#hope this is a good answer for you anon!

[canisalbus]

As I sit here tending to a nosebleed I think about how that was the first picture I saw of your characters. His open, almost casual self loathing resonated with me. So much of people with "gross" physical traits seeking love is explored only in metaphor, but here is art that shows it without shame.

Your dogs make me feel like a real human being. Thank you.

.

[skyward-floored]

*shakes can at you*

Sad headcanons? Headcanons? Sad… things?

It’s been such a bad day I need to inflict suffering on my blorbos

SORRY I DIDN'T GET TO THIS SOONER I've been busy and kinda exhausted lately. I hope today was better for you anon :( Here's a few sad headcanons tho! I mostly stuck to lu, I hope you don't mind.

Legend has recurring dreams about being reunited with Marin. Especially during lu, since the faint possibility of him somehow meeting her again during all this time travel stuff is often on his mind. The dreams always feel real. The dreams always hurt.

Twilight has days he just hates getting out of bed. He doesn't want to leave his house. He doesn't want to do his work. This doesn't really work in lu since he's got something driving him, but he still has days where he just goes through the motions and struggles to do much else.

Wild doesn't let anyone do anything to his hair, because the one time he let Wind put a braid into it it felt... eerily familiar. Small hands pulling and weaving gently at his hair, fingers brushing through the strands. He nearly started crying and he doesn't know why. So the hair is off-limits.

Sky talks to the Master Sword sometimes. He tells her about his day and asks her questions even though he knows he won't get a reply. He often does this while he's on watch at night. Time sometimes listens.

Warriors needs his personal space. If you get too close to him unexpectedly you will be getting a knife pulled on you. He didn't used to be like that.

[seijorhi]

Thinking about Kuroo getting arrested for kidnapping. But before they could take him away you heard him say "I'll find you" like a threat, more like a promise 🚨🚨🚨

Hello Rhiii! How are you my love??? Sorry for being silent, life was overwhelming 🥹 I hope life is treating you well tho!! Pinky promise I'll catch up on everything! Sending you all my love 💕💕💕

Pspspsps. Also, may I know where you had your oikawa tattoo done? I might visit Japan next yr (hopefully 🤞) Thank youuu 💓

- 🍮

no see i love this.

you aren't safe just because they carted him off in cuffs, it doesn't end with him in prison. kuroo makes promises and he keeps them. he told you this thing between you was forever.

it might take weeks, months, maybe even a year or two, but one night you'll wake up to a familiar figure looming over you, the cold bite of metal around your wrists keeping you in place.

he wanted to wait til he got you back home, but seeing you like that, spread out for him so pretty and soft, well, how's a man supposed to resist?

—

also, i got the tattoo done at good times ink in osaka. the guys there were super cool and i definitely recommend the studio

[stabbyfoxandrew]

i dont know if you are still doing these but!! id love a kiss on the hip for kandrew :) <3

Kevin Day is not a virgin. He understands sex and most of its mechanics. He's slept with a few people in his life, he's also sampled plenty of porn genres.

But none of that compares to this. To having Andrew's full and complete attention. To having Andrew on his back in his bedroom in Columbia. He's not quite sure how they ended up here. Of course, he understands the logistics of getting to Columbia from Palmetto State.

He knows the route they always take, he knows the right exit, he knows how to find Nicky's house.

How he got to this point he's not sure.

All he knows is Andrew and Neil were planning to come here this weekend for a bit of alone time. Just the two of them, no one else to bother them. That's what Kevin thought at least. Until Neil knocked his shoulder into Kevin's side at practice earlier and told him to pack a bag. When Kevin asked why, Neil merely shrugged. "Andrew said to."

Andrew said to. So Kevin did.

Kevin always does what Andrew says. That's how the three of them happened. Six months ago Andrew told Kevin that Neil wanted to kiss him, Kevin kissed him. Andrew watched them make out then announced that he wanted to kiss Kevin, Kevin kissed him.

And now here they all are, spread across Andrew's bed. Neil is sitting cross-legged against the headboard, wearing only his boxers and a tank top. Kevin has been stripped down to his shorts. And Andrew is fully clothed, except for the jacket he shed upon coming into the house, with his head on Neil's thigh. Kevin is hovering over Andrew, not touching him anywhere below the waist. Never touching him below the waist. Never touching him anywhere Andrew doesn't want him to.

"What am I doing now?" Kevin finally asks. Andrew had pulled Kevin over top of him like this a couple minutes ago and Kevin's been sort of frozen since. Because he's not a virgin, but Andrew makes him feel like one. A pair of hazel eyes stares up at him, seemingly bored. The flush on Andrew's cheeks is the only thing that gives him away.

"Whatever you want."

"That's not how it works—"

"It is now. You've graduated, Day. Touch me," Andrew commands. Kevin's hands twitch against the mattress, but he doesn't move them. Not yet.

"Where?"

"Anywhere." Andrew says, the want in his voice making Kevin's breathing catch. It takes a moment for him to process the word. And when he does, he throws himself off the bed. Andrew just stares after him. "Where are you going?"

Kevin sputters and puts his hands in the air. "You can't just change the rules on me like this."

"What rules?" Neil asks.

"The—" Kevin can't believe the question. "Oh, goddamn it, Neil. You know exactly what I'm talking about! I can't go from nothing to something to everything. Not like this. You have to tell me, Andrew. I don't know what—"

"I just told you what." Andrew says, sitting up a bit to look at him. "Anywhere, anything."

Kevin shakes his head. "No."

"No?"

"I don't want to fuck this up."

"You can't fuck it up."

"But—"

"No buts," Andrew interrupts. Kevin's gaze flicks from Andrew's to Neil's, back and forth. Andrew sighs. "Get the fuck over here, Kevin."

Kevin always does what Andrew says.

He moves to settle back over Andrew, propped up on his hands and knees. Andrew reaches for him and grabs the back of Kevin's neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Kevin gasps against his mouth and hears Neil make an appreciative sound, a little hum of a noise, above them. Suddenly there's a hand pushing into Kevin's hair and he knows it's Neil's. Kevin opens his eyes and looks up to meet Neil's eyes. The idiot smiles down at them and Andrew's eyes are closed, his mouth is hot, and... Kevin groans when Andrew fucks his tongue into his mouth.

Kevin moves to slip one hand under Andrew's head and lowers himself onto him, making Andrew exhale against his mouth. They're both half hard, Kevin ruts his hips against Andrew. An experiment that gets a grunt and a nip to his bottom lip.

"Good?" Kevin asks after pulling away a bit.

"Yes. Keep going."

"I want to take your shirt off." Kevin admits. Andrew's expression barely changes, but it does.

"Then do it." Andrew challenges, letting go of Kevin's neck. It takes both of them but Kevin gets the shirt off and drops it beside them. After thinking about it for half a second, he lightly skims a hand up Andrew's side making him shiver. He thinks it's a good sign, but then Neil's leaning in close to his head.

"Firmer, Kev." He whispers.

A hint. A clue from someone who's got years of experience on him. Kevin grabs it and a handful of Andrew's chest, taking Andrew by surprise.

"Really? Groping me, Day?"

"You said anything, didn't you?" Kevin squeezes Andrew's chest and thumbs at his nipple until it's peaked. Then he dips his head back down to press kisses to Andrew's neck. He knows Andrew likes that. It's safe, familiar, good for both of them. Andrew turns his head to the side, likely so he can look at Neil, but Kevin nips his pulse point and Andrew hisses a breath before grabbing him by the nape again and pulling him up like a mother cat does a kitten.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Andrew blinks at him like he's slow. "No. I want you to get on with it."

"You said anything I wanted." Kevin reminds him. "Or are you taking it back?"

"I'm not taking it back."

"Then let me take my time. Want to make you feel good." Kevin returns to Andrew's neck and Andrew's nails scrape against his back. Kevin assumes in appreciation. He nibbles at Andrew's throat until the goalie's breathing is labored, then finally comes up for air. "Can I bite you?"

There's a little spark in Andrew's eyes. Kevin wants to turn it into flame. After a moment, Andrew says 'yes, anything, do you understand the meaning of the word?' and Kevin shuts him up with teeth in the side of Andrew's neck. He sucks a mark there, one that'll bloom purple pedals, then does it again. Again.

He hears a sharp inhale to the side and glances over to see Neil palm himself through his underwear. Andrew tilts his head back to look at Neil and rolls his eyes. 

"How am I not surprised your neck fetish extends to just watching."

At this point in their relationship, or whatever the fuck this is, Kevin thinks Neil has an Andrew fetish. He doesn't say so.

"Keep going." Neil tells him, almost as affected as Andrew. Kevin obliges, kissing and sucking his way down until he's nearing the waistband of Andrew's jeans. He stops there and raises his head to find Andrew glaring at him.

"Neil," Andrew says. "I think we need to get him an English tutor."

That makes Neil laugh and Kevin rolls his eyes, pinches the inside of Neil's thigh. "You can't fault me for wanting to be sure."

"I can and I will. Keep going or get out."

"Alright then. Instead of asking I'll just tell you. I'm going to take your pants off and then I'm going to blow your mind." Kevin decides, suddenly confident despite only giving a few blowjobs in his life. His decree has Andrew's brows raising.

"That so?"

"Yes." Kevin says firmly, making Neil's lips quirk. He eyes Neil for a moment. "Questions, comments, concerns?"

"None. Go." Neil tells him. So Kevin does. He scoots back and makes quick work of Andrew's remaining clothes, save his armbands. He's never seen what lies beneath them and he doesn't want to, because he has a theory and he doesn't want to test it.

Once Andrew's laid almost bare beneath him, Kevin stares. For a lot longer than he'll ever admit. Finally he dips his head and is thrown off course when he notices a freckle he'd never seen before. He detours past Andrew's cock and presses his lips to his hipbone instead. It's a barely-there thing, just a peck. But it makes Neil inhale sharply.

Kevin looks up at him. "What?"

Andrew's eyes flick up to Neil's, then he rolls them. "He's sentimental."

Kevin isn't sure what that means and it must be obvious from the look on his face. Andrew just shakes his head. "This is not a Q&A, get back to what you were doing."

[lycandrophile]

hey i know your post about your mom was mostly just a personal vent, but i have to say, do you realize that also happens with trans girls and their fathers? literally happened to one of my friends. i’m not trying to downplay your experience or something but i found it strange that you seem to think this is something that only affects transmascs

i have one question for you: so fucking what?

i don’t doubt that trans girls have experienced similar things and yeah, that’s bad too, but what the fuck does that have to do with me and the specific things i’m facing as a result of being a trans man? i never said “look at this thing that happens to ONLY trans men and NO ONE ELSE,” i just said “hey, isn’t this thing that happens to a lot of trans men, including myself, fucked up?”

i would also like to point out that what you’re talking about is in fact a different (albeit similar) thing. the way cis people treat trans people can differ dramatically based on the cis person’s gender because their commitment to gender roles is, like, a major part of problem. the specific way a cis mother reacts to her trans son’s transition is often going to be very distinct, while a cis father will likely respond to his trans daughter in a different but equally distinct way.

what i’m talking about is a very specific kind of ownership and control and self-victimization and total lack of boundaries masquerading as love and care and maternal concern that cis women (i would argue white cis women in particular) project onto their transmasc kids when we do literally anything to our bodies. i’m talking about a phenomenon which is closely related to the way moms often pass eating disorders onto their daughters (or children they view as daughters) because they see a body that looks something like theirs and project all of their insecurities and ideals onto it. i’m talking about a form of parental transphobia and projection that’s specific to the dynamic of a cis mother and her child who was “supposed to” be her daughter.

if you’ve never felt that, you’re not even remotely qualified to tell me shit about how i should be talking about that experience, and if you couldn’t recognize that experience when you read my post, i’m guessing you probably haven’t experienced it because the replies to that post made it very clear to me that anyone who has experienced it firsthand immediately knew exactly what i meant.

like, yeah, cis dads also project onto their trans daughters, but are they likely to have a reaction like running away with actual tears streaming down their face? do you expect them to passive aggressively make comments about how sad their kid’s transition makes them, how it’s such a difficult emotional time, how it’s so tragic because their kid’s body was so beautiful before? do you think their go-to transphobic reaction will be weaponizing their emotions? i’m sure there are some dads out there who are like that, but i think we can agree they’re in the minority because that’s not how cis men are taught to react and parents like this tend to be pretty damn committed to following the gender roles they were taught.

and even if i’m wrong and our experiences are exactly the same, let me reiterate that i never said this was an experience exclusive to trans men. all i said is that it happens to us. that’s just a statement of objective fact.

this started in my life when i got my hair cut short for the first time almost a decade ago and it has not stopped since. i’ve watched my mom cry over me changing my name and respond to being asked if my happiness matters more to her than my name by saying “i care about both”, i’ve watched her melt down in a mall over me getting a suit for prom and give me the silent treatment for days after, i’ve heard her plead with me to stop t because it “looks unnatural” and she’s just so “concerned for my health”, i’ve watched her stare at me post-op and say “my poor baby” over and over like she’s looking at my corpse in a casket. i’ve watched her turn herself into the victim of every single aspect of my transition. i’ve had to live with this for 9 years and spent the early years of the pandemic literally locked in a house with it. this has been my entire adolescent and adult life, and the question of if i’ll have to cut her off someday (and maybe never see my cat or my little cousins who i love more than anything in the world ever again as a result) haunts me every single day.

who the fuck are you to tell me how to talk about that?

[simplydnp]

Why is everyone rooting for it takes two? Tbh its one of my least fav gaming videos. I havent even watched the whole thing bc i get bored… why do yall like it so much??

i am so sorry you feel this way bc it takes two is one of the Best dapg we have ever gotten--revival run or otherwise.

despite dnp's arguably most popular playthrough (undertale) being composed of long videos, dapg doesn't generally post Long videos. so it's sheer length of 52 minutes is a revelation.

combine that with gameplay that both of them get to partake in, and you already know you're in for an excellent ride. again, they don't generally play a lot of 2 player computer games, despite us knowing they spend a Lot of time gaming together, so already it feels special since they both get to play.

the game itself is very dnp-coded, which they even comment on. it's a creative exploration through an emotional and difficult time, and yet, it still has time for humour, teamwork, and enjoyment. this game is a Journey--that's the whole point. and dnp are Very good at navigating it, in the way they do things best: together. (and you can't tell me phil's multiple 'i am your husBaand' didn't rewire your brain)

the grandness of the it takes two video is in their synchronicity. we've got video evidence of them struggling to play co-op games together--they even think it's going to go poorly, as it takes two has a Reputation for being quite difficult, particularly the boss battles. there's a reason it's the marraige counselling game, in a sense. and yet they skated through it. constantly on the same page. it's symphonic.

alongside that it's just a pleasure to sit down and watch. the bants are on point, the vibes are focused but chill, and the length of the video plus the quick turnaround upload speed during gamingmas meant that there wasn't a lot of editing to distract or disrupt the vibe. it's a very raw and unfiltered dnp--it's cozy. there's something about it that's just calming for the soul.

i enjoy getting to feel the Flow of a story, especially alongside the people i'm watching play it. despite the varied environments and quick-paced sections, i never felt lost in regards to the narrative (unlike their Brothers video). but still, there was high-octane moments! space for bants! a little bit of a respite in all the chaos.

maybe i need to say it with my full chest but trust and communication are my kink and no dnp upload demonstrate this better than it takes two. as fond as i am of dan's outbursts and yelling, there is nothing like watching dnp on the same page just absolutely crushing a task. there's a time and a place for both, but i much prefer them both having a good time as opposed to constantly bickering over something (hence my preference for the it takes two gameplay compared to the bread & fred video, though i'm curious your take on that particular video as it's quite the contrast)

almost everyone Knows what we come to dapg for, and it's not usually the gaming. this video takes that and makes the gaming Part of it in the best way possible.

plus, i'm eagerly awaiting them clickbaiting us with another insane title like 'dan and phil get divorced' was. truly excellent no notes.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

I like how unfazed the members are in most of these pics. Esp Hongjoong in the first pic! I remember Yeosang saying Woo skips straight to biting loool.

I bet you never expected that your stash of wooyoung biting others pictures would ever come in handy.

Also totally admire your commitment to digging them out. Respect!

Hope you are having a good weekend so far.

-Bulleo bulleo anon

wooyo biting them is as normal as him breathing so 🤷‍♀️ also hongjoong is unfazed because he is arguable just as much of a biter as woo is 👹 i present photographic evidence your honour 👇

[divorcedwife]

Please do you have any art tutorials, especially on colouring, or brushes I can buy?

i never think to take screenshots during my process so it would be easier to explain, but i do it like this : i sketch in a colored pencil, change it to black when i consider it done enough to start adding colors, and then i choose the dominant tones of the drawing. if i want the background to be colorful, i choose it now! if you choose all your colors against a white background but change it last second, it will change the balance completely. by choosing dominant tones, i mean picking either one color or two colors that contrast, and fill the whole sketch with these tones. for example, if im drawing a princess on a white background and i want the tones to be warm, i might fill her whole form with the same red. then i start picking her skin tone so that it matches that warm red, and it might end up being a tone that would look much too saturated and red on another drawing. but here, it looks harmonious. and if i started from a green base, i'd end up with a very different color. see here : a blonde lady wearing a blue dress, but starting from red & green

it's the same way when i paint with real paint ; i don't mix from scratch, i often reuse my mixes and change them just barely to get to the color i want. so if i paint orange flowers, i will add blue to that mix until it's green enough, and it's a nicer color that will match my orange flowers nicely, way more than if i started from scratch every single time

it's also largely a matter of practicing and training your eye to palettes you like, as unhelpeful as that is. i'd recommend looking at the palettes of artists and art you like, seeing how it's balanced, maybe color picking it for practice and see how that helps you think in colors

for brushes ; i do have a couple special brushes, i mostly use procreate defaults (6b pencil my most beloved) but i do have some from this pack (i think it's the right one?), i use sketchy sarmento all the time and it's really nice

[nekrotiize]

It may be a stupid question, but why/how did t*rfs decided to use aphobia as a recruitment tool? [I in general have a quite, simplistic? view of them (terfs that is) as being very racist, transmisogynistic gender-essentialists, but aphobia is (unsuprising) news to me].

Thank you for anwsering, and I hope you have a good day.

Aphobia is a socially accepted bigotry, and a lot of Aphobic talking points intentionally mirror/recycles Transmisogynistic ones. This is something that's been known and commented upon since, like, 2016. It's a great way to boil the frog. If you normalize one form of bigotry to someone, then pulling them into other forms becomes incredibly easy. Here's a good post full of links and elaboration on this:

The Aphobe-to-Fullblown TERF pipeline is extremely real and has been admitted to by TERFs for years. It's a rare instance where something is not just observable, it's outright confessed to. Learning to be okay with Aphobia teaches you to be okay with other things. Since it recycles Transmisogynistic talking points, the next step is to become Transmisogynistic. Then it's to become Transphobic generally, Sexist generally, Racist generally, Classist generally, so on and so forth.

Bigotry clusters together, because they're all connected by the same emotions and the same language. There is no acceptable form of bigotry. The socially accepted bigotries serve merely as stepping stones to a pipeline of more and more hatred, whether people like it or not.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

AHHHHHH I LOVE your Sanemi angst. It’s SO good and it makes me actually not okay. I adore the way you write it and it feels so… raw

- @ohagi-bites (for some reason tumblr is only letting me submit asks in my first account and not this one so I’m putting the account I want the ask to be submitted in here)

ARGHGHD THANK YOU SO MUCHHH <3 i looove ripping sanemi apart and putting him in a little box called vulnerability

(or in other words: i like making angry and/or emotionally conflicted fictional men turn into what they hoped to never be)

i sound sadistic ngl

sighh tumblr stop being annoying and let the nice person speak

[necrotic-nephilim]

in the tags of that one fab five poly post you mentioned that you are a core four enthusiast and I’d love to hear if you have any Kon headcanons or just any yj headcanons in general, I love those little guys

!!! i love Kon so much, he's one of my fave guys. i actually got into the 90s era of comics to read his solo run, YJ(98), and then i just spiralled from there. i've got lots of headcanons about both Kon and YJ

for Kon specifically, i'm really attached to the headcanon of him and Power Girl being friends. i think the idea of them bonding over imposter syndrome over feeling like Kryptonians who don't neatly fit into the Superfam would be very crunchy. it's my Kara Zor-L stan showing, but i've got a lot of fic ideas where they end up close. similarly: i also think a friendship between Kon and Bizarro could be fun, both being clones of Superman made by Lex.

for a YJ headcanon: i hold FIRMLY to the belief that Bart knew TIm's secret identity before YJ even formed he just. never mentioned it bc no one asked him. the way they meet in Robin Plus Impulse, i see no world where Bart doesn't figure it out. i think it makes for a hilarious concept that Tim's identity real is a big deal and he uses the whole fake name Alvin Draper and Bart just blurts out that he's Tim Drake. i know we all love TimKon, but I'm a bit of a TimBart truther and i think it could be a fun little moment for them.

back to Kon: this is less of a headcanon and more of just a thought: but i wish we had more content about the Ravers, Kon's team before YJ. i won't everytime i think about Superboy & the Ravers i have to look it up to convince myself i didn't hallucinate that entire comic. but it was so fun. there was a road trip arc. a canon queer character who's arc was handled shockingly well for the 90s. (and the homophobic character was the one who got the unhappy ending while the gay man got to be happy with a bf?? revolutionary.) i personally believe Hero Cruz was Kon's gay awakening. i won't elaborate on this. anyway i wish we saw more of Kon thinking about this team after YJ formed and maybe missing some of his old party friend losers.

also on the note of Kon, i love any exploration of his canon experiences with being groomed by just about every woman he "dated" in the 90s. i'm such a fan of when a character becomes hypersexual to cope with their trauma that they haven't realized even is trauma. and i think Kon fits that bar perfectly. the first real attention he got outside of being attached to Superman's legacy was sexual attention from women, so of course he would lean into that and not realize how fucked up it was until years later. i love when it shapes his relationships in fanfiction, especially if he doesn't realize it. whether it's Tana Moon or Knockout or just about any other woman, there's a lot of material to explore.

Kon is one of the few characters i will venture out of pre-Flashpoint for because i think his complex over Jon Kent has the potential to be really complex and fun. i think everyone misunderstands Kon and Clark's relationship (i blame the Young Justice cartoon. i've had arguments you wouldn't believe over Kon on TikTok-) as father/son and that Clark is constantly pushing Kon away in favor of Jon, and that's just not true. the issue is that Kon was *forgotten* by the timeline shifting without him bc he was off on Gemworld. and to me, that's more interesting than making Clark some kind of absent father to him. it's an issue of the world he remembers not existing anymore and most of the world not remembering him either, and now there's a new Superboy replacing him. idk man that's fun. i have a lot of thoughts about the feelings Kon would have about Jon, wondering if the timeline shift was meant to "correct" Superboy to make a version of Superboy that was meant to exist and Kon wasn't. this very much ties into my thoughts on how he and Power Girl would have a lot to bond over, feeling displaced in a world that doesn't need them. that's where Kon's identity issues stem from. that said, i always prefer a Kon who actually gets along pretty well with the Superfam, including Clark and Jon. most of his conflict is internal, not external. it's what makes him crunchy.

more YJ headcanon: i think the shift from the Teen Titans to YJ from the perspective of the mentors is fascinating. YJ got a lot more freedom and less supervision, it's like how parents don't try as hard when they have more kids. so i love the headcanon that half the time the League has no damn clue what YJ is up to. they played baseball to save the universe? yeah they never mentioned it to their mentors. no one asked. the lack of supervision, sans a robot, makes them incredibly creative with how they solve problems. they don't approach anything traditionally because no one is properly guiding them. since they're a new generation of sidekicks, most of them holding a mantle that was passed down to them (or at the very least they're a new generation of a superhero family) it holds a bit of imposter syndrome. all of them are internally panicking 90% of the time while trying to appear collected around each other. they're actively a collective disaster because of it.

personally, i view the Core Four as more of a queerplatonic polycule than a romantic one? like i think it's fun to explore polycule dynamics where it's not actually everyone dating everyone, but far more complex of some people dating, some people are familial, some people are fucking, and we don't even know what those two have going on. it's complicated, you know? messy and codependent. i don't see them as a neat polycule whatsoever. it's like an on and off again relationship but with four people that also occasionally includes others. i'm personally a fan of the potential of the Young Justice (2019) team being a polycule except none of them have any clue who's dating who. every single one of them *will* give you a different answer. half of them aren't even aware of the other's sexualities. Jinny has come out as a lesbian like four times to her own polycule. i'm a big fan of this team and i wish there was more fan content for it.

random smaller headcanon: i do think Kon can cook and i think no one believes him when he tells them. bc the issue isn't he can't cook, it's that he never has food in his fridge or pantry to cook with. that boy was raised with Ma and Pa Kent, he can make a *mean* hotdish with whatever he finds. just don't expect him to ever repeat a recipe bc he will never have that exact combination of ingredients in his kitchen again. he is however, horrible at baking bc cooking is an art and baking is a science and you will never catch him following a recipe in his life.

i think Kon regularly uses his TTK to save his teammates during fights and just. never mentions it. like in small ways, such as slightly moving flying debris that's about to hit them, making a villain's punch have more resistance so it doesn't hit as hard, slightly pulling them out of the way. no one knows for like. *years*. i'm very obsessed with pushing TTK to the limits and exploring how it makes Kon hyperaware of his surroundings. it's a literal sixth sense and i think he's passively always aware of everything, even when he's relaxing. no one realizes just how much control he exerts over a fight. which means he's holding himself back most of the time, and in my opinion for the reasons of being afraid of himself, and afraid of the Luthor parts of him. so he just. balances a fight in little, unnoticeable ways.

it's one of my headcanons that if Kon started openly dating Tim Drake, Lex would immediately try to get closer to Kon bc not only would he approve of Kon dating someone from high society, but he'd want to try to use Tim's power within his family's company and Bruce's company as leverage. of course it wouldn't work, but it'd be a fun mind game if Lex vs Tim with Kon just stuck in the middle. i have a vague fanfic idea for this I'll probably never write.

this is a cursed headcanon: but i believe Kon has an incest kink. the number of times he's canonically expressed incestual feelings (both on purpose and on accident) is not on purpose in the text, but the fact it keeps happening means i'm personally just going to run with it. i think KonJayTim is fun bc even if Tim and Jason don't see each other as siblings, Kon would make it a kink anyway. i will leave you on that cursed note.

[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

[redfurrycat]

Do you ship icemav

I ship Icemav the way Ice is shipping himself with peanuts or snacks in general, and Mav with his kawasaki.

Not only are they OTP to me, but they are the ultimate wingmen.

Also alive and happily married.

I love them. 💖

[pseudophan]

Is it bad that I feel really, really upset seeing that someone has 6 m&g tickets for TIT meanwhile dnp aren't even coming anywhere near my continent, so I can't go to the tour no matter what and I have to save up for or a kidney transplant soon so I can't recklessly spend money on a booking a flight :((

I'm happy for them, and I'm happy dnp are getting the love they deserve, and I feel awful for feeling this way but I really feel bad :((

it's not bad, it's a very natural reaction and you have all the right to feel that way. i think that's the thing a lot of people are missing, your emotions about it are completely valid and understandable, it's just when people then start being really mean to those lucky people who are going to all the m&gs that it gets shitty. no one can expect you to just not be upset that someone is meeting them a bunch of times and you aren't, especially if you can't go to a show at all. it's all about how you navigate it, you know?

allow yourself to feel things, it's good for you

[arttsuka]

mer lupin getting himself caught on purpose and put in an aquarium so he can break out of his tank at night and raid the building's valuables

The Lupin iii mermaid au x night at the museum crossover no one wanted (or needed)

[nym-wibbly]

wait, you hadn't seen spn when you posted the good omens wip? the language with the angels is so similar and everything?

Nope. Pratchett fan of many years, completely new to Supernatural these past three months (with the exception of Cas' love confession, cuz I think everyone on the internet who didn't know to duck and cover in advance got sp*ilered for it that night in 2020.) Something of a lifelong thing for fictional angels, though.

I went with a quasi-Judeo-Christian-theological, liturgical, and poetic vocabulary for the Heaven and Hell/angel and demon stuff. More straight-up/slightly unintentionally ironic for Aziraphale, who wants to take it all at face value (even when he can't); more filtered through the questions of Milton's Paradise Lost, and more despairing and hurting, for fallen angel Crowley.

Muriel's dialogue has a touch of the innocence and wonder of catechism - a discovery, a flowering that opens up to them through the spoken and written word. They question without hidden motive.

Metatron's got a smidge of the manipulative certainty of commercially-driven televangelism: clinical, cynical, tailored for maximum impact on his target audience (Aziraphale). A performance.

I'd guess the Supernatural writers did much the same, cherrypicking for whichever aspect bolstered their storyline or character at the time! Throw a rock at the English language and you'll hit a Judeo-Christian concept somewhere, somehow. "Grace", "vessel", "the Michael Sword" and so on - that stuff paints a lyrical picture that "essence", "body", and "archangel's avatar" couldn't, because it pulls hard on sources rooted so deep in English prose and poetry that we infer deeper meanings without, necessarily, ever giving them a moment's thought before. I'd guess that Good Omens itself influenced Supernatural, too?

A lot of scriptural and liturgical vocabularly and cadence is hardwired into the lyrical use of the English language via influential sources like the King James Bible and the Book of Common Prayer.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," tells us a boatload about Castiel's mindset before he even reveals to Dean that he's "an angel of the Lord". Then he's taken aback when Dean doesn't believe him - challenges him and keeps on pushing back; Cas expects this shit to be hardwired into Dean's brain and for Dean to respond accordingly by bending at the knees. Shock and awe using language.

They spend most of season 4 in that state of disconnect, barely communicating even when they both try, because Dean's just not doing "because it's God's will/because I say so", not for anyone or anything; he won't respond to that portentous vocabulary and Cas struggles to adapt to that (not least because he gets brutally punished when he tries).

Put 'em away Cas.