worth it every time, it doesn’t mean it’s easy—not in the slightest.

So Grian tries to implement other things. Subtle little gestures. Nonverbal language that is still closely rooted in their own intimate experiences—namely brushing his fingers over Scar’s ear. 

And then he builds on it, adds to it, lends it some habitual intricacy like a secret code only the two of them will ever understand. Tracing the same swirly pattern under Scar’s ear with his fingers each time, then kissing the spot. (A little I love you ritual.) Interlacing their fingers while purposefully gathering the ribbon between their palms, or wrapping an end of it around scar’s finger. 

He tells Scar his favourite spots to kiss. 

He kisses them often, in a pattern.  

All these things, gathered like a silent plea. It’s me. Please believe me. I love you. Stay.

Scar adores this little ritual, but he also realises why Grian is doing it—that Grian knows Scar is confused sometimes when he sees his face. And it breaks his heart, because he never got it wrong before. He wants to believe he couldn’t be fooled in his right mind, but how can he be sure, after everything that happened? 

 Eventually, Scar says it. He grabs Grian by his cheeks, looks at him seriously, and instead of this dance they’ve been doing around the topic, he says: “I know it’s you.” 

He kisses Grian in that pattern they’ve come accustomed to. Kisses him on the lips. Keeps holding his face so so gently.

Grian tears up, gaze jumping between Scar’s eyes. Breathless and wavering, he shoots back a challenging but afraid, “Do you?” 

That breaks a stitch in Scar’s patched up broken heart. He swallows hard, but insists. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay,” Grian whispers, and it’s still so wobbly. So very raw and emotional. He closes his eyes and leans into Scar’s touch, and it’s so trusting. So giving. He wants this to be true. He wants this to keep being true. “I’m here,” he manages to murmur. He is here, and so is Scar.

Scar nods. “You’re here.” And he normally says “I’m here”, but right now it feels more important to show how sure he is that Grian is.

It sucks how easily that asuredness was overwritten. Scar never mistook Grian and Juni for each other before. (Not even before the mimic altered his appearance slightly. Those moments when he’d look like Grian, approach Scar and touch his arm. When Grian’d bristle from across the way, just barely out of sight. Scar always responded accurately. He always innately knew it wasn’t Grian.) (It soothed Grian then, to see that. To have that sliver of security when everything else felt so awful.) (And yet… And yet.) The one time it did happen, it was so devastating, and now they’re both left in the warzone of the aftermath, trying to pick up the pieces and rebuild something that could hold.

Because now sometimes when Grian touches Scar, Scar reacts slightly off. 

Because now Scar doesn’t know how to trust himself (or Grian) anymore.

Grian watches Scar slightly flinch, that miniscule, unsure, instinctive recoil, and he feels sick to his stomach.

But they’re in this together. They’re here, both of them, and they’ll keep building from ruins until something sticks.

-- scars and permanent damage --

This is also the time when they acquaint themselves with the permanent damage marks on their bodies. 

Grian has new scars, some of them facial. They’re something Scar is forced to see all the time, knowing he wasn’t there for it. Knowing they happened while Grian was alone, struggling, fighting for his life. (If Scar was there, maybe it wouldn’t have happened—)

They don’t have mirrors, only murky water at best. Grian doesn’t even know how his face looks like now, for a long while. He can feel the scarred skin, once it stops being too tender to touch, but he prefers to keep his hands off it.

Scar touches Grian’s face, though. Gently, tenderly. He caresses the wounded bits of skin. There’s sadness to it, but also determination and acceptance. Because it means Grian’s survived. It means Grian is still alive, and Scar is now here, and he isn’t going to let anyone else touch him again. (Or, he will do his best, anyway.) (Wounds are a harsh inevitability in this world, after all.)

Once Grian gets a hint of his reflection, staring at himself and hardly recognising his face—for multiple reasons—he traces a hand across his own cheek, in a pattern he recognises from Scar’s soft touch. Feels the difference. Explores the edges, everything that’s now going to be forever a part of him. (Until he dies. Which will probably be sooner rather than later anyway, he thinks.) 

He can’t exactly say he hates those scars—it’s not like he doesn’t love every inch of Scar’s face, scars regardless. But it still feels different and strange. Foreign. It makes him feel vulnerable. It makes him realise he’s been hurt, in some deep, irreversible way. (The ugly damage on his heart is finally visible—) He’ll never be the same.

He tries not to touch his face too much, or look for his reflections. But at the same time, he craves Scar’s touch against the parts of him that are so clearly broken and changed. Scar’s fingers are soft and comforting, filled with heartache. Loving, despite everything. And Grian needs that.

He’s so used to tracing Scar’s scars and kissing the pattenrs of his skin, adoring every single bit of it. But this? This is new to him. He feels unsure and shy, fragile under Scar’s fingertips. 

Scar’s vulnerabilities also get revealed at around this time. When they met up, Grian caught a frantic glimpse of Scar’s wings, but there was too much panic and choking emotions to really process and address it until later. 

Scar’s wings were torn to tatters months ago, and he’s kept quiet about it. Meticulously hiding them away from Grian’s sight, the secret heavy, burning through him like a lit coal. But Grian doesn’t know that—not at first.

He thinks that Scar’s wings got hurt while they were separated. While Scar was left with Juni. But as he thinks about it more… When was the last time he saw Scar’s wings?

Sheepishly, Grian asks Scar about it.

And Scar is forced to admit it happened a long time ago. That he was hiding it from him.

It stings Grian, the knowledge that Scar felt like he couldn’t tell him. That he suffered alone, tucking something so significant away. 

(And it’s true the circumstances of it all were horrible—when it happened, Grian certainly wasn’t in a state to process it correctly or deal with it; he was barely alive and in the depths of a rising fever. But there were still plenty of weeks and months since, when Scar could’ve taken the chance and tell him.) 

(He didn’t know how.) 

(Scar himself was afraid to face the damage. To see the tattered remains of his wings. To feel what’s happened to them.) (It was much preferrable to hide them and pretend it away.)

Softly, Grian asks if he can see them. (He wants to see it; he wants to bear it together with Scar; he wants to be there for him and show gentleness, especially because this is about wings of all things.) He instantly backpedals, saying Scar doesn’t have to—especially if it would hurt. 

But Scar does it before Grian can fully take it back.

It feels like a deep breath after holding it in for so long, but it’s also like a broken choke on that very same air; it feels so wrong to let them loose, but he does it. He shows Grian the extent of the damage, offers the vulnerable undersides of his shredded wings so willingly.

Grian half reaches out, then pauses. Looks over their state.

It’s horrible.

He asks, very quietly, if it hurts.

Scar’s heart leaps in his chest at that small reach, but then he pulls himself together and shakes his head. It doesn’t hurt. (Not anymore.) 

Grian retracts his hand, falling silent. He doesn’t want to touch uninvited, but he isn’t sure how else to show Scar some softness and comfort. He settles for leaning in and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

It feels like an apology, and like love. 

His hands wrap around Scar’s torso and he buries his face in his shoulder, simply holding him. He asks, muffledly, if they will heal? Do vexes heal over time? Scar has plenty of scars on him, but his wings are technically made of magic, so maybe they’re different?

Scar doesn’t have the answers to those questions. He doesn’t know.

Grian hugs him tighter around his middle and kisses his shoulder. He thanks Scar, for pulling them out at his request. For showing him. (There’s a lump in his throat that tells him that Scar hid this from him, for so long. He swallows it down.)

Scar mutters a quiet “Of course.” 

Slowly, he’s realising just how much he wants Grian to touch his wings, but he has no idea how to ask for it when it’s something Grian can’t fathom in reverse. He can’t bring himself to ask, but he opts to wrap his wings around the both of them, even if they’re broken and offer practically nothing. (And, truthfully, it does hurt a little to strain them after all the time of them being put away with unhealed wounds, but he needs this.)

Grian shudders, taking a choked breath. He presses himself closer against Scar, trying to navigate the abrupt onslaught of emotions. Something about hurt wings and vulnerability and pain, and— The feeling of wings wrapped around him is so comforting, even despite their state. Even despite everything. His brain goes a bit haywire, thinking flock and protection.

-- kindness that persists --

They eventually talk about Juni. Little fragments of conversations that feel like tripping over uneven ground. 

Scar admits he doesn’t know what the mimic wanted from him. If it was security, or something else entirely. He’ll never really know. 

At some point, Grian asks, quietly. “Is he dead?”

Scar sighs, not sure how to feel about his answer. “... No.”

It’s a weird and unpleasant mix of feelings for them both. 

Part of Grian wishes the mimic was dead—it would end some of the anxiety. But of course Scar didn’t do it, and another part of Grian is immensely glad for it. There’s something incredibly soothing about how much of Scar’s humanity remains intact despite everything this world throws at them. But even then, the awful feeling in the pit of Grian’s stomach remains, acidic and conflicted. 

Because if the mimic is alive, he might return.

Because as long as he breathes, this might not be over.

Scar feels vile, admitting Juni is alive. It’s the first time he’s ever felt sick about not killing someone. Because what if not killing the mimic means failing in protecting Grian? It leaves too much room for this to come back and harm them again. 

Being soft is what got Scar into this situation to begin with. Trusting too much, giving too much. 

He felt sure about it before. Relieved he didn’t kill him. But what if he should have? Because that was once again being too damn soft and maybe he shouldn’t be.

He becomes quieter again after this. Feeling like he needs to try to be stronger, less like himself. His vex instincts rumble beneath his skin as he spirals, urging him to kill anything that threatens him and his partner.

Scar is convincing himself softness truly is a weakness. That he needs to change.

One night, he’s swelling with too many emotions as he holds Grian tight—guilt, affection, a little bit of doubt again. His chest flickers with blue light, a sign of distress, and he croaks out, “Am I—” What’s the word even? Weak? Too kind? A fool? He goes with, “Do I need to change?”

Grian squirms in his arms, peeks up at him. “No, Scar. No, nono.” His voice is stitched through with a mixture of emotions—urgency and confusion, a soft shushing and deep, rich tenderness. His fingers gently brush Scar’s face and he presses a kiss to his jaw. “Don’t change. Be my Scar. Not somebody else.”

Scar’s eyes well up with tears and he ducks his face into Grian’s shoulder, breath hitching with a sob, overwhelmed by an abrupt tide of feelings—especially upon hearing the words my Scar. It makes him ache, but in a good way.

Grian wraps his arms around him and lets him cry. He caresses and kisses his hair and murmurs soft, reassuring things to him, hoping to make it all at least slightly more bearable. To anchor him somewhere safe. Somewhere where Scar can remain himself, despite all the horrors that suffocatingly pile up on them.

Scar’s voice is small and muffled against Grian’s sweater. “What if… I get us hurt?” There’s a shaky breath afterwards, sounding quite a bit like a choked “Again.”

Grian holds on a little tighter. “It won’t be your fault.” It would be the world’s, and those who actually hurt them. He needs Scar to understand that. With another kiss pressed to Scar’s hair, he pulls away slightly, urging Scar to look at him, to meet his eyes. “I need my Scar. I need—” He chokes up a little, his vision turning blurry. 

Instead of finishing whatever he was going to say, Grian leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. Murmuring a small apology that all this pressure was on Scar. Promising he’ll do better, that it’s the two of them against the world—that Scar isn’t alone in this fight.

Scar doesn’t want Grian’s apologies, but… he likes this way of putting it. Them against the world.

He doesn’t need to lose his kindness. He just needs to focus it on the only person who matters.