#good hc anon

[knickknacksandallthat]

need you to know that @ your last ask i immediately imagined kevin and jeremy meeting at their starting position after an exciting play, kevin leaning down to do a gentle helmet tap with jeremy as a "good job babe" gesture

omg anon YES 😍 - he can't help it, ESP when they're all out on the court together. (Ahem...and crushing his former teams into dust.) He's gotta let his boys know just how good they are. Gentle helmet tap for the win 🙌

(And can we hc Jeremy smacking his butt back? bc 100% happened, no doubt 🍑)

[lazylittledragon]

Feel free to ignore if it doesn't match your HCs BUT since you draw a lot of dad astarion/gale etc I thought you'd appreciate the midwife Halsin headcanon that goes around a lot!

I'm just getting cuteness aggression imagining him being there for Dorian/Astarion's kid :')

nO WAIT THIS IS SO CUTE???? that fits him so well aaa :OOO

idk if cyra would want him hanging around but dorian is pretty crunchy and would probably appreciate him adkfjf

[fatuismooches]

I feel like fragile!reader would be genuinely upset with how literally none of the segments spend time with them. Or even try to make time with them. Especially Prime. Like, there's like 20+ of them, not even 1 can spend at least 15 minutes with them? Me, personally, I wouldn't leave my lover to fend off with themselves after 400+ years of silence. Maybe that's just me though...

Oh fragile reader would absolutely be crushed. In the beginning, you would be delighted by all the attention you got, considering you just woke up. But as time goes by, it slowly changes. Obviously, you know that the segments have a lot of work to do, and you don't expect them to spend hours with you, but there are days you struggle to even get ten minutes of attention. Yes, you know they're busy, their research is incredibly engrossing, they have a lot on their plate, but you were their lover. The one who loved them above anything else, and the one they loved more than anything too, well, supposedly.

Their actions just don't show it sometimes, and it hurts you. You're confined to your body, to the lab, you're not like them. Sure, you have some things to keep you occupied, but you aren't free to do what you want, because you literally can't. That's why their company is so desperately important to you, but it seems like you're cursed enough to not even receive that. Prime has no place to talk because he does the same thing as them at times. You love them so, so much, and you do acknowledge how much work they have but... it sincerely gets to you and yet they seem not to understand. Yeah, you love burying yourself into one of your interests, but you need interaction from time to time, something that's sorely different from Dottore.

The only segment that always has time for you is Zandy of course, and while you love him dearly, you just wish you could spend some more time with one of your lovers. I imagine you start finding a lot of solace in your Harbinger friends, like Bina, Pantalone, and Childe, because for some reason despite how busy they are too, whenever they come over, they always make an effort to speak with you. Columbina often visits solely for you. You tell her all about your feelings and she comforts you, without interrupting or brushing you off. The segments would start getting annoyed by how happy you are around them, until you snap that they actually make time for you unlike them (argument time.)

You don't expect Dottore or the segments to be perfect lovers. You just expect them to try, because Tsaritsa knows how much you've tried for them.

(This would make for a really good angst fic, but I don't think I have the heart to write it.)

[manofthepipis]

Can we take a look at Spamton w/o glasses if possible?? I suppose his eyes are in a bad condition since they were burnt out from seeing [[heaven]] (if I remember correctly), but still I want to check them out

hes defensive about those things

[luminique]

is clingy Lighter one of your thoughts? Bc god- imagine him being the little spoon, all curled up and nuzzling in your neck akdhxvedidbwysvsfs-

pepper his face with kisses and cuddle him omfg-❤️✨😭🛐

(Currently saving up to pull for him after having extra pulls after getting Burnice)

i mention cuddling with lighter quite often but in terms of clingy, i definitely think that he can be in private.

a little self indulgent here but i believe lighter to be the kind who’d question you when you’re getting up from the cuddles. whether it’s to make breakfast, get dressed, go run an errand or just use the restroom, he would hold you a little tighter to try and stop you from getting up.

all you can do is just accept your fate. it’s like when a cat lays on top of you and now you can’t move until it gets off. i mean, you wouldn’t say no to him, right? he’s breathing in your scent and feeling your skin against his, he makes it seem like it’s the first time you both have cuddled each other. if both of you end up falling asleep cuddling, you will both definitely end up waking up cuddling.

when it comes to kisses, he loves every kind as long as it’s from you. long and messy kisses, short and sweet kisses, he will always ask for more. kisses and cuddling is like the perfect duo to him, he believes that nothing could be better than that.

[sekai-headcanoning]

Random hcs in no particular order:

- Everyone in wxs is autistic

- Bpd Shinonomes

- Saki uses a cane or a different mobility aid (depending on how bad) on flare up days, has POTS, used a wheelchair for awhile after getting out of the hospital due to being weak physically

- Mafuyu has low empathy

- Toya has arfid and struggles with reading faces/body language and tones pretty badly (autism)

- Trans Ena and Akito: they switched names and helped each other with shopping for new clothes

- Bigender Tsukasa, uses any pronouns, trying to grow out hair too

- Kohane likes to do An’s nails and eventually started doing Toya and Akitos

- Emu has high empathy, which leaves her overwhelmed sometimes

- Akito is in denial about having adhd

- Agender Toya, doesnt care much abt his gender and doesnt care how ppl see or refer to him, likes long skirts

(🪼 for any if u would like)

-🦇

Take one look at that group of clowns and tell me their neurons aren’t at least a little divergent.

HEAVY believer of this one, always one of the first things I mention when someone asks me about my hcs

I drew Saki with crutches once and I think it gave me a whole new perspective. I love seeing people interpret her with mobility aids, she would absolutely put stickers on them when she can

YES. This one feels canon

Touya has expressed that he tends to struggle with tone and understanding people, and his parents haven’t thought at least ONCE that maybe “hey, maybe our kids neurons are divergent”

I see this a lot with the Tenma’s, I’m so glad to see that it has spread to the Shinonomes (<- heavy transman Akito headcanoner)

Tsukasa is my favorite gender. I genuinely struggle with settling on a gender hc for Kasa because that creature is so girl yet so boy. You take one look at him and you’re flash banged with gender. LONG HAIRED TSUKASA. I always draw him with long hair, you get it

THIS IS SO CUTE. They all have matching nails. I’ve always imagined Kohane to have really nice nails for some reason

OH I LOVE THIS. Ive always seen her as the type of person to be like “If you cry, I’ll cry!” and I like the thought of it leaving her overwhelmed. Because, obviously she’s gonna have her limits with how much emotions she goes through in a day. Which is a lot.

ADHD Akito is canon he came to me in a vision and whispered it in my ear

Gender lacking Touya truthers, we rejoice🔥 (<- Nonbinary Touya liker here) AND THE SKIRTS. OH MY/pos

[albaricomics]

So, I was looking at your commission artwork of Francis in WW2, AND I REALIZED SOMETHING.

Being in a situation like THIS (Idk what that D.D.D. agent is holding, but it looks enough like a gun to me) WOULD BE ESPECIALLY HARD FOR HIM And any of the other male neighbors who might've gotten drafted, BECAUSE IMAGINE HAVING WAR PTSD/TRAUMA AND HAVING A GUN POINTED IN YOUR FACE. He can't escape the war trauma even after the war bc of the Doppleganger outbreak. There are probably triggers everywhere (Weapons, alarms, etc) bc of the D.D.D. (Bro can't catch a break anywhere, he has trauma in every part of his life, no wonder why he has that shellshocked stare...)

Idk, just a thought, and I wanted to ramble here bc your input is always ✨️ delicious ✨️

😭😭😭😭😭 AAAAAOUUFGF NOOOO

If what I shared today wasn't enough to make us cry... Oh no

I just know the DDD are awful, soulless, they don't care for anyone's age or trauma, they're just there to eliminate what they're told to...

[lumi-cherries]

do you have any rei boob hcs... i like to think she has stretch marks from them growing kind of quickly (projecting) i like to think she was flat chested at first but then they seemed to grow overnight LOL

STRETCH MARKS.......................................... HOLY SHIT. ANON. YOUR MIND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS SO GOOD this will officially be my hc as well thank u

[bberetd]

Since you are doing psychology, what do you think the attachment styles are of Daisy and Luigi?

I feel like it would start out as anxious, but then evolve into secure. The anxious obviously comes mostly from Luigi’s side, generally having a hard time believing that Daisy actually wants to be with him and not just out of pity.

He’s never one to ask for things (outwardly), but there’s a certain amount of affection that Daisy should give him in a day to that’ll convince himself that she doesn’t actually hate him (over-thinker Weegee my beloved).

I don’t see him becoming super dependent or clingy on her; if anything it’s the opposite! He wants to be close to her, but at the same time he doesn’t want to intrude on her “Princess bubble.” When their friendship was new and fresh, he practically kept her at arm’s length to avoid such a notion; meanwhile she’d been trying to give him subtle queues to do otherwise. Of course, one day she’d gently confront his about this.

Being in a healthy relationship with a twin all his life helped Luigi have some sense of self-worth, even if at times you had to shake it out of him. I like to think being in a relationship with Daisy helped him further his confidence in his own skin and eventually, get it into his mind that she isn’t going anywhere.

[gilverrwrites]

Hellooo, I hope ur doing well ;) Can I request Bruce Wayne/Batman for the headcanon meme ? I know this is a lot and I apologise in advance lol, but I’m genuinely so interested about your takes on Bruce 🫶🏼 Hi anon, I hope you don't mind but I'm posting this as a text post so I can add a read more to it. Thank you so much for the ask, I'm honored that you're curious my HCs. Again thank you, and have a super rest of your day! 💖💖💖

• what religion are they? how do they practice? Canonically, I believe he was raised catholic, and identifies as an atheist because if there was an all knowing God, why would he let Gotham exist as it is?

But I’ve always had trouble rationalising religion in comics. I’m also an atheist but if I’d met/knew Gods literally walked the Earth (Zeus for example) I would be having a crisis of faith. Pretty sure Superman once met the Christian God? Bruce clearly has a stronger sense of belief than I.  

So, practice wise; Growing up would be church on Sundays, grace before dinner. Nightly prayers. Once his parents had passed, while Bruce would be questioning his faith, I don’t think Alfred would have enforced such things if Bruce didn’t want to continue practicing.

• what holidays do they decorate for? For the longest time he didn’t decorate for any. Alfred decorated at least for Christmas every year, but Bruce stopped noticing once he became Batman.

It wasn’t until a young Dick mentioned he’d never been trick or treating that Bruce started to put the effort in. That year Dick had the best Robin Hood costume, Bruce dressed as Little John, and Alfred as Friar Tuck. Not only did Dick get to go trick or treating, but Bruce and Alfred decked out the front yard for any local kids too.

When thanksgiving rolled around, Alfred was delighted that Bruce seemed to care about it again, having gone out to buy new centre pieces. And that year was the first year since he was child that Bruce helped put up the Christmas decorations.

Every year he tried to one up the last, however, his presence on the day dwindles until Dick goes off to college and Bruce’s motivation to care about such frivolous things while Gotham needs him is gone. But this exact process repeats with every adopted child until there’s always somebody home, be they young and living with him or old and visiting.

• what clubs / sports were they involved in as a child / teenager When he dropped out of school, that also meant quitting any clubs and sports. The lack of team sports is probably a contributing factor to his inability to communicate well with others outside of strategy. However, prior to that he was a Cub Scout, as well as tennis and fencing (fuckin’ Rich kids).

Post homeschool (much like in the Gotham TV show) Alfred ensured Bruce was still doing outdoorsy activities; camping, hiking, learning survival skills. As well as Bruce insisting on multiple forms of combat training. He continued fencing.

• do they take any medications? No. That’s not to say he shouldn’t be on medication, he just doesn’t. Hard to speak to a professional when you can only tell them half of your life.

He does however take daily vitamins along with his protein, creatine etc. If he’s not taking supplements, Alfred is sneaking them into his food. He eats nothing but protein, gotta make sure he’s getting his nutrients somewhere.

• do they watch the olympics? do they prefer summer or winter Rarely has the time. But if and when he does sit down to watch I’d say his preferred watches are; tennis, fencing, boxing, and judo. Sports that mean something to him. For that reason he also prefers the summer games over winter.

• what are they like when they're sick? Nightmare. Alfred is a saint for putting up with it, honestly. That WFA comic where he’s trying desperately to get back to work whilest injured is 100% accurate to my imaginings. Even when he’s too sick to move, he’s still thinking up ways he can sneak out of bed, wondering if he should build a batlaptop for these sorts of occasions.

Crime is never sick; therefore Batman can’t be sick!

• what do they usually buy in a gift shop? It varies from place to place but typically:

Fridge magnet and/or some other small kitchen accessories for Alfred.

Stationary for Damian.

Preferably a cola drink, but if not a snack for Tim. He’s specifically looking for decorative packaging that can be saved. [See this Tim HC]

Pin badges for Babs.

Postcards for Dick.

An oversized hoodie for Cass. Black only.

An oversized hoodie for Steph. Tacky only.

Keying for Jason.

Puzzles or decorative decks of playing cards. (Duke is into tabletop card games, Bruce thinks they’re the same thing)

A coffee mug for himself.

• what color was their childhood bedroom? Blue, and it’s still blue but a lot of the furniture has changed. Can’t sleep in a kids bed forever.

Most of the new furniture is sleek, modern looking and black. He likes the gothic style, but this is where he often brings his dates/hook up, and the minimalist style suits his image better.

The old bed, desk, toy box etc haven’t been thrown out or anything, they’ve been used by most of his family as they’ve grown up and are currently in Damian’s room. Everyone who has used the desk (B included) has carved their their initials on the underside of it.

• what does a typical day off work look like for them? A day off? What’s that? Seriously, even if he’s not being Batman, he’s being Brucie, Mr Wayne, Matches, or Dad or even just working out.

On the rare, rare, rare occasions he’s not doing any of those things, the first thing he does is sleep in. He probably needs to sleep for 5 days straight, but he’ll only sleep until 10/11ish.

By now he’s missed breakfast (which is served from 8-9), so he’s latching onto the first person to pick up the phone and taking them out for brunch. By now he’s already itching to get back in the cave, and to thwart this he forces himself to stay in the city; go to a museum, walk in that park, visit a friend, go shopping for (another) new watch, anything but return home.

Will surprise Damian by picking him up from school. Damian, as he gets older externally complains and cringes more and more, but he loves it.

When they get home, he becomes a nuisance until dinner, offering help to everyone with anything to distract himself. It’s appreciated but nobody needs help with homework or housework.

After dinner is the home stretch, and the easiest part. He gathers as many people as he can in the family room for films or games, and by the time they’re done it’s bedtime.

He’s in the batcave at midnight.

• how many pillows do they sleep with? One. He has at least ten in the bed, every night she shifts all but his favourite to the floor, and every morning Alfred makes the bed and puts them all back and arranges them perfectly.

• what's their least favorite chore? He rarely does chores, but Alfred must have time off. The first time he took a week off since Bruce became Batman was the first time he realised the impracticality of having a CAVE! So much sweeping and dusting and everything smells damp, he has no idea how Alfred keeps it liveable because after 2 days Bruce was overwhelmed and ready to risk it all by moving everything upstairs.

• how often do they do their laundry? He doesn’t. If Alfred isn’t available, he’s been specifically instructed to take anything that needs cleaning to the dry cleaners. Not because he’s incapable of doing laundry, he’s not completely inept at doing normal things. He just thinks he can do it better. Which often results in the washer-dryer being ‘upgraded’ in ways that nobody ever needs, and Alfred hates it.

• what is their favorite wine / liquor? Prefers wine to spirits, specifically red. Or better yet, champagne.

When he does drink spirits he leans towards brandy, the same kind that his mother would drink.

• what is their favorite scent of candle? Citrusy, fresh scents. Something strong that pierced the musty smell of the Batcave or the damp of the city. Sage & citrus, lemon lime, maybe even mint cucumber.

• what's their guilty pleasure tv show? Again, he rarely watches TV. But I think at least once while on ordered bed rest he ‘accidentally’ watched every season of the Kardashian’s. He 'hated' every second.

He’s assigned all of his children a Kardashian and keeps up to date with every episode, just as a person who hates the show would do. He will never tell anyone else.

Tim knows. Bruce knows that Tim knows but they’ve never discussed it. Tim has never seen a single episode, but he’s seen memes, and will quote them in front of people to make Bruce sweat.

• have they ever done volunteer work? Bruce is a known philanthropist. The Wayne Foundation is a non-profit which primary cause is funding charities, hospitals, medical research, urban renewal, etc.

He puts a lot of money into The Wayne Hospital (or whatever its called dependant on the media). He also funds a lot of youth centres, and rehabilitation centres.

But as for actual hands-on charity work, no. It anything it would cause more harm than good.

Could you imagine being homeless, starving, at your lowest, and when you arrive there’s fucking media vans and photographers everywhere, cataloguing your worst? And then inside, the herald prince of the city that has screwed you over, billionaire Brucie Wayne is serving you ladles of dirt-cheap slop? You'd be mortified, pissed.

• do they listen to music or watch tv more often? Definitely music. TV is time consuming; music is easier to multi-task. I don't think he listens to much of anything other than classical and meditative music. Maybe some kind of classic rock workout playlist on Spotify that Babs occasionally hacks into and keeps adding back-to-back plays of Black Betty. Bruce gets so into his workouts that he doesn't notice until one day he realises he's done a 2-hour cardio session and Black Betty has been playing the entire time.

• do they watch the superbowl even if they aren't into football? Not into football and barely has the time. However, when it's football season, the men (and some women) in his social circles go crazy for it, so he keeps up with the matches through news reports and tries to watch the final, Batman missions permitting.

(Psst. I'm from the UK and know nothing about American football. I presume the Superbowl is preceded by a series of tournament matches like euro football (soccer) is?)

• do they collect anything? Children

Watches, and cars. Later in life, he's fixed on these things a lot more, because he's been collecting them for so long. But they started purely as a way to fit in with his high society peers. To make him appear more normal.

Imagine that scene in American Psycho where they're comparing busisness cards, but it's Gotham’s richest competing over who has the latest watch, the nicest vintage car etc. Now that he knows what he likes he's more focused in on those; he like vintage European watches and American cars.

I also love the idea that Dick once bought him an ugly novelty tie (completely earnestly) on like his second Christmas at the Manor, and that quickly became a tradition. Every year he gets a new tie, the most hideous the kids can find, and the following year, Bruce wears it during Christmas dinner.

• what hill are they willing to die on? Mint is the superior dessert flavour, milkshakes, ice cream, Oreos, coffee syrups. Dark chocolate and mint = peak.

[whaliiwatching]

How do you think hurt/comfort noirpunk would go?

they deal with blegh days by distracting each other. crafts that require engagement like block print carving or making jewelry or other diy stuff, aimless conversation with the goal of making each other laugh.

bad days mean closing the blinds. less engaging activities like watching movies, sewing, lots of reassuring touch and just.. being there for each other. hobie strikes me as someone who prefers to talk—fuck suppressing your emotions until they rot—so he can air it all out, and it won’t fester inside him. he doesn’t like to be alone when he’s hurting, and loves staying in contact to help ground him. if he goes to make tea, noir will follow him and hold his hand as he goes about it. imo hobie is also more prone to crying; crying feels damn good, and noir’s sweater never minds the tears.

i think noir prefers to work through hurt internally, sitting with the emotion bc yknow, every emotion is part of living and just bc despair/anger/grief hurt doesn’t mean they’re Evil. he gets quiet, sometimes likes to be alone, but more often prefers to curl up with hobie, listening to him murmur reassurances (breathe, one step at a time, i will always be here, i love you), and stay like that until the world feels manageable again. he doesn’t cry often, but his voice does break, and he hides his face. usually in hobie’s hair or the crook of his neck. it helps remind him he’s not alone anymore.

[pjsk-headcanons]

HI ITS GLOBE ANON...SHINONOMES AHHHH (apologies for dying lol kind of wanted to get more art sided stuff done (i didnt))

shinonomes: distant

-basically, it was around middle school ena time when akito had that little line between "real" and "fake" start to blur

-ena knew he hated soccer but couldn't bring herself to say it to him. felt really guilty about it because after a while, she couldn't even look him in the eyes

-mental state was already pretty bad because of this, and then she got "the talk" from her teacher and then her dad confronted her too. she ended up throwing her art supplies out

-akito found out why she was having such a hard time, but he was already so deep into the spiral that the only thing he could do was avoid her

-they ended up just falling apart. they're so distant that they don't see each other at all. no phone numbers, just occasional notes on a counter. no birthday gifts

-can you tell they are my favourites (they are the ones on my display profile....hhhh)

summer festival, rekindled flames - post 1st anni

character boost: ena (focus), haruka, airi, akito, stage miku

-SUMMER FESTIVAL HAHAHA. pretty sure ena is not gonna have a good time. fashion and all

- ena didn't call akito to get her more comfortable shoes this time, who knew if she did what would happen next

-stage miku canonically likes food, like alot, so she is looking around with ena and admiring food

-airi and haruka meet in this one :D airi is preforming a small stand-up play, haruka is preforming a solo show

-akito simply admires the shows. ena sees him once and freaks out

-some enairi (platonic??) bonding maybe. a little bit of shinonome sibling backstory reveal

animal care? kamiyama clubfest! - post 2nd anni

character boost: rui (focus), akito, ena, nene, theater len

-literally what it sounds like i mean. reads i. mean text. i mean looks like i mea

-kamiyama is having a lil festival where clubs hold a lil stand for people to try out something related to the club so people join!!!

-since this is pre-3rd anni, the list goes like this

akito "helps out at various sports clubs"

ena doesn't have one. you gotta be kidding me

nene has film

rui has greening (for anyone who doesn't know, its like making more environmentally friendly stuff)

-rui gets kicked out of hosting the stand (everyone fears he will do something funny) and decides to look around

-animal care happens. seperate timing but this is probably where we learn akito's cynophobia

-meets ena (wanted to look around), akito, and nene seperately. theater len almost gets caught in open looking at a short film but nene gets him to hide right before akito pops up

-silly event, with some sibling mentions

blurry snapshots from that yesteryear - pre 4th anni

character boost: akito (focus), ena, an, minori, city MEIKO

-i love the word yesteryear. it doesn't even make sense (according to the oxford dictionary) in this occasion but i had to use it at some point ok

-akito goes to weekend garage and meets minori and an. minori mentions there being a live concert for stage○•showtime (yapping about how cool shizuku is)

-thinks huh. maybe i should go watch

-thinks for a bit too long in front of the two. an knows its normal behaviour and minori freaks out, talks to city MEIKO

-MEIKO says to keep an eye on him. if its that worrying

-day of preformance. minori fangirling and akito *DROPS FULL SHINONOMES FLASHBACK*

-ena spots him. oh no!!! gotta scram

-event story ends with ena coming home and her spotting a lil gift on the counter. she smiles a bit at it

sibling trust ranks are next + the asks in that one ask from a long time ago (sorry again. school sucks but there is a break soon so more content hopefully)

AAÀAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA have a great day mod!

🌐 anon

[mappingthesky]

short sequel to the angst prompt please! the moment jane finally says “i love you”

after ' i know baby, no attachment', i think our girls deserve a lil sweetness, yes? here's this <3

fuck it, i love you

“Thank you,” Nymphia says when Jane starts the car. “For doing that with me.”

Jane looks over to the passenger seat. They’re just leaving Nymphia’s friend’s apartment, and the sun is just setting, and there are so many things Jane loves about Nymphia.

She loves how the golden hour is hitting her face, turning the brown of her eyes blood orange and beautiful. She loves what she finds there - that knowing glimmer in Nymphia’s gaze, the one that says so much more than words can, a secret language just for them to know. She loves how patient Nymphia is with her, even when Jane doesn’t deserve it. She loves that Nymphia has been willing to give her a chance, that she trusts Jane enough to let her hold her heart. She loves that Nymphia makes scary things feel less so, like meeting your girlfriend’s friends when you’re the last person who should ever be brought home to meet anyone. Jane loves that Nymphia wanted to bring her anyways. That she made it so easy. 

“They like you.” Nymphia’s smile reaches her eyes. Another thing Jane loves. “I can tell.”

“Yeah?” Jane asks. She loves that Nymphia is so obviously adored, that her friends spent the last two hours interrogating Jane thoroughly, loves them for caring so much. “I like them too.” Jane smiles, takes Nymphia’s hand as she drives.

“I’m glad you came with me,” Nymphia chews on her cheek. She’s speaking softly, tenderly, and Jane knows she means it. “I, um. I know it was a big step. For you. So thank you.”

 “You don’t need to thank me.” Jane brings Nymphia’s hand to her mouth, kisses her knuckles. “I’m glad I did too.”

Summer in the city is killer. The sun has just set and the streets have not yet cooled, and the breeze from the passenger’s side is just barely a relief. Jane would turn the air on, but Nymphia is leaning out the open window, and it's such a beautiful moment that she doesn’t have the heart to end it. She’s too busy, anyways, noticing more things she loves. She loves Nymphia’s laugh; loud and twinkling and just for Jane, like everything she says is actually that funny. How she throws her head back and her eyes squeeze shut, full lips pulled over bright, beaming teeth, how she laughs and somehow Jane is laughing too. She loves how touchy Nymphia is, how she’s always finding her way back to Jane even when they’re inches apart - locking their pinkies together, tracing her jawline, still holding her hand while she floats the other through the open window. The wind flutters through Nymphia’s hair, and Jane can smell her perfume. She loves that too.

They pull up to a red light and the slowing of the car reduces the breeze to nothingness. Nymphia whines, mumbles something about the heat. Jane loves that she doesn’t want any of it to end - not this car ride, not this perfect night, not her and Nymphia. She looks at her and knows she needs this to last longer, much longer.

“Want ice cream?”

Nymphia turns, beams. Jane loves this too - making Nymphia happy. She likes to think she could be good at it. She wants to be. 

Nymphia is giggling around a spoonful of strawberry ice cream. They’re sharing a banana split on a bench beside the ice cream shop, sitting criss-cross applesauce across from one another, bathed in the glow of the streetlamp overhead. Jane loves Nymphia’s insatiable sweet tooth, which sends them in search of bubble tea or strawberry shortcake or malted milkshakes at odd hours of the night. Jane loves that these escapades are becoming something like a routine for them, that Nymphia has a way of turning everything into an adventure. Jane loves how Nymphia fills up her days. These hours didn’t feel empty before, but Jane never wants them back to herself ever again. It’s much better this way.

Jane watches Nymphia dip back into the sundae, spoonfuls of strawberry sauce and whipped cream and peanuts. The same side, over and over.

“You’re not eating the pineapple.”

Nymphia answers plainly, like it's obvious. “Yeah. Cuz’ you like the pineapple the best.”

It’s nothing really. It's just an observation, but there’s something about it that leaves Jane a little awe-struck, because Nymphia is absolutely right about pineapple being Jane’s favorite, and Jane has never mentioned it once. Nymphia just knows, because Nymphia pays attention, even to the things Jane doesn’t say. Jane loves that this is what it comes to; she loves that someone cares this much about her, and she loves that that someone is Nymphia. More than anything, Jane loves the thing that shines through every one of Nymphia’s actions, a bright and undoubtable glow - that she loves Jane, loves her like it's easy for her to do.

“What?” Nymphia tilts her head, eyes glittering, sucking on the plastic spoon. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

Jane smiles. It comes out easily, because it’s meant to. “I just love you.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and Nymphia’s eyes go wide. Everything is quiet for a second. Nymphia’s spoon floats, forgotten. 

“Jane” she says. It’s almost a whimper, Nymphia’s voice strained with feeling. Her eyes are starry with what could be tears but aren’t yet, and Jane is suddenly a bit nervous.

“I mean it,” Jane goes a bit concerned in the eyes, searching Nymphia for any indicator of where she might’ve misstepped. “You know that, don't you?”

“I know,” Nymphia sputters, laughing and sending a meteor shower of happy tears streaking down her cheeks. She smiles and it’s like the sun is setting all over again, beaming bright and golden and warm at the edge of a perfect night. “I know you mean it. That’s why I’m so..” she waves her hands, gesturing at some emotional grandeur she can’t name. It’s not just her; there aren’t words for feelings this big. 

She finally lands on, “Happy.” It’s nowhere near close to the enormity of the feeling, but it’ll do. “I’m so happy,” Nymphia repeats, this gleaming smile on her face like she’s lit from within. It sort of makes Jane want to cry too. 

“Me too,” Jane says, and it's still nowhere near enough, and it doesn't matter because they both know. “I’ve never been this happy.”

And then Nymphia is cupping Jane’s face in the glow of the streetlight and kissing her, every word on the tip of her tongue more tangible in this kiss than they ever could be out loud. Jane just barely pulls away, just enough to make room for words:

“Was it worth the wait?”

“Shut up,” Nymphia says, already pulling her back for more. Later, more breathlessly, “you’re worth every wait.”

[dipplinduo]

I like to imagine Drayton straight up cries when Kieran admits to seeing him as an older brother. Kieran just happened to be feeling emotional that day so it all just kinda came out and Drayton is so stunned but also so touched tears just well up in his eyes.

And he silently vows to protect the emo onion looking gremlin with his whole life

....HEY ANON.

HEY ANON CAN I UTILIZE THIS IDEA IN MY WRITING??? BECAUSE OH MY GOD????

[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

[mania-sama]

also!! same anon. any kevneil hcs? 👀 what do u think there relationship would be like?

thanks for sending in another ask!!! i love answering!!!!

I have to really think about this because it's been a while since I've read the books. I needed to refresh my brain a bit!

Since they got together, everyone thinks that they'd push each other to unhealthy heights of Exy obsession. But, that's not the case. Slowly, they are able to coax more interests than Exy out of each other.

With Kevin, it's a lot easier. Neil already knows of Kevin's attempts at having other interests, despite having Exy shoved down his throat since he could talk. So, when the time comes, Neil encourages Kevin to spend time with the things that bring him joy. Such as watching the newest documentary about Ancient Egypt on the History Channel instead of a rerun of a UPenn Exy game, or attending his first Ren Faire dressed to the nines so nobody would recognize him.

Neil tries, too, of course. He picks up 'hobbies' at Kevin's subtle proding, but they always end up as competitions to see who can learn them quicker or better. Instead of being hobbies, they just end up as skills in his set. They learn how to knit together, and Neil is a thousand times better since his hand was never broken; his fingers are more nimble and move at a faster sustainable pace. Kevin sulks at this, obviously. So, when they learn chess, Kevin ensures he always has two wins over Neil.

Exy is still Neil's primary focus, his lifeblood. It's Kevin's, too, but Kevin allows himself a little more freedom. Neil doesn't find as much fun in Renaissance Faires or tours of Native American landscapes as Kevin does, but whatever makes Kevin happy makes Neil happy.

They argue very little at home. Whatever steam they have, they settle it on the Court, either in private sessions or in actual games. They do not hold back. When Neil makes a too-wide pass, Kevin shouts, "Josten! Fix your fucking aim or get off the court!" because he remembers that Neil sucks at putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Likewise, Neil bites back with, "Maybe I wouldn't have done that if you'd get off my ass every once in a while!" because Kevin is always insisting that Neil never does his chores correctly, and perhaps it pisses him off a little.

But, if anything happens to them on the Court, nothing else matters. It could be a good thing; perhaps Kevin made the game-saving goal, or Neil intercepted an important pass. They'll bump shoulders or, if it's appropriate timing, lift each other into the sweetest victory hug. It could be bad. It could be that Kevin's ankle rolls with a sickening crack. Neil drops his racket from whatever corner of the court he's in and rushes to Kevin like his heels are on fire. He pushes everyone away to pull Kevin into his arms, cradling his face as Kevin breaks down, memories of his broken hand crashing in on him. He whispers to Neil, the only person who could truly understand his situation and the only one willing to comfort him, that he's never going to play again. It's all over, he says, over and over again.

Neil tells him it's not true. It's a sprained ankle; it heals in six weeks. Kevin had a right to panic since their lives were reliant on their ability to play Exy, but Neil stayed right by his side the entire time. He shields Kevin from the press, having little patience for their prying questions. He spits out words that he knows Kevin would be horrified by (and so would the US Exy National PR Team). He sits down with Moriyama and explains the injuries and healing time. Moriyama leaves Kevin alone. Neil never lets Kevin get too far into his own head, and at the end of it all, Kevin thanks him in his own way.

Neil is on the receiving end of a lot of things; he finds brand-new running shoes waiting for him on the kitchen counter. There are his favorite protein bars ever from Germany stacked to the brim in the pantry. Kevin tells him, nonchalantly, that they have first-class tickets to watch the best professional Japanese team play in person in a month. It's hard for Kevin to say specific words, but Neil doesn't need them to understand.

But, sometimes, they do come out. At the end of their morning run on a rainy Tuesday, Kevin turns to Neil and says "I love you." Because perhaps that's when he needs to say it - when it's all clogged in his chest and nobody expects him to say it, least of all himself. And Neil will return the affection that night when the sun has set and the fear of nightmares has nestled into his skull. He fears that he has made a mistake letting Kevin so close to his heart, close enough that someone can hurt Neil by taking Kevin away. He turns to Kevin, grabs the nape of his neck, and says "I love you, too."

Because he knows that his fears are inane. That having someone to take care of his heart rather than letting it rot in its bone cage is the best decision he's ever made.

They sleep wrapped in the other's limbs and body. And when one starts shaking from a nightmare, they don't hesitate to pull each other closer. And that's all they need at the end of their long days. Having someone who will worldlessly, unquestioningly support them is enough.