#rp event: the strain

[atthebell]

qsmp purgatory event: got some straight gas🔥😛 this strain is called "BOLAS?!??!?" 😳 you'll be zonked out of your gourd💯

me: yeah whatever. i don't feel shit

5 min later: dude i swear let's just rp as villagers fuck pvp

my buddy, cellbit, pacing: i killed all those federation workers

[song-star-rini]

now playing… アイドル! (Idol)

genre: idol shenanigan / slight crack? (ft other characters!)

ad libs: RP blog au! (if you come from my rin blog you probably would get the context better)

notes: made this for fun for my frequents on the rin itoshi blog @underlash-owl ---mentions of a lot of people who come to the blog often ^^

if i missed anyone pls don’t get offended!! also i tried to get everyone’s pronouns and internet names + also i wrote this purely on impulse please don’t fight me

🌠 : @reapkusho @kuro-min @wabatle @rinitoshiplzdateme @rinitoshisgirl ☆

@tigreblvnc @starfire7 @ssstar @soleilonthesun @galaxynajma ☆

@someprettyname @bachi-the-bee ☆

(for any descriptions i used the picrews :3 lmk if i got anything wrong!)

group name : idolists

part 1 / 2 / 3

“you’re all fucking insufferable. you especially.” rin spats harshly, but despite his harsh words, he doesn’t move a muscle as the makeup artist dusts away at his cheeks.

rini who is sitting across from him, holds back a strained chuckle as they snap a picture of the male in front of them, leaning to their right to shows Najma the photo.

a sly grin stretches her lips as she looks between the screen and the soccer player.

“looking good”

“shut the fuck up najma”

rin let out a stiff breath when the door closed and the makeup artist had finally left, leaving the three of them alone.

“calm down dawg it’s not like you look bad,” rini shrugged, but that didn’t do much to soothe the younger itoshi brother.

“does it look like i give a shit? why did you even agree to this deal? i wasted so much free time practicing for a small ass concert.” rin complained.

he brings his hands to his face but retracts when he remembers that he just got his makeup done by the artist.

“you didn't lose any time for your boyfriend called soccer, so don't worry.” najma chirps, initiating an eyeroll from rin.

rini wasn’t wrong, rin didn’t look bad, he looked great, like an actual idol from somewhere. he didn’t look pro but he couldn’t be mistaken for a rookie either.

the male adorned the teal cargo pants with the white shirt and black varsity jacket perfectly. the white shirt had a small blue lock logo and the jacket had the PXG symbol on the back.

the outfit theme overall was bright accents of teal and blue with black being the overall back up.

silver rings looped around his fingers as piercings marked his ears, a single soccer ball silver chain dangled from his neck.

so uh..

why was he in here?

because his mod thought it’d be great to perform for some fans of his as an idol, he’d sing some songs, only three since he wasn’t a full time performer.

the playlist looks like: future perfect (pass the mic), drunk dazed, both the japanese version and some compromises in the choreography, and the last song is called 99 PERCENT. (including another song hooo)

yes, all songs mentioned are all sung by a group of 7, so of course, rin has some soccer friends to bring with him. so within this soccer idol group, we got shidou, bachira, reo, chigiri, isagi, and.. sae.

all were chosen by his mod, who might not see the light of day tomorrow, but that’s not what we’re here for.

the group let the rini decide what to call their temporary idol alias, and they chose ‘idolists’ a play on ‘egoists’ (don’t come after me if cringe)

the group had practice, all taking up roles, weak in singing? you’re a dancer. and vice versa. rini hadn’t slept properly in days to make sure this silly little promo event would do well.

maybe another cuss filled conversation passes, and its time for najma to leave and to let the group get together before the curtains rise.

the group meets in the back stage room, all dressed accordingly, can you guess who’s the center? rin.

“yippee!! did you see?! there’s so many people!” bachira squeals as he jumps up and down and around, he snuck a peak of the seats and saw a lot of fans chatter eagerly to see their faves on stage.

“it’s nothing compared to what i’ve seen.” reo comments nonchalantly, but bachira rolls his eyes.

“yeah.. but uh.. are you sure this is a good idea..?” isagi asks, but instead of rini, shidou answers for him.

“too late to think about that jackass.” he grins, a bit evil and a bit excited. and then he goes back to fawning over sae’s outfit, it wasn’t that extreme just a chest window that shidou couldn’t get his ass over.

isagi grits his teeth slightly and hisses out a “right.” then turns to the bright red head who they’re all waiting for. “come on chigiri..” but the long haired male doesn’t even spare a glance.

but the conversations muffle together for rin, nothing interesting being said, the only thing that the boy could pay any attention to is his brother.

but someone steps in and waves an obnoxious hand in his face.

“focus bro, lock in,” is all emi said, half serious, half joking. but it effectively made rin tear his eyes off of his 'family' member.

“there’s no time for soccer beef, just do what you practiced, or who knows.. beat him another way.”

whether it was intentional or not, what emi said had written its way into his head, and was slightly echoing as he steps up to the stage, everyone following behind him.

the curtain raises and the crowd erupts, the boys haven’t even moved a muscle. but anyone would practically explode if they saw their idol, right?

tbc.

ok so this is rlly an intro to the trilogy(?)

so uh ill tag everyone when the next part comes out, which actually has the performance :OOO

if you wanna be tagged just lmk :#

also my frequents have updated but i wont be adding them to this series

BONUS ART DRAWN BY MEEE

[crownedleiurus]

(This is an RP account dedicated to one Derek Goffard from The Price of Flesh. Absolutely 18+ ONLY, all minors to be blocked immediately upon discovery.)

(Despite written and portrayed like an actual page, like an actual person, this is just a character I'm playing and nothing said or done concerns real events or situations.)

(Blog can and should honestly be assumed to have extremely graphic depictions of violence, human & animal death, gore, sex/rape, necrophilia, it's basically just safest to assume this place is bad and poor from every angle to begin with.)

(Despite being open to a lot, I do have some standards and will absolutely refuse to write anything relating to pedophilia, incest, bestiality, scat, vore, any type of loli bullshit. (I don't mind lolita fashion, I think it's very cute! But let's not pretend you don't know what I'm referring to.))

(Mun has a hard time juggling multiple interactions/plots and I have a bad habit of randomly vanishing despite continuing activity elsewhere. It's just something I do! This isn't because I'm actively avoiding anyone or was bothered into silence, it's just because my social battery and motivation often fail me. I am safe to approach for any grievances one may have and would very much appreciate being spoken to if need be.)

(DM's are open to chat with Mun, and also Derek! (Please let me know if you're IC or OOC.) But I'm afraid I don't privately RP due to my own comfort.)

(Also! I have VERY very sensitive eyes, and they are very easily strained which hurts my head and affects my focus. When interacting with me, AND THIS IS ONLY A REQUEST NOT AN OBLIGATION, I would greatly appreciate not using

text like this

or excessive colors. Thank you!)

(Take care.) (Written by @collar-shocked (24 yrs of age.) )

[riprendscore]

(This is an RP account dedicated to one Strade from Boyfriend to Death. Absolutely 18+ ONLY, all minors to be blocked immediately upon discovery.)

(Despite written and portrayed like an actual page, like an actual person, this is just a character I'm playing and nothing said or done concerns real events or situations.)

(Blog can and should honestly be assumed to have extremely graphic depictions of violence, human & animal death, gore, sex/rape, necrophilia, mind-games, enslavement, verbal and physical abuse- it's basically just safest to assume this place is bad and poor from every angle to begin with.)

(Despite being open to a lot, I do have some standards and will absolutely refuse to write anything relating to pedophilia, incest, bestiality, scat, vore, any type of loli bullshit. (I don't mind lolita fashion, I think it's very cute! But let's not pretend you don't know what I'm referring to.))

(Strade is friendly, but brash. He will say mean things to you, and treat you ways that may not be comfortable. None of this reflects on my personal beliefs, or opinions, or what I think.)

(Mun has a hard time juggling multiple interactions/plots and I have a bad habit of randomly vanishing despite continuing activity elsewhere. It's just something I do! This isn't because I'm actively avoiding anyone or was bothered into silence, it's just because my social battery and motivation often fail me. I am safe to approach for any grievances one may have and would very much appreciate being spoken to if need be.)

(DM's are open to chat with Mun, and also Strade! (Please let me know if you're IC or OOC.) But I'm afraid I don't privately RP due to my own comfort.)

(Also! I have VERY very sensitive eyes, and they are very easily strained which hurts my head and affects my focus. When interacting with me, AND THIS IS ONLY A REQUEST NOT AN OBLIGATION, I would greatly appreciate not using

text like this

or excessive colors. Thank you!)

(Take care.) (Written by @collar-shocked (23 yrs of age.) )

[undyingserpula]

(This is an RP account dedicated to one Lawrence Oleander originally from Boyfriend to Death 2: Fresh Blood- AU'd to be Fox's pet, in The Price of Flesh. He is 52 this time around, and completely devoted to Ren. Absolutely 18+ ONLY, all minors to be blocked immediately upon discovery.)

(Despite written and portrayed like an actual page, like an actual person, this is just a character I'm playing and nothing said or done concerns real events or situations.)

(Blog can and should honestly be assumed to have extremely graphic depictions of violence, human & animal death, gore, sex/rape, necrophilia, Stockholm syndrome, mind-games- it's basically just safest to assume this place is bad and poor from every angle to begin with.)

(Despite being open to a lot, I do have some standards and will absolutely refuse to write anything relating to pedophilia, incest, bestiality, scat, vore, any type of loli bullshit. (I don't mind lolita fashion, I think it's very cute! But let's not pretend you don't know what I'm referring to.))

(Mun has a hard time juggling multiple interactions/plots and I have a bad habit of randomly vanishing despite continuing activity elsewhere. It's just something I do! This isn't because I'm actively avoiding anyone or was bothered into silence, it's just because my social battery and motivation often fail me. I am safe to approach for any grievances one may have and would very much appreciate being spoken to if need be.)

(DM's are open to chat with Mun, and also Lawrence! (Please let me know if you're IC or OOC.) But I'm afraid I don't privately RP due to my own comfort.)

(Also! I have VERY very sensitive eyes, and they are very easily strained which hurts my head and affects my focus. When interacting with me, AND THIS IS ONLY A REQUEST NOT AN OBLIGATION, I would greatly appreciate not using

text like this

or excessive colors. Thank you!)

(Take care.) (Written by @collar-shocked (24 yrs of age.) )

[kittenchancorruptionarc]

(( Hey guys, it’s been a few days. I’m so sorry I left so suddenly, I was experiencing burn out yet again and this case was ESPECIALLY bad. I kept guilt tripping myself over my break too because I felt horrible for leaving everyone in the dark.

The TDLR is I got too ambitious with events again and I keep poorly managing both threads AND asks and I need to fix that.

So here’s my requests to YOU (the beautiful person reading this) and how I’m going to do things from now on:

-Please try not to spam the ask box if I have (a) thread(s) going on, it distracts me badly. I thought about closing them during threads but felt that’s not fair so I will leave them open and see if you guys can respect my wishes. I trust y’all will you’ve been nothing but kind and patient to me (AND IM SO GRATEFUL AHHH) but still.

-KEEP SERIOUS RPS IN THREADS PLEASE, doing it via asks is very straining for me sorry if that’s an inconvenience :,]

-I won’t be doing colored replies anymore unless it’s for added emphasis, it was taking too long and it gave me a headache ngl. I have eyesight problems and I honestly made them slightly worse doing that.

-I don’t know if I’ll do any events for a while, up until I’m in the swing of things again. I got too ambitious and got severely burnt out and tired. :,]

-Threads are not time sensitive, assume they’re in their own time bubble unless it’s A stream RP or auction event. I make those interactive on purpose! Otherwise the rest of them are again in their own time bubble!!! This is so I don’t drive myself insane with time sensitive scenarios.

-I might make non auction and such events ask box only or limit it to one or two BIG RP threads, as I notice that’s what burns me out the most X_X

These are my “new rules” I guess okay? I think it’ll help me a LOT with the issues I’ve been having.

Also, let’s just say the events wrapped up and I’m going to have to call off any threads I STARTED before my huge burn out, sorry but I keep blanking on them and it’s for the best. We can start fresh or do a new one completely but oughhh I need to just. Start on a clean slate for my sanity im sorry guys. I hope you understand.

Also, my main focus will be on Fox and my OC account from now on, which I am going to revamp to mainly focus on his TPOF version due to a majority of my rp partners being based in TPOF timeline anyways. Strade is a fun side project and I abandoned Ren because I wasn’t happy with how I portrayed him tbh. Maybe I’ll revisit the account later, but rn I have no drive for it.

Anyways, I hope this’ll help me get back into this account because I miss being here so much but oh my GOD I stressed myself out ;; ))

-Fox Mun 🦊

[serpulalacrymans]

(This is an RP account dedicated to one Lawrence Oleander from Boyfriend to Death 2: Fresh Blood. Absolutely 18+ ONLY, all minors to be blocked immediately upon discovery.)

(Despite written and portrayed like an actual page, like an actual person, this is just a character I'm playing and nothing said or done concerns real events or situations.)

(Blog can and should honestly be assumed to have extremely graphic depictions of violence, human & animal death, gore, sex/rape, necrophilia, mind-games- it's basically just safest to assume this place is bad and poor from every angle to begin with.)

(Despite being open to a lot, I do have some standards and will absolutely refuse to write anything relating to pedophilia, incest, bestiality, scat, vore, any type of loli bullshit. (I don't mind lolita fashion, I think it's very cute! But let's not pretend you don't know what I'm referring to.))

(Mun has a hard time juggling multiple interactions/plots and I have a bad habit of randomly vanishing despite continuing activity elsewhere. It's just something I do! This isn't because I'm actively avoiding anyone or was bothered into silence, it's just because my social battery and motivation often fail me. I am safe to approach for any grievances one may have and would very much appreciate being spoken to if need be.)

(DM's are open to chat with Mun, and also Lawrence! (Please let me know if you're IC or OOC.) But I'm afraid I don't privately RP due to my own comfort.)

(Also! I have VERY very sensitive eyes, and they are very easily strained which hurts my head and affects my focus. When interacting with me, AND THIS IS ONLY A REQUEST NOT AN OBLIGATION, I would greatly appreciate not using

text like this

or excessive colors. Thank you!)

(Take care.) (Written by @collar-shocked (24 yrs of age.) )

[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

[phoenix-flamed]

In regards to my modern AU verse. I have a rather heavy headcanon that I've been mulling over, and I think I'm going to go with it, because while this is an AU... by now you guys have probably noticed that I am incredibly uncreative and like to take influence or give nods to canon elements, even in AUs.

This headcanon's going to involve domestic abuse/domestic violence and threat of murder or attempted murder, and will be tagged appropriately for these topics. Still, reader discretion is advised, and I do want to note that anyone who interacts with this verse is absolutely not required to adhere to this headcanon. I know it's an incredibly heavy, touchy, sensitive, uncomfortable topic, and while I will aim to remain respectful, it's inevitably not going to be suitable for everyone.

If it isn't comfortable for you, just let me know, and the reason for the divorce in our specific threads will be left as a general case of "irreconcilable differences" or simply, "it just didn't work out."

In my modern AU verse for this blog, Elwin and Anabella are divorced, with Elwin having been the one to leave and file for it.

The reason for this is because Anabella pulled a knife on him in a fit of anger. Whether she simply threatened him or tried to attack him is never clarified, mostly because Elwin doesn't want to talk about it. Why am I taking this route with their relationship, despite how extreme it is? Because of the fact that Anabella in XVI's canon story had no qualms with having him murdered, and she revealed at the end of her life just how much she had resented Elwin and all of the reasons why. Even in a modern setting, I don't personally feel that these feelings and this reaction would be out of the realm of possibility for her character, given that in spite of this being an AU, she is still her. She is still the same core character, as is my Elwin.

This verse isn't written specifically to be a "happy AU", though if that's something you're interested in setting up, especially if you're playing Anabella, Clive, Joshua, or even Byron, I'm more than happy to do that with you!

But yes. Elwin doesn't discuss the true reason behind the divorce, or rather likely will not do so in RP threads. He doesn't even like to discuss the fact that they are divorced -- which, while he usually hides the depths of his feelings on the matter with a silly sort of reply of "It's complicated", the truth is that it really IS complicated.

Prior to that event, their relationship had become increasingly more strained due to disagreements between them, but there had never been violence. To him, the attack seemed unprompted, though in hindsight it's clear that his wife had been harboring quite a bit of resentment and anger towards him, and misery regarding their marriage, that she had simply never revealed to him.

He does still love her, regardless of how she feels towards him. He will not, however, go back to her. He does try to get full custody of the boys, or at the very least of Clive -- though whether or not it works is going to be left up to a case by case basis.

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

Quick Info

Current Location: Peppino's Pizza (By the forest outside the building)

Available for Asks

Primary: Fake Peppino (Goes by 'Pep')

Secondary: Brick (the Rat),

Read the story from the beginning here!: [https://ask-the-totally-real-peppino.tumblr.com/tagged/story%20post/chrono]

Read the intermission from the beginning here!: [https://ask-the-totally-real-peppino.tumblr.com/tagged/intermission%20post/chrono]

Read the bonus story posts here! (Bonus story posts are self-contained stories, typically celebrating a special occasion or showing a past/future event, that occur within the canon of the story, but are not direct continuations of the main plot line.): [https://ask-the-totally-real-peppino.tumblr.com/tagged/bonus%20story%20post/chrono]

---

Reference Pit

(References for all characters that have appeared, regardless if they are available for asks or not. These are also tagged as 'reference' for easy finding.)

Pep (Fake Peppino) - (Toyhou.se Version)

Peppino Spaghetti (ref pending)

Gustavo (ref pending)

Brick the Rat (ref pending)

??? (ref pending)

Bean (the mod)

Fake Bean (the fake mod)

Clone OCs (Toyhou.se Link)

~~~

Hello, and welcome to my ask blog! Primarily featuring Fake Peppino, but many of the other Pizza Tower characters and definitely some OCs will appear here too!

This is post-game, so spoilers are abound! Also, due to the nature of Fake Peppino, there will be a lot of body horror, ranging from mainly mild to occasionally severe! (More on content warnings below!)

~~~

Rules

M!A (Magic Anons) are allowed! This can range from sending small gifts to transforming characters for a set amount of posts!

Fanart is a-okay! Please try to represent the character the best you can, and ask before making significant design changes (such as a 'Genderbend' or 'Species Swap')

Please ask beforehand, if you would like to dub my work! And please be sure to credit and link back to me!

No Sexual Content in asks (The occasional innuendo/suggestive joke is fine)

No sending or tagging me in RP starters (this is not an RP blog and I do not RP in private either!)

No spam, such as repeated messages, reblog bait/ask chains etc

Please do not repost, trace or edit my art (unless given written permission)

Please do not use my art/characters in A.I. chatbots etc

Please do not tag my art as 'kin/me' (Nothing against kin! Just my art is very personal to me)

Please be patient! I am only one person, and I am doing this for fun!

---

Content Warnings

While I intend for this blog to mostly be fluffy and silly fun, I do want to explore some potentially squicky topics, so here is a list!

Common, will not be tagged: Mild Body Horror (ie Pep's goopy skin etc), Scars, Foul Language, Depictions of Panic Attacks/Meltdowns, Use of Caps and Glitched/Zalgo text

Uncommon, will be tagged: Eye Strain, Alcohol Use, Smoking (mostly regular cigarettes, but maybe weed too), Partial Nudity (bare chests mostly), Emetophobia/Vomit, Blood, Violence, Moderate to Severe Body Horror, War (via Peppino flashbacks), Guns, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied Gore, Implied Cannibalism, Implied Death

Rare, will be tagged, and under a read-more cut: Suggestive jokes, On Screen Gore, On Screen Cannibalism, On Screen Death

Not a content warning, but make a lot of OOC posts bc I have a lot of thoughts! These will all be tagged with 'ooc post', if you don't wanna see them! (But some do have lore in themmmm)

~~~

About Mun

Hi! You guys can call me Bean, Ben or Ruben! I use they/them, and I’m 28. Pizza Tower has taken over my little brain, and so I made this blog to be a bit silly with my favourite character, Fake Peppino~

Main Blog: @smalltimidbean-reblogs (semi-active) (Follows are from this blog!)

Art Blog: @smalltimidbean (active)

[harteatiing]

WELL HELLO, YOU WAYWARD SINNER !

harteatiing ; an independent, mutuals only rp blog for ALASTOR from HAZBIN HOTEL. heavily headcanon-based, blog established 06.06.2024 ! written by August ( 29, he/him. ) CARRD. ( rules & character info. )

( a mask of sinister whimsy. a blood-stained shadow starving for control. a cornered animal baring his teeth, tugging against the chain around his throat. the need to make yourself larger than life, to hurt before you can be hurt. the deranged euphoria of sharpening your teeth and claws upon those who fancy themselves powerful. an exploration of embracing the fire, of straining against your own humanity, and of developing attachments against your own will. this place is ruled by the forces of hunger and fear, framed by vicious grinning jaws. )

" Welcome ! Shall we make a deal ? "

credit;

BLOG HEADER, POST BANNERS, PROMO & PINNED IMAGE, SMILE DIVIDER, ICON PSD. - all commissioned from the amazing arachnaemboss ! CHAIN DIVIDER CREDIT.

more info under the cut !

i am here to write dynamics with heavy plotting. i don't mind unprompted interactions, but if you intend to foster a romantic or in any way genuinely friendly dynamic with Alastor in the long term, please be prepared for heavy plotting and extensive interactions!

everything will have to be slow burn. i don't write ships without a lot of plotting and none will reach fruition during the timeline of events in season 1.

also, for my own comfort, if you do not read my rules or my bio, I will not be interacting with you.

PROMO. / ASK MEMES. / STARTER CALL. / HEADCANONS. WALL OF TEXT.

affiliated with;

televocation - vox. fallenmorniingstar - lucifer. tocliimb - roo ( exclusive. ) highstakcs - husk. veelentino - valentino.

mains ;

magnavaux - vox antisatiric - twain ( in his hellaverse ! ) starwonderz - tsukasa ( in his hellaverse ! )

also find me at;

@glaciadaemoniica ( andrealphus - helluva boss ) @emberstruck ( william james moriarty - has a hellaverse )

[aching-tummies]

Norovirus is going around a lot, you know. Sure would be a shame if your tummy started churning for no obvious reason and trying to evacuate itself from both ends....even worse if you ate soooo much food right as it was coming on so there's a heavy load to be sloshed around. What would you do in that situation? If you realized the rumbles were starting to unsettle your belly more and more, and the pain beginning to squeeze up sour burps?

o///o

Anon…are you a mind-reader? The idea of the stomach virus having a full tank to wreak havoc with has been a low-key fantasy of mine for ages. It's something I've never really been able to write scenarios for because I have little-to-no personal experience with stomach flu and/or vomiting.

In the realm of this blog, I'm not super interested in what happens at either end. My main fixation is on the torso and what's going on within so the idea of the stomach churning and cramping for hours and hours in vain is more my speed.

RP-Scenario below. Note that it is a work of fiction, not one of my stories inspired by real experiences.

"Unnngh…" I groan, doubling over as I press my arms against my stomach with all the force I can muster. Instant-regret. I can't help but whimper at the sharp pain that results from displacing the contents of my belly. Note to self: humans are not built like toothpaste tubes…you can't just squeeze and expect the goop to come out of whichever end.

I feel the thick mass of stomach contents surge back into place, my digestive organs straining from both internal and external pressure. Talk about a rock and a hard place for the walls of my stomach.

It's February…so Valentine's Day has been on everyone's mind for a while now. Considering how January came and went with no opportunities to get together, my partner and I decided to go all-out for Valentine's Day. We maanged to line up our respective work-schedules to get a day off in the vicinity of February 14. We were debating between ramen and all-you-can-eat sushi. In the end, "both is good" became our answer.

I suggested ramen for lunch. My stomach had been doing flips since the night before. I assumed it was just nerves for the date. I didn't want a nervous tummy ache derailing our date, so I skipped breakfast. As much as I love sushi and ramen, I opted for ramen for my first meal of the day because I thought broth would be easier on a nervous tummy. Also, with ramen, there's a defined end-point of the meal. I didn't trust myself to tackle all-you-can-eat sushi on a nervous tummy.

The ramen sat pretty heavy in my tummy all day, despite the broth. I felt pretty full after the ramen. Luckily, I was with good company, company enough to distract me from being hyper-aware of the state of my tummy all day. After the ramen, we walked around for a bit. We stumbled upon an arcade and played far too many rounds of some variation of DDR. I was beginning to suspect something was wrong when I still felt my stomach sloshing with the ramen and broth after such vigorous exercise. You'd think all that jumping and jostling would have coaxed my stomach to digest…but most of lunch was still sloshing around in my tummy.

We stopped by a library after the arcade--home turf for me as I grew up going to that library and used it often as a broke post-secondary student. We browsed the shelves for a while, shared book recommendations, and checked local events and seminars and whatever for things of interest. This library also has a really nice cafe in it. I brought them there and they got sucked in by a book I insisted they had to give a shot as it was what I had thought about when they shared some elements of an RPG they were playing months back. They were hooked. While they fell into a fictional world, I took the opportunity to sneak off to the washroom in the library to assess the state of my belly and to try and coax it into a better state.

Thank Heaven the washroom was single-stall and in a relatively low-traffic area of the library. I knew the place like the back of my hand and knew that this little corner was a haven for washroom emergencies. Luckily, I wasn't interrupted. I basically manhandled my guts, prodding and squeezing my belly as I tried to shake off the upset that was brewing. Something must have worked. I managed to get most of the ramen and broth to siphon into my intestines. It wasn't comfortable, but it was head and shoulders above feeling the warm slosh and wet tickle at the base of my esophagus all day. Yeah, my stomach was sore from the rough massage, but I had a date to finish and I wasn't going to let an upset tummy derail the long-awaited date.

When I rejoined my partner, they had decided to look into the book series I recommended. They put a hand on their tummy and it let out the most adorable grumble right at that moment. They told me they were hungry and suggested going for the sushi we had opted not to get for lunch. My tummy definitely wasn't up for more food…but I couldn't think of a non-embarrassing excuse, so I went along with it.

It is currently just passed 9PM. I got back from the date about an hour ago. I'm still in the cute outfit I agonized over all morning…not by choice. I usually hate wearing 'outside' clothes while I am at home, especially if I am alone as I am. Unfortunately, the last hour has been filled with a SNAFU that has taken my mind off of lounging clothing.

It's not a nervous tummy. It probably never was 'just nerves'. I didn't check my emails at all today, not wanting to be disrespectful to my date and all that…so I missed it.

Leah, one of my besties, and I had a bit of a 'study date' a couple of days ago. She's currently enrolled in a couple of courses that are supposed to help her in her career, and I'm debating going back to school for another degree/certification and hoping it'll help me land better job prospects. The two of us opted to study our respective fields together because we both focus better in a library-setting/away from home…and having someone we trust to watch our stuff if we need to use the washroom is a load off of our minds when the alternative has always been to use the washroom first, set up our study area, and tank it for maybe 2-4 hours until nature calls again or we get hungry or whatever.

Leah had forgotten her water bottle that day. Part of it was fear that it would spill on her laptop, so she had debated whether or not to bring it and ended up forgetting it on her kitchen counter anyway. We've been friends for more than a decade so we ended up sharing my waterbottle, passing it back and forth.

Leah emailed me this morning. Apparently, she's down and out with a nasty case of Norovirus. She spent all of the night making offerings to the porcelain throne. She emailed me to warn me that she could have been asymptomatic/incubating the virus when we shared the waterbottle…so…she told me to be prepared and to sanitize the bottle (her exact words, "kill it with fire")…the same waterbottle that I had brought on my date today…that I had drank out of multiple times today. Yeah…if I wasn't infected the day I was with Leah, I definitely must have done it to myself today.

The sushi is sitting like a hunk of cement in my stomach. Despite the upset tummy, I ate a lot. It was 'all you can eat' so I knew I was going to get my money's worth. Also, it would have been awkward to stop eating when my date was still going at it with gusto. Piece-by-piece, I loaded up my stomach like a novice tetris player. My poor stomach was packed like a tin of sardines by the halflway mark…and my date was still showing no signs of slowing down.

That leads us to now. I've been in and out of the washroom at least seven times in the last hour. I stopped counting around my fourth unproductive trip.

My stomach will clench and I'll feel a dizzying sensation, like a whirlpool has spontaneously manifested inside of my guts at some random point and is churning my stomach-contents at an alarming rate…and I'll race the combined nausea and urge to go to the washroom…with nothing to show for it.

I'm beyond frustrated right now. My tummy is packed so tight that it feels as rigid and solid as the bathroom counter I've been white-knuckling as I desperately try to get my churning stomach and clenching torso to agree on which end to eject the sick and stuff from.

All I have to show for my hour of frustration is what feels like a very bruised tummy (I've been really, really rough with it, trying to squeeze the mess to either end with no success) and a small handful of nasty, barely-there-belches. Sushi tastes great going down. Ramen tastes great going down. The aftertaste, should it come back up, is revolting. It's sour and salty, and the gross hot air I've coaxed up my throat honestly makes me wonder if warlocks are real and if one of them cursed me in such a way that my entire digestive tract did a 180. The taste of those burps is disgusting! If the taste of the hot air is bad, I don't even want to imagine the hell that's brewing in my stomach.

My stomach clenches painfully. Fresh tears race down my cheeks, squeezed out by my tightly-shut eyes as I bite my lip and white-knuckle the counter next to me. It hurts! Ithurtsithurtsithurts!

Twenty minutes later, the cramp ebbs with nothing to show for it. The tug-o-war in my digestive tract continues as my digestive organs try to decide which end will get the nastiness that continues to brew within. I can't decide between 'I'd kill for someone else's hands on my belly right now' vs. the image of clawing out my griping insides and wringing them out like a stubborn tube of toothpaste, pushing the sickly goop of norovirus and too-much-food out before re-inserting the guts where they belong.

[calla-celtigar]

among the last of the valyrians. . .

Character wanted! Lady Calla Celtigar is searching for Ser Arthor Celtigar for the @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

HOUSE CELTIGAR remains steadfast to House Targaryen in the face of events after King Viserys' death. Lady Calla stands beside Queen Rhaenyra as she ascends the throne while the newly minted Ser Arthor finds his way as a knight and royal court member. The memories of youth hover over the two siblings as political turmoil embroils their family in chaos. The elderly Lord Bartimos had led House Celtigar to its height, and his heir, Ser Clement, appears to plan to do the same. However, rumors abound about the final heir for one of the last Valyrian houses of Westeros.

Lady Calla has always been her grandsire's favored for decdes. She remained his shadow at court, learning the intricacies of politics and trade for many years. She excelled and became one of Rhaenyra Targaryen's ladies-in-waiting, wielding influence both at Claw Isle and King's Landing. Ser Arthor is Ser Clement's favored, trained to be a lord and skilled knight from his birth. Many wonder about the succession of House Celtigar between two different heirs and who will lead their ancient house.

---

Ser Arthor Celtigar, suggested faceclaim of Alexander Ludwig in the early seasons of Vikings.

Age twenty, younger brother of Lady Calla Celtigar, featuring the strained relationship between siblings in the face of court politics and expectations despite fond memories as children.

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If you would like to discuss more about Arthor Celtigar, please reach out to this account! Or feel free to reach out to the mainA Song of Golden Fire and Black Blood site. We a No-Dance!AU and politics, family, and court-drama focused RP. To join, check out our main site, DM the staff with any questions, then send us a raven to apply, and join our Discord!

[anotherrpfinder]

Twenty-two writer (she/her, CST) on the hunt for a fully literate adult roleplay partner (20+). I am looking for a partner involved in House of the Dragon and/or Fire & Blood fandom and looking to roleplay within the world of Westeros, specifically during the Dance of the Dragons era. I would love to develop a storyline with my fem Targ!OC. A brief note is that the Targ gal is a dragon rider and dragon dreamer but very much the tone of a tragic martyr-saint. I am happy to give more details about the OC before we proceed with the writing. 

I am looking for either a male CC or OC to rp with my Targ gal for a mxf pairing, beginning the rp before the Dance begins and then moving into the events of the Dance. I am flexible with the events within F&B but would like a modicum of canon compliance to maintain the world. Hopefully, that makes sense! If you are interested in playing a male CC, I ask that they not be Larys Strong, Criston Cole, or Otto Hightower. I have a priority with a male character parallel to the targ oc but I would perhaps be interested in fxf with Rhaenyra Targaryen. However, I am mainly looking for a male character at this moment.

There may be darker content in the rp based on events within F&B and perhaps more but no further than what my rp partner is comfortable with it. NSFW content is more than fine (and encouraged!) as long as we stay in boundaries that we are comfortable with. I am looking for a storyline that incorporates a relationship strained in war with elements of tragedy to explore the depths of a character’s strength and their darkness. However, I would love to develop a collaborative story playing with character traits and the story of the Dance.

OOC communication is central to me, and I would also love someone to blabber about hotd, got, and anything ASIOAF-related if you would like. I prefer to roleplay only on Discord, using third-person tense writing and fully fleshed-out responses of several paragraphs or more. I would like an active rp, but I entirely understand when other events get in the way. If you are interested, please like this ad, and I will contact you on Tumblr before we move to Discord. Thank you and happy roleplaying. <3

✿

[prpfz]

(resending post Tumblr nuke just in case!)

⚔️🤎 Twenty-two writer (she/her, CST) on the hunt for a fully literate adult roleplay partner (20+). I am looking for a partner involved in House of the Dragon and/or Fire & Blood fandom and looking to roleplay within the world of Westeros, specifically during the Dance of the Dragons era. I would love to develop a storyline with my fem Targ!OC. A brief note is that the Targ gal is a dragon rider and dragon dreamer but very much the tone of a tragic martyr-saint. I am happy to give more details about the OC before we proceed with the writing. 

I am looking for either a male CC or OC to rp with my Targ gal for a mxf pairing, beginning the rp before the Dance begins and then moving into the events of the Dance. I am flexible with the events within F&B but would like a modicum of canon compliance to maintain the world. Hopefully, that makes sense! If you are interested in playing a male CC, I ask that they not be Larys Strong, Criston Cole, or Otto Hightower. I have a priority with a male character parallel to the targ oc but I would perhaps be interested in fxf with Rhaenyra Targaryen. However, I am mainly looking for a male character at this moment.

There may be darker content in the rp based on events within F&B and perhaps more but no further than what my rp partner is comfortable with it. NSFW content is more than fine (and encouraged!) as long as we stay in boundaries that we are comfortable with. I am looking for a storyline that incorporates a relationship strained in war with elements of tragedy to explore the depths of a character’s strength and their darkness. However, I would love to develop a collaborative story playing with character traits and the story of the Dance.

OOC communication is central to me, and I would also love someone to blabber about hotd, got, and anything ASIOAF-related if you would like. I prefer to roleplay only on Discord, using third-person tense writing and fully fleshed-out responses of several paragraphs or more. I would like an active rp, but I entirely understand when other events get in the way. If you are interested, please like this ad, and I will contact you on Tumblr before we move to Discord. Thank you and happy roleplaying. <3

give a like and anon will get back to you

[findroleplay]

Twenty-two writer (she/her, CST) on the hunt for a fully literate adult roleplay partner (20+). I am looking for a partner involved in House of the Dragon and/or Fire & Blood fandom and looking to roleplay within the world of Westeros, specifically during the Dance of the Dragons era. I would love to develop a storyline with my fem Targ!OC. A brief note is that the Targ gal is a dragon rider and dragon dreamer but very much the tone of a tragic martyr-saint. I am happy to give more details about the OC before we proceed with the writing. 

I am looking for either a male CC or OC to rp with my Targ gal for a mxf pairing, beginning the rp before the Dance begins and then moving into the events of the Dance. I am flexible with the events within F&B but would like a modicum of canon compliance to maintain the world. Hopefully, that makes sense! If you are interested in playing a male CC, I ask that they not be Larys Strong, Criston Cole, or Otto Hightower. I have a priority with a male character parallel to the targ oc but I would perhaps be interested in fxf with Rhaenyra Targaryen. However, I am mainly looking for a male character at this moment.

There may be darker content in the rp based on events within F&B and perhaps more but no further than what my rp partner is comfortable with it. NSFW content is more than fine (and encouraged!) as long as we stay in boundaries that we are comfortable with. I am looking for a storyline that incorporates a relationship strained in war with elements of tragedy to explore the depths of a character’s strength and their darkness. However, I would love to develop a collaborative story playing with character traits and the story of the Dance.

OOC communication is central to me, and I would also love someone to blabber about hotd, got, and anything ASIOAF-related if you would like. I prefer to roleplay only on Discord, using third-person tense writing and fully fleshed-out responses of several paragraphs or more. I would like an active rp, but I entirely understand when other events get in the way. If you are interested, please like this ad, and I will contact you on Tumblr before we move to Discord. Thank you and happy roleplaying. <3

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