#enjoy the break from the angst

[polepositioned]

SEBASTIAN VETTEL / JENSON BUTTON x journal, day two by richard siken / much ado about nothing by shakespeare / assorted quotes + articles / [ bitter water ] by the oh hellos / [ merry christmas, please don't call ] by bleachers

articles: [ x , x , x , x ]

[ @sebsonism, @nicaeno, @subaru-copilot, @l0vagrend ]

[piko-rose]

"Heroes Don't Fail" - Sonic Movie 3 Angst Prediction Fanfic (OUTDATED PLEASE IGNORE LOL)

After Tom fell ill due to protecting him from a bullet, Sonic was left to wonder if his own friends had any faith in him to begin with during their most dangerous adventure yet. He was left to wonder if him and Shadow had more of a similarity than he thought.

Trigger Warnings: Usage of handheld weaponry, child endangerment, light blood, light swearing, implied PTSD

(THIS FIC CONTAINS POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR SONIC THE HEDGEHOG 3 AND THE FINAL TRAILER. IT IS ONLY A FIC BASED ON MY PREDICTIONS OF A MOMENT IN THE TRAILERS WHERE THE WACHOWSKI BROS ARE OUTSIDE OF A HOSPITAL BUILDING. BUT JUST IN CASE, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. EVERYTHING IS UNDER THE CUT.)

(just a little something before I return to my break thingy lol be back soon <3)

"What the hell is wrong with you, you jerk?!"

What a terrible, terrible time to get caught by G.U.N. officials, and even Commander Walters out of all people. The man responsible for that little girl's death.

Sonic and his friends were SO close to breaking in, and shut down the Eclipse Canon before it accelerated back into space, with the Robotniks, and Shadow the Hedgehog, boarding it.

Controlling it.

And now, because of Walters and his men trapping him and his family in the Robotnik base, surrounding them with their weapons, the moon has a gaping hole for the whole planet to see.

The Eclipse Canon did that.

And G.U.N. just let it happen, all because they refuse to let him and his team get to the weapon of mass destruction in time. They didn't want some randos become the heroes.

Noooo, it had to be the "Guardian Unites of Nations," the big, strong, tough guys who don't give two craps about the people around them. Only their reputation.

Which will surely go down now that Sonic's angry tone finally shown it's furious face.

Sonic never meant to swear in front of the young fox, whose ears were covered by Knuckles' mittens, even though the question was already out by the time Knuckles realized what was spoken.

But just by seeing the commander, who demands answers to why they have random people they don't even remember recruiting, and in an empty base when they should be after that hedgehog and those crazed doctors, he was fueled with rage.

Just not too long ago, Sonic made a truce with Robotnik, big mistake, and along the way found a diary of sorts. A diary that contained everything he needed to know about this Project Shadow, and this Eclipse Canon...

Before he could explain to his brothers what's going on with Shadow, he took them out. ...Again. Definitely Sonic's strongest opponent yet.

With Doctor Robotnik betraying Sonic and his friends, with Shadow himself and Robotnik's grandfather joining him, apparently, they needed extra help from their parents, and even Rachel, whose husband was an agent himself.

They posed as agents, to try and gather all the information about the Eclipse Canon, and take it down, and hopefully find Shadow and the doctors.

But... Walters just had to evade their plans. He just had to ruin everything.

Like how he ruined Shadow's life.

"...Excuse me?" Walters muttered out, taken aback by Sonic's outburst.

"Don't pretend like I don't know! I know what you did all those years ago," Sonic barked, not afraid to step forward in front of armed troops, just to get up close and personal with the commander.

"I have no idea what you're blabbering on about, Sonic," Walters shook his head in disbelief, confused yet seemingly upset at the pissed off hedgehog.

"Forgotten about Maria already, huh?"

The mere mention of her name made the old man's eye brows rose lightly, but no body in the room could tell. But Sonic knew that he wasn't expecting the name to be mentioned again.

He demands an explanation. He demands answers.

"Wh- what about Maria?" Walters asked, nearly fumbling over his question.

"You ever wonder why Shadow turned out the way he is? Looks like you didn't tell us the full story!" Sonic says, his fists clenched into gloved balls, with fingernails nearly poking through the fabric, "You knew all along! You kept all of this from us!"

Tails and Knuckles looked at each other, then back at Sonic who was walking closer to Walters. They don't know who Maria is or why she's involved with Shadow, but it probably might have something to do with that diary Sonic tried to talk about earlier.

"What does any of this have to do with you being in Robotnik's base?"

"Why are YOU in his base? Trying to get rid of more Robotnik related evidences?"

"Sonic," Tom, seeing that Sonic is just a few more steps away from being up to his face, reached his hand out to try and get him away from the old commander, worry showing in his eyes, "step back. He probably has a weap-"

Tom's sentence was cut off when a armed man motioned him back where he was with his gun. The warning only earned the man a death glare from the Donut Lord.

No one tells the Donut Lord to back away from his kid.

"Sonic... I... believe I owe you an explanation." Walters sigh in defeat. His sentence made his nearby men turn to face him. Despite their faces masked, they all seemed perplexed as most of Sonic's friends and family.

"An overdue one," Sonic added in retort, his brow furrowing, appearing threatening to some of the soldiers.

"I was... involved, in the incident from 50 years ago," Walters began, "I never meant to injure Maria, but I never wanted anyone to know about it... I had to cover it up."

Sonic's top muzzle scrunched. Had to cover it up?

"So you just put the blame on an innocent hedgehog?" Sonic asked loud enough to accidentally scare more of the armed men around him.

"Who said he was innocent?" Walters asked, his tone sounding annoyed, "everyone knew that Shadow had incredible power strong enough to possibly wipe out a nation! Innocent or not, he was too dangerous to be around anyone!"

"He was only 'dangerous' because you took away his closest FRIEND!" Sonic's voice cracked on the last word as he screamed it at the commander, scaring him. "You seriously think covering it up is gonna make everyone feel better?!"

Tails and Knuckles grew concerned and thought about intervening, Tom, Maddie and Rachel all exchanged shocked looks at each other, and Randell closed his eyes and looked away, feeling hurt to know about this information his own ex-commander kept from him.

"So G.U.N. has always been a thing, huh?" Sonic asked, hands on his hips, "There's just not a lot of extra-terrestrials around here to keep an eye on, so you have to retire until I came in??"

"...Precisely." Walters, once more, sigh in defeat, facing away from the enraged hedgehog.

So from Sonic's understanding, G.U.N.'s job was to destroy all friendly, alien life who dares to step foot onto beautiful planet Earth? People of this world actually rely on these guys??

"Wow. Some heroes you all are."

"We didn't want Shadow to cause more havoc!"

"YOU caused havoc," Sonic stomps his foot, "YOU guys were responsible for making Shadow feel pain and loss!" He repeated the two words at him. The ones the commander gave to him back at the Chao Garden.

All this time he thought Walters barely had any info on Project Shadow, but he was wrong. Shadow was the victim all along.

"Who says you guys can be heroes after what you've done?! He's not the villain, YOU ARE!!" His eyes glow a sharp, angry blue as he points his finger, not realizing that his hand he used was spitting out electricity at the commander, making him back up.

Because of his powers being exposed, the soldiers threatened their weapons at the blue hedgehog, who was startled by them at first, but remained angry, who glued his focus on Commander Walters.

"Sonic!" Nearly everyone exclaimed, with Tom shouting his name louder than everyone else in the room. He threw his weapon and tried to run towards him, not wanting him to get shot, but one to two men stopped him by pushing him to the ground violently.

"Thomas!" Maddie cried. She would've been by his side by now if it weren't for more soldiers guarding Tom from both her and Rachel. Randell, Tails and Knuckles all saw this too and gasped.

"Tom?" The moment Tom was planted to the ground, he turned around to see his own father figure face down on the glowing red ground.

All of that anger immediately washed away when the possibility of Tom getting hurt entered his mind, and made him vulnerable long enough for Walters to snatch him by the wrist.

"You talk too much, hedgehog," Walters says calmly yet coldly, getting ready to grab his cuffs and take the hedgehog away, along with the others, already having the idea to give orders to his men.

"Sonic!!" Tom shouted, watching this old man putting his dirty hands on his son.

"Dad!!" Sonic cried out, reaching his free hand to his father, who couldn't get up as long as a weapon was aimed right to his head.

Suddenly, a loud BANG goes off, as a bullet nearly went flying to Walters' face, but hit against the wall to his right. He snapped his head to the dent in the wall, then back at the culprit who almost shot him.

Rachel. Eyes huge, out of breath and holding one of the men's guns in her hand.

Everyone's eyes grew huge and their mouths drop agape seeing this woman do something unbelievable, especially her sister Maddie, who is almost terrified of her, if not, proud of her.

"Holy crap," Knuckles unintentionally muttered out for everyone to hear, sounding rather impressed.

"Get. Your hands. Off my nephew!" She warned the commander. Her hands trembled intensely, not wanting to pull the trigger again, but will do whatever it takes to keep her family alive and safe.

There was no response for a couple of seconds, but Sonic, shaking off the speechlessness, turned his head back at the bewildered commander, who was having flashbacks of the last time this woman fought with him.

"You heard the lady," He says, his traditional smirk still having a hint of anger written on it.

He spun into a ball and lunged at him to the stomach, making him hit against the wall.

"RUN!" Sonic ordered his family as he ran off to the nearest exit, and so everyone, fighting off the soldiers, do just that. Maddie stayed behind for a minute to help Tom up, and hugged him, before Walters gets back up.

Sonic didn't really remember all the pathways to this stinky base well enough to know where the heck he was going, or even know where the way out was.

Some nerve that old man has, though. Trying to cover up an accident just to make himself look good? Sheesh.

As long as G.U.N. is out of his way, he can finally deal with the Robotniks and Shadow.

He came to a halt however when he noticed that no body was following him.

"Guys?" Sonic turned around to see no body behind him, and was growing worried.

He runs off to the opposite direction, risking to put himself in Walters' sight again just to rescue him. He just prays that Tom is okay.

But as he makes a quick left turn, Walters was in his sight. With a weapon in hand.

"Hoo boy," Sonic whimpered.

"Trust me. I don't want to do this," Walters says, despite the look of his eyes saying otherwise.

Sonic is the fastest creature in the universe, why does he feel nervous to be held at gunpoint? He should be able to outrun it. He never deemed Walters to be threatening, he's just a jerk.

That's all there is to him.

Why should he be scared? He's not scared. He's not scared of Walters.

He's not scared of his little toy.

"Out of my way, my family's in there!" Sonic barked, ready to put up another fight with this old bully.

"You've learn too much about G.U.N.'s history. No body should know about what happened on the ARK. You have no right to have this information with you." He says, still aiming at the hedgehog.

"I believe I do," Sonic protests, looking at the commander square in the eyes as if the gun was never there to begin with. "If you would've told me what had happened up there all those years ago, I wouldn't have NEVER join your little cult!"

"You didn't really have a choice."

"I feel like I did."

Loud thuds could be heard in the other room. Sonic suspects that his family is either kicking butt, in danger, or both. Probably both since Knuckles is going all out. He could hear his cries every couple of seconds.

They better be okay.

"You lied to me, Walters," Sonic says, his voice quiet yet threatening. "Do you have any idea what Shadow has been through because of your actions? You even made Gerald gone mad because of what you did to Maria!"

"You seriously shouldn't have never learned this information." Walters tries to dodge the question, but he knew it was fruitless.

"You refuse to listen, do you? You refuse to accept that you ain't no hero. Well... you're not." Sonic hissed. "You're a monster! A heartless jerk who only cared about his troops and no body else!"

"We are only doing what we think is right!"

"Nothing you ever did in your life was right."

"We are protectors who face anomalies such as you and Shadow! We don't know how strong your powers are and we worry it could affect the world in ways that damage it!" Walters continued, "I don't believe this world asked for heroes such as yourself."

"Damage it?!" Sonic shrieked with fury, "I saved this world a handful of times from that doctor, and you don't even care?! I saved the world! TWICE! Soon THRICE!"

"Didn't you see the state San Francisco was in?" Walters asked, growing more irritated with this creature. "We had no choice but to unite G.U.N. back because of your actions! And don't even get me started on Green Hills from last year."

"From MY actions-? Pfffft, okay, okay," Sonic "chuckled," "You seriously think that was my fault? Robotnik was the guy who endangered many lives out there, and, as usual, you put the blame on the alien hedgehog."

"Every other life endangering event occurred because of anomalies like you that kept running all around the planet instead of going back to the dirty caves where you belong!"

Dirty. Cave?

Oh, hell no, he did NOT just go there.

"Listen hear," Sonic began, gritting his teeth, "I lost my owl guardian when I was a child and had to live on Earth all by myself for ten years, seven in a cave. Throughout those years I was isolated! I had no body! Then, a twist of fate lead me to my father and mother, who took care of me for years, alongside my brothers, Tails and Knuckles, who went through a troubling childhood as much as I had!"

Sonic never noticed that he called Tails and Knuckles his own brothers, but he was too fumed at the commander to care.

"Even though I have people to care for me," he continued, "Robotnik has the guts to cause chaos in my life, and threatened the world at the same time, but I pulled together with my family and saved the world! More than once!"

Walters was listening, but never shown any signs that he cared. This only made Sonic more angry.

"Sure, there were some property damage, and some people were hurt, but sometimes even heroes make mistakes!" Sonic says, his fists clenched, "But I'm not gonna let that get to me!"

Walters' nose lets out an unimpressed exhale.

"I did my best to keep the world safe- my home safe, and all you do is treat me and my family like dirt!" Sonic raised his voice at him as he took another harsh step forward at him.

"I did more saving than you and your men ever will! You think you have the right to determine whose the hero and who isn't?! No!! You don't! You ruined Shadow's life, I won't let you ruin mine!"

Walters believes he sounded too brave.

"All I wanted to do is to live my life with my family, and I'm tired of people like you making a decision on rather people like me deserve it or not! I HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG!!"

Sonic panted after finally letting his emotions out. His eyes were shut, he was no longer paying attention to the commander, only his breathing.

He never felt so glad to let it all out like that. But the relief didn't last too long...

"And it's going to stay that way."

Click...

The hedgehog snapped his emerald eyes open after hearing a small creaking sound, to see Walters aiming the gun directing to his face.

"No hero should ever make a single mistake," It was Walters' turn to speak, "after all, heroes don't destroy things. They don't endanger civilians. You're responsible for most of the destruction in San Francisco, and because of Robotnik's obsession with you, your own townspeople have gotten injured, despite the so-called victory."

Sonic backed up two steps.

"Are you certain heroes do these things? Most specifically, you?"

He backed up two more steps.

"Shut up," he muttered.

"I'm not letting a bunch of alien troublemakers take my place as protector. You didn't even have the courage to rescue your owl. With a reputation like that, why should you not let it get to you?"

He does have a point. He tried to go back to save her from the Echidna, but... he was too late.

"You're no hero. You're just some kid, a dangerous one. A hazard. A weapon!" Walters barked the word right at him, making him jump.

"You seriously believe the world is yours? Sorry, but after what happened on the ARK, I'm not taking any chances. This world doesn't need another disaster. It doesn't need another failure."

His finger prepared to pull.

His own words took over Sonic's brain.

How could he let them take over so easily?

Sonic isn't a failure! He's-

BANG!!

Sonic shuts his eyes tight, not fully prepared for the bullet, but nothing had happened. He opened his eyes again to see a person standing right in front of him, shielding him from Walters' gun.

As he got a good look at him, he gasped. His ears pinned to his head. His worst nightmare came true.

Tom Wachowski, groaning quietly as some blood leaked through his shirt, while he was still guarding him from the commander.

He took the bullet for Sonic.

Tom is hurt. And it was because Sonic didn't run away.

Despite the pain shocking his body, Tom weakly opened his right eye and barely smiled at his little Blue Devil. "Make me proud, son," he whispered before collapsing to the ground.

Everything around him went dead silent. All he could do was stare at the seemingly lifeless body of the person who saved his life.

How could he make him proud when he was one who killed him?

How could he make anyone proud now?

Maybe Walters was right.

With a loud cry, before Walters could react, Knuckles delivered his most brutal punch to the commander, slamming him to the wall, knocking him unconscious.

The sound of a harsh slam to the metal wall knocked Sonic back to his senses.

"Hedgehog! They took Maddie and Ra- ...Thomas?" Knuckles just now noticed the body of Tom laying in front of a panicked Sonic. The echidna's purple eyes rose with concern, praying that what he's looking at isn't what he's looking at right now.

Sonic's eyes began to swell with tears as he looked back at his brother. "Where's Mom...?"

His question broke his heart. Despite remaining quiet, Sonic knew the answer, and was more devastated.

"Is everything okay in here?" The young fox called out, slightly afraid to come around the corner.

"Everything's..." Knuckles stopped himself. No. Everything is not fine. G.U.N. captured Maddie, her sister, and Tom appeared to be severely injured.

Not to mention that the mad doctors and that monster are still on the loose.

Everything is not fine.

"We're getting out of here." Knuckles says, picking up Tom bridal style, and ran off in a rush.

Tails came in just to time for a hurt Donut Lord to not come into his view. A defeated, glossy eyed Sonic didn't make it any better though.

"Sonic? Where's Tom?"

All the hedgehog could do is blink.

It was enough to give Tails the upsetting conformation.

-

Gloomy, dark clouds loom over the city of London. Roads were beginning to form puddles from the light rains that have been pouring down for a good hour or so.

An hour seemed like a trillions years to find out if one person is gonna survive a bullet or not.

Sonic, Tails and Knuckles were outside, barely dried off from the rain speaking with one of the G.U.N. agents, that was informing them about their father's well being.

"The good news is, however," she was speaking with the boys for a good while now, each of them showing concern in their own ways. Knuckles tries not to show it, and was listening closely, Tails was holding one of his tails, and Sonic, still recovering from the earlier incident, twiddled his fingers, wanting to hear the good news already.

"he wasn't hit near the heart, but the bullet was pretty close to the lungs. He will need to undergo surgery, so he has to remain in the hospital until then. Other than that, no other injuries have occurred as far as I'm concerned."

The trio didn't say a word, but they understood. They're just glad, at least mentally, that Tom is gonna be okay, but it'll be a while until he's able to wake up.

"Thanks for telling us," Tails says quietly, not really looking at the agent in the eye.

"As for your mission, I... really wish I could help," she says. She was concerned for the boys' well being, and thought about helping them, but after hearing word about the commander getting injured, she needed to be in a hurry.

"No you don't," Sonic mumbled, doubting her sincerity.

She sighed through her nose. She should've expect the boys treating this way to her. But it's understandable why they're acting like this.

"Could you at least tell us if Maddie and Rachel are okay?" Tails looked up at her with hope in his eyes. He doesn't want anyone to get hurt like Tom.

"They are confined until further notice. There's nothing I can do."

Sonic refuses to look at her.

"I hope you boys make things right and take care of those freaks up there," she says, "because if you fail on your mission, no one will forget this. Keep that in mind."

It was the last thing she said before making her leave. The trio watched as she goes, as they were left with the sentence floating in their heads.

Knuckles seemed calm, he has certainly been through worse, but he hasn't gotten a look at Sonic or Tails yet. They both seem distraught. This is their biggest adventure yet, and possibly their deadliest.

She's right. They cannot fail. No matter what.

Sonic closes his eyes and turned away from his friends, thinking. Tails and Knuckles looked over with concern.

"Sonic, y-you're not thinking about giving up, are you?" Tails asked nervously. A lot has happened, but there still all the time in the world to turn everything back to normal. Hopefully.

"Never," Sonic responded. He turned back around to face them. He never looked so serious. "It's not over until I say it's over."

Hearing that definitely lift Tails' spirits. "Oh! That's great! I'm so relieved!"

"What about the Eclipse Canon? How do we stop it now?" Knuckles asks, turning to face Tails. "It's already activated with the use of the Emeralds, which we cannot reach to unless we're in the ARK."

"Aw, shoot, you're right," Tails' smile faded away in an instant after hearing the mention of the Chaos Emeralds. "Ugh, if only I knew G.U.N. were to show up then we would've-"

"Do not blame yourself, fox. You did all you could," Knuckles reassures.

"I guess you're right, but what about Shadow? We can't get to him here, he's probably up in space by now! Maybe if I can somehow find a way to steal a space shut-"

"'We?'"

Sonic's voice caught Tails and Knuckles' attention.

"Nah," he says, "I'M going after him."

"What??" They both cried in confusion.

...Is he serious? Why is Sonic thinking about facing that guy on his own? Why without their help?? There's no way he's serious. When was the last time he was ever serious?

"Sonic, are you- are you hearing yourself? That is suicide!" Knuckles cried, "You don't even know the full power he's capable of!"

"Hes right, Sonic," Tails added for Knuckles' sake. They got the taste of Shadow's power firsthand. He knew that fighting Shadow alone would be a nightmare. "This is a bad idea."

"When does that ever stop me?" Sonic says, furrowed brows and fists clenched again to show the dead seriousness in his face.

Oh, dear lord, he is serious.

"I faced Eggman twice," The blue hedgehog continued, "once in a flying pod, and in a giant death mech, with the Emeralds! I can take on a super hedgehog."

"He obliterated us!" Tails says, "He's way too powerful! What if he hurts you and we can't save you in time?"

"I'll be fine," Sonic answered, his eyes lowered and away from Tails, "besides, I don't want you guys to get hurt."

Walters' words were still fresh in his brain. He couldn't help but think that maybe he did cause some destruction while saving the world, but he won't let it happen again this time. He won't let his brothers- his friends, get hurt.

He didn't notice that Knuckles looked slightly offended from being pushed aside from a fight. "But Sonic," he says, "we are strong enough to protect ourselves and you."

"I know, but I especially don't want you, Knuckles, to go overboard on Shadow. I think he's been through enough."

Knuckles blinked. "What do you mean?"

"He lost a friend on the ARK, remember?" Sonic says. "He's probably mad at the world because of that..." His expression seemed hurt from the thought of losing someone that close. He's been there...

But after thinking for a moment, his eyes began to twinkle with hope, and a small smile rose on his muzzle. "...but maybe if I can try and reason with him and change his mind, then our problems will be solved!" He exclaimed, beaming at his friends.

Tails and Knuckles earned him very lost looks.

"'Reason' with him? Oh, sweet mother of Tikal..." Knuckles messaged the bridge of his muzzle, not believing what was spoken just now.

"Sonic, there is no point in trying such thing," he says, "He is blinded by rage. How could he listen to you?"

"There... there is a way. I know there is!" Sonic spoke, sounding unsure if he knows a way at all. He just hopes that Shadow would listen to him somehow...

"Sonic," his tone rose for a moment to get Sonic to listen, "he tried to destroy us, and now he's trying to destroy the planet! Do you honestly believe this monster will, just, stop from your useless plea?"

Sonic stared at him like he killed a man.

"He's not a monster," he says, "he was just blamed for something he didn't do."

"That was in the past," Knuckles argued, "this is the present! We are dealing with Shadow's action NOW! His actions now is what makes him a-"

"I'll find a way to stop him, Knuckles," Sonic explained, "Besides, he'll probably listen to me because of how similar we are! We both lost someone really important a long time ago... ...Wait, is Shadow, like, an old dude now or-?"

"He was frozen, Sonic." Tails corrected, his eyes stabbing him with disapproval.

"...So, does that make him, like, Captain America, or somethin- BUT ANYWAYS, anyways," Sonic stops himself from going off topic.

"H-he used to have a human friend and those G.U.N. jerks took her away, and I used to have Longclaw before I came to Earth..." He looked down at his shoes and scratched the back of his head, not wanting to bring himself back to a difficult time of his life, nor wanting to think about what he had read in that diary.

"But Shadow is nothing like you," Knuckles mentioned, "Just because you both have 'similar' pasts, that does not mean it will stop Shadow from being destructive."

Sonic couldn't help but feel scolded in some way. Maybe it was because he read the diary and never got the chance to show Tails and Knuckles before Shadow came in.

They never knew what Shadow been through. It's understandable that they were cautious over this plan, but... it seemed like Knuckles doesn't believe everything Sonic is saying.

...is he?

"Well, I mean... I guess me and Shadow do have a lot in common," Sonic says, "We're both hedgehogs. We both run pretty fast. We both have really cool kicks. And... we were doubted."

Tails blinked. "Wh-what? Sonic, we didn't doubt you."

"You guys don't even believe what I said, didn't you?" he stressed, "I read those diary pages. I know what happened! I'm not lying just to make friends with an emo hedgehog!"

"No, no! I believe you!" Tails cried, waving his hands at Sonic. He had no clue that Sonic was feeling this way the whole time.

"Yeah, right!" Sonic says, hand on hip. "You guys don't even believe that I can handle Shadow on my own! You guys... really don't think I can do this?" his ears flopped to his head, looking at his friends, begging them to be on his side.

"Not on your own." Knuckles stated.

"At least wish me luck or something! Gosh, why are you... why are you guys loosing faith in me?" Sonic asked, sounding defeated.

Tails' two tails dropped to the ground. He wasn't loosing faith in him! He was just worried for his well being. Tom is already in the hospital and Maddie and the rest of her family are being held somewhere. He doesn't want to loose anyone else.

He believed him, one hundred percent. He never meant to make Sonic believe otherwise. He felt awful making his own hero feel this way.

Knuckles, however, thought Sonic is just saying all this just to battle on his own. Does this hedgehog know that they are in a middle of a crisis?!

"We didn't say that we're loosing faith..." Tails spoke sadly.

"You didn't, but I know you are," Sonic looked away, his eyes set on the hospital building. The one Tom is staying at for God knows how long.

The one Sonic himself put him in.

It makes sense that his own friends think that he couldn't do this right, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. Aren't they suppose to support him?

Like a good team he thought they were?

"I'm not gonna lie," Sonic began, his voice breaking but barely hid it, "I'm kind of disappointed of you both."

Knuckles' face grew disgusted and Tails tugged at his own hand.

...disappointed?

"I am doing all I can to make everything go back to normal," he continued, "and nothing is working so far because stupid Ro-butt-nik ruined everything, and stupid G.U.N. caused more problems and...! Ugh, and you guys aren't making it any better!"

Knuckles scowled down at the blue hedgehog. He had no right to be disappointed at the Echidna Warrior.

"None of this wouldn't have happened if we didn't put our trust into that mustached mad man!" he roared at his face, "So, technically speaking, YOU ruined everything!"

Sonic froze.

He, ruined everything...?

They recruited Tom and Maddie and family to help them on their mission, went to London to find the ARK before the Robotniks do, G.U.N. stormed them first, and the Robotniks got away with not only the ARK, but the Chaos Emeralds included, which helped powering on the Eclipse Canon, which cut the moon in half just now...

...and it was all Sonic's fault?

"Didn't you see the state San Francisco was in? We had no choice but to unite G.U.N. back because of your actions!"

Sonic blinked twice. Walters' words haunted him once more.

"You know what Robotnik has done to us in the past, and you seriously think he was our last chance at victory?!" Knuckles cried.

"You didn't even have the courage to rescue your owl. With a reputation like that, why should you not let it get to you?"

The longer he stared at Knuckles, the more his emerald eyes loose their spark.

"You think it's so easy to have all of our sworn enemies magically become friends?! is that your plan? Because it sure is a ridiculously stupid one." Knuckles stated.

"Knuckles, quit it!" Tails protested.

"No hero should ever make a single mistake. After all, heroes don't destroy things. They don't endanger civilians."

He breathed heavily. Walters just won't shut up.

"No hero should ever make a single mistake."

He won't shut up!

"No hero should ever make a single mistake."

"No hero should ever make a single mistake."

"You think I'm stupid?!" Sonic yelled. The fox backed up, startled by Sonic's scream.

"You think I didn't see any of this coming, no matter how much I hoped it wouldn't happen?! You think I believed that Robotnik was our only hope?!"

"Yes." Knuckles answered with a straight face, unaffected by his anger.

Sonic's left eye twitched. This damn Echidna. He didn't believe him from the start. He didn't think this plan was the best he could come up with!

When they were chained up after getting knocked out it was punishment enough. He didn't need Knuckles the Echidna to remind him how much he failed.

He could've at least pretend to have faith in him instead of being brutally honest. Then again, Knuckles is a terrible liar.

Knuckles lying would be more worse than just being honest anyway. Who in the right mind would lie about how amazing and clever and heroic Sonic is?

Tails and Knuckles, apparently.

Sonic hated Walters' guts, but he hated how much he was right more. Out of all the mistakes he could ever make in his life, as a sorry excuse for a hero, is to put his faith on two "friends" who have never supported him from the beginning of the mission.

Or even the beginning of their adventures in general.

He tried, so hard, to make everything according to plan, but it all came crashing down, because he had to make a truce with Eggman. He even put Tom in the hospital because he didn't get the chance to run away from a stupid bullet.

And what did his friends do after all that? They criticize him.

He is fully aware of how imperfect he is, but Knuckles made him open his eyes. But especially Walters. No one had faith in him. He was never a hero, and he was too blind to realize that. Until now.

But he will fix everything. On his own. He will reclaim his title, without the help of his friends.

In a blink of a second, Sonic's eyes glow a sharp blue. If this is how his friends treat him after everything, then so be it.

Sonic scoffed a snarky chuckle.

"Well then," he says, raising his voice at first, "if we're playing the blame game, then THIS, is all Tails' fault!" He points at the young fox.

His ears folded downward. "What...?"

What did he do??

"That's right. Blame me for being a failure and see what happens!" Sonic barked him, stomping his foot.

Knuckles' violet eyes rose. Why the hell is he yelling at this poor child??

"Maybe YOU wouldn't have failed if you try to figure out what to do when G.U.N. showed up! I thought you were smarter than that, Miles!" he cursed his real name.

Tails gasped and back away, hugging on of his fluffy tails. His eyes fluttering as tears began to form.

Knuckles is having none of it.

"How dare you scold the young fox like that!" Knuckles walked up close and personal with Sonic, shielding Tails from him. He snarled at the hedgehog, but it didn't scare him off.

"Sonic, what is wrong with you," Tails croaked, his voice breaking. "I did my best!"

"I'm doing my best too, but no body seems to care!"

"ENOUGH!" Knuckles ordered Sonic loud enough for the whole area to hear. It was enough to make him back away a bit.

"We are supposed to be a team," he reminded calmly yet angrily, "why are you acting this way, hedgehog?"

"Because you don't think Shadow is capable of change." Sonic answered, forcing himself to not cry in front of Knuckles, "you don't believe in him. You don't believe in ME. And you know what? Even if I needed help, I wouldn't rely on people who don't believe in me!"

"I do believe in you!" Tails cried, a tear streaming down his muzzle. He never felt so heartbroken in his life. He did rely on Sonic. He looked out for him. He couldn't believe what was happening.

Why is his own hero acting so harsh to him? ...he probably deserved it.

Knuckles made sure Tails was still behind him in case the hedgehog does anything rash.

Sonic didn't hear a thing Tails said, and he refused to.

"I'm tired of losing other people," Sonic continued, now yelling, "I nearly lost Tom, I am NOT gonna lose the entire world, and I won't let you stop me!"

Tails held onto Knuckles' huge hand. The gesture only made Knuckles grow more angry. Sonic is scaring the small fox. He should not have done that.

"I am not gonna argue with you guys in a middle of a crisis that could only worsen if I'm not doing something about it!" He pointed at the duo. Then he walked up to Knuckles, his eyes glaring right at him like daggers.

"Besides, KNUCKLES, you are way too simpleminded to even listen to a word I say because all YOU care about is kicking someone's butt," Sonic hissed, not afraid of what the Echidna is about to do next.

"Simpleminded?"

He closed his eyes, and breathed through his nose.

He should be.

Knuckles carefully pushed Tails to his side, and then backed up a few steps. "Take it back," he ordered quietly, brow bridges furrowing as he glared back at the hedgehog.

"Make me," he opened up his arms. He could clearly see that this warrior is about to duke it out. If that's the case, he's ready to throw hands whenever.

Knuckles growled. Loudly.

"Take. It. BACK!" He roared as he smacked both of his own fists, causing fire to burst out ablaze out of his gloves, complete with his power surge spiraling all over his body.

Sonic formed his fists tight, his own power surge sparkling as well. His eyes zapped the same blue as before as his quills began to glow.

"Make me!"

It's go time.

Sonic and Knuckles charge at each other, delivering powerful punches to one another, some they dodged, most they certainly came in contact.

Knuckles tried to kick Sonic in the stomach, but as he tried to do so, Sonic zipped behind him and dragged him by his quills and threw him to the nearest police car.

The echidna made a dent on the door and the sirens began to blare off, but no body cared, except for Tails, who was stressed out enough already. He covered his ears, the sound of the police siren bothering his eardrums.

Sonic punched Knuckles in the face twice, but it had no effect. He's just too strong. Knuckles snorted, finding the attack rather unimpressive.

It was his turn to punch back.

POW!!

Sonic goes flying off a few feet away from Knuckles, as he stretches briefly before going back to his fighting stance.

The blue hedgehog gets up, rubs his bruised nose and growled at the Echidna Warrior.

"Stop fighting!" Tails plead.

As if this day couldn't get any worse, two of his favorite people in the galaxy are beating themselves up because of an unsuccessful mission that was probably his own fault.

His family is falling apart. He didn't ask for this.

"See? I told ya, didn't I?!" Sonic barked, his fist shaking, ready to punch that dumb red cherry straight to the concrete. "Fighting is all you focus on! You wanna remain victorious! Undefeatable!"

Sonic came running full speed and landed his fist straight to Knuckles' face. He tumbled on the ground before quickly getting back up, sprinting behind him.

"And all you care about is your reputation!" He spit back, before delivering back his own punch.

"Bull-crap!!"

"You are such a child!"

Sonic spun into a ball before lunging himself right into Knuckles' gut, barely weakening him. Still in his ball form, and rolled laps around him, trying to confuse him, before kicking him hard in the chin.

"I know what I'm doing! You both stay out of this! I don't need your help!" Sonic roared, his power surge growing stronger and unstable. He may be unable to keep his powers at bay, but he couldn't care less.

He just wants Knuckles to back off.

"You haven't a single clue what you are doing, you blue buffoon," The Echidna stated, raising his flaming fists of disaster, ready to set that hedgehog's pathetic face of fire.

"You call yourself a hero after the way you treat your teammates?! You are no such thing until you get your act together!"

"Shut up! Shut up!" A whirring sound grows louder and louder, unable to hold his power together anymore. He was too angry. He was too blinded by rage.

He is sick and tired of being criticized as an imperfect hero. He tried his best. He tried so hard. Why won't it be easy? Why can't everything just go his way?

Why does his family hate him so much?

"Just shut up, you Knucklehead!!!" Sonic screamed at the top of his lungs before shooting himself right into Knuckles at scary speed, preparing to pound the living daylights out of him.

"STOP!"

WHAM!!

Thud...

Sonic's heart nearly stopped.

The light in his once enraged emerald eyes faded away in a second the instant he's seen what he had done.

His powers died down. Now his fur is a dull blue.

It didn't stop his hands from trembling, however.

His ears bent back. He step back a few steps, not letting his eyes off the small, fox, that was once in his way, now many feet away from the duo, not moving a muscle.

His tails were limp for an uncomfortable amount of time. No sound was made from the fox. He remained still on the ground.

For seconds. Too many seconds.

Sonic's mouth quivered. He refuse to believe it.

He punched him. He punched his own little buddy. He hurt him.

"What have I done?"

"Tails!" Knuckles cried out his dear brother's name as he ran towards him, leaving a shocked Sonic by himself.

The Echidna rolled onto the ground as he grabbed Tails by his arms and cradled him close, checking for any injures, and making sure he's alive.

"Tails, are you alright? Speak to me!" He begged the young motionless fox, putting his hand up to his face, checking for blood and cuts.

Sonic watched from afar. The strongest fighter in the galaxy, holding onto a small child for dear life, begging for him to wake up. He caused this.

"Is he...?" he never finished his question. Somehow he knew the answer, but he just prayed it's not really true.

"He's... unconscious." Knuckles said to himself at loud.

Sonic placed both of his hands over his mouth slowly. He was in disbelief.

He knocked his little brother out.

Knuckles and Tails may be a few feet away from him, but to him it felt like millions and millions of miles away. He never felt so divided from his own friends.

How could he do this? To his own little brother?

...his little brother.

Dear God, he hurt his little brother.

How could he?

This small fox, who he bonded with for months, under the same roof, and spend good and bad times with alongside Knuckles, is knocked out because of him.

This tiny, precious baby, who admired him, protected him, fought by his side with, and even looked up to him, is not responding to anything Knuckles is doing.

He hurt him. He yelled at him.

What the hell was he thinking??

What kind of a hero is he hurting his own little brother like that?

His heart completely shattered into pieces the second Knuckles turned his head at him.

This strong Echidna, who has fought the toughest battles and the meanest bad guys before his arrival on Earth, has never looked so lost and distraught.

There were tears swelling in those violet eyes of his.

Knuckles just witnessed a small child got the soul knocked out of him by a speeding hedgehog, and didn't even save him in time.

It terrified him.

It made Knuckles cry. Knuckles never cries.

Sonic made Knuckles cry.

Throw anything at the Echidna, and he'll brush it off, but an injured fox would break him down in seconds.

Sonic may have hurt Knuckles physically, but he was destroyed on the inside just the sight of this small unconscious fox with a huge, purple bruise on his cheek.

Knuckles and Tails had such a bond so close, it would only make sense for Knuckles to break down like this.

The whole scene was just so horrifying for Sonic to watch.

He caused this scene. He hurt his own brothers.

His own brothers who he took in after they dealt with such a troubling childhood. Having either loosing a family, or never having one to begin with.

He gave them everything they ever truly wanted. He gave them a family. A happy life on Earth.

And now, he gave them something they'll both never, ever forget.

Betrayal.

"No hero should ever make a single mistake."

He let Walters' words get the better of him. His own words were his own weapons against his brothers.

Walters managed to break Sonic to the point where he endangered his own brothers.

Because of his fear of failure, it lead him to hurting his own brothers.

Whom he was supposed to protect.

His own fears took over him, making him appear as the bad guy to Knuckles. All over again.

Because of his failure as a hero, Knuckles may never look at Sonic the same way again...

Perhaps it could be true, as Knuckles shuts his eyes tight, and turned away from the speechless hedgehog, trying to calm himself down.

Him and Shadow really do have a lot in common after all.

Knuckles took a few deep breaths. "Keep calm... Don't let it out... Seal it in..."

Seal what in? What was he talking about?

Knuckles exhaled deeply, feeling more relaxed, but still in slight distraught when he opened his eyes back up, seeing the unconscious fox back in his view.

He couldn't bare to look at the poor thing any longer. he shuts his eyes tight again. He will find a way to nurse him back to health.

The hospital is right there. Hopefully the doctors know how to take care of an alien fox.

"Kn-Knuckles...?" Sonic mumbled his elder brother's name, reached his hand out slowly to him, praying he's not too mad at him now that he calmed himself down.

"Leave."

...Or maybe not.

Sonic pulled his hand back, stabbed in the heart by that one word. He doesn't really want to leave his friends behind. Not after what he had done.

He never meant for any of this to happen. He never meant to go so hard on them. He just doesn't want them to get hurt.

He just doesn't them to go too far on Shadow.

Another fight with Shadow is long overdue, but he knows what he has been through. He knew deep down he wouldn't listen, but talking things out won't work forever.

He just didn't want his brothers to make things harder for him than it already has, but he never meant to hurt them either.

Shadow is just a rival, but Tails and Knuckles are his brothers. Hurting them is a different story entirely.

They mean so much to him as much as Tom and Maddie. His parents.

He has injured his family. He had failed them.

...but hopefully not the world.

There is still time to stop the Eclipse Canon from powering up, and stop the Robotniks for good, and taking care of Shadow. It's just Sonic doing all the work now.

His family needed rest to heal anyways. He has put them through enough trouble. No more mistakes. No more hurting.

He's doing this alone. For them.

"I'll leave," Sonic croaked quietly, but loud enough for Knuckles to hear, "but I'll fix everything. I promise. Once I'm done with Shadow, I'll go and you won't need me anymore, and that's fine."

He sniffled, turning away from his brothers. He doesn't want to see them in that state anymore.

"I'll be okay on my own. I've done it before... I promise I won't bother you guys again..." Sonic says. Despite his small smile, he was screaming and sobbing on the inside.

"You have every right to be upset at me, but it won't change how I love you. And because I love you is why I'm going alone. I hope you understand. ...Goodbye, big bro."

With a burst of speed, Sonic ran off in seconds, leaving a blue blur behind him. Now it's just Knuckles, and a small motionless pup in his arms.

Deep down, Knuckles didn't want Sonic to leave, but he was just so angry at him...

He doesn't deserve to be alone. No body does.

Shadow doesn't deserve it either.

But he was still angry at him, especially. But he'll deal with him later. Sonic can't handle Shadow on his own, even though the blue hedgehog is full of surprises.

He'll deal with everything later. His baby brother's well being is his number one priority.

He pulled Tails in closer where his head meet his chest, and pressed his muzzle against his bangs, giving him the most comfortable hug he could ever receive.

"I won't leave you until you are all better, my dear brother," he whispered to him, still holding onto him as if he was just a small baby.

He sat there on the wet concrete, ignoring the cold shivers, and remained there until the fox is okay.

He is not loosing another member of his tribe. Not again.

-

Randell watched from afar. He wasn't there to witness everything, but he's gotten enough context to understand what had happened.

He stood there, his arms crossed, watching Knuckles holding onto Tails for dear life.

He still can't believe these are the dangerous aliens Walters was freaking out over for so long. They're just children. Children longing for a home.

And because of Walters' actions, these poor kids have been separated.

He turned away, crossed with his ex-commander. He could've just let them get to the ARK first. He could've just left them alone. But he didn't. He just had to be the villain.

"When I see him, he will not ignore me again," he said, before walking off.

He gave a promise to himself that if Walters won't leave this family alone, he's gonna have to take drastic measures.

He doesn't care about the consequences. The only thing he cares about is his family. And the planet they belong in.

-

[angeart]

Aaaaange, why doesn't Scar feel safe at that moment? More Tease pretty please? -🎀

oh i can do more than tease for this one :3c

[1,2k ramble + 8,5k rp snippets]

you know how we talked about the post-return situation, with the hermits raising potential allegations against scar? worried that he might be hurting grian, that their relationship is not safe?

that is pre-wedding. that is before scar proposes, but he already has plans to. he's always dreamed of a big, fancy wedding. it'd be picturesque and grand and wonderful! there'd be lots of flowers and music, laughter and dancing. and they'd be surrounded by friends who would be happy for them.

all of this is actively crumbling in scar's hands as hermits shy away from him as if he was dangerous and unpredictable. they're wary, unsure. they no longer see their cheerful, clumsy, harmless friend. they see an unfamilair vex.

they are not happy for them. and, right now, they do not approve of their relationship either.

scar thinks this is not how home should feel like. this is not what he wants. and he doesn't know how to convince them that he's not that scarecrow they have constructed from their lack of understanding. he doesn't know how to get through this.

but it's more than that, right? all their concerns, however well meaning, also make grian spiral. there's so much stress put on the two of them suddenly, their relationship straining.

none of this was ever meant to happen like this.

it's at a point when grian starts finding his stability, after that big breakdown, that scar decides he's done hiding and running, too. if he has to convince everyone to like him again, then he will. he'll fight for this. he'll do his best so that they can overcome this.

him and grian decide to host a little sleepover. for selected hermits! that way, they'll be opening themselves up to others. they want to try and show the others who they are now. to invite them back in. to let them get to know them all over again.

they arrange for it to happen within a week or so, as they still have to make a dedicated room for it. it's a lot of people to hang out and sleep!

they dedice to repurpose their old bunker. yes, the one they constructed shortly post-rescue. the one that was their hideout, their safe place.

it's underground, its walls drenched with anxiety and uncertainty. grian itches from it all, now used to spend time in their nest-tower, high up above the ground. underground feels stifling, all of a sudden. it feels wrong.

the first thing scar does is break the ceiling, to make a big skylight. it's left open for now, sand smelting into glass.

they struggle with the concept of hosting an event for many people. they can't seem to remember what they need. desperately, they try to figure out ways to make the place seem cozy and non-threatening, both for show and for their own sanity.

they talk about a little flower patch in the middle, right underneath the skylight. something bright and nice smelling and alive. they talk about mood lighting, about fairy lights and a fireplace. and—

they talk about sleeping arrangements.

grian says he doesn't want to make a big nest. he... doesn't want the others in their nest.

they're not flock.

they no longer feel like family.

so instead, they try to figure out how many beds they need. except, grian still wants a nest! for him and scar. and, maybe that's good! that'll be another stepping stone, showing the others the new them. who they are. what they now need. things like that!

while scar is tasked with making the small garden, grian goes off and gathers things for beds. he starts making them, quickly becomes overwhelmed, and instead starts putting together a big net that will hold their nest-bed suspended in the air.

he might be ignoring some symptoms of sickness that he simply brushes off as stress. a bit of tension. a couple of anxious, sleepless nights. it's fine.

(it isn't fine.)

it's when they take a break that grian finds himself too lightheaded and needs to lie down.

it's only about half an hour or so later, in the middle of them talking about some of scar's previous relationship experiences, that grian starts to feel really dizzy.

he has a fever.

and he succumbs to it fast after this.

scar wants to take him to the nest upstairs, but grian says he is too nauseous to be moved, so scar does the next best thing: cocoons grian's shivering, curled up form in blankets.

and he messages the hermits.

the hermits, who think he might be doing bad things to grian.

he tells them they need to postpone the sleepover.

he tells them grian is sick.

he asks for soup, but says not to come inside.

it... doesn't sound good. it rings some alarm bells in the heads of those hermits that are Very Concerned and Very Confused and maybe a notch paranoid. but scar stops replying. he's busy dealing with a sick grian.

and hoo boy.

grian's fever climbs sharply and mercilessly, making him delirious and disoriented. he can't tell where or when they are. he keeps talking about things that have already happened. he asks if the world is ending again. he thinks him and scar will be tossed to different servers this time. he asks for [REDACTED]. he asks for flock. he asks for kane and nico, where are they????

scar's heart is splintering and tearing to shreds as he tries to keep a grip, navigating heartache and mirror panic, trying to calm grian down.

it's at this time there comes a knock at their door.

scar can't deal with the others. not right now. not now, not now, not now.

they don't ask for permission to come in. they don't take silence as a no.

grian chirps in distress, from beffudled memories alone, and— they're worried. they can't leave it be.

they find the hole that was meant to, eventually, be a skylight.

they drop down.

mumbo, worried out of his mind. tango, here to help. impulse, last-minute joining them just to keep things reined in.

scar knows grian is out of it. he knows grian didn't want anyone else in their nest.

these are intruders.

and all grian registers are voices. all he thinks of are hunters. he sobs, terrified.

but to the others? scar's shifting into a vex form, flickering and dangerous, clutching grian who's making distressed noises, shielding him from sight.

they need to check up on grian, but they're not allowed any closer.

of course this escalates messily. and scar's afraid and hurting, but he needs to protect grian, and they aren't seeing him anyway. they don't see that he's scared. they don't see that he's cornered and helpless. they don't understand grian's current headspace, or his experiences that dictate his feverish panic.

and there's no space to explain.

... you know what. have the rp bits. as a treat <3 (this starts at the impromptu end of conversation about scar's past relationships, just for context.)

i decided not to redact some bits, for your enrichment. and to feed into the chaos. you're welcome :3c

------ RP STARTS HERE ------

SCAR

Scar takes another moment just to run his fingers over Grian’s forehead, then back into his hair, carefully folding his bangs back. In a lot of ways, early days with Grian were like that. Sharing their passions, enjoying each other’s company, nothing but fleeting touches between them that Scar would be left thinking about for days. 

He thinks he may have always been a hopeless romantic.

But is it really hopeless if the man of his dreams is here before him now? Curled up in his lap and cooing so soft?

Scar hums, pleased, even if he obviously wishes the sickness weren’t part of it.

“Eventually she was invited to some exclusive server, real far off. She didn’t know when she’d be able to see me next, so… we decided to go ahead and split.” Scar says it all so casually, because it truly was a mutual decision. One of the few relationships that ended with no misunderstandings or disappointments.

Well, it was still a little sad, but they knew it was for the best.

She didn’t want to leave Scar waiting, and he wanted her to feel open to exploring her relationships to the fullest with her new server mates. 

“I knew dating was always sort of secondary to her. Not as important as her art. She could do without it easily, especially if she was going somewhere with a bunch of other artists.” Scar looks down, carrying that soft smile and directing it toward Grian. “And she wanted me to be able to move on, so I could eventually meet, as she called it, the One.” He grins, remembering that being her exact phrasing. “…and that’s you.” Scar flushes a bit at his own cheesiness. “I know it.”

--

GRIAN

grian sighs softly at the touch through his hair, relaxing even through his shivers. his teeth chatter a little, a small frown forming between his eyebrows, but it softens a little as scar continues talking.

he tries to slot the information somewhere in his head. that this was an amicable breakup, brought on by insurmountable distance, diverging life paths. that this is something scar can still remember fondly. that this person had every trust that scar will find someone right for him, and that scar is convinced that someone is grian.

but somehow, his thoughts snag and loop, a faulty wire somewhere. distance and far away servers. distance and—

all of a sudden, he's thinking about the apocalypse that took everything from them. everything but each other, eventually. 

he thinks of distance, and a faraway server.

and scar not being with him in that scary place, or grian not being there with scar.

he takes a sharp breath, head shifting and eyes opening. his gaze is feverish and intense as it finds scar. "i would've look'd for you ev'rywhere," he says, hushed but urgent, completely nonsensical.

--

SCAR

Scar tilts his head, confused. He can tell what Grian is saying is drenched in adoration, but it feels misplaced, like it doesn’t belong here in this particular conversation.

Scar isn’t so sure he’s going to get an explanation with Grian in this state.

“I’m right here,” Scar decides to say instead, voice soft like flower petals placed over his skin, hoping to ease whatever tension is lingering in Grian’s thoughts.

His thumb brushes just in front of Grian’s earwing, not quite touching, but grazing over those tiny feathers that permeate his skin. 

“Right here.”

--

GRIAN

grian's gaze softens, some intensity fizzing out, even if the feverishness stays. "right here," he parrots in a weary but fond whisper, audibly relief laced. his eyes close again and he tilts his head further, chasing the touch of scar's gentle fingers.

-- 

SCAR

Scar’s glad to see Grian close his eyes, knowing he likely needs the rest. To think he was building beds and nets when he was slowly succumbing to a fever just makes Scar sad.

“For good, too,” Scar adds on, humming. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He sees his communicator buzz— it had been a few times during his story— and wonders if that means soup is here already. With a name like soup group, maybe they had it ready-to-cook. 

Slowly, he shifts one hand over to take it, just to make sure he was clear about not entering the house. He’s careful to maintain soft patterns with his other, not wishing to disturb his mate.

--

GRIAN

for good. that sounds wonderful. it feels like a nest built around him.

grian coos, velvety and quiet, nuzzling weakly against scar. he feels him shift, but the attention to such details is slippery to grian's mind, especially as scar's touch remains on him, tracing gentle patterns.

--

SCAR

Scar stills for a second upon reading his messages, only drawn back into focus by the soft coo that escapes his mate’s lips. He’s quick to continue his soothing, setting the communicator down atop a half-squished pillow with a plop. 

<PearlescentMoon whispers to you> Soup delivery!

<GeminiTay whispers to you> Anybody home?

<Skizzleman> anybody seen G?

<impulseSV> Skizz

<impulseSV> Don’t

<Mumbo> Did something happen??

<GeminiTay> He’s just sick!

<Tango> …sick huh?

<impulseSV> Here we go again… 

--

GRIAN

with no idea about the turmoil spreading across the server-wide chat, grian stays curled up, leaning on scar. the silence stretches, making the space feel heavier somehow, time oddly slippery.

grian doesn't like it.

he lets out another coo, this one less stable. there's a questioning edge, something insecure and sorrowful and afraid.

--

SCAR

Scar blinks rapidly, eyelashes fluttering a bit as he tries to recalibrate. He can't bother with that nonsense right now, Grian needs him. That's his only priority.

"You okay, G?" Scar asks, carefully curating his voice with his practiced honeyed tones. "Soup's at the doorstep. Should be fine to leave it there, though."

--

GRIAN

soup's here?

grian forgot all about the soup. why's it at the doorstep?

he can't think.

he lets out another coo, pitched similarly to the last.

--

SCAR

"...Are you hungry?" Scar tries to guess. "I told them to leave it there for now. I'm sure it'll stay hot."

-- 

GRIAN

grian's getting increasingly more confused. who brought the soup?

they're... underground, right?

there's this horrible moment when grian can't tell where they are. or when.

"... why d'n't they c'me in?" he murmurs, thinking feverishly about flock. about nico and kane, and their worried faces.

--

SCAR

"You...you said you didn't want anyone in the nest?" Scar replies, nervous now. 

Did he misinterpret that? Did he just cause turmoil in the chat for no reason?

--

GRIAN

grian looks at scar again, his gaze unfocused even as he searches scar's expression for answers that evade him. he's so confused. flock is allowed in the nest?

he chirps, unable to put the mess of his feverish, disoriented thoughts into words.

--

SCAR

"Shoot," Scar says, doubting his actions now. "I—I can message them again? I think the messages from Pearl and Gem were only a few minutes ago—"

--

GRIAN

grian stiffens, his eyes widening with more confusion.

peal and gem?

it takes him an odd, hollow moment to place those names, and then he's unthinkingly moving, rolling over, chirping in a higher pitch. the cocoon of blankets tangles around him, keeping him right where he is, unable to flare out and flap his wings.

--

SCAR

Scar is about a moment away from grabbing the communicator when Grian begins thrashing, and he quickly shifts to cradling him with his arms, trying to keep him in place. "Hey, heyyy, whoa... easy there, birdie, what's wrong?" Scar tries to imitate a small chirp, trying to say that it's okay if Grian can only make noises. He'll try to interpret to his best ability.

--

ANGE ( :D )

--

GRIAN

grian breathes heavily from that small amount of exertion, completely placated by scar's tight hold and the familiar rumble of his voice. dark spots blotch out his vision, and he lets himself go limp, cradled by scar's arms. safe. safe, safe, safe.

his head is so jumbled, and everything feels like a horrible dream. they're underground. there's meant to be flock here. there's meant to be—

with eyes flooding with confused tears, he whimpers. "scar?" his voice is hoarse, breaking midway through. "where's avi?"

--

LINK

--

SCAR

Scar's huddled over Grian, as if he wanted to shield him from the world. (He does.) He keeps his grip firm and shushes him softly, trying to reign him in as much as he can so he can get some sort of coherent answer, when—

Oh.

Oh no.

"Where's—" Scar chokes out, completely caught off guard by the question. He pulls away, catching sight of those tears, and suddenly his eyes are stinging as well. "I—Grian, we're..." He can't answer that. He can't, he can't. "Grian we're home."

--

GRIAN 

grian's gaze jumps between scar's eyes. incoherency threads through his veins, spilling across his nervous system. the word home makes no sense to him.

he chirps, a quiet, mournful, quivery sound. confused and afraid.

--

LINK

--

SCAR

Scar chews at his lip, trying very hard not to lose himself to the sudden flood of panic that surged through him at those words, not to mention the sheer misery of it all as well.

"We're not there, Grian," he continues to try. "We're home. We're—"

He hears knocking at their door upstairs. 

Scar's ears twitch, honestly unsure if Grian will hear it as well with how Scar is huddled over him and with the less acute hearing. 

Muffled voices pool in from beyond the stairs.

...not gonna answer. ... just wants to be sure ... if it makes him feel better...

"...on Hermitcraft," Scar finishes, the word almost bitter on his tongue. 

--

GRIAN

"i— but—" grian's oblivious to knocking or potential intruders. he sniffles, a tear falling free. he's shaking, the fever ravaging, the world gently spinning off axis around him. 

he thinks scar looks a bit panicked, and it just pushes him deeper into his disoriented confusion. because— aren't they hiding? from danger? aren't they in a hideout? in a bunker, or a cave? aren't they in a nest that's incredibly makeshift, put together in a rush?

... isn't there meant to be flock here?

he chirps again, louder, still that higher pitch. fear sears through the sound, his breath turning rapid as his heart beats wildly against his ribs, even as fever presses the heavy weight of exhaustion right over his chest. 

he's scared, because he can't remember. he can't remember what happened—

"where are they?" he insists, his voice verging a sob. "where is flock?"

--

SCAR

Scar thinks the voices stopped for a second after Grian chirps, and the reality of the giant hole in the ceiling sets in on Scar all at once. All they’d have to do is walk about the back and there’d be nothing keeping anyone from seeing the two of them. 

Scar’s wings flare out around Grian as an instinctive shield. 

Grian is asking about flock, and…

Well, the reality of that is that there is none here, Scar concludes dismally. 

Grian didn’t want the hermits in their nest when they were constructing the party room. Grian asked for Avi. Grian’s probably thinking about Kane and Nico, too.

The hermits haven’t gotten there. They don’t know avian-brained Grian.

“[REDACTED],” Scar answers, trying to give Grian a shred of reality to grasp onto. [REDACTED]

--

GRIAN

[REDACTED]? 

grian's mind spins, the same way the room spins around him. he feels as if the whole ground tilted with them on it. there's sea underneath the raft of the floor. 

he feels sick.

he wants to close his eyes, but he finds himself staring at scar, helpless. floatingly, he remembers words about distance and faraway servers, and he thinks of hermitcraft imploding, whole chunks being lifted up into the air.

his stomach twists and lurches. the spinny feeling makes him think even more vividly of those floating chunks. maybe they're on one now?

he ducks, as if the ground really moved from underneath them. he tries to paw at scar, but his hands are still trapped, and it just makes him thrash again against the blankets, whimpering.

he wants his flock. he doesn't understand where they are.

"call them back," he whimpers. "call— avi. can— avi can come too?" he pauses, his breath stuttering as he looks up at scar with so much pleading. 

he wants a bird flock. he wants to tuck him in the middle of the makeshift nest and make sure he's safe.

--

SCAR

Scar stares at Grian, heart actively tearing itself apart at his words and tears threatening to fall. 

He hears footsteps.

He can’t do this. If they find them he’s not going to be able to untangle all of this in time, he—

“They’ll be back,” he lies, chest aching. “Shhh, shhh, listen, they’ll be back, okay?”

The words taste like acid on his tongue, burning his throat like rotten bile. 

“You’re sick, Gri, let me take care of you,” Scar pleas, shutting out his surroundings so he can focus. Focus. Grian’s the only thing that matters. “Why don’t we go upstairs? If— if you puke on me, fine, I just— you should have a bath. And more blankets. And Mr. Beak.”

And medicine on his way up. And soup. 

And away from the approaching hermits. Away from danger.

--

GRIAN

"they'll... be back?" grian repeats, in the smallest voice, each syllable threatening to snap and let it all crumble. he sniffles, another tear tumbling down his cheek as the confusion continues to tear a path through him like wildfire.

scar says their flock will be back. 

he says grian is sick, and oh, maybe the world isn't ending, then? 

grian feels weird. everything's fuzzy and nonsensical, memories fading and time slipping and everything melting together.

there's a sob, and it takes grian a moment to realise it came from it. "it— it feels like—" his body shakes and trembles, barely a separate thing from the shivers. he's curling up again, making himself small. with a ragged breath and tears glistening in his eyes, he looks at scar, completely missing his point about upstairs and a bath and mr beak. what leaves his lips instead is a question that's white-hot, shaking him to his core. "scar...? is the world ending again?"

--

SCAR / MUMBO

“What—“ Scar is reeling from all of this. It doesn’t feel unlike being trapped in a cramped terracotta bunker listening to Grian murmur thoughts of death and despair. “No, Grian, the world isn’t ending.”

Scar thinks he knew how to handle this better once upon a time.

This world has ironically shaken his confidence. 

“We’re perfectly safe.” Scar continues. “We’re in our home— our house that we built.”

“Grian?” comes a voice from above, causing Scar to bristle.

His eyes flick upward and catch sight of a nervous pair of eyes peeking over the dirt hole.

Scar does not want to talk to Mumbo right now.

--

GRIAN

grian's eyes close and he blindly curls towards scar, deeper into his hold, lost and despondent. nothing makes sense, not even scar's reassurances. 

out of all the words scar says, grian wants to hold onto one the most: safe.

and yet incoherent threats continue sinking teeth into grian's flesh. sending panic signals about how he's weak if he's sick, and they're a target, and they can't run from danger. about how their flock is missing. about how they might be hurtled into different, faraway servers this time, and— and grian doesn't know how to survive without scar, and—

he sobs loudly, his breaths becoming erratic. he hears his name, but it's not scar's voice, and he flinches hard, whimpering, until some instinct catches up and tells him to run. to grab scar and abandon the nest.

he tries to flap his wings, but finds them bound.

he doesn't process that sensation right, pitching straight into memories of traps and nets, chirping high pitched and distressed. the blankets don't hold too hard, but he just can't figure them out, unaware of what they even are.

--

SCAR / OTHERS

“Grian!” Mumbo exclaims, calling the attention of his other unwelcome companions. 

Scar snarls, luckily muted and hidden from view by his bright wings. This is not what he needs right now. This is not what Grian needs. He needs peace and quiet and warmth and soft things—

Scar hurries to try to still Grian, shushing him as calmly as he can manage. “Hey, hey, Grian, it’s me, it’s okay, shhhh, please calm down.”

Grian said he felt nauseous. This has to be about the worst thing possible for him.

“Scar, what’s—“ Mumbo is babbling, sounding nearly as panicked as Grian. Scar doesn’t care about that though. 

He thinks maybe Mumbo has fallen onto his knees up there. He thinks he might be considering popping down into their space.

Scar is not having that.

Strangers are not allowed in the nest, get out, get out.

“Grian, look at me,” Scar tries, urgent and insistent. “We’re safe, we’re okay, I— I’m gonna take you upstairs.”

“Whoa there, skippy, I don’t think you should be taking him anywhere!” comes Tango of all people.

Scar eyes glow a faint blue, feeling cornered, while all of his body language shifts into that of defensive and protective, wrapped around Grian fully with his wings blocking the intruders from view. 

He desperately attempts to lift.

--

GRIAN

grian sobs, quieter, against scar's soft, frantic shushes. he wants to believe that everything's okay, but scar doesn't sound okay, and there are all these other voices, rising up and loud, coming closer.

scar pleads for grian to look at him, and dizzily, he does, his eyesight blurred by hot tears. he's breathing too fast, which is just inviting more lightheadedness; he shakes in scar's grip, whimpering as scar repeats the promises that they're okay.

desperately, grian tries to hold onto that.

he chirps, still distressed but now also pleading, a sound meant only for scar's ears but all too loud and grating to not be heard by anyone else in the vicinity. 

his wings still feel so horribly bound. 

he chokes on a sob. "scar, help." 

he needs to be freed and— and they need to run, right? they need to go? scar says they'll go upstairs. grian tries to get his hands free, wanting to hold onto him, but he's bundled up too tight in scar's arms to really manage with his feeble strength.

his stomach churns, acidic, turning and twisting with the uptick of stress and panic. he sobs again, terrified that they're about to be caught.

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Focus, Scar thinks frantically. Focus, focus. 

He can’t let the anger from the intrusion overcome him. He can’t get defensive here, even if he’s certain one unwelcome step into their makeshift nest will set him off. 

Grian is squirming in his arms, chirping as he relives some phantom experience, and Scar knows this can’t look good. He has to stay calm, he has to keep him under control.

But then Grian begs for his help and it’s like the mirage shatters around him, except this time it’s reality fragmenting before his very eyes, twisting and mutating into something horrible and so much more dire. 

Grian’s sobbing, but for a second Scar sees him despondent, face torn open and wings drenched in blood. He hears voices and it’s like white noise, a vague threat, unwelcome. 

Scar looks around frantically.

He doesn’t know which way Nadia is—

“Scar, buddy, hey, why dontcha just put Grian down and we can aaaaaall relax—“

Scar’s wings flare out to their full span, one dipping over Grian as a shield. No one can see him. No one can ogle those feathers. No one, no one.

“Sc–Scar, what’s going on?”

Scar sees movement. Someone jumps down and instantly he’s crouched low, holding Grian tighter as his eyes glow blue.

“Scar…”

He’s supposed to be calm, he’s supposed to be gentle, he’s failing, he’s failing, but he can’t let them near—

Scar’s entire body flickers blue and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Stay back,” he strains through sharpened teeth, voice low like a snarl. “You—“ 

(You aren’t welcome here.)

(You’re making things worse.)

(You’re lucky I don’t slay you right here and now.)

Scar’s voice breaks, desperate and frightened by his own shattering psyche. “You’re scaring him.” 

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

the sense of danger continues building up around grian, fueling his fear, overexerting his already sickness-weakened body. his heart continues ramming a fast, painful rhythm, and the ache across his chest just serves to make grian more scared.

scar's hold on him is firm, and grian doesn't know whether to feel comfort (he's protected, it's okay, scar's got him), or more panic (there's a threat, scar can't fight if he's gripping grian, why aren't they running?) choking on sobs that he's unable to stop, grian presses his forehead into scar's shoulder; the heat of his fever can surely be felt through scar's shirt, scalding hot. there's a familiar, faint tingling, something grian's learned to attune himself to and recognise—the electrifying current of scar's magic, a warning, a preparation. a wing slings in front of grian like a glowing shield.

mumbo's standing in the bunker, jolting still at scar's accusation and the display of his vex magic. "i'm scaring him?" he stammers, incredulous and not understanding. "mate, i think he's asking to be let go," he hazards, navigating the distressing pitch of chirps and sobs with anxious misguidedness. 

tango's now crouching at the edge of the hole, also intending to descend. "yeah, just let us see him. you've got nothing to hide, right? why make this worse?"

a third pair of footsteps makes it to the unfinished skylight, peering down at the situation with a tense "uhoh," trying to read what exactly is happening here. he isn't sure yet, but some alarm in his head goes off.

with straining breaths through his sobs, grian's dizziness only gets worse. even as he's securely held, he can't escape the violent sensation of the world spinning fast. his stomach tightens, burning with acid, stress overloading all of grian's already muddied senses. there are voices around him, louder, closer, but they don't process right; they're just an incoherent noise, a call of hunters saying we found them, making everything collapse in on him and scar. it feels like they're surrounded and, fearfully, grian presses himself further against scar, burrowing in as much as he can with all his limbs still tangled into the blanket net. 

he should've been more careful.

he shouldn't have triggered the trap.

his eyes are tightly shut, overflowing with tears. behind his closed eyelids, he can see, vividly, avi's terrified look as he's caught in another trap.

a vile kind of panic spreads through him, sharper and more damaging than the previous one, drawing a terrified chirp out of him. the sound breaks on a sob like waves violently crashing into a jagged cliffside, and he desperately tries to take a breath through it all. to speak. 

it's awful; he's so horribly lightheaded and nothing makes sense. but he has to— he has to say this, has to make sure scar hears, has to beg for this one thing above all else. he chokes out, wobbly and halting and small enough to be coherent only for scar, and only if he can spare enough attention to listen. "ple— please don't— don't le— leave him behind—" 

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Scar tenses, briefly glancing down at Grian as he wonders whether or not he truly has been misinterpreting it all, if Grian wants to be let go like Mumbo claims. But no, Scar can feel that feverish haze pressed into his shoulder, desperate and clingy, and his expression sharpens, eyes narrowing in Mumbo’s direction. 

No, Mumbo knows nothing. 

Still, Scar shrinks under Tango’s accusations, reminding him that he ought to have nothing to hide. He doesn’t, just— he can’t let them see. He can’t let anyone see the tears and the panic and the bright violet hues. 

Scar knows he’s being irrational but his wings simply won’t budge, one flung out in some innate danger response and the other curled around like a very necessary shield. They twitch but don’t move.

All Scar can manage is to turn them slightly transparent. A barely willing compromise.

Even his vision is flickering blue.

…Grian’s words make him see white.

He’s vividly tossed back in time, hobbled over and bloodied, barely hanging on, watching as [REDACTED]

Grian’s begging him not to let history repeat itself, he knows, he—

Scar takes a stumbling step backward, blankets curling around his feet and threatening to drag him down. 

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s not go going anywhere, pal,” Tango insists as he leaps down to join Mumbo, carefully touching his shoulder in solidarity. He’s jittery here, not liking he prospect of staring down an angry vex in the slightest, a totem gripped in his other hand. “We’re just here to help.”

Tears break past Scar’s eyes and he hiccups, struggling to stay above water, barely grappling with reality as it continues to shatter before him. 

He can’t do this alone. He’s scared, he’s slipping, he’s making it all worse. 

He… he should have nothing to hide.

“He’s sick,” Scar pleads again, voice hoarse and not at all his own. Blue wisps escape with every word. “He–e has a fever, he’s not— he’s not thinking straight.”

God, are they going to believe that?

Do they believe anything he says? That a crazed vex says?

Scar looks at Grian again, desperation hanging off his tongue. “Grian, you— I—“ He doesn’t even want to suggest it, but they probably need to hear from him. “We…we’re safe, okay? I promise, I… d-do you want me to put you down?”

--

US

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

scar's suggestion is the only thing grian hears with any semblance of coherency, and it makes his lungs spasm and his heart ache. he shakes his head in panic, forehead still pressed against scar, the sharp motion rapidly destabilising the world around him until it spins in a nauseating blur. "no no no don't leave, please, don't don't don't," he chokes out, crying.

the sharpness of that reaction freezes mumbo, sends everything in him careening into doubt.

it's this moment impulse takes his cue to join in. he jumps down, touching tango's arm just as tango is taking a breath to speak, feet moving to step forwards. impulse stops him, gently, even as tension drips from his voice. "tango, wait."

grian's sobs fill the air; the transparency of scar's wings doesn't offer much more clarity. all impulse can tell is that the avian is shaking.

but his eyes draw higher, meeting scar's. his gaze softens at the sight of tears, and he lifts his hands up placatingly, the gesture feeling like lowering of a weapon. "scar." his voice is quiet, just loud enough to be heard. he tries to keep it calm, even as his nerves are fraying with the situation. "you aren't going to run off with him anywhere, right? it's okay. we won't hurt you guys."

mumbo's eyes widen at that, gaze whipping from impulse to scar—for the first time noting the tears in the vex's eyes. "oh, gosh, no, we aren't here to hurt anyone!" he echoes, distraught. 

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Scar tightens his grip, pulling Grian up higher and whispering soft nothings, assuring him that he’ll stay, that he hears him, he wouldn’t leave him, not ever. 

Scar tenses up when yet another person enters their space, but visibly relaxes when he recognizes Impulse’s voice, something steady and yielding to the way that he speaks. It’s the only voice that doesn’t distort into that of a hunter’s call in Scar’s rattled mind.

Slowly, Scar pulls his leg back in, shaking as he gives up on the half-step he was taking away. “I… I know that,” he fibs, because part of him doesn’t believe them. “But Grian doesn’t. N–not right now.”

Tango appears unconvinced, making a short grumbling sound that Impulse cuts off with a light shove. 

Impulse recognizes this scene. Maybe it’s just the flicker of Scar’s wings, but Grian appears to have that same glossed over look in his eye that he had the day they found them— unrecognizing, inconsolable. 

It isn’t good.

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian's sobs quiet down a little at the soft assurances, but the world keeps swirling and swimming. 

mumbo lets out a choked noise, not willing to reconcile with the idea that grian might not recognise them as safe—despite all the hints of their early days on the server post-rescue. he thinks of grian, bruised and bitten and flinching, and he can't let this go. he can't. "please," he begs. "i just want to see him."

impulse looks at mumbo, then back at scar. he's holding out his arm, in case the others would have the stupid thought of moving forwards.

he needs to bargain here, and it's hard.

he tries to hold onto the way scar let pearl at least somewhat close, that day when they pulled scar and grian from that awful world, grian's wing tangled in a horrible trap that tore at it. pearl wasn't allowed to touch, but she was allowed to help, and maybe they could arrive at something similar here, too.

"scar...?" impulse says, gentle and calm again. (it's only the smallest of wobbles that betrays him.) "do you think you could sit down? you don't have to let go of him, just, let us see? we don't have to come close." and then, after a breath, he tentatively pushes with another suggestion: "i think if you're calm about it, it might help him calm down too. you don't have to get away from him."

"yes he does!" tango protests.

impulse whips to face him. "tango!" he snaps back. 

grian flinches in scar's arms at the raised tones, letting out another loud, terrified chirp, curling into scar for protection. he's back to sobbing louder, all of scar's comfort undone in one swift go.

--

SCAR

Scar’s wings sag the slightest bit, drawn in by the soft promises Impulse is laying out, but still hesitant to follow. 

Sitting down would mean giving up an easy escape route. They could be lying. He could be cornered. This could all be a ploy to get him to lower his guard.

Tango’s outburst does not help settle that fear.

Scar grits his teeth together, a few stray tears falling as he struggles to form words. “Stop yelling,” he demands, light blue magic slipping past sharpened teeth. 

He’s back to soothing Grian, not yet yielding and not at all regarding Mumbo’s request. 

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, okay? I’m—“ He looks over the three pairs of eyes— fearful, disdainful, concerned— and focuses in on Impulse. “They’re… friends.” (Not flock.) “I’m just gonna… kneel down here, okay?” (A small compromise.)

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian continues crying, albeit a little bit quieter again. just a notch. it's hard to tell if scar's soothing is working, or if he's just tiring himself out.

tango, to his credit, seems a bit alarmed by the reaction he's gotten. but he is still relentlessly wary, suspicious of this whole situation.

impulse can tell, and it keeps him tense. he wishes he could just tell tango and mumbo to leave, but he knows they wouldn't budge. not now. not when things are like this.

he holds back a sigh, looking grian's way. "yeah, we're friends," he echoes, soft, trying to sound harmless and encouraging.

he isn't even sure grian's listening to him. he isn't sure he can recognise his voice. it feels awful.

he doesn't think tango and mumbo realise the extent of what's happening. that if grian's mind is scrambled with the sickness, he might not be mentally present here. on hermitcraft. he might be stuck somewhere else entirely, and the thought of it pains impulse. 

the least they can do is play along.

the least he can do is try to deescalate this whole thing.

"c'mon," he tugs at tango and mumbo, voice low. "let's sit down."

"wh— i don't want—" tango starts in protest, but impulse holds his gaze, steady. 

"shh," he reminds him, shutting tango up.

"oh gosh," mumbo lets out, wobbly, and slowly lowers himself down to the floor.

impulse does the same, dragging tango down with him.

"see?" impulse looks back at scar, trying to offer a small smile. "we're not gonna go closer if you guys aren't ready. we're at the same level here. it's okay." he's willing to be patient here, but he worries that tango and mumbo might not be. 

--

SCAR

Scar stares for a long moment, fidgeting between trust and opportunity, wondering if he could run. If he could take them down if they’re going to make themselves vulnerable like this.

His ears twitch with alarm at the mere thought, catching himself before he can spiral further into delusion.

Carefully, he lowers himself to the ground, knelt down on both knees so he could easily spring back into action. 

“We aren’t ready,” Scar confirms, warily eyeing the lot of them. 

His eyes are still bright blue, though slightly less fiery. His chest flickers occasionally, a warm white light. His wing lowers by only an inch. 

He allows himself one moment of weakness, eyes flicking back down toward the shivering avian in his arms. “… I promise a warm bath after this, okay?” he whispers, though his voice carries, still too ragged from pressed together fangs. “W–we’re gonna be fine.”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

impulse nods. he knows they aren't ready, but he hopes hearing that helps the others settle too. "we'll wait. take it slow. make sure he's okay," he coaxes, tone soft. hoping, desperately, that tango and mumbo won't mess this up. that they understand and will follow his lead. "we're not getting any closer. you have space." he pauses, and then he adds, a bit of heartache slipping into his voice: "you're safe, i promise."

grian recognises that they went down, slow and controlled. scar's hold is still tight and secure, and he's talking to him softly, and grian scrambles to understand what's happening. they're... not in danger anymore? scar says they're going to be fine. 

with a tired coo, grian nuzzles into his shoulder. he trusts him, even as he still sniffles, tears dripping down. 

his body feels awful, and his wings twitch, only to find themselves still tangled. it's that sensation that prompts another miserable sob from him, albeit less panic-driven. "take it off," he pleads, begging scar to untangle the trap that restricts him. "take it— scar, hurts," he whines.

the blanket doesn't actually hurt. his body aches from the fever and extertion, but his head tells him that pressure against his wings ought to be painful, and so that's what it is. the fear mistranslates into pain—or maybe just inevitability of the pain if this goes on, he isn't actually sure—the memories more vivid than reality itself.

--

SCAR

Scar nods slowly, wings lowering just a little bit more. He can see the tension actively begin to roll off of Mumbo, but for some reason that doesn’t comfort Scar in the slightest. 

He tries to offer gratitude toward Impulse in some way, but then his attention is dragged back to Grian, ears flicking as he grows rigid and attentive once more.

“Take…?” Scar questions, looking Grian over in confusion before it finally clicks. “The— oh.”

He shifts a little, resting Grian’s weight firmly on his legs, and slowly peels away a few layers of blankets, trying to simply loosen them up and allow for his wings to slip free. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Scar assures him, voice already growing much softer, no more wisps escaping when he speaks. “There you go… ‘m sorry.”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

it's the word hurts on grian's tongue that has mumbo jolting, and impulse has to react fast, grabbing him and keeping him still. "stay calm," he hisses under his breath, quiet enough to be intended only for their trio.

"do you really expect us just to sit here," tango hisses back, "when grian just said he's being hurt?"

impulse exhales, long and tense. "that's not what he said. and he asked scar to fix it. he said," he stresses, somehow still managing to keep his voice hushed and low, "he wants scar to stay near him. so sit. still. and wait."

grian, in the meanwhile, squirms as the blanket layers gets peeled off, feeling the pressure relent. he breathes out, a bit more steadily, forehead still firmly against scar. some of his crying tapers off once he can twitch his wings and feel no resistance—and the loosened blankets let his hands free, too. he uses this immediately to grab onto scar's shirt, depletedly holding on. 

"thanks." he sniffles. and then he asks, feeling small and vulnerable, his heart still frightened: "are we safe...?"

--

SCAR

“Yes,” Scar replies, even if he doesn’t feel safe in the slightest. He feels under attack, though perhaps at least not physically. “…we’re having a sitting party.”

It’s a bit of a nonsensical thing to say, but Scar is trying desperately to reel himself in here. His eyes are only barely green, a blue sheen still hiding them away. He feels tense and uneasy, watching Tango in particular now with narrowed vision.

It flicks to Mumbo, accusatory in his stare. “I said we didn’t want visitors,” Scar states, guarded. “So why are you here?”

--

GRIAN

it is a bit nonsensical, the words sitting party taking a while to slot in grian's mind. but if they're having a party, that means there is someone else, right? the memories of the confusing, threatening voices feels fuzzy to grian. the danger has passed, the hunters are gone. they wouldn't be sitting down, wings released, having a party of all things otherwise—and scar confirmed they're safe.

which means...

maybe scar called them over, like grian asked?

he relaxes a little bit more, even as he still continues to wade his confusion. "flock...?" he asks in a tiny coo. 

he's leaning his head on scar's shoulder, staring blankly off in the direction of scar's other shoulder, not focused on anything in particular. his vision still swims. 

--

SCAR

“… Friends,” Scar corrects, because they’re not. “… They’re just—“ Scar swallows down some bitterness, trying to stay calm. “—worried about you.”

And then he looks back to Mumbo, eyes glowing a bit brighter again as he waits for his answer.

(They’re worried about Grian. Not him. Unless being worried of him counts.)

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

"mhn?" grian makes a confused sound at the word friends. it doesn't want to slot anywhere in his head. who?

mumbo, in the meanwhile, shrinks under scar's sharp attention. "we were worried," he offers, nothing more than a repeat of what scar's just said himself. 

tango steps in, pointing out: "you said he was sick. we wanted to check in on him."

--

SCAR

Scar’s ears droop at Grian’s clear inability to recognize the concept. But frankly, he doesn’t blame him.

With a sigh, Scar scans the three of them again, looking them over for any sign of trouble, but he notes a distinct lack of anything, which makes him frown.

“So, what? Did you bring medicine?” he asks rhetorically, because he knows the answer. “Soup? Blankets? Bath salts?”

His eyes narrow with each question.

--

OTHERS

there's a very clear faltering across the whole group. they exchange glances, slightly nervous. 

"i— we—" mumbo stammers, face flushing. he's suddenly feeling very uneasy. chastised. he stares at the bundle scar's holding, what he at first was so sure was a distressed avian probably really just a feverish one, and it makes him deflate. he didn't think past the anxiety enough to consider that scar might be telling the truth. (he's still not sure. he still needs to see grian, properly. he still wants to check.) (but the scales of probability are tipping in a way that makes him feel off balance and out of place.)

impulse sighs. he didn't have time to stop them long enough to ask them to be sensible and bring something for grian if he truly is sick. he is here as a chaperone and—oh boy is he glad he came. he can't imagine how this would've panned out otherwise.

"you weren't replying on the comms," tango soldiers through, still frowning, still a touch confrontational. he doesn't like the way scar's looking at him. doesn't like all his sharp edges. doesn't like the feeling that scar's still hiding something. "we didn't know what you need." he pulls slightly back, straightening up. "do you need anything?" he challenges. there already was a soup delivery by the front door, and it certainly doesn't seem like they're low on blankets.

--

SCAR

“I was a little preoccupied,” Scar replies dryly, frustrated that he’s still being questioned. “I’d think it’s customary to bring at least some sort of gift,” Scar continues to pry, not letting it go. Not letting it slide that they clearly came here out of fear instead of assistance. “But sure, sure, we certainly wouldn’t say no to some minty bath salts or some tea leaves.”

Scar briefly wonders if that’s all it would take to make this unwelcome trio leave. He doubts it.

“Or, you know, some peace and quiet so he can get some rest,” Scar concludes, tight jawed and eyebrows furrowed. At least his eyes are back to green.

--

OTHERS

mumbo recognises that they're being thrown out, but it just makes him dig his heels in. "we can bring some tea, but— but scar—"

it's tango who breaks this line drawn in the sand again, encroaching on a minefield territory. "we still haven't seen grian." because this sliver they can see right now doesn't count. it doesn't say anything about whether or not grian's hurt, underneath it all. even if grian begs for scar to be close. honestly, tango doesn't consider grian the best judge of that right now. unhealthy attachments exist!

--

SCAR

Scar exhales through his nose, slow and barely steady. 

Reluctantly, he lowers his wing, allowing an unobstructed gaze, though he makes no effort to close the distance between them. He doesn’t want that line broken.

“…happy?”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian registers scar's wing falling away, and it makes him feel oddly exposed. grian isn't sure to whom; scar said their flock isn't here, but that they're safe. still, he ducks, hiding his face in scar's chest. that way, he can pretend he's still shielded. that way, he can pretend the world can't hurt him. (the way he can feel scar's breaths is just a nice, soothing bonus. scar's right here, alive, right next to him. perfectly in reach, as grian's fingers tug at him.) (he closes his eyes, willing the surroundings to stop tipping around them. his feathers fluff up lightly.) 

mumbo makes another strangled noise, and he moves as if to stand up, compelled to go closer. to check. to— 

to be there. 

grian's his friend, and there wasn't a time when mumbo wasn't allowed to be near. to take care of him when he feels unwell.

with blankets and grian's wings still firmly in the way, and grian's whole body turned away from them, mumbo still can't see anything. so no, he isn't happy.

"... grian?" he tries, calling out to him, coaxing him to look his way as he gets up to his wobbly feet.

--

SCAR

Scar bristles again, wings twitching as he instinctively growls, low and mercifully non-threatening, but it certainly doesn’t sound that way to an untrained ear. 

These are untrained ears. 

Scar registers the flinch in varying degrees from all three of them, and his ears twitch, then droop again in shame.

He can’t do this. He can’t let someone else close. It doesn’t matter how fidgety and awkward Mumbo is, Scar doesn’t trust him to come close.

Mumbo who says foolish things; Mumbo who looks at him like a stranger; Mumbo who cares so much that Scar can’t help but feel strangled by it as it weaves around him, passing him by and threatening to smother Grian in his disturbed state. 

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian makes an inquisitive mewl, a soft and small sound, unworried at scar's growl. he knows it's not threatening, so he just gently prods, inquiring as to what's wrong. what's bothering scar?

pointedly, he doesn't react to mumbo's call at all. as if he didn't even register it.

tango's rising to his feet now, too, but impulse puts a hand on his shoulder.

it doesn't deter tango, and they both stand up. still far away, but in a way the three of them are now towering over kneeling scar, looking down with varying emotions. 

"we'll get you some tea," impulse says, quiet, measured. he's looking directly at scar. he's trying to tell him that he sees him. that he doesn't blame him, no matter how stifling and explosive this situation is turning out to be.

"impulse!" tango squeaks, indignant, protesting. "he's hiding something!"

impulse's gaze cuts sharply to tango. "keep your voice down!" he hisses, frowning, then sighs. he understands they're anxious, but lines do need to be drawn.

for grian's sake as well as for scar's. 

impulse looks back at scar, tries to soften all the jaggedness from his pooling tension. "do you think you can get him to sleep? rest a little?" he suggests. "we will come back with the tea. if grian's asleep— we can look at him then? so he won't be scared of us?" he bites at his lip, and then adds: "just look. and we can help if you'll need anything else from us, yeah?" it's a gentle proposal, an attempt to find a tightrope that won't send them all careening towards some awful abyss.

--

SCAR

Scar feels so horribly small knelt down like this in front of people that are seemingly hellbent on misinterpreting his every move. His wings fall to the ground at the insinuation of him hiding something once again.

He’s not. He’s hiding Grian maybe, but he was scared— he asked for help and this is how Scar would help…

Scar trembles under the spotlight of their gazes, even if Impulse’s is softer. He feels like he can’t move— like he isn’t allowed.

“I… I want him to rest,” Scar agrees weakly, nodding once in exhausted misery. “You… yeah. You can check on him then.”

He still hates it. Hates the idea of someone in their nest. Hates that he’s still being more or less monitored, hates that he can’t be trusted with what he knows best.

Scar looks down to Grian, eyes big, barely holding back the fear that seeps into that forest green. “Can I take you upstairs? …nest?”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

impulse softens further at scar's agreement, hearing the fatigue and defeat in his voice. it makes his heart ache, even more when he thinks about everyone else overlooking that. "alright... thank you, scar," he says gently.

then his eyes flick to find the exit, realising they're going to have to walk past. 

"can we... leave? or do you want us to wait until you go first?" impulse checks nervously, gaze jumping between scar and the avian he's cradling. he has a feeling scar doesn't want them here any longer than necessary, but impulse isn't sure if getting closer only for the sake of walking out is what he needs.

"or we can dirt pillar up," mumbo suggests with a nervous little laugh, attempting nonchalance and jokes, even as everything in him still rails against this. he's drawn forward, towards grian, like a moth to a flame. he wants to check him over, touch his skin, care for him. he doesn't realise he's completely disregarding scar in this scenario. doesn't realise he sees him as nothing but a mad guard dog, standing in his way for no reason. 

"you're giving up?" tango huffs, tail swishing. 

"i— what?" mumbo laughs again, more nervously this time. "we'll be back."

"what, so he can cover up his tracks?" tango pushes, frowning. all too aware that a potion or two are enough to hide most injuries. and an asleep grian can't answer any check-up questions.

it's impulse who growls now. "tango. scar isn't our enemy. he's our friend. maybe you should start treating him as such."

"i— wh— but—" tango stammers, completely taken off guard, ears pulling low.

grian, in the meanwhile, reacts to scar's careful, gentle question. his unfocused gaze lifts up, seeking to anchor in familiar green, feeling fragmented and vulnerable and still sick. "nest," he echoes, impossibly sad and hopeful, yearning. he sniffles, not paying their surroundings any attention; the memories still swirl through him, and nothing quite feels real.

nothing but scar.

he tips forward, wraps his arms around scar's shoulders in a weak hug, clinging to him in a position that makes it easy to carry him. 

"... can the bucket come with us?" he half-jokes hoarsely.

--

SCAR

Turns out it doesn’t feel good being spoken about like he isn’t right there, and Scar finds himself slumping forward in defeat, misery seeping deep into his bones.

His chest flickers once more, eyes clouded with a blue fog that only fades when Grian wraps his arms around. Grian, who does trust him and is deserving of his love and attention.

Wretchedly, Scar swallows down his anxieties, does his best to ignore the unwelcome surroundings. He doesn’t even provide them an answer, instead leaning down to kiss Grian’s (still dreadfully warm) forehead.

“Anything you need, G,” he croaks, rising on incredibly wobbly feet and hooking the handle of the bucket with his pinky. 

Wordlessly, he turns his back to his intruders and begins walking upstairs, unable to bear their presence any longer. His wings flick and tremble, uncomfortable being exposed to what he still inevitably seems as enemies. 

(It’s only fair considering how he’s actively antagonized.)

“So sorry about all this moving around…” Scar continues murmuring, feeling entirely off balance, but managing to stay steady only because Grian is in his arms. “We’ll get nice and comfy, alright? And our guests can bring the soup in.”

That’s the only acknowledgment they get.

--

GRIAN

grian lets out a soft noise at the kiss, a mix of comforted and still absolutely miserable. he isn't sure if he feels hot or cold, and his body aches. the nausea is ever-present, making any move a wretched matter, especially when coupled with his still spinning head.

he tries to hold onto scar a bit firmer, but his strength isn't there. he groans, whimpering. "slow," he pleads, not knowing how else to mitigate this.

he really doesn't want to puke if he can help it. although maybe having it over would feel better than this.

--

SCAR

“Slow,” Scar parrots, purposely stilling himself for a moment before continuing at a steadier pace. He didn’t realize he was rushing, honestly, but it makes sense.

He wants those eyes off of his back.

He thinks he hears the sound of pillaring blocks, and that’s likely for the best. 

“Nice and slow,” he confirms again, trying to keep Grian level once they’re past the steps. 

--

aaaand i’ll wrap it up with that. :3

[guqin-and-flute]

Are You Here to Stop Me? –Ch. 7 [Peony to Lotus!Verse, Yaoli]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5][Chapter 6] [First post in Peony to Lotus Verse]

[Ao3 Series]

[CW: Mention of blood, canon and era typical internalized ableism and misogyny from Yanli]

"You're sure you don't need me to get your parasol, furen?" 

Yanli opened her eyes to the buttery autumn sun and smiled up at her maid, who hovered by her elbow like a nervous bird. "A-Si, I’m fine--” she began to insist, gently.

But the girl was already spinning, hurrying away up the garden path and calling back over her shoulder; “I’d better get it, just in case! I’ll be right back!” 

With a sigh of fond surrender, Yanli settled back into her heavily cushioned chair, hands resting on her stomach. Nothing moved inside, yet, and it was no more round than it ever was, but there was life there. Wen Qing--Qing-mei, as she had begun to call her in the weeks they had spent so much time together--was certain of it.

Yanli was certain of it, now, as well. In the weeks following the diagnosis, she had felt the changes beginning, quite apart from her the recovery symptoms of lingering wet heaviness in her chest. There was the horrid nausea and sickness in the mornings, the aversion to foods she once loved, a craving for foods of a strange combination. Her belly didn’t look any different, but it certainly felt fuller. And she was so tired. Wen Qing had assured her and A-Yao that it was normal when she was recovering as well as metabolizing for 2.

And ever since the fact had “accidentally” gotten its way around to the rest of her family, as well as the Wen, the servants, and disciples, she was being treated as if she might trip and fall to pieces at any moment--treatment which she amiably bore. Even if it was excessive. Would such pampering really go on for 9 whole months? Her health had always been fragile but now, she hardly had a moment alone! 

“You’ve hardly grown at all, yet, and everyone is taking such good care of you,” she murmured down to her own belly, slowly rubbing it.

 She wasn’t certain exactly how news got out, as she and A-Yao had intended to wait the 3 customary months to announce the pregnancy--but somehow, everyone in Lotus Pier now knew. She might have suspected A-Xian, with his mischievous streak as wide as the lake, or A-Cheng, who was truly terrible at keeping any secret back from his face; but it just as well might have been given away by the fact that she couldn’t stop cradling her middle or the way that A-Yao’s doting attention on her had increased tenfold. 

Besides, A-Xian was far too preoccupied working himself ragged reviving poor Wen Ning, and A-Cheng too busy entrenched in the steps of that cutthroat political dance he must perform to gossip with anyone. It took all of their attention just to keep this whole affair afloat. 

She let out a sigh, watching her belly rise and fall with her breath, the tiny purple beads on her hanfu sparkling with every movement. They were all now in an uncomfortable stalemate—which, she supposed, was better than one of the alternatives, being outright war. From what she heard of the initial meeting, it had been tense and heavy, just barely above outright threats. Yanli was just as happy not to have been in any shape to go to Koi Tower and have to face anyone there. A-Cheng seemed incredibly stressed about the outcome, from what she had seen of him, and Yao seemed unhappy, but simply assured her that it was to be expected, assured them all that his father was keeping a wary eye on the other Sects. Jin Guangshan was too politically savvy, he said, to act purely from anger. They still had time to maneuver. And other meetings scheduled.

Even then, they had received plenty of correspondence of outrage, from rival and allied Sects alike—some even from their own people. They had not forgotten the pain of being occupied as a Supervisory Office. The wounds of the loss of all of those in the Lotus Pier compound were not even scarred over, yet, still red and furious. A-Yao was doing things behind the scenes to work on public opinion, but had once described it as carefully walking a tightrope. Yanli would agree, and secretly add that it felt as if it were one high in the air, above crashing waters and hungry mouths. The Jiang still held a strong standing in the jianghu, solid reputation held there equally by the legacy of their parents and A-Cheng's monumental success in the rebuilding of their Sect at his age.

But the children of the Jiang knew better than anyone, save perhaps the other Clans wiped out by the Qishan Wen, to never rely on that remaining true. They were not safe yet. There were miles yet to go, in this.

She wished she could be of more help, but she was still too weak to do much else besides be led about to bask in the shade, as she did now. Today was the first time in a long time she had felt well enough to consider reading, or perhaps embroidery. Maybe even cooking something simple, if she had help. And, in truth, there was not much she could do amidst the street gambler’s Shell Game they were attempting to pull with the Wen amidst the already complicated match of go they always played with the rest of the jianghu. 

And so, the leak of who told who about the pregnancy remained a mystery. It didn’t truly bother her; the excitement and congratulations, A-Yuan’s sweet, probing questions. She was just as relieved to be able to not have to keep a secret on top of the upwelling of emotions that swamped her daily. Elation. Terror. Anticipation. Pride. Anxiety. Satisfaction. And, of course, love.

Most of all love.

She had hardly been able to properly absorb what Wen Qing was saying that day, to express the elation and terror that coursed through her--and through A-Yao as well, if the shock in his pale face had been anything to go by--before Qing-mei had somehow herded him out of their room after A-yuan and closed the door firmly behind them. “Jiang-furen,” she had said, coming to sit on the edge of her bed. There was an edge of steel in her face and tone that was nowhere to be found in the gentle hands that folded around Yanli's own. “Please, speak freely. Tell me the truth. Is this what you want?”

Exhaustion had sapped into her bones, as wet and heavy as her breath. “Is…what?” she had trailed off, dizzy.

Wen Qing, seeing this, had first helped her settle back down flat onto her pillows. When the gnawing swirling in her gut and head had abated, slightly, Qing-mei continued, unflinchingly; “This pregnancy. If this isn't what you want, there are ways I can help you that no one will be able to detect. If you are being pressured by Jin Guangyao to--”

“What? A-Yao?“ Yanli had repeated on a laugh more of startlement than humor that had turned into a coughing fit. 

As it had squeezed her already sore middle, a strange, aware panic had suddenly overcome her--would coughing so hard hurt the pregnancy? She had curled around her stomach and tried to stifle them, with limited success. From now on, she would be housing another that would share in her discomforts. The thought was…unimaginable. 

When the coughing had finally passed, she had gasped, weakly, “Ah, oh no, no…this was planned, we both want to start…. I...we didn't expect...I'm just surprised, I suppose.”

The worried disbelief on Qing-mei’s face had made her close her eyes in weariness, praying for patience and words enough to convince her. She would not live through another well meaning woman trying to pry her marriage apart at the seams because they did not think he deserved her. How to explain to them a husband who laid every choice at her feet? How to properly convey just how safe she had been made to feel in her own marriage? The easiest love she had ever been gifted? “You have gotten the wrong impression, meimei, I'm delighted, I'm...I'm....” Going to have a baby. A baby! 

The thought had made her more lightheaded still, either with giddiness, terror, or a combination of the two, she hadn't quite been able to tell.

Even then, it had taken a significant amount of effort to convince her suspicious sister-in-law that, no, her husband was not impregnating her in some sneaky bid to solidify a place of power in their Clan; no, he did not scare, control, or force her; no, he had not been the one to somehow put the idea of transferring her own core to A-Xian into her head. That had been there a while all on its own.

It was still close enough to the failed conversations she had had with Madam Jin that she might have begun to feel the same helpless frustration, if Wen Qing hadn't subsided into a still suspicious acceptance of her wishes and the quickly growing whirlwind of shimmering excitement hadn’t begun swarming through her limbs as every time she said ‘my baby’ and ‘our child’, the future seemed that much more tangible.

And Qing-mei meant well, Yanli knew. Whatever she had seen in A-Yao in their time at the Scorching Sun Palace had clearly scared her deeply, and Yanli wasn't going to dismiss that. Her husband was cunning and clever, able to change faces with the ease of a passing cloud when he needed to. She had seen it herself and she could not, would not deny it. But she knew his heart, knew that he was also kind, sweet, gentle, and frightened--she loved him for all of it. That included the parts he regretted, the parts that Wen Qing hated. Yanli would never have anything to fear from him.

She could tell that Wen Qing still thought she was either helplessly hoodwinked or naive, but she seemed at least satisfied that Yanli wanted this for herself and her family and did not bring up the idea again. In fact, each new day she got to spend with the girl, she seemed to be a little more relaxed. At least she had far more color in her face and light in her eyes than when she had first laid eyes on her in that Lanling forest, looking as much like a corpse as her brother--just a walking one. Yet, even with the improvements to her health and mood, even after weeks, she and A-Cheng still circled each other warily. They practically fled the room whenever they saw that the other had entered. 

It might have been amusing if it weren’t so tragic. 

How did one matchmake a couple who was, effectively, already married? Yanli thought that she might be able to have some clue, seeing how her and A-Yao’s love had blossomed with care and time, but if the two wouldn’t even share the same air….It reminded her uncomfortably of their parents’ relationship; prickly silence and separate rooms across the Pier. It raised ugly gooseflesh down her back to think of A-Cheng resigning himself to be as miserable in marriage as they clearly had been. She might not have dared to think so as a child, but after her own delightful marriage, knowing what it could feel like…she wept for her parents and all that they had become. For what they both so clearly wanted but didn’t know how to get without sacrificing parts of themselves they refused to let go of, for better or worse.

A-Cheng and Qing-mei didn’t need to love each other. Yanli knew the seed of love was there, in her brother at least, knew that yearning look in his eye. She had seen him as a teenager eagerly waiting for her eye to turn to him--a warming Wen sun, not a burning one. Everything had become hopelessly tangled with rage and regret and duty and grief during the murder of their Clan and the war. But irreparably so? She hoped not. They didn’t need to love each other, but Yanli would have them at least comfortable in their living with each other. She would love to actually host a real wedding for them, one day, in private.

What little she could do for A-Cheng, she tried, probing him gently once in a while--when he had a spare moment to visit, which wasn’t often. She complimented the clothes he had admitted to ordering for Wen Qing; robes in a spectrum of rich plums, burgundies, and muted magentas--red the undertones of each. “Did she ask for those colors in particular?”

“No.” His whole affect always sagged, dulled whenever she gently probed him about his wife and he would stare at his hands.

“Did you choose them yourself, then?” 

“...Yes. I…Yes.”

She had been delighted to be surprised by this, though she shouldn’t have been--he had always been a smart dresser with a keen eye for color. Besides some of her Jiang shimei’s and the tailor, she had specifically sought his opinion on her own wedding outfit. He and A-Xian had been planning her entire wedding since they were 8, after all, he was bound to have opinions. And he certainly had--her wedding dress had had both of her brother’s stamps of approval.

Lately, when he came by, he was always well groomed, but could feel the stress humming through him and behind his tired eyes. He could act so prickly, she wondered if anyone was pestering him to make sure he slept well. If they would let themselves, she was sure a wife would be a perfect person to do so. Whenever Yanli tried, he would just say that she shouldn’t worry about him with everything going on with her, that he was sleeping fine, and would proceed to fuss over her instead.

“A-Cheng, what’s troubling you?”

“Nothing, jiejie.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetling.

“I don’t have the time to worry about pretending to be married, right now.”

“You could just try talking to her, you know. Just…start a conversation.”

His face scrunched up in a combination of self derision, confusion, and agony, wrinkling his nose and narrowing his eyes. Waiting, she had stroked his hand where it lay balled up on her blanket, his knuckles a pale bite against the rich emerald and purple. “I wouldn’t know what to talk about,” he had finally said, shortly, his voice more of a mumble than the gruff dismissive tone she thought he might have been aiming for.

“You could ask her what she’s feeling, how she likes it here.”

“I don’t think I want to know.” He was staring down at her bedspread, bleakly, tight lines of worry between his brows.

When she had reached up to try to smooth them away, admonishing his doubt with a gentle, “A-Cheng--” he had caught her hand and pressed the backs of her knuckles against his cheek, eyes squeezed shut. After a sharp, indrawn breath, he had announced that he needed to go--and she needed to rest. There was nothing more she could say without making him flee faster.

What a mess all of this was.

Qing-mei was not much more of a help on that front. And Yanli was even less inclined to force her, poor girl--they didn’t have the history and she didn’t want to trap her. Every time she brought up A-Cheng or their marriage or what she felt about the whole relationship, she clammed up and grew solemn. “I’m grateful to Jiang-zongzhu. To all of you,” was all she would ever say, regarding their arrangement.

 At least Yanli had finally convinced her to stop calling her Jiang-furen, insisting that if they were going to be sisters now, it only made sense. She had confided in the younger woman that she had never had a little sister before, that she was excited to have someone to call ‘meimei’. At that, quite apart from her unflappable, self assured doctorly attitude, Qing-mei had offered, shyly, that she had never been a little sister before and that she found the idea quite odd. This tacit acceptance of the role delighted Yanli beyond words.

Qing-mei had taken to visiting her long past the time she had finished checking and treating her, taking tea and meals in her room either A-Yao came back or Yanli would, embarrassingly. fall asleep mid sentence. They hadn’t been able to visit like this very often when she had sheltered them in Yiling--Wen Qing would be called away and there had been work to be done, healing A-Cheng. Now, though, they had time and privacy, and their conversations would wander both wide and deep, over being elder sisters to trouble-prone younger brothers, about their shared time in Yiling, their mothers, their favorite books. Qing-mei was very clearly reluctant to confide her worries in her, whether in not wanting to cause her further stress or simply due to her own innate reservation, and so their conversations rarely included fears or the far future. 

But, sometimes, she would talk about Wei Wuxian’s progress and Wen Ning. “I don’t know what I’m more afraid of,” she had whispered one evening as the sun set outside, stock still next to Yanli’s bed, staring at the screen that threw spindly shadows of willow’s fingers across like thrashing ropes. “The idea that he may never come back. Or that he might…and I don’t know what he will be.” She had turned her head then, her neck and spine braced bravely, but her large, sweet eyes shining with tears in the low lantern light. “Da-gu, he’s so cold,” she had choked, barely audible. 

When Yanli had sat forward and reached out her arms, there was no hesitation when Qing-mei huddled into them, shaking silently.

Yanli herself had not yet seen what was left of Qing-mei’s gentle brother since she had landed at Lotus Pier, barely conscious herself. It hurt her heart to remember the shy, earnest boy she had seen attempting to become invisible behind his sister, despite his standing several inches taller than her at the Cloud Recesses what felt like eons ago. She hardly knew a thing about him, and all she did was through Xianxian and Qing-mei’s eyes. Hopefully there was a future possible for them to get to know each other on their own terms. 

Though she wholeheartedly believed in Xianxian’s brilliance and dogged tenacity, she had to admit…a conscious fierce corpse had never been achieved before. And the work was hard and damaging. It had scared her when she had finally seen what A-Xian had looked like after a week of what was clearly just a diet of half forgotten food and resentful energy. She had found him in the family shrine just a few days ago, when it was too rainy to sit outside comfortably. The early autumn had been washing warm, wet storms over them almost daily, but often, they came and went within minutes and she would patiently await the sun beneath a tree and her parasol. That day, however, the day woke to rain, and it had stayed, churning the lake cloudy with disturbed particulates. 

Though she enjoyed a good walk in the rain, everyone--A-Yao, A-Cheng, He Si, Qing-mei, Liu-popo, her childhood doctor-- had cautioned against going out in it when she was still fragile, and so her maid had helped her shuffle slowly across shining walkways and summer-verdant ponds pebbled with raindrops, huddled together under a waxed parasol and cloak. When she saw a hunched, dark shape within, she had paused at the door, squinting into the incense and candle warmed gloom within. When she recognized the set of her brother’s shoulders, she had quietly dismissed He Si with a lift of her chin. 

A-Xian had looked up when she moved from the fresh, silvery air of the outside to the space of quietly splashing water and remembered prayers. Immediately, the comforting hiss and patter of rain receded even more when she slid the door shut, leaving them surrounded only by the pale darkness of the ornate lotus screen panels--a private little universe. When she turned, A-XIan was already there, helping her out of her cloak, taking the dripping parasol from her hand. “Shijie! Are you sure you should be up?” The shadows beneath his eyes were dark and he had missed a spot on his jaw shaving this morning.

“I don’t think staying in bed for the rest of my pregnancy would be good for me or my baby, A-XIan.” She had softened the already gentle jibe by brushing back the hair from his face and patting his cheek, feeling the prickle under her fingers. “Help me to the cushions?”

He, of course, did, supporting her elbow, his other hand wrapped protectively around her far shoulder. The scent that clung to him was sharp and unpleasant, wholly unlike the memories she associated with him. Long ago, she had buried her nose in the top of his little boy head, and would breathe in soap and sunshine and love--and now, as a man, he used to smell like the spices he liked to eat and something fresh. Now, he smelled like…danger, soot, blood. That alone would have unnerved her. But when they sat next to each other and her eyes adjusted, she could take in the whole of him.

“I know, I know, I look terrible. I look worse than I feel, don’t worry,” he waved off her eye’s widening with feigned ease, smiling.

He had lost weight quickly, leaving him hollow cheeked and wan. His hair was only hastily brushed, his topknot uneven, slightly lopsided, and his eyes were bloodshot. On his hands, cinnabar, soot, and old blood was smeared, half-heartedly wiped, then smeared again, darkening around his nails. “A-Xian,” she had intoned with enough force that he immediately sat up straight, sucking in his lips like a child caught out doing something he knew he shouldn’t be doing. “After we talk, you’re going to take a bath and eat a full meal outside your room. Alright?”

“Really, I’m--” 

“A-Xian!” She had broken in, frowning, eyebrows drawn down. 

He hunkered down, pouting as he muttered, “Yes, Shijie.” Tilting doleful eyes and pushed out lip up at her, he then whined, “Shijieeee, don’t be mad at me. I’ll do better. Sorry if I’m smelly.” To illustrate this, he theatrically lifted up his sleeve to sniff it, then wrinkled his nose in real distaste. “Ugh. Alright, I get it.”

With a sigh, she had reached for his hands. He had seemed to wake to what was on them and scrubbed his palms on his thighs before taking them. “It’s not that, Xianxian, you know that. I’m worried about you. I’m worried about both of you.”

Apparently, he and A-Cheng had also been warily circling each other, like they did after most fights. Their spats, she had heard from a combination of A-Yao, He Si, and Qing-mei were more mundane and brotherly, now, weeks later--though they ended as often with eye rolling and secret smiles as hurt feelings and tight lipped silences. It had been bad right after their return, she had heard--A-Cheng storming around with a poisonous temper for days and A-Xian working on Wen Ning all hours of the day and night, refusing to leave his room. She hated that she had to hear about it second hand, that they visited her one at a time, that when she was able to emerge from her room, they were often away, doing what they could. She wasn’t around to soothe their rough edges from grinding against the other.

Qing-mei was with her the most, A-Yao a close second, when he wasn’t helping A-Cheng or something else that needed doing around the Pier. Xianxian had only come in a few times, sometimes too exhausted to do anything but drape himself over the edge of her bed and childishly request hair stroking, which she, of course, gave. Once, a day or two after she had discovered she was pregnant, apparently deciding that she was well enough for a scolding, he had come and very seriously told her to never even think about giving him her core again. “Aren’t you glad Wen Qing said no to that nonsense?” he had demanded, frowning at her in displeasure.

Yanli thought it was rich of him being so incensed about it, but she had let it go. “I wasn’t…I don’t remember doing it. It was the fever, I think.”

“Well, don’t even go thinking it!” he had said, fierceness belayed by him anxiously petting at her arm. “Put it out of your head! Alright?”

She thought about a great many things that she didn’t share with him. It wasn’t something she thought of…constantly. Or even very often. It was just something that had reared its head when she had learned of what A-Xian and Wen Qing had done. When he had sat before A-Cheng and herself with A-Yao by his side and tried to pretend it wasn’t the worst thing they had ever heard. She felt sick when she remembered it--sick for both her brothers. She couldn’t think about it too long, or….

But she was, indeed, glad that Qing-mei had stoutly refused her delirious babble. Her core, weak and pitiful as it was, was going to have to support her and this child through her pregnancy. At least it was finally good for something.

With a start, Yanli blinked out of her hazy, sunwarmed ruminations of the past few weeks and back into the garden, now shaded a brilliant blue from the after images her orange eyelids had left. She couldn’t have been dozing long, for she could hear footsteps returning back down the path. But something in the back of her mind perked up at their familiarity and the knowledge that it wasn’t He Si’s stride. Delighted, she levered herself back entirely upright in the chair and twisted around to see her husband emerging from around the dwarf maple whose leaf edges flirted with gold. “A-Yao!”

“I’ve brought you something, Jiang-furen,” he announced with a twinkle of humor in his dimples, presenting her favorite scalloped, lavender parasol, dotted with intricate plum blossoms on a branch. “He Si was very keen that you have it.”

She laughed and shook her head, reaching out to him for a greeting kiss, which he warmly bestowed on her. He smelled and tasted lovely, like he had been walking around out in the fresh air all day. “She frets so much. It couldn’t have anything to do with you fretting so much, could it? Is she coming back?”

“I dismissed her for other duties, as I assumed you might wish to spend time together.”

Delights up on delights! “Oh, always!”

He helped her up from her chair and walked pressed to her side, his arm sure and firm around her, his fingertips brushing her belly beneath her sleeve, out of sight from passing eyes. Oh, A-Yao; her beloved, tangled up A-Yao. 

Despite his calm outward face, was so clearly terrified by everything about this, including the prospect of not being by her side at every moment. He was constantly on the move, organizing and advising and assisting and whatever else his clever mind decided that they needed--but in between all this, he would appear anxiously at her side at all hours, asking what he could do, if He Si was attending to her properly, if she needed something. Come to think of it…perhaps she had better make sure her husband had no overt hand in her maid’s currently overly fretful state.

She was fairly certain he was more scared than she was about the prospect of becoming a parent, which was endearing, considering she was the one that would have to give birth and not him. He hid it quite admirably, even for him, buried underneath the more typical worry for her--and now, the baby’s--health. And he clearly planned to “burden” her with none of it. But she could see it in his eyes, could feel it in the way he held her.

When they had discovered she was with child, that night, he had asked to make love to her, and had done so exquisitely sweetly. Well, every time they had made love so far had been sweet, but that night, he had been even more tender, more warm and attentive than ever before. Every press of his skin had been gentle enough that she could barely feel where he began and she ended. Ever since then, he had been treating her as if she were made of precious glass. From him, her husband, she happily accepted the attention. The way that he doted on her never made her feel lessened, like he thought she was some incapable child or weak, silly girl. It only made her feel wanted and precious.

He had been appalled that he had let her go on the arduous trip to find Wei Wuxian, and when she had asked with her expression, smiling softly; Let me?, he had amended that he should have begged her to come back with him to Lotus Pier. She had had to remind her that she couldn’t have. A-Yao had simply sighed deeply and said that he knew. Running her hands over his jaw, where the yellow-brown ghosts of the bruises on his jaw from Zixun were finally no longer visible, she had said, “I’ll be careful now. And so should you, yes?”

He had kissed her slowly into sleep.

Now, together, they agreed to try some cooking in the smaller kitchen, so as not to get in the way of the cooks. It was the most activity than she had attempted in days, but there was no tremble to her hands and her muscles felt like actual muscles today, instead of some wet, quivering mud. Standing felt good instead of arduous. And she would never get her strength back if she lived in a chair for the next 9 months. This kitchen was more cluttered than the main one, and a little darker for the smaller windows, but by no means dirty--it also gave them the added benefit of privacy. It was because of this, she was certain, that A-Yao felt comfortable enough to press up behind her as she stood at the counter and sliced up figs. His arms rested comfortably about her waist, palms pressed to her belly and chin resting on her shoulder as he observed her work. Though his whole front pressed warmly against her back, there was no lascivious invitation in it, only closeness and trust. In public, he was not overtly performative with his affection; a supporting arm while walking here, laying a hand atop hers there. It was when they were alone he felt he could cautiously touch her more freely, as if the eyes of others made his love something lewd. Well…she supposed that might in fact be a concern for him. No matter. Whether a peck in private, a brush of her cheek in public and everything in between--and sometimes more--she adored it all. 

“I’m not going to fall over, A-Yao,” she teased. “I’ll let you know if I need to sit down.”

“Of course,” he answered easily, but did not move away, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

Contended, she hummed and paused in her knife strokes, laying her cheek atop his shoulder. A golden glow, at once fierce and tender, had a permanent place in her chest nowadays. It had nothing to do with her fading illness and everything to do with this bright new future she had been gifted. She was so lucky. 

Outside the widow, across the courtyard, someone screamed. 

A-Yao spun her back from the window as the bright afternoon outside was split with a crash, an inhuman roar, and more screams, one right after the other. Yanli stumbled, pressed herself against the far wall, her heart pounding wildly against her ribs. Icy gooseflesh cascaded over skin, her stomach knotted in fear. A-Yao, a dagger suddenly in hand, was peering out the window, motionless. She couldn’t see anything from her angle and the leaves outside, but the wild screaming, the roaring continued. The sound of running feet. “What is it?” she whispered, voice pressed thin. 

He only wordlessly shook his head, scanning back and forth. A tree stood in front of the window, she knew, obscuring most of the view of the outside. 

What on earth could it be? Lotus Pier was protected, there were talismans and wards and--

A-Cheng bellowed something, voice harsh with fear.

A-Cheng.

“A-Li, no--!” A-Yao’s shout followed her out the door, but she couldn’t stop.

Her brother was in trouble. I won’t be left behind again, I can’t, I can’t-- 

The courtyard stones flew beneath her feet, then the bridge and she could see, flashing into her mind like blinding light off of waves. A-Cheng, across the walkway, Sandu flashing in the sun, Zidian crackling. Still bellowing, pointing. Disciples running to him as quickly as the servants flooded away, wailing in terror. A towering black figure on the other side of the ornamental pond, wreathed in writhing smoke. It ripped out another unearthly snarl as it flung something big away from itself. A body, a person, flailing in midair, screaming. A snap as they crashed through a carved banister and landed in a sickening, motionless heap, a loose pink ribbon fluttering to earth behind them. “He Si!” 

A hand clamped on her arm as she started forward. A-Yao had caught up. “A-Li!”

“We can’t! A-Si!” She struggled forward, clutching his sleeve, dragging him along.

Shouts and screams bled into the pounding in her ears, pulse a frantic bird in her head that shrieked. She was only across the walkway, only a dozen steps away. Clangs, a thump, a grunt--oh gods! Then she heard A-Cheng’s voice still shouting orders--not him. A-Yao’s face was sharp and hard. His other hand rose to her shoulder. He was going to pick her up and carry her away, saw his thoughts written like script across his face and she couldn’t, she clutched at him and pleaded, “No, please! A-Yao, please, please!” They couldn’t just leave her here, bleeding, in danger!

His eyes darted, then his pull changed, urging her forward, running with her instead of pulling her back. Her movements were loose with fear, jerky and wild and she nearly fell up the steps onto the walkway. Blood covered the girl's face, pooling crimson rapidly onto the shining wood around her. They bent, dragging her back to get better purchase on her limp body. Her feet dragged pitifully. Yanli’s hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t close them around her arms properly. One still held the knife from the kitchen. She had forgotten she still had it. 

The girl wasn’t moving. A-Yao hefted her torso up in his arms, turned to her, opened his mouth--

A fresh wave of screams.

“Jiejie!” A-Cheng’s voice cracked from across the second bridge as she heard a shuffle of wind, a thump behind them and suddenly, the roots of her teeth ached, and that smell--the sharp, burning metal-blood smell that clung to A-Xian--flooded her.

Looking up, the sun blinded her for a split second before vicious smoke--resentful energy stung her eyes, flooded her throat--white hand filled her vision.  Then, something canoned into her side, knocking her away to sprawl away from He Si. Blood and sky spun around her. Battlefield gore, fear, death choked her throat. Gasping, coughing, she scrambled, to her hands and knees, head whirling. When she looked up, her entire body went ice cold and all she could hear in the world was screaming.

It was Wen Ning, black veins sprawling across his face, the empty white holes of his eyes fixed on who he now held by the throat. A-Yao, who had knocked her aside.

No!

Even though the foul resentful energy wreathing them both, her husband’s eyes were alight with more rage than fear, teeth bared. He had already buried his dagger hilt deep in Wen Ning’s chest, right in his heart. The fierce corpse vented another noise human throats should not be able to make and lifted A-Yao, like he was light as a rag, off his feet. Thrashing, choking, A-Yao brought up a leg to kick the dagger hilt deeper, another already in his other hand.

Wen Ning’s other hand shot out, latched around his wrist. Yanli felt the snap in her chest more than heard it. His dagger clanged to the ground. She could see those fingers closing further, like a vise, crushing. A-Yao made no sound--couldn’t, his throat was squeezed, he couldn’t--he couldn’t--

 Screaming--she was screaming, that noise was her--she stumbled up, forward, swinging the kitchen knife up to hack at Wen Ning’s arms, wrists, anything to free her husband. She was close enough that the writhing mist stung like nettles over her skin when something collided with her again, knocking her back from them, sending the knife clattering away from her grip. Qing-mei clung to her, dragged her back, shouting something into her ear. She fought against her, still screaming. He had A-Yao!

 It had been only moments since Wen Ning had landed behind them, but time was boiling, stretching, bursting around them. No no no no no--

Crackling, blinding purple wrapped around Wen Ning’s pale throat, pulled tight and he at least dropped A-Yao’s arm, snarling, clawing at it. Zidian. A-Cheng was there, yanking back on Zidian hard enough to bow Wen Ning’s spine back. But he still had A-Yao’s throat clenched in his grip, still held him up entirely as he kicked at him, hands locked on Wen Ning’s wrist.

“A-Ning, stop! Stop!” Wen Qing cried, arms still knotted around Yanli, still dragging her back as she struggled. 

The disciples clamored nearer, shouting, flinging talismans that sizzled into ash as soon as they met the corona of energy spilling from Wen Ning. Some were already limping, bleeding, and A-Cheng shouted at them to stay back. A piercing, chilling note shrieked above the clamor, freezing Wen Ning still as stone. 

A-Xian. 

Frantically, Yanli searched for him, found him pelting around the corner of the Banquet Hall, Chenqing at his lips. “Wei Wuxian!” A-Cheng roared over at him. “Make him stop!”

A-Xian was pale and wide eyed as his fingers flew over the black lacquer of his flute. He skidded to a halt to suck in a huge breath and trill a complicated, twisting melody that raised all the hairs on Yanli’s body. A shudder went through Wen Ning like a wave across the pond and he began to shake. A quiet, abrupt gasp broke from A-Yao’s lips, as if the fingers around his throat had loosened fractionally. But his face was almost blue, eyes rolling back--and black veins were snaking from under the fierce corpse’s palm. 

“A-YAO!”

In that instant of brief stillness, like a shadow, A-Cheng rose up from behind Wen Ning, Zidian pulled taut in his hand, Sandu raised--his face was dark as a thundercloud, death in his eyes. “Zongzhu!” Qing-mei’s gasped, “Husband, please! Don’t hurt him!”

A-Cheng’s hesitated, eyes flickered, his killing intent cracked. “A-Cheng!” Yanli shrieked, fighting and thrashing, throat raw.

She didn’t even know what she was begging him to do. All she knew was that A-Yao was now just twitching instead of kicking and she could not get free. 

A-Cheng’s face hardened as Chenqing’s tone shrilled up and down a haunting scale, and, with a huge heave, he wrenched Zidian back. The frozen Wen Ning toppled down sideways with the force of it, collapsing both he and A-Yao over into the ornamental lotus pond beside them with a splash. Yanli no longer had to break free of Wen Qing’s grip, for they were both racing to the pond as fast as they could.

 But A-Cheng slid in front of them, flinging out his arms to block them both with his chest as Chenqing’s notes cut off, A-Xian’s panicked voice instead yelling out a warning; Wen Ning reared up from the water behind him, roaring, thrashing, and splashing. 

A-Yao did not.

[the-crimson]

I was just listening to some sad music while thinking about q!bbh and… the eggs changed him. They saved him in a sense. All of them.

When Bad first arrived at the island he was aimless and much like Foolish, looking for the next subject of entertainment. He was only out for himself and couldn’t be bothered to lend a helping hand to anyone.

Then he was given a little egg with a top hat and everything changed. He had someone vulnerable to look out for, to provide for, and suddenly he was given purpose. All of these little eggs were precious beyond words and everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Charlie tried to murder Dapper right in front of Bad. That was the first time Bad felt fear in a long long time then a deep sadness settled in when he learned Juanaflippa had died and that’s what sent Slime on his rampage and everything suddenly felt so much more real. The illusion of perfection broke and Bad realized, truly realized, just what Dapper meant to him.

Juanaflippa was brought back but then a hat trick of tragedy strikes and Bad is forever changed. Bad has a chance to walk Tilin home but she chooses to go with Slime who accidentally kills her. Juanaflippa chooses to stay with Mariana and he accidentally kills her - again. And Trump dies of neglect alone in an empty house. (Cc!Bad mentioned on stream a while back that the admins had asked him if he could do Trump’s tasks but Bad didn’t realize how dire the situation was- he blames himself)

Within the span of 24 hours, three eggs died and Bad could have saved each of them. This is when everything changes for Bad’s character. This is where Bad vows that no egg was ever going to die of neglect again. This is when Bad started grinding to become the richest person on the server and ensured that all the eggs had maxed out armor at all times. These eggs dying the way they did is what created the Badboyhalo we knew.

Bad created the warp plate system in the sky so he’d be able to reach just about anywhere near spawn to save an egg if they went down. He is the one who discovered the true utility of warp stones and spread that information across the server. He is the one who informed everyone of the autoeat and XP pump functions of the backpack and set up all the eggs with infinite XP so their armor would never break.

He was so incredibly damaged by these eggs dying that he turned all his hyper vigilance towards protecting the remaining eggs even if he barely knew the parents or the eggs themselves. He would never say no to someone asking for help ever again.

Bad went from selfish and out for himself to the most selfless person on the server. He was a demon seeking entertainment in the wake of eternity and transformed into a servant of the people who gave his life again and again for others without question.

Getting Dapper primed Bad for change. Dapper was the crack in the stone that allowed the walls within him to shatter when Juanaflippa, Tilin, and Trump died. Ever since that tragic day, all of the eggs became part of Bad’s family.… and now they are gone.

Dapper and their siblings brought out the best of Bad. They saved him from a cycle of chaotic indifference. And now he’s alone again. Everything he’s done to protect them has been for nothing. Everything he’s changed, the steps he took towards healing millennia old traumas… all of that was for not.

Some wounds cut too deep to heal. Even with all the progress Bad made, he still valued his entire self worth on how useful he was to others, on protecting the eggs. Every time something happened to the kids, he took it as a personal failure. When Bobby died, he blamed himself for not going with them on the adventure. Now they are gone gone. They fled. They are somewhere Bad can’t follow. He failed them. He had one job and he failed.

It doesn’t matter what happens to him now. Getting them back is all that matters. Bad’s world has lost all vibrancy and he’s physically fading away. He doesn’t notice because he can’t let himself. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting them back. But even if he does… it’s already too late. He failed. He couldn’t protect them. He failed.

When the eggs come back changed (hatched?) all he will see is his failure. If he lives long enough to see his babies return, will they give him the strength to come back from this? Or will their presence give him the reassurance that… it’s okay. He doesn’t need to fight anymore. They are safe now. He can let go. One last goodbye.

Fuck man. I’ve been here since the beginning. Since the second day Bad had Dapper. I’ve watched almost every single stream since. I’ve watched Bad change in real time. I’ve watched Dapper and the other eggs change him. I stayed up until 3 am watching Bad bargain with god to save his son from an unfair death. I’ve watched Bad chase desperately across the map only to arrive moments too late to find Ramon’s corpse. I’ve watched him sit silently weeping while waiting for Jaiden and Roier to say their last goodbyes. I still remember his screams for Dapper when they were killed by pillagers. I remember them stranded in the snow tens of thousands of blocks from safety with no items no food Dapper couldn’t even speak. Terrified that it could end then and there.

The fact that this whole journey has lead us here. Bad is literally dying because he failed them. He failed them in a hundred different ways but this was the big one. This failure broke him. If Bad does end up dying dying at the end of this arc… that would both be the most narratively satisfying yet heart breaking thing that could possibly happen. The eggs saved him in a million different ways. It makes sense that they would also be the death of him.

Bad’s a demon and a grim reaper so I doubt he’d stay dead but I could see Dapper and friends going on a quest to bring him back from where ever demons/grim reapers go when they die. Maybe he’ll finally get some closure from the tragedies he’s left in his wake all throughout history. Maybe he’ll get a chance to truly start over with a clean slate.

Fuck now I’m thinking about Dapper having ti live through their dad sacrificing himself for them and their siblings. We know Dapper was borderline suicidal before being taken so just… Dapper seeing themself in Bad too late and not being able to save him. Killing himself for the greater good. Dapper refusing to accept that Bad is gone and spending every waking minute researching how to bring him back by any means necessary but knowing Bad would want them to move on, to live, to live, to live.

I have no idea where Bad’s character is going. I have no idea if he’s gonna go full villain and burn the server to destroy the federation. I have no idea if he’s gonna sacrifice himself and die trying to get the eggs back. I have no idea if his grief is literally killing him and he’s acting so desperate with the knowledge that he’s on borrowed time. All I know is cc!Bad is gonna take us on one hell of a ride and I can’t wait to see what happens next.

[buck-up-buck]

SOOO, the beautiful @whollyjoly shared a theory about the team being split up at the end of the season... and so my brain did a thing.

I am not saying I want this to happen but FUCK would this be good.

Enjoy... or not ��

“Before you all head out for the night, we need to discuss some upcoming changes to A-Shift in the following weeks.” Everyone turns to face Bobby who is standing by the engine, his smile sad as he takes in his team, arms crossed protectively over his chest.  “Changes? What kind of changes?” Eddie voices, head tilting to the side as he looks between Chimney and Hen, wondering if they know what is going on, but they look just as confused.  “The chief, although grateful for your work regarding the cruise ship, has some concerns about the practicality of the 118. Specifically, about our friendship dynamics outside of work. He still cannot fathom how you would all jump to the conclusion of stealing an LAFD-issued helicopter to search for me and Athena, with little to no evidence backing you up-“   “And yet he was all for taking credit for the mission when he realised we were right.” Hen interrupted defiantly, her eyebrows raised, Bobby sighing as he nodded slowly.  “Even still, there has been talk that we cannot function efficiently as a team anymore and we are, as of now, under investigation.”  “Investigation?” Buck stepped forward, the concern evident in his voice. “What kind of investigation?”  “The team is being split up, sent to different divisions while they go through our calls over the past year, and conduct interviews with other firehouses. Hen and Eddie have been assigned to the 127, on different shifts, while Chimney is being sent back to the academy. I, have been suspended until further notice.”  “They can’t possibly do this!” Chimney exclaims, everyone looking around at each other in shock. This wasn’t happening. “They can, and they have.”  “They can't just separate us. We're a team, we- we’re a family.” Buck’s eyes widened and Bobby couldn’t stop himself as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, sighing heavily as he rested his chin a top of Buck’s head.  “Apparently, that seems to be the problem kid.” 

@thetangycheesemanwithaplan posted as per your request❤️

[riikaa-chan]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon), 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Webcomic), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Nie Mingjue Characters: Nie Mingjue, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Nie Huaisang, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Additional Tags: Romance, Cute, Librarian Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Businessman Nie Mingjue, I dont know how to tag Summary:

Businessman Nie Mingjue meets quiet librarian Lan Wangji, sparking an unexpected romance.

[good-beanswrites]

Woo hello 🎬!! I kept all of your ask here -- I put it like this for my own easy scrolling, but no way am I cutting any of this, it's so perfect AH

Oughhhhgh Haruka getting more confident from hanging out with everyone and getting such positive feedback… I’d imagine the back to back innocent verdict and night of compliments would do wonders for his psyche ;-; And same for Muu and Amane! Minus the inno verdict, but the sudden influx of explicit compliments and acknowledgement of “hey, that was fucked up what they did to you, okay?” I wonder if there’s any awkwardness since After Pain directly follows Bring it On, but I like to imagine Fuuta and Muu have a deeper talk about things in private (and maybe Muu hesitantly mentions her involvement with Rei in preparation for INMF…)

Damn, who’s going to give the sex talk to the kids after Yuno’s vide-- Shidou. Sidou does. Without hesitation. They have to stop him because no one wants to hear it and everyone there already understands the basics.I love the idea of she, Mahiru, Muu, and designer Mikoto chatting about everyone’s fashion sense (I can imagine them poking fun at Fuuta’s tracksuit and Shidou’s patterned shirts.) And planning shopping trips that include everyone!!! Amane and Kotoko are given no choice in the matter, and a lot of the guys are genuinely interested in coming along.

Awww, I love the thought of Haruka getting into a “boy” interest with Fuuta and Mikoto -- he never knew what it was like to have brothers but he’s really enjoying it <3 (Also I’m cracking up over Fuuta trying desperately to convince them “it’s not cringe!!!”)

ASDFSDF Mappi just straight up sobbing and Mikoto handing her tissues 😂 But yes, she also gets choked up during Magic and Amane can’t figure out why. This begins the adults’ efforts to get her out of whatever situation she’s currently in (which Jackalope was already half-working on, but is definitely spurred on by several angry almost-murderers demanding he get it done now.)

I do like that idea of Red more comfortable with showing skin than Blue. (I know people are very emotional about the stalker theory, but I personally never took it in a harmful way. I always enjoyed how it was a symbol of stripping away everything else until you’re left with your true, whole self.) So I like to think that Blue feels too exposed, but Red/Green are the ones who pitched it in a symbolic sense! 

I’m losing my mind at Kotoko/Kazui/Red talking about sparring. Everyone else is like “hell yeah, let’s see it!” and Shidou just sitting there like “you all are going to be the death of me. You are NOT fighting.” Because I really want to think about it happening, I’ll say they manage to sneak away at least once and nearly break a prop in the process, to which even Jackalope shuts them down.

I think they all manage to get pretty serious again by the time T2 rolls around, but the hiatus is filled with a lot of sweet moments and healing conversations between everyone. Also, making so many plans for the future helps keep them sane when some of the project immersion gets a bit too real. Whenever they start realizing they might be condemned for their actions and worried that they’re too broken/they’re life is ruined, they come back to those plans and relax a bit.

Absolutely no pressure, but I would love to hear your T2 thoughts! 👀👀👀 I’m so incredibly grateful you’ve taken the time to share your ideas -- from the very beginning this au has been a big collaboration, so it’s super fun bouncing ideas around :D

[skitskatdacat63]

I cant stop thinking abt how my one class has a presentation assignment. It's months away and I'm laying here, fucking heart pounding, and I can't let my mind rest at all bcs it just immediately starts listing everything I could possibly be anxious about

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

✨

Hi hi!! Vaguely nsfw fic snippet for you!

Make me write!!

“So I did pull your hair too hard?” Christian’s face reddens. “Not in a way I didn’t like.” Oh.

[cryingalexanders]

people crying about how pre-crisis Superman is problematic and acting like post-crisis fixed him is the most tedious thing in the world.

[ghostsandmirrors]

merry christmas. happy holidays. have a nice end of december.

[aquaquadrant]

I followed you for the mcyt content, but I’ve just realized that I read your TTS story before I actually had tumblr and everything makes sense now

OH HI

i guess i shouldn’t be TOO surprised, that fic has over 90k hits so there’s a good chance i’d have old readers come across me again at some point 😂

[ame-to-ame]

the thing abt btr is i really wanna see more characterization/ ixn but i don't think anything i write will be able to capture the essence of the source material :(

[must-be-mr-boggins]

Taking a 5-second break from the Bagginshield angst to bring you this meme I created after an all-nighter, enjoy.

[uglygirltrying]

insecure princess!reader x barbarian!ghost cw: angst, brief sexual mentions, bad writing, confusing ghost insecure princess!reader who has never had any suitors. her sisters overshadow her. her mother pities her, afraid that her daughter will never marry.

fortunately, due to an alliance that her father has made, she finally marries. he's a barbaric prince, shameless and perverted. mean and scary.

princess!reader who tries her best to make love kindle between them, to live the fantasy that she's always had. she rubs lavender oil on her neck, tugs one of her nightgowns straps down her shoulder, to be desirable like the women in paintings. her lady-in-waiting helps her make her hair silky, and her dresses pleasing to the eye. but you can't put lipstick on a pig.

the prince only has her from the back. it's a relief that he wants to make love to her, but at the same time it breaks her heart. she wants to have a face that he wants to look at.

the princess' anxiety only worsens when she notices that the prince's older brother keeps looking at her. she's not used to attention from men, she doesn't know how to interpret it. he might want to hurt her, show everyone just how disgusting she is. or maybe he laughs with his mates about her, just like everyone else. or maybe... he likes the look of her, maybe he'd like to tug her nightgown down and have her chest to chest. it's a stupid thought, she shouldn't entertain them and embarrass herself. and he's her husbands brother!! it's wrong!

then, one night during a feast, her husband's drunk antics drive her to walk away. she wanders the dark hallways of the castle, moonlight and candlelight illuminating the paintings on the walls.

the princess stops to look out of a window, a lone tear running down her cheek. it's an unending weight on her shoulder. she hates the presence of other princess', the prettier princess', they only remind her of what she isn't. knights don't fight for her, artists don't paint her beauty, and princes don't ask her to dance at balls.

a noise makes her jump out of her thoughts, she whips her head around to look down at the hallway. it's him. her husband's brother, ghost. he stands few feet away from the princess, looking her up and down.

"c'mon," he urges, his voice deep and rough. ghost nods, gesturing down the corridor, to the feast. before the princess can even respond, he has already turned around and began to walk back. but she doesn't follow.

the princess stays in place, looking down at the floor as she sniffles. why should she go back there? they don't want her there. the man in armor turns back around when he doesn't hear the princess following after him. ghost lets out a sigh, as he hears her sniffle. with couple of steps, he's standing in front of her.

"why do you cry, princess?" he mutters, reaching up and gently holding her cheek in his scarred hand.

"i hate him..." it's a silent whisper, lost to the silence of the cold castle. her face twists as she fights against more tears.

"walls have ears, and they will twist your words into treason," ghost says firmly, shutting the girl up before she can be her own doom. his thumb run over the bottom of her eye, wiping up the tears that spill. ghost sighs and leans down, pressing a small kiss between her eyebrows.

"sweet princess, you need to return to the feast... i cannot take you away tonight," he whispers huskily.

"take me away...?" she repeats, even quieter, her brows knitted in confusion.

"if i killed him, i could claim you for myself," ghost murmurs. he looks down at her, letting the princess ingest his words.

her eyes are wide in shock. kill? for her? that is the most romantic thing she's ever heard. is this what courting is? if so, then she only wants more of it. she can't tell if he's mocking her, but there's something in his voice that makes her stomach stir with excitement. the wine in his breath makes her consider for a moment that he's messing with her, but she also wants to enjoy the attention.

"h-how would you take his life?" the girl straightens her back, trying to sound more confident.

"i would slit his throat, as easy as slicing a warm pie," ghost says it as if it's nothing, his running along her cheek. "i could take you far away, we would live in a house by the sea and you could wear pretty dresses for only me to see."

her breath hitches, feeling that flutter in her stomach. jesus christ. her hands clutch onto her cute little dress as she squeezes her thighs together. now she regrets giving her virginity to that twig, when a man like this could've had it, a man who truly deserves her purity.

"now be a smart girl and return to the feast." ghost murmurs and turns to walk back to the feast.

what?

she quickly reaches forward, desperately clinging onto the man's arm, to keep him there. if she let's go now, he might just come across a wench or two and change his mind. "b-but you said that-!" she stammers, utterly confused by the change in the air. there's no one there for her. no one who she's welcome to. her heart aches. she thought that this prince wanted her. what did she do wrong? ghost scoffs, gently prying the girls hands off his forearm. "you think it’ll be like a story, a hero slaying the villain and sweeping the princess off her feet. but this is real life," his tone is suddenly colder, more detached. “you’re chasing something that will never be yours.”

her hands stay in the air for a moment when he pulls away from her, reluctant to let go. his words sting, dig in deep and leave a pit for her to collapse in. her hands fall down and settle over her stomach as she fidgets with them.

she opens her mouth to say something, but the words escape her. it all changed so fast. some wench must've bewitched him, taken him from her. why can't she have anything, not even a man who wants her?

he looks at her again, his gaze intense, unflinching. his expression hardens, though there’s still a part of him that almost looks regretful. and then, he just walks away.

the princess can do nothing else than stand in place and hold back tears. she's alone again. the moonlight makes her shaking hands look blue. did she misunderstand? did she wrongly assume the meaning of his words? or was she just so naive?

it hurts to think, and the thoughts themselves hurt even more. it'd better if she just went to bed. ------------------------------------

inspired by the fact that i'm ugly and never had a boyfriend